Not-so-serious Cyclist

Taking a time out...

2011-11-23T06:24:00.000-07:00

Well, stuff has mellowed out quite a bit. We made it through the Turkey Bingo night, which made us miss a Boy Scout function, but until cloning becomes affordable for the masses, I cannot be in two places at once, so ce la vie. Then, one of the other things I failed to mention in the last post, we had our open house on Saturday at work. It is an annual event, with this being the 14th run at doing this. Oh, yeah, in addition to having a big event going on, because of the upcoming Thanksgiving holiday, we had to get our orders in on Saturday as opposed to the normal Tuesday order day, so OK, we'll have one more day of crazy shit.

And, I went ahead and decided to add to the chaos of the day by making sure the second I got off work at 2:00 pm, I raced home, changed into my plum-smugglers and jumped on my bike and raced down the street to Mary Hall park (only about 7 blocks from my house) for a cyclocross race. Did I mention that it snowed about a foot from Friday night through Saturday afternoon? No? Well, it did. First snow of the year and it was a good one. Oh yeah, did I mention that it was only about 15 degrees outside as well? No? Well, add that to the mix as well. Seems like a perfect day for a cross race.

I really was looking forward to the cross races this year. I did my first CX race a couple years ago and I got hooked. But, I was painfully slow. The last two seasons, I had a good race if I didn't get lapped twice by the fast guys (thankfully or maybe not, our races are so small that no one is getting pulled for getting lapped) and lapped by the whole field once. Yep, pretty pathetic, but for whatever reason, I liked getting out there and doing it.

Fast forward to this year and I'm riding quite a bit better. I went into the first race saying just don't get lapped, but things went way better. Duking it out with other riders for position, not getting lapped (well, I did a couple times this year, but because of other circumstances) and chasing other guys down make for a cross race that is a LOT more fun!

Carpenter with just shorts on in 15 degrees.

So, I went and rode around a circle for about an hour, acting like a little kid with a dozen or so other nut jobs. And, much like the Dakota Five-O, if your last name wasn't Eppen, you didn't win, but really it was OK as, except for a few guys, the rest of us know we're not gonna win and with the conditions, I don't think anyone really cared all that much. The race was a GREAT time but by the time I got home, the chaos of the week coupled with flogging my ass for an hour caught up with me and I was whipped. A night of couch surfing watching a movie with my lovely was all I could muster for the night.

Jim making the run up look easy.

As it goes with our little local FREE race series (put on by the great guys at ACME Bicycles), since the course is already marked on Saturday, we have a 3:00 pm race on Saturday and then a 10:00 am race on Sunday, then the racers help tear the course down afterwards, helping keep it free. So, we had another race on Sunday morning. I woke up at about 6:30 and I wasn't feeling it at all and I literally said to myself I wasn't going (talking to myself should have been the first sign things weren't right with me).

Me looking kinda racy.

A couple cups of coffee later (OK, about 4 cups, but whatevs) I had the courage to go and do yet another race. Besides, it was a balmy 26 degrees outside and with the race being so close to home, it would have been far more painful to me to NOT go than it would be to go (did you follow that convoluted logic?). Yet again, if your name wasn't Eppen you didn't win, but once again, it didn't really matter to anyone there. It was all about having a good time, keeping some sort of semblance of fitness going for the holidays and duking it out with some other riders for a while.

There will be (possibly) one more CX race this season in a couple weeks then it will be probably time to put the bikes up for the winter. Oh sure, there will be the occasional ride on a nice winter day, but for the most part, the bike season will be over and it will be time for snowboarding. Oh yeah, and it will be time for morning roller sessions on the bike. I don't feel like I've got enough to do and I've gotta start getting ready for next season.

Coming up for air...

2011-11-16T06:15:00.000-07:00

So, I've been a very neglectful of this blog for the last couple months, but really, I've been so busy I haven't had a chance to come up for air, much less sit down and spew a bunch of bullshit out of my skull that no one cares about or wants to read.

All sorts of crap has gone on since my last post. Road bike races, a LOT of fun riding in probably most beautiful fall we've seen in a decade, cyclocross racing (which is still going on and may be a soon upcoming post) have been a big part of the lack of posting, which is a good thing, but not the main reason.

No, the other stuff in life is what happening. First, the Boy decided to join Boy Scouts this year. Which, unbeknownst to me, meant I joined Boy Scouts. Seems like there is a meeting at least once a week, but more often than that there is some sort of event each week in addition to a den/pack meeting in addition to him becoming a professional shill for Orville Redenbacher and the evil GMO-corn giants like Monsanto and selling popcorn. I am super glad he's doing it and having a good time doing it, but at least I should get some sort of badge for time management or for supporting the economy by buying all that gas or wearing out my truck running him all around.

Second, PTA. Which should be PiTA (pain in the ass). You see, my Lovely was the PTA president last year and I was the secretary and all was good and just and right with the world. Then, she went on and got a new teaching job and said she couldn't be the president again. So, LOOONNNG story short, we pulled a Freaky Friday and now she's the secretary and I AM the president. And, she is helping me WAY more than I helped her as the secretary, but none the less, it is taking far too much of my time. BUT, this is going to come to a messy, glorious head this week. Our big fall event, Turkey Bingo, is this Thursday night and then I won't have to think about PTA so much.

So, yeah, bitch, bitch, whine, whine. I've got stuff to do. Just like 350 million other Americans. But, unlike the other 98 or so others that don't have a blog, I'm gonna tell you about it again. Real soon. I hope. Before it starts snowing and snowboard season starts and the Boy joins ski team and I start my AM work outs and start a swimming program with Eric and...

A Recap: The Dakota Five-O

2011-09-12T05:25:00.000-06:00

A week ago today, the 11th Annual Dakota Five-O took place. Shit-tons of blogs have given their recaps of what happened, who won (coincidentally if your last name wasn't Eppen, you probably didn't win) with photos and the like. Hell, I had a race summary going, but I wasn't feeling it AT ALL. I mean really, who in their right mind wants to read the whining ramblings of a mid-pack 40 year old? "First I rode over a rock, then my t'aint hurt, then I had to eat something, whaa-fuckin'-whaa." No one, that's who. So, I changed it up and here is my report for the rapid-fire, short attention span world we live in.

I had high (or higher) expectations for this year's edition. I had kinda trained and after last year's debacle, I knew it wouldn't be worse. And, it was my best year ever. Took almost an hour off of my time from two years ago (the last good race I had) but still left plenty of room for improvement. I raced my Stumpy 29'er hardtail, which I don't really know if it was a benefit. I mean, I had a GREAT first half of the race, which is mostly up and had a shittier second half of the race, which was more down. I could attribute it to needing more longer rides on that bike, or it could be that I am flippin' old and a hardtail beats the shit out of me.

Some details of the day.

My tenderized drumstick

It was down right COLD to start the day, with frost on the ground in areas of the race course, which was fine with me. Being a bit, ahem, hirsute, I welcome the cooler weather.
The course was in primo shape, although by the time I came through areas like Dakota Ridge, it was getting a bit chewed up from a couple hundred people rolling through before me.
I did have a bit of an accident in Krangle Connection which was just a lapse of concentration on my part, especially considering all the work the Ridge Riders did on the trail. Zigged when I should have zagged and I fell and went boom. A bit disconcerting when you fall down, the rider behind you is shouting "man down, man down" and when you get up and pull your bike off the trail, like 10 guys go zooming past. A bit disconcerting because at with over 600 entrants out there you'd think that'd be the norm and yet, there were times when I couldn't see anyone ahead of me or behind me.
Have I ever mentioned that I love the new location of the Bacon Station? For those that don't know, the BS is an "aid" station where you can get bacon and some PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon). It used to be in a location where you had to climb immediately afterwards, so drinking some PBR made for a tough climb. Now it is at the beginning of Dakota Ridge and you go down (at least for a bit) so slamming some PBR and eating a slice of salty pork goodness is, well, a beautiful thing...which I did. Did it cost me some time? Sure. Was it worth it? Absolutely.
Did I talk about nipples? No? Well, I have an issue with my nipples and chaffing on my jersey, so I covered them with New Skin. Did it help? Nope. I'm sitting here with chaffed nipples right now. Why the fuck do men have them? Don't need 'em at all.
My wife and son are incredible support people. Meeting me exactly where I wanted, when I wanted. The best.
As I mentioned, I had my best year ever. 5:37, which is almost an hour faster than I've ever done it before. But hell, almost all the Ramblers had a personal best day. The cool weather, the trail conditions and a summer of kickin' the shit out of each other equalled a great ride for almost everyone!

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't mention Perry Jewett and the Ridge Riders (the group that put on the race). This race is always really well run, with Perry learning from each year and making changes for the better for the following season. I kinda expected a bit of chaos at the end with having well over 600 riders, but there wasn't any. It was GREAT! Super awesome food, great beer, music, and times getting put up quickly. Kudos the the Ridge Riders for such a great event!

Well, there you go. I was fairly beat after the ride and was glad it was over. And now I am planning for next year. I've still got a little time to play with, although taking yet another hour off might be a bit much.

Dakota Five-O and Stubbornness

2011-09-02T06:09:00.000-06:00

Here we are at the end of the summer (school started Monday around here) with the Dakota Five-O looming just a few days away, a capper on a summer of riding your ass off.

There might just be some climbing in this race...

I pre-rode the course on Sunday, which is the first time in 4 years I've ever pre-anything the Five-O. Having grown up in Spearfish, I have ridden all those trails and didn't think I needed to or more importantly, wanted to. All that changed this year and I not only felt like I should pre-ride, I wanted to flog my sorry ass on this course. Not only would pre-riding it give me an idea of how next Sunday will go, but I also wanted to see how I would fare riding a hardtail on the course. The climbs would be good, but would I be able to keep the pace up on the descents? Would the pros outweigh the cons?

Well, I decidedly cannot descend the same on my Stumpy 29'er HT as I can on my full-squish 5" travel Moots Cinco. But, I think that the effort I expend on the climbs is no where near lost on my descents, so I am coming out ahead. I am planning for my best Five-O yet, which isn't saying a lot as my 3 other efforts have been, well, let's just say I finished. And NO mechanical issues this year.

Which leads me into stubbornness. All cyclists, well all cyclists that tinker with their bikes, have this phenomenal trait. If we want something to work, we are going to go to great lengths to make it work. Wanna use Shimano shifters with Sram derailleurs? There are adapters to make this work. A 5" travel fork on a bike designed for 3"? You can do it, you bike will steer like a wheelbarrow, but you can and you will. Case in point, tires for my 29'er. When Knobby Nick told me he had some Schwalbe Racing Ralphs for sale, I jumped on it. A fast rolling 2.4" tire is just what I needed to take the edge off for the race. I slapped 'em on the Stumpy and immediately noticed there was about a pubic hair's clearance between the rear tire and the front derailleur. And it all should have ended right there. But NO, I had to get a different front derailleur, return it and get yet another different front derailleur which has about a 7 pube clearance, futz with it adjusting it and readjusting and readjusting it to get the right clearance between the granny gear and the shift mechanism. Yep that should do it I thought and I was victorious. Don't take no for an answer.

And it did until about 4 miles into our 43 mile ride Sunday I broke a spoke and every time I shifted into the granny ring the tire would drag on the inner plates of the front derailleur. When it first happened I thought about the ways I could fix the problem so I could run the tires. Really? What a stupid ass I am. Finally my logical part of my brain whipped the emotional part of my brain's ass on the Ballpark climb, which is about 30 miles into the ride and the longest portion of granny gear riding, at least for my sorry ass. Having that drag on each pedal stroke gave me seizure inducing flashbacks to last year's Five-O debacle with the dragging lock ring. There was NO CHANCE IN HELL that I was going to endure that shit again. So the RR is coming off the back of the bike and the old tire is going on. Even if I break another spoke, it won't be rubbing on the derailleur.

Of course, maybe I should leave it on there. If it is on there I have an excuse...reason...ahem, um, well you know, in case I have a bad race.

Leadville Trail 100 Support Crew Survivor's Guide

2011-08-23T06:53:00.000-06:00

Leadville 100. The name of this race simultaneously strikes fear and excitement in the hearts of mountain bikers everywhere. This race has turned into a media circus and a behemoth beyond compare thanks to disgraced roadie Floyd Landis, some guy named Lance and Levi Leipheimer all coming in and tearing the field up and creating way too much interest in a 100 mile mountain bike race.

At the end of 2010 a group of friends decided to get into the lottery for Leadville. Yes, for those of you that don't know there is a lottery with a fee of $30 just to get a chance to get into Leadville, which will cost you an additional $275 if your name is drawn. What kind of lottery is that? Usually when I think of a lottery, I think of actually winning something, not losing $275 just to win 10+ hours of pain and suffering. When I was asked to sign up with them, I said "no way, I might just get in." Which is exactly what happened to two of them. And it was a perfect pick as the two that got in, Cleaver and Al, have been best of friends since they were kids so it was appropriate that they went to suffer together.

Fast forward to August 2011. Time for the actual race and we (my lovely, the Boy and I) decide to take a little family vacation, go to Leadville and support the guys, so without further ado, here is my survivor's guide to crewing at Leadville. Bookmark this sombitch and refer to it when someone in your riding group gets all wonky and decides that it would be a good idea to sign up for Leadville and you're going to crew for that knothead.

1. Lodging: It's really going to depend on what you're wanting for accommodations. If you want a hotel room, the SECOND you find out if you're in, book a room. Hell, book a room as soon as you put in for the lottery and cancel it when you find out if you're in or not. If you wanna camp, then by probably May you need to make a reservation. We had neither and it worked out, but it was sheer dumb luck. The guys saw a small apartment for rent that they called and were able to get it for $100 per night. We went to a campground and were able to get some overflow camping, which worked out pretty well, but, as I said, was complete luck.

2. The start of the race: The race starts at 6:30 am. You need to see this start as there is NOTHING like it in cycling, much less mountain biking. It took 10-15 minutes after they said "GO" for all the riders to come across the area we were watching from. You need to have all your shit ready to roll, in your car and as soon as you see your guys/gals roll across the line, you need to high-tail it to your car and bust ass to the first aid station. Where that first aid station is depends on your previous night's planning.

3. Aid stations: There are multiple aid stations on the course, all of which are used twice (once on the way out and once on the way back). Depending on your riders, you might need to go to the Pipeline aid station, but probably just to the Twin Lakes aid station, which is at the 40 and 60 mile mark. Either way, preparation the night before is a must. You need to have an EZ-Up style tent and go to Twin Lakes the night before to stake your claim, which is appropriate in this former mining community. So, Twin Lakes on Friday night, preferably with your racers so they have an idea of where you're at, set up your tent, have it lowered down to lay claim to space at this crucial aid station. Obviously, we did NOT do this and we had to beg/borrow/steal a 2' wide piece of land between two tents. We were there with no shade at 10,000', which is why my nose is still peeling right now.

A nice view from Twin Lakes

With land claimed at Twin Lakes, you're free to go to Pipeline first. Just know if you do, immediately after your riders come through Pipeline you need to boogie to Twin Lakes as it isn't that far (13 miles) for the racers and they turn those miles fairly quickly. So, back at Twin Lakes, having a wagon or a bike with a B.O.B. trailer would make a LOT of sense as you can't drive to the area where your EZ-Up is located and lugging coolers, chairs, food, gear to this point is a pain in the ass and if you have to make more than one trip, you might miss your racers if you went to Pipeline.

Once your riders have gone through TL, you can relax for a couple hours at least before they come through TL the second time. If your riders want you to go back to Pipeline have your stuff ready to go and as soon as you fuel up your rider at TL, FLY your gear to the car and haul ass yet once more to Pipeline. We did this and got to Pipeline literally 30 seconds ahead of Cleaver.

After Pipeline, you can get back to the start at a little more "leisurely" pace as you'll have 2-3 hours to get to town and line up at the finish line to watch your riders come in.

3. Finish line: Did I mention parking in Leadville is a royal pain in the ass? Odds are you'll need to park a number of blocks away from the 6th & Harrison finish line. Have whatever your rider wants when they come across the line and any food or drink you'll want. Now the wait begins. "Oh, I remember that rider, they came through Pipeline 20 minutes ahead of my rider." You'll be saying this for about an hour, 'cause it's bullshit as you don't remember anything. There are 1900 riders for godsakes and there are about 10 of every bike and every clothing combo. Finally your rider(s) will cross and you can go have a beer (or 10) with them and fall asleep. If you think crewing for the riders is an easy day, think again.

4. The "awards" ceremony: On Sunday AM, if your rider finished in under 12 hours, you'll need to hang around the gym on 6th Street to pick up your belt buckle. This is a complete cluster fuck. The gym holds about 400 people and there are about 3000 people trying to get in. It is about 100 degrees inside and smells like sweaty butt-crack. Have a coffee and hang around outside, poking your head in occasionally to see where they are in the awards. Since the read off EVERY SINGLE NAME that got a buckle, it takes a few hours and know the slower your rider was, the longer you'll have to wait.

So, there you have it. The survivor's guide to running a successful pit crew at Leadville. We weren't able to do all these things and we were still successful, but I'll tell you I'll probably never do it again. Probably never do it 'cause I'm gonna put my name in the hat for next year's lottery. But, knowing my luck with lotteries, I'll just probably get in.

Short Way Down III, Part 2

2011-08-01T04:51:00.001-06:00

Sunday morning came without much fanfare, although the lightning storm in the middle of the night could count as fanfare. We arose a bit later than we did the previous day as the campground where we stay has a "mess hall" that they serve breakfast in and that doesn't start until 7:00. We figured if we're up and ready to go by 7:00, then eat, we can be on the trail by 8:00.

We end up being changed and packed by about 7:10 and we pushed Barney over to the mess hall so we can roll right from there. The Boy gets an all you can eat pancake breakfast, which I guess for him meant getting two huge pancakes and eating half of them, and I got the "big breakfast" and gave my sausage to the Boy. Sufficiently fueled up, we stroll out around 8:00, fill our Camelbaks up and hit the trail.

The first stop of the day.

The morning was overcast, which meant cooler temperatures than we had anticipated. This was a bonus as leaving Hill City means you get a grinder of a climb for about 7 or so miles to the summit at the Crazy Horse Monument and the last thing you want to do is start uphill in the baking sun. One thing I failed to mention in Part I post was at dinner the previous night, Mom got on the Boy for not helping out with pedaling like he should. Understand how a tandem works; both cranks have to turn in unison as they are connected by a timing chain, BUT if one person isn't putting their share into it, the effort is all on the other person. Well, it must have hit home for him as he was a pedaling maniac on the climb! We were at Crazy Horse before we knew it.

Crazy Horse

After a short break at the monument, we have a nice descent into Custer. That stretch between Crazy Horse and Custer has some little ranches and houses nestled into the granite outcroppings and I have to say it would be one of the most beautiful places in the Black Hills to live.

Living outside of Custer...

We get to Custer with minimal effort and stop by the grocery store for a quick snack, a bathroom break and a chance to shake the legs out before the last grinder climb of the day. As we're standing in front of the store, enjoying our snacks by Barney, I hear a mother say to her daughter as they walk by "...you don't get legs like that from going for walks." I turn to see they're looking at me, or more importantly, my legs. Stop it some more...

As we ride out of Custer, the clouds are starting to break up. It is still cool, but I can feel that it is going to warm up in a hurry. We bust up the last real climb of the day, which is about 3-4 miles worth of climbing. At the top, we enjoy one last break before the rolling trails to Pringle and beyond.

About 100 yards before the Pringle TH, we encounter a Mickelson Trail Patrol, as we did the previous day (and I failed to mention). I realize these people have a job to do, but MAN, do I have to stop 100 yards before the trailhead to get my pass out? Can't we roll over to the little hut to get out of the sun so I can get my boy something to eat whilst we play ass-grab with each other? Surely, this cat can see we're loaded for bear and getting the bike rolling is not easy. Oh well, pass checked we zip to the TH where we take a quick fiver before rolling on.

Pringle

The Mickelson is a beautiful trail, but after Pringle it gets hot and desolate pretty darn quickly. Sure, there are some beautiful spots, but it isn't the prettiest part of the trail. When people from other places ask about it, I usually recommend that, unless they're hell bent on finishing the whole thing, to stop in Pringle and get a ride from there. That being said, we were hell bent on finishing. Mentally, I knew we were NOT going to go a third day. The Boy said he was getting sore in his neck and shoulders, which was partially from not riding enough before the trip and partially from his new position on the bike, as we've removed the child stoker kit and handlebar extensions, so I knew a third day could wreck him mentally so we were not going to continue back to Hill City.

A quick water fill up at the Lien Quarry hut and we we're rolling to the last trailhead called Minnekahta, where Mom was going to meet us. We met up just as planned and she had some cool drinks for us as now the sun was beating down on us and it kinda felt like we were in the Serengeti. At this point we decided to ditch our gear in the truck and ride unencumbered for the last 15 miles into Edgemont.

Look at that smile! Still happy after all those miles!

We took off down the trail and about two mile in, guess what? Another DAMN FLAT! Seriously, who the hell did I piss off? OK, we can handle this I think. I pull the rear wheel off and the cassette cogs fall off with the wheel. HOLY SHIT. This is NOT GOOD. Not good indeed. But, being fairly handy, I was able to reattach the cog's lockring with the plier end of a multi-tool. After fixing the flat and reinstalling the rear wheel, I discover that the axle is quite loose. At this point we decide to pull the plug on this section of trail. There is no access between where we were and Edgemont, so if something drastic happened, we'd end up walking the last 10 miles or so. Not gonna happen. So, a quick call to my lovely which netted me no response and a voice mail, and we turned around and rode back to the Minnekahta TH. We ended up calling and texting her about 10 times before she responded. She was in the museum in Edgemont...thankfully it is Edgemont and there is more stuff in my house than in that museum, so it didn't take her too long.

After a picnic at the Minnekahta TH, we got the bike loaded up in the truck and we headed for home. Another Mickelson trip under our belts, this time with a lot more adversity than we've had in the other years combined. Which made for an interesting trip and will make us all the more prepared for the next time we do it. And we are already thinking about the next time...and I'll have a gross of tubes waiting.

Short Way Down III, Part I

2011-07-30T18:01:00.002-06:00

For this year's trip on the Mickelson, lovingly referred to as the Short Way Down III which is obviously a play on the Charlie Boorman/Ewan McGregor documentary titles, we had big aspirations. The last two years we had done the "Mick" by starting in Deadwood, rolling the first 50 miles to Hill City for the night, then finishing out the remaining 60 the next day riding to Edgemont. This year we wanted to do more. We were going to go for 5 days, riding the initial two like we always had, but staying in Edgemont and riding back to Custer to camp, then to Rochford/Deerfield and ending back in Deadwood.

Big aspirations turned into panic as I looked at the calendar for possible weekends to pull this off. It was mid-July already and I didn't want to go the next weekend. Not enough time to prepare. The following weekend was out as it was my turn to work a Saturday and the Boy had theater camp. The next TWO weekends were out as they bookended the Sturgis Rally so finding a campsite would be as rare as stepping in a unicorn turd. I suppose we could have done it the weekend after that, but it is our anniversary, so I'm doubting that saying to my lovely that the Boy and I are going camping/riding would go over too well. So, we decided to get all crazy and cram a whole bunch of shit into one week to get ready to go. All that coupled with the fact that the Boy's theater camp was starting on Tuesday meant that we were NOT going to be able to go down and back. After some deliberation, we decided to go down and half way back to Hill City.

Getting ready to take flight.

So, we went to Deadwood on Friday evening for a night of camping before hitting the trail, just like last year. The BIGGEST reason the Boy loves the trip is for the camping. Heck, he'd probably go bikepacking for weeks just to go camping if he could. We set up camp and hit the sack as the sun went down, just as good campers should.

About 1:30 in the morning I got up to take a whizz (why is it when I'm at home I can sleep through the night and NEVER get up piss but when I'm camping I almost ALWAYS have to get up to go during the night?) I notice that about 4 sites over they've got a bonfire reminiscent of the Springfield tire fire and I notice some lightning in the sky. About 2 hours later, I'm feeling raindrops through the screen of the tent. I get up to close the rainfly and hope our stuff doesn't get too wet.

No luck. I awoke to an overcast sky and our stuff was wet. Great. Without going into minutia, we packed up our stuff, took the picture you saw above and hit the trail by 7:00 am. I got the Boy on the trail at 7:00. Impressive.

At least he had a long sleeve shirt on...

On the Mickelson there are nice concrete mileposts telling you what mile you're on, with 109 starting in Deadwood and finishing with 0 at the end in Edgemont. Last year we started ringing our bells at each milepost to note the passing of another mile. We continued that tradition this year while watching the temperature on my Garmin hover in the 55-59 degree range for the morning. The Boy kept saying he was chilly and I put off getting his jacket out as we climbed from Deadwood to Dumont, which is all up hill for 15 or so miles. As we hit the Englewood trailhead, the last one before Dumont, we had ascended into the clouds and it was drizzling to the point of our legs being covered with a fine mist/dirt mud as was the front of Barney (our tandem). Not wanting to be a bad parent, the jackets came out at this point.

As we finished the climb to Dumont, the drizzle got heavier, to the point of being almost rain. Again, I looked at the temperature to see 57 degrees. I thought to myself if this keeps up all the way to Hill City, I am going to pull the plug on this adventure. The last thing I want to do is ride in the rain, set up wet stuff and try to stay dry/warm all night long with home being no more than 50 miles away.

We begin the descent to Rochford for our first real break of the day. As we start picking up steam, something doesn't feel right. Son-of-a-bitch...we've got a flat. I must have pissed off the flat-tire-gods as I have had a rash of them this year. And to make matters worse, this flat is the rear tire which is obviously under all the gear/panniers/weight of the bike. Super. We pull over, I unhook the brakes, undo the quick release for the wheel and hoist the rear end up so the Boy can yank the wheel out. As I start repairing the tire, three horses in the adjacent field come to the fence to see what the commotion was all about. The larger of the three horses, a black one, puts his head over the fence and seems to be enamored with the Boy. It stared at him for quite a while before I tell him to go over and pet them while I finish. He goes over, gingerly puts his hand up and gently touches its nose. The horse leans in for a nuzzle and they become fast friends. The Boy did pet the other horses and while they got tired of it and left, the black one stayed. He ended up feeding it the tall grasses and petting it for quite a while. He thought that was about the coolest thing he'd ever encountered and I have to agree that it was pretty special. I guess the flat happened for a reason.

Back on the bike, we continued on to Rochford, the Moonshine Gulch Saloon and the gastronomical treats therein. We rolled up to the saloon, took off some gear and headed in for some lunch, which consisted of a burger and fries for me and a corn dog and fries for the Boy. If you've never encountered the Moonshine Gulch, I HIGHLY recommend it, but make sure your stomach is strong. Not that the food is gross, far from it, but the place is really indescribable. There was a live deer in the kitchen at one time for god-sakes. That should say it all.

Bellies full, we struck out from Rochford onward to Mystic, the last "real" trailhead before Hill City, which means our last chance for water before a lengthy climb and a nice descent into our first day's destination. The weather was breaking, with the sun coming out and the temperature on the rise. As we reach Mystic, I'm about out of water, so now it is all I can think about. Why the hell does that happen?

Still happy after all those miles.

We reach Mystic, fill up and answer some bikepacking/tandem/riding with a kid questions for the Mickelson "daytrippers" that one encounters near major trailheads, especially Mystic. The Mystic TH is highly popular as people will ride the 7 miles up to Rochford, stop at the Moonshine or the Rochford "Mall" for a snack/lunch and coast back to Mystic. It really is a beautiful part of the Black Hills that not many roads lead to, so it is easy to see why people ride it. We saddle up and hit the trail for the last leg of the day. I look down to see the temperature now is a balmy 94 degrees! What the hell? You might just recount that it was 57 degrees out just a couple hours and about 15 miles ago. Nice. Now it is muggy, sweaty and somewhat miserable. Obviously, the jackets that came out a little while ago, went back in to their storage space.

We roll into Hill City in decent time, stopping at the health food store for a snack and the bike shop for a tube before heading the 3 miles uphill to the campground. While in town, the Boy decides that he'd like to have dinner with Mom, so we call her and arrange it and head off to camp.

The yellow and grey barrier between us and West Nile Virus.

At the campground we find a nice spot next to the mosquito breeding grounds...I mean the creek and set up camp. After showering and changing clothes, we're ready to have dinner. All that riding made us a bit ravenous. Mom shows up and whisks us off to the Bumpin' Buffalo for dinner. It was good as usual, but I could have eaten just about anything and been happy. After dinner, we walk down Main Street, get the Boy some ice cream and head back to camp after procuring some Super-Ultra-Deep Woods OFF to combat the mosquitos.

Once at camp, we visit for a little more and decide as the sun was setting we were ready for bed. My lovely drove off and the Boy and I slipped quietly into our sleeping bags. About 3.7 seconds later we were asleep and dreaming about the next day. Dreaming until I had to get up to take a damn piss in the middle of the night.

Loaded up and ready to roll!

2011-07-22T06:35:00.000-06:00

The third annual "Short Way Down" or SWD III or the Mick Trip with the Boy or whatever you wanna call it is going off this weekend and we're loaded up (mostly) and ready to roll.

Barney ready to roll.

I hate the 11th hour stuff trying to figure out if I've loaded everything we need or want to take and I am also responsible for the comfort of the Boy, so I'm doing double duty here.

Look for a complete ride report next week...

Road Warrior

2011-07-15T07:02:00.000-06:00

I've been kicking around some thoughts for my new post for a few days. Cool, fun stuff like how I got a Garmin 500 and now I track how many feet it is from the couch to the bathroom. Or, like how I raced in the BAM Knifeblade last weekend and had my best race in, oh, 12-15 years. Then, a "little" incident in the Tour de France created a whole shit storm in my life and the life of the cyclists everywhere.

Here is the "little" incident.

First off, that car driver should be taken behind the woodshed by Johnny Hoogerland and beaten within an inch of his life. I mean, really, look at what happened to Hoogerland when he went upside-down and backwards through that barbed wire fence (thankfully it was a French barbed wire fence, so it looked good but didn't stand up to much pressure).

And yet, my disgust with this whole thing doesn't lie with the driver of that French TV car. Oh no. It lies with the stupid jackass Michael Smith that appeared on the TV program Around The Horn that is on ESPN. He made light of the crash saying it was funny and the whole panel made comments disparaging cycling and the drug scandals that have rocked it in the last decade (although, where the FUCK the connection with what happened and doping is I'll never know).

Good lord, I don't even know where to start with this. First, let me get this out in the open. I am a sports fan. I like to follow MLB and I love the NFL (and more importantly the Pittsburgh Steelers) although I don't find my personal self worth in how the NFL does like a lot of people do. That being said, if something like this happened to their darlings like Peyton Manning or Tom Brady ALL of those stupid asses on that show would have been extolling their valor, shouting from the mountain tops. But, because it happened in a sport that happens in Europe and doesn't involve a ball, they don't get it, so they, like stupid fucking jocks in a high school locker room, make fun of it.

Second, the doping jokes (at least by those that are American sports fans) are done. Cycling is working HARD to get the sport clean. Is it perfect? Not by a long shot. But can you imagine if an NFL star or a MLB star got caught for doping and got a 2 YEAR BAN like cyclists get? Give me a break. When star linebacker Shawn Merriman got popped for steroids a year or two ago all anyone could ask was when was he coming back? Did anyone make him a pariah like they did with Tyler or Floyd? Hell no. When he came back, Charger fans welcomed him with open arms, saying thank GOD he's back, now we can get back to winning. Really...how hypocritical can you get? On one hand, you've got guys that are WAY bigger than a human can get naturally and you're singing his praises and on the other hand you're saying cycling is stupid because guys that are riding farther in 3 weeks than these analyst fucks get driven around by their "driver".

Third, the real problem with this whole thing is what it does to the average cyclist on the street. Really, does it effect Johnny Hoogerland? Not in the least. He doesn't even know who Michael Smith of ESPN is, or more importantly, give a shit. Nope. But, let me share an interaction I had on the commute home from work on Wednesday evening. Rolling towards a red light, there was a string of cars stopped. As I rolled between the cars and the curb I hear a fucking in-bred troll of a woman, from behind the wheel of her clapped out '82 Chevy pickup, yell at me, "There is a bike path right over there!" I locked up the brakes and backed up a bit and asked her if she had a problem. She repeats the comment. I tell her I have a legal right to be on the road. She once again, like a stupid parrot that learned a new phrase to get a saltine, repeated the bike path comment. I told her that I am a vehicle and I can legally be on the road. Thankfully the light turned green and I rode away.

This is where the problem lies. We get a bunch of low IQ fucks watching that video of a car smoking cyclists and then listening to assholes like Michael Smith say its funny, throw in a bit of Jackass, some alcohol and a iPhone and you've got people in 2 ton cars trying to reenact that crash for their glorious YouTube moment (fuck Andy Warhol and his 15 minutes of fame). It creates more hatred for cyclists from car commuters. It adds fuel to the fire in the war that is brewing between these different modes of transportation.

And I know those inbred asses will spout the First Amendment bullshit. Yes, the First Amendment protects our speech, but I still can't go into a movie theater and yell "FIRE". That shit isn't protected. And what happened on ESPN is akin to yelling fire in a theater. So, pop over to ESPN.com and send a comment to them that we, as cyclists, are NOT going to take this shit. I've already written 3 different letters. I hope you do too.

The Four T's

2011-06-30T06:30:00.001-06:00

To follow up the four H's post, now we have the four T's, or the TTTT, or the Tinton Trail Time Trial, put on by the same guy, Perry Jewett, that puts on the Dakota Five-O, which I planned on racing this past Sunday. And I did, but with one exception, for which I have a new "hero" in cycling to look up to (or down to as it were).

Sunday morning came and I got up at my normal ass-crack-of-dawn time and started getting the Moots and my stuff ready for the TTTT. As I was getting closer to time to leave, I went into the Boy's room to get him up so we could drive the hour to the race venue, just outside of Spearfish.

I whispered to him that it was time to get up so we could go to the race. Earlier in the week I had mentioned the race and said if he felt like it, we could race it on Barney, our big, purple Cannondale off-road tandem, so I asked him if he wanted to race, expecting him to say no based on our previous conversations. I got the typical kid response which was something along the lines of "well, duh Dad, of course I am going to race it with you!" Wow. Knock me over with a feather. I really wasn't expecting that answer.

So, we got everything ready to roll, packed up and headed out to Spearfish. It was a perfect morning here at NSSC headquarters, with the temps in the low 70's and barely partly cloudy. As we traveled northwest getting closer to Spearfish, my wife says, "those clouds don't look so good." No, no they didn't. As we get into Spearfish, it is completely overcast, temps in the low 60's but no rain at least. As we head out of town to the venue, we climb into the clouds which is now fog, getting more and more thick as we end up at the Big Hill trailhead parking lot.

We sign up for the race, saddle up and ride the 1/2 mile or whatever it was to the starting area to do a practice run. We struggled up the climbs and it felt like I was doing the majority of the work. Damn, I thought to myself, if the Boy rides like this, it's gonna be a long, LONG day.

We get to the starting area, wait for a couple of other guys to take off and then we follow. We're rolling pretty well and it feels like the Boy is loosening up a bit and feeling the flow. The course is divided into two sections, the upper section, which is rocky and not so tight and twisty, then after you cross Tinton road, the lower section which isn't as rocky, but much tighter and more twisty than the upper and making threading a 7' long tandem through it a bit sketchy. About 1/2 way down the upper section, I hear the sshhhHHWWWeeew ...sshhhHHWWWeeeww ..sshhhHHWWWeeeww sound that only a flat can make. Sonofabitch. We're under a time constraint to get to the bottom and catch a shuttle back to the start of the race. Flat fixed and we're back off down the trail.

We catch a ride back to the top by riding in the back of a pickup, holding Barney. It was the first time the Boy got to ride in the back of a pickup and he thought that was the shit. At the top, I find my fixed rear tire losing air. DAMMIT! I pull the tire off and find a small pinhole. No more tubes. My patch kit is an "emergency" one only, with those foamy, stick on patches that work good enough to get you home, but no better. Thankfully, Chadwick bails me out with the primo Park Tools stick on patches that I am now thoroughly impressed with.

Race time comes with the Dash for Cash class (expert) taking off first then the Steer for Beer (sport), of which we're part of. Jasper gives us the line up order and we're in line awaiting our turn. The Boy is a bit nervous before we roll out, but once we hear the 3...2...1...GO he settles in and is pedaling REALLY well and hanging with me like a champ, leaning into turns, standing up and basically following my body english really well.

The top 1/2 went by like a blur. We didn't get passed by anyone on the top part, which I fully expected. We cross the road and drop into the second section and are rolling well. We get passed about 1/2 way through the second section, which I expected as we can't turn through the corners as easily as a single bike. Shortly after we get passed again to which I respond to the Boy "we will NOT get passed again!" The Boy asks "how do you know?" and just then another rider comes by. SHIT. We keep the on the gas and fly through the last couple stretches, into Cleaver's Corner which is a double switchback that was more than tricky on a tandem, but we make it. A few more pedal strokes and we cross the line in 28:11. Not shabby for a 7'ish mile Super D. We later find out we have beaten a good number of singles and are not far behind people that think they are good downhillers. We're STOKED.

Which brings me to my new cycling hero...The Boy. That kid kicks some major ass on the back of a tandem. He is mostly fearless, and whenever there is a hesitation, if I say we'll be OK, he goes with it. He pedaled his little ass off and rode really, REALLY well. I am super-stoked to be part of a tandem team with him and I can't wait to do it again!

The Four H's

2011-06-24T06:53:00.000-06:00

As I might have mentioned a few times, Mother Nature has been a bitch as of late, deciding that summer (which in my book is June 1 through September 1, not that whole June 20th or whatever) weather here in the Black Hills should be more April like than June like, meaning cool and WAY TOO MUCH fucking rain. I have permanent prune hands I think.

We scheduled our normal Tuesday night Rambler ride at Bulldog which was postponed because of...wait for it...RAIN (imagine that). So, we rescheduled for Wednesday evening after seeing the forecast for that day with no rain predicted.

We met at Bulldog at 6 pm after a day when the highs were in the low 80's. Perfect you'd think, huh? Hold on there Tonto...under normal circumstances, 80 would be an ideal riding temperature, but here in the Black Hills, the average afternoon relative humidity for June floats around in the mid 40% range. Wednesday's afternoon relative humidity? Almost 70%, and I would argue that on the trail with all the vegetation and the supremely damp trail, it was much higher than that.

I can already hear the grumblings of those that live east of the Missouri River, where humidity is usually the same as the temperature outside in the summer but understand, we live in a semi-arid area and we are not used to humidity which is where the four H's come in.

Heat, humidity, hairiness and heaviness. Hot, H2O, hirsuteness and huge. Whatever your words, pick 3 and leave the humidity out. They do NOT mix, trust me. I was sweating like a fat hooker in church. My clothes felt like I went swimming in them. Not cool.

In addition, thanks to all the rain, the area around the trail looked like it was some sort of poison ivy farm. Nice. Hairy, huge, sweaty and itching oozing blisters. What isn't to love about that? Thankfully, I've managed to steer clear of the ivy so far this year, knock on wood, but I know my luck is running out.

I suppose I could do something about the hairiness...I guess I need a good clipping over the whole body. Now that we are dog free in the house I guess the clippers are free for human use. I just hope I can balance on the grooming table while my wife trims me up.

Inspiration...

2011-06-09T17:25:00.000-06:00

Man, I don't know how to take a compliment I received the other night.

I was on our usual Tuesday night Rambler ride, when Jim (from Quarq) says to me "Hey, did you know you're an inspiration?" What the hell are you talking about, I think. So, he proceeds to tell me "I didn't know if I should tell you or not but you inspired A.S.. Remember the other night when we rode Lookout Mtn and he was sucking wind? He talked about you kicking his ass up the hill and now he's getting after it, riding Lookout almost every day."

God, I LOVE bib shorts...

Cool. I'm inspiring someone to ride...hey, wait a minute. I don't know if I like the way this is going. Why am I the one inspiring him? How was it phrased when he told Jim I was an inspiration? Did he say "Damn, that big guy stomped my ass!" or did he say "I need to get after it, that fat fuck just kicked my ass!"? Although I can't really tell the difference between the two, I suppose there is a positive to the whole thing, but I haven't quite figured out what that is yet.

I'm gonna put on my Lampre gear and go for a training ride. I'm going out to be a fucking inspiration!

Shattered...

2011-05-22T06:29:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

30 Days...

2011-05-09T21:53:00.001-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mountain bikes, injured livers and Pandora

2011-05-07T05:53:00.003-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

Bobki, getting ready to set sail in Palmer Park.

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

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

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

Me, giving my suspension a workout at Palmer Park.

Cletus, making the turn at Palmer Park

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I think I found Jim Morrison...

A ruggedly handsome crew.

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

The LaSals from the rim.

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

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

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

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

A ban on yoga pants.

2011-05-04T06:15:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Crashes of all sorts...

2011-05-01T06:09:00.000-06:00

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

2011-04-28T05:45:00.001-06:00

Check out Yehuda Moon...good bike related comic strip. It will update here daily.

See...I TOLD you it would happen!

2011-04-09T04:14:00.000-06:00

OK, so it's 4:15 am, not 4:30, and it sure as hell is NOT the greatest post in the world, but here I am.

I should be in the shower right now, but am I? Nope. Here I am writing bullshit down. It's gonna be short though, so no worries.

I'm 45 minutes away from heading out the door and on my way to Colorado Springs for a couple days then on to Fruita and Moab. It's gonna be SWEET to ride with the original group again. We all have been riding together for 15+ years. We've moved away, come back, moved away again, and some have come back again. It will be good to go to the desert and reconnect with those hooligans (although I might be the biggest).

See. Short and sweet. See you all on the flip side. I'm sure there will be some interesting stories for me to relate to you. I'm sure there'll be riding tales, travel tales and drunken campsite tales. Oh yeah, and FOR SURE there'll be at least one naked Bobki tale (that should be TAIL, huh?).

How Low Can You Go?

2011-04-02T07:02:00.000-06:00

I've been a bad boy lately. I've ignored this blog. Well, that's not entirely true. I actually have no less than 4 other posts started but not finished. I've started 'em out like gang busters, but when I get to the end and re-read them, I think they suck donkey balls, so I didn't click the "publish" button, so there they sit, languishing in a interweb Purgatory hoping to see the light of day, but knowing they probably will never get posted.

Part of my problem has been we're in that in-between season, or in limbo if you will. We (the boy and I) wrapped up our ski/snowboard season last weekend, which was super-rad (do people still say rad?) and there is a bit of me bummin' that it has ended, but looking forward, it is all about riding. And yet, that surly bitch Mother Nature has other ideas, making the weather a bit of limbo as well. Why does it seem like when I'm indoors working, the weather outside is absolutely gorgeous, and the second I get off fucking work, the sky decides to dump out any precipitation it has been holding in, like a kid that's been outside playing and finally has to race into the bathroom to piss at the last second. (Also, why the hell do we say the weather outside? Is there weather inside?) I suppose I could ride the rollers, but I'm SO done with riding indoors, but I'm gonna have to probably break 'em out for a bit longer.

The other part of my problem is when I get up in the morning (my normal bloggin'-time) I have been working out. I have a definite plan, weights certain days, riding the rollers others, doing good ol' fashioned calisthenics on others, which might have to precipitate a name change. There was one time in my life that I was almost thinking about trying to become a "serious" cyclist which lasted for about 13 minutes. Right now I am in the best shape I've been in about 10+ years, with still a ways to go, but this is cutting into my "lets sit on my fat ass and type bullshit onto virtual paper for the world to see" time, which could possibly lead to changing my moniker from the Not-so-serious Cyclist to something like The Quasi-serious Cyclist or the Occasionally-Serious Cyclist or something like that.

The good news is (for me anyhow) in a week I'm heading for the drier, warmer climes of Colorado and Utah which should get the "creative" juices flowing, as much as I can call this drivel creative. Once riding season starts in earnest, I'll be inevitably riding by myself and have only my thoughts to bide the time, and I'll come home and puke out these convoluted thoughts onto the virtual paper.

So, bear with me. I'll have something to spew out here soon for your entertainment or for your dismay, depending on your view. We're heading out next Saturday at 5 am, so I'm sure the greatest post in the world will come to me at about 4:30 or so.

Do I need to change my name?

2011-03-07T05:47:00.000-07:00

Since I've started this blog, I've been happy with the fact that I'm not very serious when it comes to riding. Well, I'm not serious when it comes to formal training. I AM serious when it comes to actually getting out and riding. Actually, what prompted the name, and the blog for that matter, was when one of the group I ride with couldn't make a Tuesday night ride because it wasn't on his training schedule. Giving up a chance to ride with friends because you had to go on a 50 mile road ride? I can almost guarantee that when you are lying on your death bed, friends and family at your side, you're not gonna look back on your life and say "I'm sure glad I didn't ride with you fuckers that one night...that road ride was much more satisfying."

But, there is something brewing at the NSS headquarters. I'm deep into a pre-season training regimen, I've been REALLY dedicated to my paleo-diet. On days off that I have built into my schedule (yes, I even have a damn training schedule), I'm snowboarding my ass off. This is getting weird...it is almost, and I mean almost, serious.

I've got a lot of riding "events" on the books for this year. A double-century gravel grinder in June, a 200 mile bikepacking trip with my son, the 37 mile BAM in July, a 100+ mile Centennial Trail ride in there somewhere, the Dakota Five-O in September, and the 24 Hours of Moab (if I can get a team together...or maybe a solo shot). Even looking at that list makes me kinda queasy. Seems all too much and too serious. The shortest of those rides is 37 miles in the BAM, but even that is a killer. What the hell is wrong with me?

Maybe this is why I don't really care if the winter is over yet. I've been digging hitting the slopes with my son this winter, watching him go from barely making it down the beginner slope to hitting black diamond runs this last weekend. Maybe I'm trying to avoid the impending summertime pain, just postponing it a bit longer.

Nah, I'm ready for it. I want it to come. I'm ready to hear the crunch of the rocks and dirt under my tires. I'm ready for the sting of sweat in my eyes. I'm ready for lung busting climbs and eye watering descents. I'm ready for the challenge of the rides I want to do. But you can be sure if I have to choose between a training ride and riding with friends, I'll be riding with my friends. Maybe.

I can't believe I'm gonna say this.

2011-02-03T05:31:00.000-07:00

Well, last week Alberto Contador was handed a 1 year suspension and stripped of his Tour de France title for his consumption of tainted Spanish beef. Of course he is still claiming innocence and saying he'll fight the charges.

It would be refreshing if a busted cyclist would just come forward IMMEDIATELY after getting popped and say "Yeah, I did it. I'm sorry. See ya in a year." But, they never, ever do and they always claim innocence, blaming the testing procedures, beef, or Jack Daniels.

As any cyclist would tell you, the system is completely broken. I know I've talked about it in the past, so I won't rehash how to fix the issue. But, I will say that I really don't believe all pro cyclists are dopers, but I do think there are a lot of them.

Right now, the biggest fish of them all is in the cross-hairs of a modern day witch hunt. Lance Armstrong. Now, let me preface what I'm gonna say about this by letting you know how I feel about LA. I think he's a douche. I think that his ego is one of the biggest in the world, esp. in the world of cycling. I'm not a fan of his, although when he first began his comeback I thought it was a good human interest story. I wished once, just ONCE, Jan Ullrich would have done a German goosestep all over him. I think if he is found to be a doper, I for one would NOT be surprised. Does this show you what I think of Lance? I have to say this because I cannot believe I am going to defend him.

How many people that have formerly raced with him have been busted for doping? Tyler Hamilton, Floyd Landis, Alberto Contador, etc. have all raced with Armstrong, then gone on to get busted for doping after leaving whatever team Armstrong was on, but never busted while on the team.

Now, I am far from an expert on doping. Hell, for me, doping in cycling is chugging a beer and popping a few ibuprofen. That being said, I would think that if there was a systemic doping regimen going on in Lance's world, wouldn't those big names have learned something? Like how to cover it up? And yet, basically the YEAR AFTER they left Lance's side, they get busted. In addition, I can't believe that Lance's team has deeper pockets than any other team for better "dope" that can't be detected.

No, here's what I think is going on. I think that after training with Armstrong, whose ego and ability to focus singularly on one event is unrivaled, they realize that there is no way they can train, strategize, or focus like Lance can. So they turn to the one thing that they think can help them defeat Lance. Look at the one guy that never had delusions of grandeur thinking he could beat Lance: George Hincapie. The only reason George is not by Lance's side is after Postal/Discovery dissolved, George got a new team and has stayed with 'em. But George knew his strength was one-day events, not the Grand Tours. Has George ever been busted? Nope. Will he ever get busted? Highly doubtful. The others knew what they had to do to beat the LA machine. George didn't care.

So, I cannot believe I am defending LA, but I guess I kinda am. Why? I don't know. I guess I am just sick and tired of the mudslinging going on in the press about this, mostly from the Floyd camp. I won't be surprised if they bust LA, but I won't be surprised if they don't, either.

The "Rules" for Mountain BIkers

2011-01-23T07:07:00.000-07:00

A couple days ago, one of the Ramblers stumbled across this gem from the Velominati blog/website. There are some good rules on there and it is supposed to be tongue-in-cheek, but they are "roadie" rules, which have little to no bearing on mountain bikers. I decided to go tit-for-tat with their rules and my rules match up with their rules so go read their rules before reading mine. So, without further ado, here are the "mountain bike" rules.

RULE 1: Rules are meant to be broken. Fuck “the Rules”.

RULE 2: It is highly encouraged to help a person that is so uptight that you can’t pull a needle out of their ass with a tractor to break the rules. They need to lighten the hell up.

RULE 3: There are TONS of reasons to break the Rules. If someone tells you that you shouldn’t or can’t d o something, it is a perfect reason to go ahead and do it.

RULE 4: It is rarely about the bike. It is only about the bike when you don’t have one to ride. It is also about the bike when you’re sitting around the campfire trying to one up your friends in a bullshit contest.

RULE 5: Harden the Fuck Up. Yeah. This rule works on the road and off road.

RULE 6: If you’re on a mountain bike, you’ll never have to worry about “freeing your mind”. If you’re on a brown ribbon in the woods and you’re still uptight, sell your mountain bike and become a roadie.

RULE 7: You should never care where your tan lines are. Roll up your sleeves, roll ‘em down, do what ever makes you happy. Sleeveless jerseys are HIGHLY recommended. A deer or coyote could give a shit if your tan lines are razor sharp.

 RULE 8: Saddles, Bars, and Tires. On a mountain bike, tires are always black, but they should have a nice layer of dust/mud/dirt on them. Grips can be whatever color you like, but are usually black too. A saddle might be a color, but it should be tattered and torn, showing you actually ride your bike, it isn’t a $6000 decoration.

RULE 9: If you’re out riding in bad weather, you’re probably fucking up the trails, so stay on gravel roads or ride your road bike.

RULE 10: True, it never gets easier, you just go faster. But, stop once and a while and check out the views, try another section of that singletrack, or drink a trail beer. If you’re riding with gorillas, you’d better be on a cross Africa trek.

RULE 11: Here’s a novel idea; go for a ride with your family. Get your kids addicted to riding, then you’ll always have a riding partner.

RULE 12: The correct number of bikes should be D+1 , where D is the bikes you desire. If you only want one, get one, if you want 7, then that is what you should get, although s-1, where s is the number of bikes owned that would result in separation from your partner is sage advice.

RULE 13: Where is “roadie” rule 13? Just like a pussy roadie to be afraid of a number and leave it out.

RULE 14: What the hell are “Team-Issue” shorts? Shorts should be black and nothing else. Team kits are NEVER allowed on a mountain bike unless you actually race for that team and then it is highly questionable.

RULE 15: Again, black shorts are the only acceptable lycra shorts (baggies are another story). No kits unless you want a nut punch.

RULE 16: Wow. Roadies have a LOT of rules about jerseys, shorts and whatever to wear. Fuck'n A, if you wanna wear jean shorts and a dress shirt, roll with it. How awesome is it to wear cut-offs and stomp a guy wearing a full kit?

RULE 17: True, no team kits allowed unless you’ve actually raced for that team at one point. Or unless you got the jersey for free. Wear whatever socks with it. The woods don’t care.

RULE 18: If road jerseys and lycra bibs are what you have or make you happy, wear ‘em riding off road. Bibs help keep your beer gut in check.

RULE 19: Mountain jerseys or baggies are fine on the road if that’s what you got. Again, nothing more satisfying than wearing baggies and STOMPING a fully-kitted roadie into the ground.

RULE 20: The remedies: if your quads start to burn, you’d better find some sweet downhill. If your calves or hamstrings start to burn, stop and stretch ‘em out. If you feel wimpy and weak, keep riding, it will pass eventually.

RULE 21: More rules about clothing. Sheesh. If you need it, wear it, if you don’t, then don’t. Pretty simple.

RULE 22: Cycling caps aren’t usually recommended, but if you want to wear one, then do it. But usually, they make you look like you’re trying to emulate Miguel Indurain or even worse, Kevin Bacon in Quicksilver. Here’s the scoop. If you’re wearing a full kit and roll into a “pub” (mountain bikers call these bars, but hey, if it makes roadies happy) you are gonna get your ass whipped, but if you’re wearing mountain bike garb (baggies) and you’re covered with dirt and sweat, no one will get near you, much less harass you, so drink with impunity. If you go change and you come back looking like a hipster or an “off-duty” roadie, then you WILL lose your man-card.

RULE 23: If it isn’t below 32 outside, then wearing shoe covers is forbidden. Actually, wearing them in general makes you look like a pussy, but we don’t really give a shit, right? And, by the way, George Hincapie can stomp most roadies, so try and call him a pussy to his face.

RULE 24: Speeds and distances shall NOT be referred to. You can say things like “I rode Amasa Back” or “I rode the Dakota Five-O course”. People that know will understand what you rode. If they don’t understand, why do you care?

RULE 25: It would be cool if your bikes are worth more than your car, but having your bike up top should only be used to go to a distant trailhead. Road rides can ALWAYS start from your house. The only roadie exception is going to a race, otherwise, road bikes have no place on top of your car. And if a guy is getting into riding and has a Huffy on his Rolls, then ride with him, get him hooked and become his friend. Once he gets the bug, he’ll start upgrading like crazy and you can get his lightly used X.X derailleur at a steal.

RULE 26: Staging pictures of your bike is dumb. If you’re taking a picture of your bike, it should have a stunning vista in the background (or another cool attribute to the picture) and your bike is in the shot just to prove you were actually there.

RULE 27: Sock and short length should be what ever the hell you want it to be. Knee high argyle socks, ankle socks, Village People short shorts or knickers are all acceptable. Riding without socks isn’t usually recommended, as people you’re riding with should not be subjected to your having to pull over because you got a damn blister.

RULE 28: Socks can be whatever color you’d like (and it is spelled C-O-L-O-R, there isn’t a fucking U in it). Black is recommended as you can wipe your greasy fingers off on them when you’ve had a backwoods mechanical breakdown (see Rule 29).

RULE 29: Saddle bags are highly recommended. Get tubes, pumps, multi-tools, etc. and KNOW HOW TO USE THEM! Asking or expecting others you’re riding with to fix your bike is bullshit. Asking them to show you is cool though.

RULE 30: Frame mounted pumps are a no-no, only because they can and WILL eject from your bike in a technical section, becoming a ballistic missile, causing a wreck of epic proportions. Keep your pump in your hydration pack (see Rule 32).

RULE 31: Spare tubes, multi-tools and repair kits should be stored where ever you can get them. JUST KNOW HOW TO USE ‘EM!

RULE 32: Unless your ride is short and you know EXACTLY where you’re going, a hydration pack is recommended. Drinking water out of a stream because you lost one of your bottles on that rocky section and you drank the other one will only cause a case of the severe shits and is NOT recommended.

RULE 33: Embrace your inner hippie. Shaving your legs is OK if that’s your thing. Remember it was J. Edgar Hoover’s thing too…

RULE 34: Mountain bike shoes and pedals are effective on a road bike if you don’t like looking like a duck footed knob walking into a 7-11 to buy an emergency fuel burrito.

RULE 35: Wear a helmet. Period. Mountain or road, it matters not. Or, actually don’t. It’s called Natural Selection.

RULE 36: Eyewear is HIGHLY recommended. Getting a branch in your eye going 25mph isn’t cool. But, a pair of safety glasses from the Home Depot work just as well as your SUPER COOL Brikos.

RULE 37: If the arms of your eyewear fit better under your helmet straps, then go for it. Even roadies don’t understand their own rules.

RULE 38: Judas Priest…roadies can’t even count. That should tell you something.

RULE 39: While you should never leave home without your eyewear, it won’t be the end of the world. When you first started riding, you rode without eyewear and you can again one more time. If your eyewear is fogging up or causing you issues, you can easily store them in your hydration pack (see Rule 32). Stowing them on your helmet will only cause them to become airborne and have you ride over them at some point.

RULE 40: Tires should be mounted with the label over the valve stem, to aid in finding said valve stem easier. Don’t do it for photo opps. That’s lame.

RULE 41: QR angles should be pointed up/back on your bike. Keeps the scrub on the side of the trail from dislodging your skewer and losing a wheel. Ask Dr. Bogard about this one.

RULE 42: A bike ride can be preceeded by a swim and/or run if it is done outdoors. I dare you to tell anyone that has finished an Iron Man (or guys like Dave Scott) that they’re a pussy. Be prepared for an ass whipping.

RULE 43: Really? Roadies can’t even count to 43 without a calculator.

RULE 44: A rider’s handlebars “should” be lower than their saddle. Unless it is uncomfortable or they’re riding a DH bike. Then all bets are off.

RULE 45: Stack height? On a mountain bike that is how far you fell from your obstacle to the ground. “Damn dude, you had a stack height of at least 7 feet on that one!”

RULE 46: If your handlebars on a mountain bike are not parallel to the ground, you have bent bars and they should be replaced. End of story. Also, bar ends shouldn’t be used with riser bars. Unless you like ‘em, then go ahead.

RULE 47: Holy SHIT. Roadies couldn’t even count from 40 to 50 without missing 2 numbers.

RULE 48: Unless you want a singing voice like Michael Jackson or like sliding off onto your top tube (again, giving you a MJ singing voice) then your saddle should be level.

RULE 49: The midpoint of your t’aint should fall somewhere around the midpoint of your saddle. If it is too far forward, slide back. If it is too far back, slide forward. If you are slid too far forward for too long, you’ll sound like Michael Jackson (see Rule 48). Fix your seat.

RULE 50: All bets are off on facial hair. Beards, goatees, one of those Amish things, a handlebar mustash, it’s all good. Goatees are kinda the mullets of the new millennium, but if you can rock it, go for it.

RULE 51: Yep. Livestrong wristbands have jumped the shark. Actually, Lance is on the verge of becoming a punch line on Letterman, so getting rid of your wristband now is a good idea. The exception; if you or your spouse or significant other has survived cancer. Then you can do whatever the hell you want. You can tell anyone that gives you grief about your Livestrong wristband to see Rules 1 and 5.

RULE 52: Padding or body armor are recommended if you’re riding in an appropriate area. Having full gear on the bike path looks like you’re showing off but you end up looking like a douche. The exception is the Dave Donat rule and will be allowed if you’ve experienced a traumatic crash due to bike failure.

RULE 53: Yet again, another “skipped” roadie rule. I don’t get why they can’t count.

RULE 54: Aerodynamics play little to no role off-road, so aerobars are going to be something to hurt you as you go over the bars.

RULE 55: If you are riding down a mountain, it is desirable to have ridden up first. Makes the downhill all that more sweet. BUT, if you have one of those motorcycles without an engine (called a DH bike) and you’re at a ski resort, take the chair lift. The DH will work your ass.

RULE 56: Espresso or macchiato? What the hell is that? Hows ‘bout this roadies; drink your coffee just like you say tires should be…black and plain. But whatever, if you’re in full kit at the coffee shop, you’re trying to show off, so it’s cool to order a coffee that will take a long time to make. Gives the bike thieves more time to steal your Lance Armstrong replica Trek that you left unlocked in front of Starbucks.

RULE 57: Stickers on you bike are fine. They can cover up wear marks, dings and scratches you got FROM RIDING YOUR BIKE!

RULE 58: You should buy your bike stuff locally. BUT if your local shop tells you that you can’t buy all 3 Camelbak Bite Valves on the shelf ‘cause that’s all they have left, then you should tell ‘em to suck it and buy online. Online is the death of the bike shop. Maybe the bike shop should do a better job with customer service. The rules of retailing are; low cost, quality, customer service…pick two. Again, I highly recommend that you shop at your LBS, but if you walk in the door and you’re in there for 10 or more minutes and no one says anything to you, then fuck ‘em and buy online.

RULE 59: Hold your line? Sure, if someone wants to follow you through that rock garden, they can…

RULE 60: Valve stem nuts are HIGHLY necessary if you’re running tubeless. God, some of these roadie rules are dumb.

RULE 61: Your saddle can have however much padding you’d like. If it is one of those comfort bike seats, be prepared for ridicule from your riding partners, but then you can turn around and stomp them into the ground while riding your bike with the big seat. And saddle sores? Maybe you shouldn’t have stayed in your dirty chamois and had your fucking foo-foo coffee. Wash yourself after your ride. You wonder why you don’t have a girl. It isn’t because it is all about the bike, it is because YOU STINK!

RULE 62: Earphones are a no-no. If you’re riding by yourself in the woods, you need to listen for mountain lions. If you’re riding with friends, you need to be able to bullshit. If you’re in a race, you need to be able to hear when someone yells “Left”. ‘Nuff said.

RULE 63: You’ll never need arm signals riding off-road. Roadies are forever pointing at shit on the road. “Look, there’s a pothole. Look, there’s a tiny fucking pebble. Look, there is a piece of glass. Look, I’m a douchebag. Look, I’m turning.” Fucking narcissistic, don’t you think? If you or your bike can’t handle running over a rock in the road get some bike handling skills and see Rule 5. And yes, Americans might look like they’re waving. IT’S BECAUSE AMERICANS ARE FRIENDLY, not stuck up assholes like the French.

RULE 64: Corner as fast as you can handle. If you’re swinging WAY wide or crashing, slow down a bit. Not too hard to figure out.

RULE 65: You should ALWAYS leave 1 part of your bike creaky. It serves 2 purposes. 1. Passing the silent mountain biker with a creaky bike will drive them ape shit. 2. If you happen to get stomped one day, you can blame your bike. Remember, you were instructed by the roadies that it’s all about the bike.

RULE 66: Mirrors are dangerous on a mountain bike as they can break and cut you in a crash. On a road bike, they help you see the semi-truck hauling ass toward you, allowing an evasive maneuver. If an old guy at the bike shop told you to get one, listen to him. He’s probably ridden more miles this year than you have in the last 5.

RULE 67: Waaa-fuckin’-waaa. You’re not taking your turn in the wind. What the hell? Again, you don’t need to do this kinda shit on a mountain bike. Don’t worry about it.

RULE 68: If all you had time for was a 3 mile ride before work, on lunch, etc. it’s all good. You were out on your bike so it is all quality ride time.

RULE 69: See, if you have mountain bike shoes and pedals, then walking wouldn’t be such a problem. Dumbass…

RULE 70: Anyone that says the purpose of competing is to win hasn’t raced in a 24 hour race or in a endurance mountain bike event, otherwise they’d understand it is about surviving. Winning is just icing on the cake.

RULE 71: Having a training plan and sticking to it is a good idea and recommended, BUT skipping a ride with your buddies because it doesn’t fit into your training plan is fucking dumb. You have a finite number of rides in your life. Lighten the fuck up and ride with your bros.

RULE 72: There is a reason power meters haven’t taken off in the mountain bike world. If you tell someone that you cleaned the Widow Maker or Crow Peak, you don’t need a fucking computer to tell you that you’re the man (or woman), everyone will know.

RULE 73: Gear and brake cables should be cut to the optimum length, but mostly so shit doesn’t break when you crash.

RULE 74: Get whatever gadgets you want for your bike. Don’t become too dependent on them, as their batteries WILL die when you need them most. If you haven’t ever been lost on a ride, then you haven’t really been riding have you? How many times have you heard "I think the car is just over this ridge..."

RULE 75: Numbers should come off the bike before you ride it again after a race. It make you look like you’re showing off…

RULE 76: When not worn, helmets can strap nicely to your hydration pack. Remember those? Yet another reason to wear one.

RULE 77: Yep. Respect the Earth. Especially during a race. You’re already sweaty, dirty and sticky anyhow, just put that damn wrapper in your pocket or under the legs of your shorts.

RULE 78: Take a cage off, put it on, who the hell cares?

RULE 79: God, I am sick of these roadies missing rules numbers.

RULE 80: Being calm before a race is a great idea, but odds are you’ll be nervous as hell, so sitting calmly on your top tube isn’t realistic. Do what makes you comfortable.

RULE 81: A bike is a work of art, but if you collapse after a hard ride/race, the bike can go where ever you land. Just don’t lie it down on the derailleur side.

RULE 82: Huh? If it is cold, wear arm warmers, knee warmers, ear warmers, whatever the hell makes it possible for you to ride. Don’t give a shit what anyone else thinks.

Those are the rules. Follow 'em. Or don't. I don't give a shit. And neither should anyone else you ride with.

Rollers

2011-01-19T05:30:00.000-07:00

Rollers. The bane of my existence. OK, well maybe not the bane, but for fucks sakes, I don't like riding them. Well, I do, but I don't. How's that for a messed up opening statement?

Here's the deal-e-o. Rollers are a far better method for training (for me anyhow) than using a stationary, clamp-your-rear-wheel, turn-your-t'ain't-into-fiery-hamburger trainer. You get to move around and have a "real" ride feel. Plus, training indoors this time of year, you can control your effort without worrying about crashing on ice, freezing the tip of your wiener off (I think I've done this too many times, which would explain my embarrassing state) or just being uncomfortable 'cause of the cold. So, in this respect, I like rollers.

BUT, I am sick and tired of riding inside! I am ready to get outdoors and ride my bike without having to bundle up like Randy from A Christmas Story . I'm ready to hear the crunch of the earth under my tires. I am ready to smell the forest. I am ready to have sweat from the heat of the mid-day sun sting my eyes.

I'm not ready for winter to be over just yet (I am digging riding my snowboard this winter) but a couple of nice days would make the world just right.

On Saturday I DID bundle up like Randy and jumped on the Stumpy and pedaled outside. Riding off road in the winter is tricky. On one hand, you don't want it to be too cold so you don't freeze stuff, but then again you don't want it to be above freezing as the trail will be muddy. Saturday was a bit on the cold side, but it should have been doable. Yet, it went on to be an EPIC failure. I rode over to M-Hill and in addition to freezing my fingers off, I found the trail to be slicker than cat shit on a linoleum floor (I suppose at some point someone stepped on some cat shit on a linoleum floor and slipped, but I've never understood that phrase, yet I use it). The trail must have melted from the warm day we had on Friday, then with the cold/snow we had on Saturday AM, it froze solid and with the snow acting as a lubricant on top of the ice. So, I cruised around on my bike for a while then headed home. I think my hands are still cold.

I rode my rollers again yesterday. Still ready to ride outside, but I think I'll wait until it is a bit warmer.

The top 10 Not-so-serious moments of 2010.

2010-12-30T05:39:00.000-07:00

I have a confession. I'm a closet nerd. Well, maybe it isn't a confession, as anyone that knows me (my wife, my friends, etc.) knows that I am a nerd. And, while I'm not a nerd in the classic respect like hanging out at the comic book store, in a computer place, or at a role-playing game shop, I have nerd-tendencies. I love Star Wars (yep, all of it, not just the original trilogy). I know all about all sorts of bike parts, how they work and their compatibility with each other. I love technology like Kip.

So, it should come as no surprise that I keep a spreadsheet/log of all the rides I go on. I like the fact I can go back through the year and use it to remember rides I've done. It isn't a huge deal, I just keep track of where I rode, on what bike, for how long and how far, average speed, max speed, and any comments about the ride like who I rode with or something cool that happened on the ride. Nerdy, huh?

BUT nerdy, bike geek feelings set aside, using said log, I can go back and pick out the top 10 moments of my year of riding. So, without much further ado, here is the 2010 NSS TOP 10 List (with my apologies to David Letterman).

10. 3/13/10. Rode with the Rambler gang on the Whitewood loop. Was able to slightly "show off" my roller training. Any advantage I had on this ride was vanquished by May.

9. 4/3/10. Vanocker Canyon. Group road ride that climbed like a mo-fo then descended like an uncontrolled space shuttle re-entry. (WHAT THE HELL? Two of my top ten rides are road rides? I MUST be getting old!)

8. 6/22/10. Spearfish Canyon. Tuesday night Rambler ride. About 10 minutes in, it starts to rain enough to make Noah nervous. We forge on, thinking that just maybe it will break. It sure does, breaks wide open! It was fuckin' POURING! After about 25 minutes, we turn around and it was like a bunch of little kids playing in the rain and mud. An absolute riot!

7. 8/22/10. Another Spearfish Canyon ride, but this time I was on the tandem with the Boy. It was about 3000 degrees out, but we rocked the Rim trail! He did great on such technical riding!

6. 9/12/10. Victoria Lake. The Boy and I compete in our first race ever on the tandem. It was REALLY cool! Fun times. We didn't even get lapped by anyone until the very end of the loop, which on Barney (our big, purple tandem) was great!

5. 10/1/10. Mickelson Trail. The annual Rambler Mickelson in one day ride. It had everything, from frigid temperatures in the morning, to alcohol fueled shenanigans along the trail, it was a great time!

4. 8/14/10. Crow Peak. Anytime I get to ride Crow Peak it's a good time. Rode with Aaron and Scott. Aaron ate shit, then I did and Scott did somewhere along the line. All in all, an AWESOME ride!

3. 4/29/10. Moab, UT. Rode the Gemini Bridges/Gold Bar Rim/Portal trail on our annual Rambler trip. It doesn't get any better than this ride. Un-fucking-real. We start out in crazy sleetand wind, ate lunch in a cave, had guys lock up on the descent on the Portal and then forgot the keys to the shuttle vehicle so some of us had to ride the 10+ miles back to the other car. Epic and AWESOME!

2. 10/9-10/10/10. 24 Hours of Moab. Teamfubar got back together and rocked the 24 Hours! For a not-so-serious report, check HERE.

1. 7/24-7/25/10. Annual Short Way Down trip. The second time the Boy and I rode the Mickelson. It was a great time again. We're already talking about this coming year's trip and how to change it up, maybe making it a 4 or 5 day adventure.

Well, that's it. Let me tell you it was hard to pick out the top 10 bike moments. There were at least another dozen or more that could have easily made the list.

I'm already hitting the rollers, prepping for this year's rides. Here's to hoping 2011 is every bit as good if not better than 2010 for everyone!

It's Crunch Time...the Christmas Edition

2010-12-23T05:20:00.000-07:00

5:20 am. Two days before Christmas. One real shopping day left. I suppose I'd better get some presents for those I love. Remember, I put the PRO in PROcrastination.

Nah, not really, but if you're thinking you need to get something for that cyclist in your life, here's a list of a few cycling related items that your cyclist might need or want.

Gadgets

Cyclists love gadgets. (Except those granola-chewing, cigarette-smoking, technology-eschewing singlespeeders, although they still love gadgety accessories, like a Surly Flask and Cage for their bikes.) The shinier and fancier the gadget, the better. But know your gift recipient. If they're ham-fisted or like to crash a lot, don't by them something fragile. Get them something like the Garmin 500. No mapping function, so if your cyclist is prone to getting lost, find a different model (or don't, maybe that's your diabolical plan) but does everything a cyclingcomputer does, at a lot higher cost and instead of a magnet and wires to tell you your speed, it uses a shit ton of rare-earth element using satellites orbiting the Earth. How's that for gadgety?

Clothing

Guaranteed the cyclist on your list needs more cycling clothing. Just because they have more jerseys than dress shirts means NOTHING. A couple tips on buying clothing.

1. Don't buy "full-kit" stuff for your cyclist. Nothing screams douche-nozzle louder than a guy or gal rolling up in a full Astana kit, especially 'cause they're gonna get stomped by the guy on the road bike wearing baggies. I guess if your cyclist can back it up then maybe, just maybe, it's ok. But that is highly doubtful. Unless your name is Lance, Floyd, Alberto or Tyler and you can afford Spanish Beef, leave the kits to the pros.

It is kinda retro-cool to have someone roll up in a full Team "Z" kit, but still has a fairly high douche factor.

The only possible exception is getting your hands on a All Hail the Black Market kit, although they are not in production right now, so good luck and besides, where are you gonna get one in the next 24 hours?

2. Don't buy stuff that will fit your cyclist on January 1st. They're fat and out of shape on January 1st. Nothing will piss them off more or motivate them more to ride then to get some cycling clothing that should fit them but won't until May.

Any cyclist worth their weight in Tufo tubulars (and crowding the age of 40) knows the joy and comfort of bib shorts. No pinching or binding. Regular shorts roll off your gut like trying to keep a rubber band on a bowling ball. Get a good pair of bibs. Anyone that says they don't like bibs is either lying or hasn't tried 'em. Just like anything in life, don't shop only by price, but by quality. I bought a cheap pair of bibs once and the pad shredded my t'aint like a kid on wrapping paper on Christmas morning. Oh yeah, no white bibs either.

In addition to the bibs, gloves are on this list. Go find your cyclist's gloves. Smell them. When you come to, you'll realize at some point, no matter how many time you wash 'em, they stink. I think gloves start to rot the second they cross the threshold of a bike shop when you purchase them. Look at their gloves, go get something similar. You'll be good to go.

Other than that, cycling related t-shirts and socks are a good bet too. Just a small tip on this. If your significant other has a bike brand they REALLY love don't buy them a tee of a competing bike company. If they like Trek, no Specialized tees. If they love Moots, no Litespeed tees. If they love Giant, well, they don't deserve a tee. Nah...but you get the idea.

Hydration

You'll need to know your cyclist and whether they use or like a hydration pack (aka; a Camelbak). If they do, go find theirs. Do the same thing as you did with the gloves and take a whiff. After you clean up the blood from hitting your head as you went down, wipe the vomit off your shirt and high-tail it down to the shop to get the SAME EXACT MODEL. The odds are, your cyclist has a particular affinity for that model, so don't deviate from this.

If they are a no-go for a hydration pack, then bottles are always good. Camelbak makes the best bottles on Earth, so go find those. Get multiple sizes and colors. No cyclist can resist them. I guarantee it!

Stocking stuffers

Multi-tools, tubes, handlebar bells, tire levers, patch kits, Clif bars, etc. all make great stockingstuffers for your cyclist and is all stuff they can't get too much of.

I forgot to mention, all this shit is expensive. But that's what you get for not planning ahead. Maybe you'll be like your aunt Maybelle and get your Christmas shopping done in August next year for 2012, but until then, you've got a list of stuff. Now you can relax for another 24 hours before you have to go panic buy. Kick back and relax. You might want to double check the hours of your LBS (local bike shop) though, you know, just in case they're closed on the 24th.

MERRY CHRISTMAS EVERYONE!

I turned old yesterday.

2010-12-11T11:55:00.000-07:00

Age. It is only a number of times we've orbited around the Sun on this big blue orb we call Earth. Just a measurement of time.

We talk about how old we are, but it is really just a number. As I approach, quite rapidly I might add, the age of 40, I have to wonder how old we are when you're "old". You know, when you start dropping those lines when you say "Back when I was a boy". I never thought 40 was old (well, 39, but who's counting) until something puked out of my mouth yesterday and I had an out-of-body experience, wondering who the hell was saying this, and realized I was all-of-the-sudden, old.

This whole story should be prefaced by acknowledging that all this stems from my hatred for those fucking hipsters. You know them. Guys wearing girls jeans that are WAY too tight, wearing Oakley Frogskin glasses that we discarded 20 years ago, trying to be all hip and ironic, but ultimately come off like they're trying super hard and look like a bunch of douche bags. And to boot, they WRECKED the ability to ride anything fix-geared as if you do, you'll be seen as either trying to be a hipster or just jumping on the bandwagon, and even though cyclists have used fixed gears for "off-season" training purposes for decades we can't anymore thanks to those super-urban fucks (which also ties this whole thing into cycling).

So, yesterday, while I was at work, I popped into the bagel shop next door to get a cup of coffee. And not a half-caff, double-froth, doucheiccino, but just a coffee. And as with all places that serve cool coffee (not Millstone or Corner Pantry) there are people trying to be all hip and cool roaming around like cockroaches on last night's pizza. As I approach the counter to pay my $1.34, I see this guy in a skin tight sweater that hangs down over his ass, which was a good thing, 'cause his jeans we so small and tight that I am quite certain the label said Mattel and had a picture of Barbie on it and the belt (which was hip and cool too) was lashed somewhere around mid-thigh. WHAT THE HELL? I got my coffee and split before I punched him in the nuts.

When I got back to work I asked, rhetorically, why? We went from pants that were so big and baggy that it looked like your nutsack was dragging on the ground to pants so fucking tight and small that you couldn't possibly have a set of nuts in there without wringing them along with your voice into a dog-whistle octave. AND, when I said "I would love to see either one of those guys (baggy pants guy or girl jeans guy) try and run in those. They don't make any sense" I realized I'm old. That is it. When you and your wardrobe need to be sensible then you're old. Functionality over fashion. If the two co-exist, then fine, but otherwise function comes first when you're old.

I understand all the other whims of people younger than I. I get their love of technology. I get the music of today's youth. I just don't get their pants. I don't think I'm old just yet, but I'm getting close.

It's 1:30 in the afternoon. I gotta get my nap in so I can eat dinner at 4:30, catch a little Matlock and hit the hay at 7:30 or so...

The end of the season...

2010-12-05T06:09:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was the Miss Chippie 'Cross race at the "World Famous Buffalo Chip" (where that infamous singer from the previous post may have fallen off of a stage) which was the last race of the season, marking the end of the biking season. I'm kinda bummin' that it is the end of the season, but I'm looking forward to taking a little break from riding. OK, well maybe I'm not taking a break from riding at all, but I won't be riding as much, although I haven't been riding even once a week, so it won't change much, but there yesterday was definitely a line of demarkation. (WOW, what a run on sentence!)

While it isn't time to reflect on the previous year yet, that takes place during "The Year in Review Week", that crappy week between Christmas and New Year's where no one in the media knows what to do with themselves 'cause they can't talk about how this years Christmas retail season sucked (ever notice that they say EVERY YEAR was a disappointing year? I call bullshit), so everyone tries to encapsulate how many times we saw that stupid assed Lady GaGa or if Branjolina is still together or that the First Lady farted at a special dinner. Fuckin' dumb. BUT, I will say briefly that it was a great year of biking. Lots and lots of fun! From trips to Utah with friends (twice), to Fat Tire Festivals, to getting in more miles in a year than I maybe EVER have, to riding with friends for the first time in years, to cyclocross racing, it was a great, GREAT cycling year for me.

Back to the Miss Chippie 'Cross. It was a cold day and it took place at a great venue, even if there was syphilis snow on the ground, and a fun course. I had a great race (for me) with me being ahead of the Prince for just 1/3 of a lap (which is the ONLY time I've EVER been ahead of him) and JT for a big chunk of the race. JT passed me at the start of the 4th lap and then he flatted, so I'm a bit bummed that we didn't get to dice it out on the last lap, although I am sure JT would have kept motoring away as usual. The Princess took home the "gold" in the women's class, which was AWESOME and the Prince was on the podium, another Teamfubar victory!

Well, in keeping with my usual PROcrastination, I have to get ready for my next sport, snowboarding. Heading to Terry Peak for the first time this year. Maybe I'll report back on how it went...or not. I probably shouldn't make any promises of reports. It took me 2 months to report on Moab, so I don't want to take another 2 months to report on sliding on the snow. And besides, I have so many run on sentences in this post that I'll probably get a call from the Blog Police, so I probably should get while the gettings good.

Moab Report 2.0

2010-11-30T14:03:00.001-07:00

To paraphrase a singer that may or may not have fallen off a stage here in South Dakota; "I'm BAAACCCKK in the saddle again."

Excuses are like assholes. Everybody has one. I have about a million of them as to why I haven't posted anything about Teamfubar's assault on the 24 Hours of Moab, or why I haven't posted anything in almost 2 months for that matter. But the truth of the matter is I have been typing this whole thing up for the trip and, well, it sucks (what I wrote, not the trip). It is too full of minutia of the whole trip, "First we rode here, then we ate, then we did this, then we touched our weiners, blah, blah, blah."

No one wants to hear that shit. Especially the people that weren't there. Nothing worse than going over to a friends house to see 200 pictures of their trip somewhere you didn't get to go and have them describe experiences that you didn't have. *YAWN* BORING! So, in keeping with true Fubar fashion, I'll put together a synopsis of what happened, giving out virtual awards, describing what happened in short, rapid fire bursts as opposed to the War and Peace version. I still have all I wrote, so maybe I'll put it together for those that were there if they want it.

Teamfubar X 2010 edition.

Getting the "band" back together for the first time in 10 years has to be the coolest part of the whole trip. And while it isn't the exact line-up we had 10 years ago, it has 3 of the original members (4 if you count my lovely that busts ass all night long keeping the team fed and hydrated). I think the consensus was that if Granny Gear does the race again next year, we'll be back. I know I want to, I think the Prince wants to (actually, I know he wants to based on the quasi-irate texts I got from him after we got home and he found out how close we were to a top 10 finish) and if he wants to, the Princess will, so we'll probably end up fielding a team again. And I'll be stoked if we do. I had a blast and I hope everyone else did as well.

Worst performance of the race.

Before I get to the best performance of the race, I have to get to the worst performance. "What? That isn't cool to call someone out about how they raced!" Well, if it is about you and you're typing, you can say what you want. My performance on one particular lap sucked. And it wasn't even about me riding. When we've done the race in the past, we've always seen those poor souls there screaming for their relief rider that was not there. I've always pitied them. I thought "Shit, that team can't get their poop in a group enough to be there when a rider comes in."

Well guess what? I WAS THAT GUY! JT came in from his night lap and I was 6 FUCKING minutes late! Those 6 minutes cost us a top 10 finish. What a douche.

Best racing performance of the race.

This was a tough one. I could have easily chosen the Prince for turning the fastest lap or the Princess for having a blistering morning lap. Or Cleatus for being old reliable and cranking out 4 laps at a high level as he's always done at the race. But, I had to go with JT.

JT cranked out his 3 laps within 3 minutes of each other. EVEN HIS NIGHT LAPS! Nice riding JT, very, very impressive. JT turned his night laps WAY faster than any of us expected (which was a big part of why I was late) and his laps were the most consistent of the team.

Best non-racing performance of the race.

My wife. Yes we had lots of other help there (the Princess' dad, my mom, the Boy, etc.) and they all contributed, but we could NOT do it without my wife. She stayed up for most of the night, making sure the fire kept burning, kept us fed and hydrated. I see other teams without a quality pit crew and I don't like what I see. It looks hard, it looks unorganized, it looks un-fun. I love having her on our team. It was worth 2 spots at least.

Weirdest moment of the trip.

I surely could cite the moment that the Princess' dad ran out of water in the shower and I had to hang the new "sun shower" bag in the tent for him and saw his old-man hose. I am scarred for life (and feel really, really inadequate now), but that was only a rugged moment for me.

Naw, the real bizarre moment of the trip had to be when some dumbass (me) came boiling out of the tent in bib shorts, orange and black striped tights, a orange feather boa and arm warmers. A laugh riot ensued in the camp and throughout the venue, but most of the team didn't admit to knowing me at the pre-race meeting.

Best purchase for the trip.

Hands down was the shower shelter/tent. Knowing that the showers brought in by Granny Gear were about 1/2 mile away from our camp and that after about 12:01 pm on Saturday all the water would be cold, I bought a shower shelter. What a life-altering purchase. It was awesome to be able to come back to camp and shower, even if I saw another man's pork pistol. Now if I can convert that shower-cam footage to a Mac version...

Best OCD.

Thought about the Princess and the her whole Port-a-potty phobia, but that isn't really unfounded, as the last thing I want to do sit on a bowl above a pile of man-made DQ chocolate soft serve...yuck. So, I gotta go to the Prince with this one. He had the best running bike of the entire team. I don't know if he sat down for more than 10 minutes the whole time. He made bikes run smoothly. Nice job! Bring your bro next year so you can relax between laps.

Best Alcoholic Moment.

Cleatus and JT rolled in to Moab a day after us. Brining quantities of alcohol into Utah isn't legal. Bringing it in to Utah via your circulatory system isn't illegal, although maybe not recommended. These two found New Belgium Ranger in a can in Colorado and Cleatus lost his mind. Seeing him roll into the finish line of the race as our last rider with a Ranger in his hand was a thing of beauty!

Best fuck without the pleasure of intercourse.

By far has to be how much we have to pay to race AND THEN pay to camp. If that weren't bad enough, I had to clear the field we camped in so there weren't a thousand thistles in our feet and tires. I realize that they have to make money on this event, but c'mon. Figure, there were almost a 1/4 of a million dollars in entry fees alone (even with the diminished racer count)! Tack onto that another $40,000 or so for camping PLUS the fees that the bike companies paid to be there and, well, it's a LOT of money. At least let the racers camp free.

FUBARstatistics.

Total Laps: 16

Average Lap Time: 1 hour 33 min 13 sec.

Fastest Lap: 1 hour 17 min 19 sec (by the Prince)

Total Distance Raced: 256 miles!

Greatest Fact: We did the same number of laps as we did 10 years ago!

Team Ahead of Us: Ben's Iron Clad Disater (2 min 55 sec ahead)

Team Behind Us: Garrhs (15 min 01 sec behind)

Top Ten Time: Git Some (4 min 52 sec ahead)

Projected Days Until the Next 24 HoM: 312 and counting...

I've already started training...

The report is coming...

2010-10-16T06:41:00.001-06:00

I am working on the 24 Hours of Moab report, but it is taking longer than I thought. I'll have it here in the next day or two (or three or four) I promise...

I think I'm mentally constipated.

2010-10-04T05:42:00.000-06:00

OK, so I've been neglecting this blog as of late. But it isn't as I've got nothing to say. Au contraire mon frere, the real problem is that I've got so much going on that I don't really know how to dig through the pile of shiza-minelli that is swimming around in my head. Which is also the reason I haven't been writing on this blog either. Too busy. And it isn't that I haven't been on my computer at all, or even been on this blog. I have, but as soon as I sit down to start writing some crap up, my mind starts wandering, thinking about what I need to get done, and I can't get a coherent sentence out on the keyboard.

All this said, I'll give you the Cliff Notes of what I've done since the last time I checked in. Went to Sheridan, WY w/Cleatus to see our good friend Al, that has (had) a bike shop, to pick up my new Specialized Rumphumper Comp 29'er. Great visit, seeing him and his family. I say "had" a bike shop, as he built a bike shop that was in a room in the back of an outdoor outfitter in Sheridan into a supremely successful business that soon would encompass the whole building that he bought. He is selling the shop off to a couple of employees.

I got my new bike and on the way home we smoked a deer in my XTerra. Jacked up the XTerra pretty bad. Not drivable at ALL right now. It is getting fixed though. This is a downer though, so I won't speak of it anymore.

Last week, I got some good AM rides in on the 29'er, getting used to it for the upcoming 24 Hours of Moab. I've had some weird wildlife encounters, the deer/car (OK, so I mentioned it, punch me in the nuts the next time you see me) and on my bike. I was rounding a bend with my headlights burning, just before sun up and a little owl that was on the trail flew up, slapping me with its wings on its way by. Freaked me the fuck out.

On Friday, 10 others and I rolled out from Deadwood (well, actually 4 of those guys decided to ride from Spearfish, 'cause this ride wasn't going to be quite long enough for them) on the annual Rambler Mickelson Trail ride. Shortly after 6 am we were pedaling.

Rolling into Rochford, we find the temperature was in the low 30's and we were all freezing our asses off, but not much further away, we finally got into the sun and soon we were shedding clothing like it was Friday night at Shotgun Willy's. Obviously, not much further we were in Hill City and our first beer stop. Then we rolled into Custer for lunch and another beer stop. Then into Pringle and another beer stop. Then to the end of the ride, 110 miles later, at Edgemont and yet the final beer stop. Do you see a theme here? We rode 110 miles (and some 125 miles) in 7 1/2 hours (ride time) and I'm guessing we all lost a little fitness 'cause of all the beer consumed. None the less, it was a really fun day.

That basically sums up the last few weeks. Now, the bikes are cleaned up and ready to roll as we leave in 57 hours for the 24 Hours of Moab. You can follow us (Teamfubar X) LIVE DURING THE RACE HERE. And, if I have Wi-Fi and I am so inclined, I just may do some live blogging to keep everyone updated on how shitty I feel during the race.

It's been a long time...

2010-09-18T06:01:00.001-06:00

A view of me riding away from someone. Not a view many get to see as this is usually the view I have of others.

I've been a lazy ass lately with the blog. Not that I don't have anything to say, but don't really have the time or desire to write it down. Yet, here we are, aren't we? Plus, I've got a lot of stuff going on. So, I'll detail some of it here.

First and foremost, there is going to be yet another addition to the family. First, I got a new CX bike. I don't remember if I posted anything about this or not. I did a half-assed search of my posts and didn't see anything about it, so I'll talk about that here. I know I did mention that I killed my Kona Major Jake. Making a long story short, I sent my frame in and found out it wasn't covered by warranty anymore (stupid 5 year warranty). They did offer to replace it with a "crash replacement", with a new Major Jake frame costing $550. YIKES! I told Tim at Acme Bicycles that I didn't really need a Major Jake, as a NEW one is way nicer than the 9 year old one I was riding. I told him that if he could get me just a Jake the Snake version, I'd take it and it would be every bit as good as my frame.

Well, I got a call from Tim saying they sent a whole bike instead of a frame and I could have it for $600. DONE! So, here is new bike addition #1:

Nice ride for $600, plus I was needing new shifters and derailleur, so I took care of a few birds with that stone.

So, now on to the next addition. I had a 2008 Kawasaki KLR 650 that I didn't ride. I bought it when I lived in Colorado. I loved that motorcycle, but in the last year, it was gathering a LOT of dust. Since a lot of my free time was filled with riding my bike trying to whip my sorry, fat ass back into some semblance of shape, the last thing I was about to do was take off on my motorcycle and be away from the family even more. So after discussion with my wife and son, we decided to sell it. After one jack-wagon fucked me on eBay with it, I sold it locally. And part of my sale was going to go to a NEW 29'er mountain bike! So, after a quick call to Alvin at Back Country Bikes in Sheridan, WY (he's my supplier) and I ordered a Kona King Kahuna.

Well, that didn't pan out like I wanted. The Konas weren't gonna be available for a while and part of why I was getting a new steed was for the 24 Hours of Moab (which we're down to 21 days 5 hours away). I then switched it to a Specialized Rumphumper Comp 29'er. Man, I didn't want to ride a Specialized (almost everyone I ride with rides a Specialized). I didn't want to join "Team Specialized", but it was available, it was similarly spec'd as the Kona and it was about $700 less than the Kona. So, I pulled the trigger on it. And now it is here. Well, it's actually in Sheridan and I'm going to get it next week.

Finally, I raced the tandem (Barney as my son likes to call it, 'cause it's big and purple. Which is weird, since he never did like Barney, thank GOD!) with my son last week. It was a low-key affair at Victoria Lake. I haven't been to Victoria Lake since the infamous bike tossing incident wrecked bike racing in the Black Hills for the last 13 years. It was fun to do a grassroots event like that. We initially signed up for the "expert" class, going 2 loops, but after the first one, the boy said he was done, so we rode on in. He had fun, as did I. Now that the first one is under the belt, he might be ready for another one.

Well, that should be enough barf for one week, well actually 11 days. There's been some other shit that's transpired, like a couple of REALLY fun rides, but nothing worth blabbing about. Getting ready for our impending trip to Utah, looking forward to camping and hanging out with friends, and flogging my ass for one last time on the bike this year. Hopefully, the fall riding season will be long this year and there will be a lot of rides, but no more flogging after Moab. And, I'll be doing the flogging on a new bike!

Dakota Five-O Report.

2010-09-07T05:50:00.000-06:00

Another Dakota Five-O is in the books. I'll start this whole thing out by saying I am NOT making any excuses, but just stating facts. Facts that just happened to work against me for about 38 of the 50'ish miles that the race covers.

I felt prepared and ready to go when the start of the race went down. T'aint sufficiently lubed? Check. Nipples covered with New-Skin to prevent chaffing? Check. Bike working well? FUCK NO, but we'll talk about that later. The group went out faster than hell as usual, but it was no matter. The first 4 or so miles take off on a paved road/gravel road climb, so it gives the peloton (of approximately 550 people this year) a chance to thin out a bit before hitting the first stretch of singletrack. I was feeling pretty good when we hit Tinton Trail, even though it was grid lock once we got onto the trail itself. Funneling that many people onto a 12" wide dirt ribbon didn't work too well at first.

Anyhow, once on that singletrack, the group spread out enough that the bottlenecks quit after a mile or so. We rolled along nicely to the first aid station at Big Hill (not the first-aid station, but the first of many aid stations). At Big Hill, I took a Clif Shot Block from my AWESOME support crew of my wife and son, and rolled off. A quick, short down hill section, then a fairly tough, but short climb up through a beautiful aspen grove were next on the menu which is where things went all wonky for me. The climb was really tough. My heartrate went through the roof, my legs felt heavy, the pedals were hard to push and I couldn't figure out why. I felt good up 'til that point. I kept pushing on. Down the next descent things were good, but then there was a big ol' climb, called Cardiac Climb I and II. Same shit for me on those climbs. I thought there was something drastically wrong with me. It was really an emotional time. It's kinda funny how your mind works when shit has gone all completely wrong in a brutal race (or any tough situation like this). I personally alternate between thinking I can make it to wondering where my life went wrong. Maybe it was when I was a little kid...maybe I did something wrong and this is retribution. Shit, I just need to make it to the next aid station and I can assess what the hell is wrong.

The 13 or so miles from station 1 to station 2 felt REALLY long to me, but I finally made it. When I got there I told my wife that there was something very, VERY wrong with me, which at this point I just thought I was being a fucking wimp, not realizing that there were strange things afoot at the Circle K. Again, I took on some food and took off. I forced myself up the trail about 200 yards or so and decided that I couldn't continue on like this so I turned around to go back to my wife and quit.

In hindsight, thankfully, my wife was being the ultra-efficient-being that she is, when I got there, she had already left, going to the last aid station. "Son-of-a-bitch" I said out loud. "What's wrong?" says a lady, sitting in her convertible with the top down that I didn't see. "Nothing..." I say as I get back on my bike. I realize that I'll need to ride to the area called Ballpark if I'm going to get back to town. So once again I leave this second aid station.

Part way around Old Baldy I discover that there is something wrong with my freehub. I cannot pedal backwards, or at least when I do, the chain goes all kiddy-whomp-assed. Well, THAT must be my problem. I was in WAY better shape than last year, way more prepared for the day and I at least felt better that it wasn't necessarily me. Keep forging on and I can make a decision of where I'm at once I get to the last aid station.

I get there and show my wife what is going on. She asks if I want to quit. Yes. No. I don't fucking know. Yes, I want to quit because this has been unbelievably hard. No, because (wait a minute, let me wrap myself in the American flag and stand on the podium) I am not a quitter. I don't quit stuff. It isn't in my character. I am already sore and tired. I don't want to add being a quitter to this list. Sore, tired, quitter. Pick two...and I already had sore and tired under my belt. One last (maybe the worst) shitty climb left, a sweet stretch of singletrack, a gradual fire road climb and the screaming downhill left to go to town (all about 15 miles). Fuck it. I'm gonna finish this damn race if it kills me, and it surely could today.

I make it up through the climb, past Hobo Camp (where they were serving bacon sandwiches and PBR on tap) which isn't really an aid station as much as it is a party station. Down the DakoTA Ridge trail, up Johnson Fire Road, and finally to Tinton Road. I passed a couple of people that passed me on the last little climb, and let 'er rip. I get on Tinton Trail and am absolutely flying! I pass two guys like they had broken freehubs (I couldn't resist) and am completely railing the trail. This is the best I've felt the whole race. On one of the little climbs on this descent, I hear a voice behind me say, "Holy SHIT. You're killing this trail. Are you from here?" "No" I respond. "I used to live here when this trail was kind of a secret trail, but I haven't ridden it since last year." He then follows up with "When you passed us, I saw the roost you were throwing up and I thought I needed to grab your wheel. This is unreal."

Well, needless to say, I made it through the finish line. Way slower than I wanted, but finished none the less. I got my bike put away, I got cleaned up, ate some food, drank some beer and then had fun socializing with my friends and family (and about 1000 others crammed into the park). There was a kid's race that went down and we watched kids from our families tear it up. When I was watching the kids go round and round, I was looking around and knowing no matter how slow or fast a person that raced completed their ride today, we all suffered out there. Some maybe a bit more than others, but it was tough for everyone. Perry and crew put on a stellar event and I'm looking forward to next year's race.

No work on Monday because of the holiday meant clean-up day from the race. Got the truck all cleaned out and the gear all washed and put away. I was avoiding my bike 'cause I didn't really want to know what was wrong. I pulled the rear wheel off to discover that the lock ring that holds the cassette on had backed itself out a little bit. Enough to drag on the two bolts that hold the replaceable derailleur hanger on. Enough drag to wear a goddamn groove into the lock ring! (You can see the groove arcing around the top of the lock ring in the picture.) I wore a groove into a piece of hardened steel. It was like riding with a brake on for about 38 or so miles. Wow. Now I vacillate between being happy with how I finished with that dragging and being pissed at myself for not having my bike dialed in.

Right now as I type, I am thinking I am happy that I finished and it was good training for our next event. 31 days to go until Teamfubar takes on THE 24 HOURS OF MOAB! I can't wait. I don't know how I'll do but I will guarantee my lock ring will be tight.

Why do I do the things I do?

2010-09-05T04:36:00.001-06:00

Short post. 4:35 am. Need to leave in just about an hour. And yet, here I sit, PROcrastinating, typing this bullshit onto virtual paper for no one except a small handful of people to read. I don't understand how my brain is wired and works.

Anyhoo, went to Speardog last night for the registration. Took 1 1/2 hours to get my registration packet. I lined up at 5:00 and got it at 6:30. Registration started at 3:00. 550 racers. I was number 281. You do the math. That was going to be one long assed night for Perry's wife and friends manning that table, yet they were in good spirits and taking care of business. I hope no one was hating on 'em too much. I realize that 90 minutes in line was a long time, but you know they'll do something to change it for next year. Regardless, it was unreal to see an actual population percentage increase (2-3%) in the town and having the majority of them on bikes. Fuck Sturgis, the real V-Twin power is coming from the legs of the 550 in the Five-O!

Good grub and friends at JT's last night after the registration. JT put on a nice gig for everyone. It was cool to get together with friends, old and new, break bread and know we're all gonna be in a world of pain in 12 hours (at least from last night). From the fastest guys to the slowest ones, we're all gonna hurt just the same.

All right, I gotta finish getting ready for the day. I got most of my stuff ready last night, slept like shit, tossing and turning all night, now I can casually get ready to leave. Good stuff! Look for a full on, more fluid and less disjointed (than this) report in the next day or two.

Why am I nervous???

2010-09-03T05:55:00.000-06:00

Well, school has started and it feels a little bit like summer never happened. We're right back into our normal school morning routines, after school routines, and trying to cram some riding into the day/week. And, as I've alluded to previously, the Dakota Five-O is coming up this weekend, having us try to squeeze a bit more summer into our lives.

Which leads me to the point of this whole post. I am FUCKING nervous about a stupid assed race! What the hell? I don't get nervous about stuff, especially races, yet here I am, feeling all tense and stressed out about it this year.

I don't know why. Maybe I'm putting pressure on myself about it (I do have a personal goal for the race), maybe because I've been more "serious" about riding this year than ever before. I have no idea, but even as I type this, I feel the butterflies cruising around in my ample gut.

Well, I'll keep it short and sweet today, but come back with a full-on Five-O report on Monday. Just know that I have about 48 hours of stress ahead of me. then I can start worrying about the 24 Hours of Moab.

PROcrastination, Poison Ivy, and the END.

2010-08-25T05:39:00.000-06:00

Once again, I had a post that I've been working on about how mountain biking will take the worries of the day away, but for what ever reason, I couldn't finish it. I wasn't feeling it, so I shelved it. Maybe if I think about it for a while it will come to me and I'll finish it, but for now, there's a few other things to talk about.

First, I might have mentioned that I put the PRO into PROcrastination and my recent exploits are no different. This year's DAKOTA FIVE-O has a 500 rider limit. A couple weeks ago there were 200 entries left. Do you think I signed up? Hell no. Last week there were 80 entries left? Did I sign up? Really? Would that be a good procrastinator? Not just no, but HELL NO. But, I did print the entry form, which would prove fortuitous. Then on Monday, my wife mailed the entry form for me. Well that's that I thought.

I just happened to be talking to the Princess and mentioned that I just sent in my entry. She then says "The Five-O Facebook page said there are only 5 spots left!" HOLY FUCKIN' SHIT! Oh man am I screwed. Maybe it's God's way of telling me to NOT enter this race, but I want to for the training purposes for the 24 Hours of Moab. So, I get home, e-mail promoter/mountain biker extraordinaire Perry Jewitt about my snail-mail (do people still use the USPS?) entry. He said it was basically the last one in! How's that for PROcrastination?

Now, for some sad news. I've got a case of the ivy and it fucking sucks! I must have picked it up on last week's Rambler ride. It started out as a little blip here and a little blip there on my left leg and has blown up to an itchy, crusty mess. Not cool. I don't have big issues with poison ivy, meaning my blisters don't get all huge and super nasty looking like a cluster of grapes on my skin. Mine are small and not too oozy, but this is probably one of the worst cases I've had. I've heard/read that your body is like a bucket (mine might be a shit bucket, but in this case I'm talking about poison ivy) and you can only come in contact with ivy so many times before your bucket is full. Once it is full, watch the hell out, 'cause your blisters are gonna be full on clusters of grapes hanging from your body. Some people have a big bucket, some have a small bucket. I think my bucket is fairly big, but I still try to avoid it, as I don't want it to be filled up.

BTW, that picture is NOT my skin. I just put it here as a visual aid.

Finally, I took my last morning (before work) road ride of the season yesterday. A tear is coming to my eye as I type this. The sun isn't coming up quite as early (obviously) so I can't head out on a road ride until 5:45 or so and my wife starts back to school today with my son starting on Monday. My wife will need to leave for work at about 6:45 or so which puts the kibosh on my road rides. There will still be the occasional morning headlight off-road rides, but the road rides are done for the season. I hope we have a LONG fall this year. We haven't really had one the last 2 years, with winter coming early and with a vengeance. I love biking in the fall and I don't want this season to end.

Crow Peak

2010-08-15T07:47:00.000-06:00

Thursday I had the bright idea to ride Crow Peak. "Crow" is a top 3 trail for me for sure and I hadn't been on it yet this summer and with the summer winding down, I knew it was time.

I sent a text to A2 to see if he wanted to go. He initially said no, but I played a sneaky card to get him to go. Actually, I wasn't trying to force him to go, but it just worked out that way.

Every Thursday night in the summer, Rapid City has an event called Summer Nights where they shut down a few blocks of a downtown street and have basically a big party with live music. We try to go every week, just to see the live music and expose our son to different people, music and art. Anyhow, A2's parents (my aunt and uncle) are usually there as well and this Thursday was no different. We ran into them and stood around and chatted for a while. I told my uncle about my broken Kona and discussed off-roading for a while, when I mentioned Crow Peak and A2 not wanting to go. After discussing it with my uncle and inviting him along he said he'd talk to his son about it. Later that night I got a text from A2 saying they'll go and what time would we meet up?

Fast forward to Saturday morning. I pick 'em up at 6:30 and we're off to Spearfish. We got to the point where we were gonna ride at around 7:30 or so and by the time we got geared up, we were riding before 8:00. It was a perfect morning despite a bit of rain during the early morning hours. We hit the trailhead where my uncle said he'd just go at his own pace and we should do our thing. We discussed a point on the trail where we could hook up on the way down and we were off.

The climb went well. A2 and I didn't really hammer the climb, but just rolled at a nice, steady pace. As we summited the mountain, we encountered some hikers. We got off the bikes, took a couple of pictures, took in the amazing views and chatted with one of the people on the top. At some point I told A2 to go ahead and take off and I'll follow up in a few minutes.

I ended up chatting with the hiker for a bit longer than I wanted, but he was a nice guy and we were both marveling at the beauty of the summit of Crow Peak (where I have scattered a few ashes of my father, but that is a story for another day). I take off and enjoy the ripping, technical descent of the top 1/3 of the mountain.

I meet up with A2 at the Beaver Ridge spur where we were to meet his dad. We find a stick on top of the signpost pointing down the trail. We assume it was from him telling us he headed down. We take off and I take point. This lower section is a kick in the pants. Flying, twisting, turning, mostly smooth but enough rocks in the trail to keep you honest. Bottom line; it's a blast!

I come around a tight left hand corner and barely get it shut down in time for a downed tree. I figure it was a good point to wait for A2, where I did for what felt WAY too long. Thinking he must have had a mechanical, I turn around head back up the hill. After a few minutes I find him pedaling a little too slowly toward me. As he gets closer, I can see he's crashed. No flowing blood, but his shoulder is dirty, his face on the left side is starting to swell up and there is a bit of blood around his nostril. He tells me briefly what happened and he says we need to go now. I get it. Stopping for too long after a crash will make you think about what happened and it will make you not want to ride anymore. So we're off, with me warning him about the upcoming downed tree.

We clear the tree and once again, I am flying. Keeping a 15 mph or so pace is fairly quick on tight singletrack. I'm cruising along confidently on a fairly straight stretch and all of the sudden I am lying on the ground. There was no warning. Just one moment up then the very next moment down. I'm getting too old to be slamming myself on the ground going 15 mph. My left side was a bit tender, with some flowing blood coming from the elbow and knee. As I am picking myself up, A2 shows up. I check myself and my bike out and we're off once again. We get to the bottom within a couple minutes where we find my uncle waiting. He crashed at some point too, though only his thumb seemed to be the only injury.

We roll back to the car and load up to head home. A2's face is not looking too hot, but isn't getting worse and he didn't seem to be in big pain. Once home, the shower to clean up my wounds hurt WAY worse than the crash itself. Why is that?

Anyhow, a lame little ride report. A few crashes and a lot of fun thrown in. And once again, I can't wait to do it again!

Is my world crumbling in around me?

2010-08-13T06:15:00.000-06:00

There is that old saying "if it wasn't for bad luck he wouldn't have any luck at all" or something to that effect. It feels like I'm living that statement right now.

It all started with the spokes on the rear wheel of my Moots. Riding to M-Hill one morning when I heard the unmistakeable ping of a spoke breaking. Having trued those wheels just recently, I knew I had spokes that were super tight and others that were just barely tight. Knew that wheel was toast. So, as I have mentioned, the wheels were torn apart and hubs sent away for rebuild.

No biggie. I have a CX bike (the Major Jake) I can ride on the road and on dirt until the mountain wheels are done. And as you probably know, I did the karate chop of time on that frame, finding her cracked around the bottom bracket. Then I was down to one singlespeed that is in a bit of disrepair right now. Fucking sweet.

Then the wheels came back, but our UPS guy was a total jackass and delivered them to the wrong house. This house didn't even have the same house number as mine. WTF? How fucking dumb can this guy be? Let's see...this package has a 3 digit address, ah, fuck it, I'll deliver it to this house with a 4 digit address. Thankfully, the kid at the house realized the wheels weren't his after opening the box and looking inside at the round, spoked sex-in-a-box delivered to his house and he brought them to me.

Things were looking up a bit when Bobki texts me and says he's gonna be in the area and wants to ride. SWEET. Sunday morning, Storm Mountain, 3+ hours are planned. BUT, and this is a big one, Sunday morning breaks to the world with pouring rain. Every single time I've gone to ride Storm Mtn. this year we've had some sort of weird weather. Great. Bobki is driving up from Nebraska that morning to ride and it is pouring out. Long story short, the weather breaks and we have a window of about 2 hours to ride now before he has to get back. Off to Storm Mtn. we go and somewhere along the line we must have pissed the mountain bike gods off. I flat. After fixing that, we cruise along when Bobki gets a flat, but now his sidewall is cut and we're screwed. So a 3+hour planned ride turns into a 30 minute ride, 30 minutes of tire repair, and that's it.

And, the final nail in the coffin has to do with Bobki as well. We have cracked the 2 months to go mark until the 24 Hours of Moab and it is starting to feel like things need to start ramping up for the race. Yesterday, I get an e-mail from Bobki saying that a new work opportunity has presented itself to him and it conflicts with the 24 HoM for him, so we might need to find an alternate. WHAT? Holy SHIT! NO WAY. We'll find a way to make it work with Bobki. We can't have Teamfubar without one of the original members.

But things are starting to look up. I came across some money yesterday that will cover my new CX frame and maybe some parts. I hope things are looking up, I gotta get on a winning streak.

When do I trade my bike in for a comfort bike?

2010-08-05T07:16:00.001-06:00

Let me preface this whole post by saying I love it when people are on two human-powered wheels, no matter when/how/where/why it is taking place.

As I mentioned before, I was down to one singlespeed mountain bike and a classic bike from Schwinn that I can't really ride more than around the block. I was slightly depressed by this fact, but on Wednesday my wheels came in, my Moots was back up and running, so I obviously had to go out riding on it. Since the Kona is down for the count, I have now switched my morning rides to the mountain bike, at least until the Kona is back up and running.

Anyhow, I did my ride and was on my way home, riding on a little stretch of the bike path that leads to my street. This path goes through a little greenway/park area. As I am pedaling, I see someone pedaling toward me. As the person gets closer, I realize it is a man. As he gets closer, I see it is a man that is around my age, maybe a few years older. And as I get closer I realize he is riding a fucking COMFORT BIKE. What? Seriously?

When does this happen in a cyclist's life? When do I say, "OK, I can't take riding off-road or all hunched over on the road anymore, so I think I'll get a comfort bike"? As of right now at 39 years old, I don't see myself getting on one anytime soon. But who knows, maybe there is a day it becomes painfully obvious that you need to get one. It is kinda like a minivan. Is it the coolest way to move yourself around? No, but you realize it makes the most sense at that stage of your life.

So, I've relegated myself to the fact at some point in my life I'll have to trade my bikes in for a comfort bike. Maybe a whole fleet of comfort bikes. One for the concrete bike path, one for a dirt bike path, a singlespeed and a vintage one. Yep. Perfect. I just don't know what age that will take place. Maybe tomorrow, maybe next year, maybe never.

Joking around the other day, I asked my "boss" at work (that is a hyper-active, skiing obsessed 60'ish year old) when a person trades their road and/or mountain bikes in for a comfort bike. He said, "When they grow-up". Perfect! I'll never have to worry about trading in for a comfort bike then.

Short Way Down 2, Part 2

2010-08-04T05:59:00.001-06:00

The second day of our trip wasn't too eventful, not that day one was, but I'd say the second day was a little more boring (if you call riding 60 miles with an 8 year old boring).

We got up early on Sunday morning, getting our camp packed up fairly quickly. The Boy was a big help that morning, knowing that he needed to assist in the effort a lot more this year than he did last year. We put everything on the bike and in the panniers except the tent and the bags as once again they were wet from a dew filled evening.

The campground we stay at is literally right on the Mickelson trail (as I mentioned) and one of the benefits is they offer a pancake breakfast in the morning. The Boy and I rolled into the breakfast building a few minutes after breakfast was being served. As we were sitting there, another camper came up and sat down next to us. After a little discussion, we found that he was riding the same trail as us, but he was going to continue on, riding back north on the Centennial trail. HARD CORE. The Centennial is decidedly NOT a rail-trail and is much more difficult.

Anyhow, fully fueled up, we packed up the remnants of our camping, lashing our stuff down as best as we could, and off we went, right on the 8 am start time I wanted to stick with.

The one drawback to camping where we do (or anywhere around Hill City) is we start the day with a fairly significant climb up to Crazy Horse. Now, I realize that it is a rail-trail, so none of the grades are that big, but after 7 or so miles of continually going uphill, it is a climb regardless of the grade. I will tell you though that this year the Boy ROCKED the climb this year. I remember last year having to stop on the climb. Not this year. We kept the tandem rocking at a nice, steady pace and before we knew it, we were at the top, looking at the massive monument to the late Native leader.

The upside of this climb (or any climb) is that there usually a descent on the other side, which in this case there is. We BLASTED into Custer, making our traditional stop at the little grocery store for a bit of fuel, water and a light break.

After getting the things we needed, we were on our way with 40 miles to go. The last significant climb of the day takes us out of Custer and we rode it with vigor, knowing that once we were at the top, we'd have it comparatively easy for the remainder of the ride. Sure, there are a few more uphill sections on the trail, but nothing of any significance.

As we rolled out of Custer, I also told the Boy we'd take a break at every mile marker post that ended in zero, or every 10 miles. It gave him the big goal broken up into smaller goals. As we finished up the climb, the Boy decided that he needed to go to the bathroom and needed a snack. We stopped, he dinked around for a few minutes, climbing the rocks and eating some jerky. I told him since we stopped here, we wouldn't stop at the next "zero" but at the next trail head, which was a bit farther down the trail. A bit farther for me is NOT a bit farther for a 8 year old I found out. He was not too happy with me for the distance we traveled before the Lien trail head.

As we rolled into the last trail head (the Minnehatka trail head) we had been bucking a head wind for quite a while and the sun had cooked the earth into a 95 degree day, which I suppose isn't a surprise for the southern end of the Black Hills. We stopped at this last trail head, knowing we only had about 15 miles to go. We chatted with the day-trippers gathered at the shelter, having the longest conversation with the 75+ year old gentleman that has ridden rail-trails in 48 of the 49 states on the North American continent and he would get his 49th (in Arkansas) in the next few weeks. He said he and his wife rode 1000-1500 per summer on the rail-trails. That is the guy I want to be when I am 75+ years old. How cool is that?

Despite the head wind, we pushed into Edgemont with relative ease. As we hit the last milemarker, the Boy started yelling with joy "WE DID IT, WE DID IT!" It made me swell with pride that this tough little kid sat for 2 days, 5+ hours each day, pedaling his ass off and he enjoyed it. He rode much harder this year than last and while we didn't necessarily have a better time than last year, we had as good of a time. I knew it was fun because when we hit Edgemont he asked when we were going to do it again. Soon, I promise soon.

They're dropping like flies...

2010-08-02T06:08:00.001-06:00

Unreal. I am going to take an intermission from the Short Way Down reporting to bring you this news break. Shit is dropping like flies in my house.

I have 4 single bikes (Moots Cinco, Kona Major Jake, C'dale SS, Schwinn Collegiate) as well as our tandem. Currently the Cinco is down for the count as I get her wheels rebuilt. Since the Cinco is out of commission, I went for a ride with the Prince on the Mickelson on Saturday, using my Major Jake.

The Major is a CX bike that is my own personal whip. I've used it for just about everything you can imagine. Commuting, singletrack, road, CX, rollers, pulling my son in his Burley trailer (when he was younger). I've used and abused this bike for sure. When I was changing the tires from my road tires to some 'cross tires for the gravel bed of the Mickelson and was doing some maintenance on it (HA!) when I discovered something. Something HORRIBLE. Something scary. Something that caused a bit of pain in my heart. A crack around the bottom bracket/seat tube junction. I've fucking killed her!

Now I am in a bit of a dilemma. I am out of a mountain bike. What to do about the Major? Do I strip her down and take the frame in right now? Do I keep riding her until the bottom bracket shears all the way off, causing a catastrophic accident? I'm stuck. I don't really want to send the Major in until after the season, but I also don't wanna get bitch-slapped by her either. I suppose once my wheels show up I'll strip her down and send her in. And Major, here is my promise to you...if/once you're fixed I'll take better care of you. At least 'til the end of the year...

Short Way Down 2, Part 1

2010-08-01T05:11:00.000-06:00

Well, our second annual "Short Way Down" trip went off without much of a hitch at all and my son and I had a grand time. For your information, the Short Way Down title is a play on the title of Long Way Down, an excellent documentary/series with Charlie Boorman and Ewan McGregor riding their motorcycles from the northern tip of Scotland to the southern tip of Africa. Since we're riding in the same general direction as they did, we decided to call it the Short Way Down.

Basically, since we finished last year's trip my son, heretofore I will refer to as "The Boy", has been hounding me about when we were gonna do it again, which was exciting, telling me I did a good job making the trip a fun one for a 7 year old. This year the Boy wanted to camp more nights but not having the time off of work to ride more and/or farther than we did last year, we went to the northern terminus of the trail in Deadwood the night before the ride and camped at the Whistler Gulch campground.

We woke up on Saturday morning to a soaking wet tent and gear from the dew and 6 or 7 big buck deer across the road from us. A nice way to start the adventure. I had it in my head that we would roll out before 8 am and after a tiny bit of prodding, we actually did roll out at about 10 minutes to 8. The journey had begun!

The first day had given us great weather, not too hot, a very slight tailwind and no severe weather. As we pedaled on we needed to hit the first big trailhead at the Kirk powerplant for a break. The only reason we took a break at this trailhead is we didn't have a place for breakfast before we took off, so we stopped for a granola/jerky/granola bar breakfast. After fueling up, we were off.

Understand that the Mickelson trail is a rail-trail, so none of the grades are very steep, but some a very long, so even though you're not in the granny gear grinding it out, you can be spinning a easier gear for a long time. We got to the top of the first climb and we knew we were moving along at a good clip, at least for a tandem loaded down with gear. A couple more stops at trailheads and we made it to the Dumont trailhead for the long downhill to Rochford.

Ahh, Rochford. The tiny little town in the middle of the Black Hills. It is a fun little place to stop and grab a little grub at the Moonshine Gulch Saloon. The Moonshine is a place you'd see in old time pictures or paintings. There is a bunch of weird stuff outside and inside it has hundereds of ball caps tacked to the ceiling, hundreds of pictures and curios on the walls and shelves. It has old wood floors that aren't flat and it is kinda dirty inside, but it is a great place that we make a point to stop at. It is definitely a time warp.

After fueling up, we hit the trail again continuing onto the Mystic trailhead where the last climb of the day was going to begin. The last climb went really, really well. I enjoy this climb as the trail takes you through a few tunnels on the trail. This is where I discovered that the Boy was not fond of the Lord of the Rings movies. Going through the tunnels, I said "I need my precious" in a bad, but my best Gollum voice. The Boy got mad, telling me to quit as it made him think of the big spider that captured Frodo and wrapped him up in a spider web. Understood and I was done with the Gollum jokes.

We hit our first day's destination of Hill City in good time, picking up a couple of needs in town before pedaling to our campground. We stayed at the same place as last year since it is literally right on the trail. We set up camp, got cleaned up and headed out on the bike to an adjacent campground to meet up with my boss and his family who happened to be camping there for the weekend. My boss' grandson, that is close in age to the Boy, was there so we went so they could play together and have some dinner. The Boy got to swim, play in the woods and have a good dinner that had no jerky.

We pedaled back to camp just before 8 pm. I grabbed a beer at the campground store and we sat around and relaxed a bit before hitting the sack. A big day was over, but the next day we needed to get up and do it all over again.

I am nothing more than a damn hamster

2010-07-30T06:32:00.000-06:00

I have a whole report for our second annual "Short Way Down" trip started but the trip and my normal morning rides have made me realize something that I need to get off my chest first. I am a hamster. And not because I could possibly resemble a hamster, being fat and furry, but because of what I am going to explain. I am a fucking hamster and no more.

We, as cyclists, dream and live for those long, wandering rides that take us to little towns, out of the way canyons or mountain tops. We want to use our bikes to break the surly bonds of our earth and journey to the heavens.

That's what we think we do. And occasionally we do. But 99% of the time 99% of us just ride the same old stuff day in and day out. We become stuck in a rut that has grabbed our wheels and won't let go. This became painfully obvious to me yesterday when I was riding my normal morning loop. (As I was typing that, I accidentally typed "mourning" as opposed to morning, but in this case the first might have been more appropriate.) I ride basically in a big lollipop shaped loop. Not any different than a hamster. Pedaling my ass off to go nowhere.

Sure, I feel better when I ride. I get physically stronger. I get mentally stronger, happier and healthier. But, a bicycle is one of the most efficient machines ever created by man. It uses the least amount of energy of any form of propulsion compared to either cars or walking. (OK, well maybe I heard that once, maybe it's bullshit, but it does sound really good.) We could, or better yet, should use them to go places we've never been. Yet we use bicycles to do nothing more than ride in loops.

Having real responsibilities of a house, family, pets, work, bills, etc., make those 1% journeys not possible except for that 1% of the time. When we have that 1% of time to go do those journeys we need to take that opportunity by the balls and go for it, like I did last weekend. Those trips are about both the journey and the destination. The journey is a beautiful, wandering experience, seeing and feeling things that most don't get to. The destination isn't the end of the trip but the beginning of an accomplishment. But, and this is a big but, when we do get that 1% of time, we need to be ready to take advantage of it.

Riding my bike like a hamster in a wheel gets me ready for those 1% times. It does make me stronger, both mentally and physically. It makes me know that when I am 15 miles from the final destination of my trip and it is 95 degrees outside and I'm bucking a headwind I can make it to the end. Instead of a sufferfest, making the journey hurt and the destination the only goal, being a hamster makes the 1% time more enjoyable.

I am looking forward to my next morning ride. I am a hamster damn it. A big, fat, furry happy hamster!

I wonder if I could pack more into my life...

2010-07-23T05:58:00.000-06:00

So much crap has transpired since my last post, I can barely comprehend it, which is also why I haven't posted anything in a while. Where do I begin?

Well, as I happened to mention, my family was in Florida. Last Thursday I went to Colorado (Denver to be specific) to pick them up from the airport and spend a weekend with the rest of my family and get some riding in with some old friends.

I made it to DIA at the right time to pick up my wife and son, leaving SD just 6 hours prior to their plane's landing. No room for error or breakdowns...flying on faith in mechanical things for me for sure. It was great to see them after nearly 2 weeks. The moment of initially seeing them in the airport was the last calm moment we had for the next 3 1/2 days. Blasting around Colorado, packing as much into each day was the name of the game.

Friday saw us leave for Colorado Springs at 9 am and not return to my brother's house until 11:15 that night via a shitty, twisty mountain road that set my nerves on edge. But the day was great, with me riding Limbaugh Canyon/Mt. Hermann with Bobki and Satellite (kinda), getting lost, trespassing on someone's property, getting chased by their dogs and finally running into a tree. A great ride.

Without getting into the minutia, we returned home late afternoon on Sunday (when does afternoon end and evening begin? I never know). Then another whirlwind began...preparing for our 2nd annual Short Way Down trip. As a matter of fact, I sit here typing this with jerky on the smoker at 6 am and I should be finishing my packing. Remember the PROcrastination? Yeah, I thought so.

Last, but certainly not least, our Teamfubar X stickers dropped this last week. If you want one (or 12) let me know. I've got about 150 of these left after doling out 100 or so of them. We need to take the TF logo world wide!

Fast guys, a formerly fast guy and gettin' high.

2010-07-12T06:29:00.000-06:00

Riding with fast guys. There is this stupid assed theory that if you ride with guys faster than you, you'll get faster. Well, I've been riding with guys faster than me for quite a while now and I don't really think I'm a bit faster than I was before, so I'm calling bullshit on this original theory. But I have a discovered a part of this theory that is missing that henceforth will be known as the Fubar Postulate. The Fubar Postulate will read as: When a velocipede pilot (also known as a cyclist) of inferior velocity is engaged in improving said velocity the "cyclist" shall pedal in front of other "cyclists" that are of superior velocity when compared to the "cyclist trying" to improve their velocity, thusly being forced to pedal faster and improve his/her velocity. (What the fuck? I just had to correct this as when I read it, it was jibberish, all discombobulated in the bits of the interweb. Sorry for any confusion. No I wasn't drunk when I originally posted it.)

We've ridden some stuff that I knew and the others didn't really know so well, so I had to lead the ride most of the way. With guys breathing down your neck, you push yourself harder than if you see them ahead of you pulling away slightly. Which is also why I didn't wear my heart rate monitor. I knew I'd be in the front of the pack and I really didn't want to know when my fucking heart was going to explode.

Speaking of riding in front of fast guys...right now, the Super Bowl of cycling is taking place right now in the Tour de France. Lance Armstrong, the American racer with the most Tour wins in history (7) is one week in and, well, lets say he isn't having the best week of his life.

After 3 years out of the racing lime-light in a quasi-retirement, Lance decided to come back to pro cycling and give the Tour another shot. And for all the good luck he's had in the past (keeping out of crashes, being in the right spot when break-away's happen) he's got all the bad luck anyone could ask for in this year's version. Who knows, maybe he doped in the past as Floyd said, and isn't anymore, maybe it is just his age rearing its ugly head or maybe his luck has just run out. But, I've got an idea. He should practice the Fubar Postulate. Get his ass in front of the other fastest guys and peg it there for the next two weeks.

I realize hindsight is 20/20, but maybe Lance shouldn't have come back this year. Like many others that have come back out of retirement to get one more shot at glory (Jordan at the Wizards, Muhammed Ali, etc.) it reminds you that first of all, they were great when they were at the peak of their careers, second of all, they are human and finally, it is kinda sad that they just can't let go of their glory days. Lance has got a LOT of stuff to do outside of pro cycling, he should just go do that. Or even better, he should take some magic mushrooms like this guy clearly has.

I realize this video has become completely viral this last week, so I'm sure you've seen it (hell, I've watched it about 5 times and don't get sick of it), but I had to post it too. Kids, this video should be a warning to all you out there that taking hallucinogenic drugs should not become part of your lifestyle. Whoa, what does it mean? Double rainbow indeed...

After 36 hours I'm F*#@IN' bored!

2010-07-06T06:15:00.000-06:00

My wife and son left for Florida on Sunday and I am already bored. I know many people out there would relish some time alone. And I will get some stuff done around the house that I wouldn't be able to get done if they were here, but I am still bored so I'll probably end up passing that bored feeling along to you via this little lame write-up.

Speaking of my wife, I have to tell you (and in a weird way, her) how it usually goes when she reads the stuff I write. She usually gives me a one sentence review. She'll say "Your post today was funny" or "Your post today was kind of negative." Yesterday she said, "Your blog today was very patriotic." To which I replied "Oh, you read it? (actually, I am always surprised when she reads it) What about the post before that? I thought it was funny, it made me laugh when I was writing it." To which she replied "No. It said fuck too many times in it. If there are two fucks in one sentence, it loses me." Huh? Really? It loses her? Shit, I don't want to lose 11% of my readers. I think the reason it loses her is two fold. First it's because she doesn't know who could be reading this and is worried that I'll offend someone and second, she is a lot damn smarter than me so she can express herself when she wants without resorting to adolescent behavior or language and I can't. She is a self-proclaimed pirate when our son isn't around and we're in the right company so she can drop F-Bombs as well as anyone, but I guess I won't be putting fuck more than once per sentence. Fuck. See...two sentences!

Actually I've got some great riding planned for the upcoming week and it is nice that I won't feel guilty about going and not spending time with our son, but it still isn't the same with them not around. I will get weird before the 10 days are up, talking to the dog, not going to bed when I should, roaming around the house with no clothes on, you know...weird.

When they get back my son and I are going to be going on our second annual Short Way Down ride, riding the Mickelson Trail in two days, but I am concerned that he hasn't been on the tandem much this year and it will be tough for him but he is ready to go. He actually wants to do it in MORE days so we can camp longer, which would be cool, but we'll do a 2 day ride first to see how it goes.

Well, I guess I've bored you enough for one day. If you are out and about and drive by my house, swing in and say hi. On second thought, call first. I should put some clothes on.

Have a Happy Fourth of July!

2010-07-03T06:31:00.000-06:00

On this 4th of July weekend, I hope that everyone can put aside their differences and know that no matter what we live in the greatest country that the world has ever known.

You know, 234 years ago, a lot of people that had a lot of radically differing points of view (Jefferson and Adams for example) were able to get together, putting aside their differences, to break away from the tyranny of England and create the United States.

Maybe we, in this country, could put those differences away and realize that we're all Americans. We get so caught up in the Democrat v. Republican, Christian v. Secular, Jew v. Muslim, American League v. National League, Star Wars v. Star Trek, Road v. Mountain, Rich v. Poor, that we forget that when we go to another country, we're seen as an American, not any of these things. A lot of these people are jealous of us because we come from the land of more than we'll ever need.

I hope you all get to eat some kind of animal burned on the grill, drink too much beer, explode something big, and hang out and have fun with family and friends. But mostly I hope you ride your road bike on a dirt road, ride your mountain bike on a sidewalk, but mostly have a fun 4th!

I'm surprised Massengill doesn't sponsor a race team.

2010-06-27T06:46:00.000-06:00

Why are roadies, or more accurately, serious-acting cyclists such douche-bags? Actually, they're not even cool enough to be a douche-bag. More like an enema bottle. And I am not talking a high level cyclist, like those in the pro ranks. Nope. Most of those guys are actually cool, nice people (there are a few that aren't). I am talking about those guys that aren't even Cat 3 racers that wear full-kit outfits, ride 52cm and smaller bikes so they have short man's diesease, but think they can take Contador out if they just had the right breaks go their way. Let me explain.

Yesterday morning I was out on my normal "training" route on my cross/road/commuter bike (it isn't a real road bike, so I'm not cool) and as I crest a smaller climb, a guy passes me on my left. Mind you it is 6 am and there is barely a soul out in the world, much less other cyclists. Do you think this little, Napoleonic, full-kit, road-racer wanna-be fuck could even grunt out a hi, fuck you, suck-it or any other greeting to another cyclist? Nope. The best part of all of it was he put the hammer down to pass me, he got a little ways ahead of me then held it there. I closed the gap a little bit (about in half) and kept it there. He kept looking over his shoulder at me, trying to do his best Lance Armstrong "the look" imitation. All that told me was he spent everything passing me and was just holding on to his lead. So, I suppose he couldn't say hi 'cause he was beyond his anaerobic threshold, but seriously, give me a break. No other people out this morning, much less another cyclist and you can't grunt something?

You tiny little fuck. You weigh about the same as my legs so I am sure that was part of the reason you could pass me, but I could have reeled you in as you saw in my acceleration when I closed the gap down. But, maybe, just maybe you were afraid that if I caught you I'd get your pot of gold or your Lucky Charms.

I don't get it. It isn't like there are millions, thousands or hell even hundreds of cyclists on the roads, especially here in South Dakota. We're all part of the same "team". We're on two human powered wheels in a world made for 4 motorized wheels. We have a kinship, a brother(or sister)hood. Whether we're riding for fitness, fun, commuting, relaxation or for no reason at all, we should all appreciate it when we see another on a bike. At least I give a nod if I can't say something at that moment.

If I see that little Leprechaun out on his Barbie bike again, I will chase him down and steal his pot of gold. But you can be sure I'll say hello when I am doing it.

STRANDED...

2010-06-21T06:30:00.000-06:00

Over the weekend, we went to Sioux Falls to a family (my wife's) reunion. This was a snap decision to attend this reunion on my wife's part. Initially when her dad told her about it, she said she had no reason to attend, and her father assumed she wouldn't attend anyhow. But then, after thinking about it, she decided to attend, albeit slightly last minute.

So, trying to figure out how to get some riding in while there, and I knew I wouldn't be riding a mountain bike (it is Sioux Falls for Christ's sakes), so I did some research on Mapquest before heading out there. I found some nice, easily accessible country roads that I could spin out on for a ways then double back. Cool...all is not lost for riding for the weekend.

Saturday morning I get up, have a little breakfast, and take off for my ride, though it was later than I wanted to go. First let me tell you, Sioux Falls streets and road have to be the biggest piece of shit roads I've EVER been on. Holy shit they suck. Really. Cracks and pot holes big enough to swallow a toddler on a tricycle. I had to actually rappel down into one to retrieve a dropped water bottle. Fucking atrocious.

Anyhow, I did a 2 1/2 hour ride before we had to start getting ready for the ass-grabbing session with people I've never met before and will probably never see again. Actually, after I got out of town a ways, beside the fact that the shoulders were fairly narrow, the roads were decent. So, besides a big assed garbage truck coming far too close to me, the ride was uneventful and a good one.

Sunday, I got up a little earlier to go. Understand that Sioux Falls is in a different time zone than I am, so for me I was up REALLY early, especially for a Sunday morning where we went out the night before to see an old friend from high school that calls Sioux Falls home. Anyhow, I roll out on a different route, with a lot better shoulder. I have a tailwind, so I am clipping along at a really quick rate. Riding mostly uphill and I am keeping an average speed over 17 mph, pretty quick for me. I think to myself the ride home might suck a little bit. I am also under a bit of a time constraint as we have to attend a brunch at 11:00, so I know that I can't go out too far, especially taking the wind into consideration.

So, the plan in my head was to roll out for an hour, turn around and ride back. As I was nearing the hour mark, I start scanning ahead to find a suitable turn-around point, grab a quick bite and raise my seat a bit. At a little gravel road, I pull over, get out a Clif Shot Block, throw a couple squares in my mouth and get an allen wrench out and raise the seat up. I didn't have to raise the seat up right then. It was just a tiny bit (a few millimeters) too low, so if I didn't raise it right then, I would have been OK, but being the anal rider I am, I decided to do it.

I don't know if the Clif Blocks were steroid flavored, but as I am tightening the bolt down, I hear/feel a *SNAP* and my hand goes flying away from the bike. I think the allen wrench broke. Nope. It was the binder bolt. SHIT! I look around a little bit to see if I can find the head to back the broken remains out of the collar and do a make shift fix to get me home. No dice. Now what? I sure as hell am not riding 17 miles home, against the wind, standing up. So I decide to call my wife to come pick me up. I get voice mail. Shit. Her phone is in the truck on the charger, so even if she wanted to hear it ring, she couldn't. Uh oh. Not good. I don't have my father-in-law's number. I don't have my sister-in-law's number. I just might be riding the 17 miles home standing up.

So, I call my mother-in-law in Florida to see if she has my sister-in-law's phone number or if she call her for me, which she said she would. I then call my mom in Colorado to see if she can look up my father-in-law's number for me, but my mom is at work, but she says to call my sister. I do, but of course, she doesn't answer. Then I call my brother (also in Colorado) and he starts looking it up, but can't find it. No listing. I feel myself slipping into a bit of despair knowing that I'll have to start riding home.

As I am talking to my brother, my call waiting started beeping. It was my wife. HURRAY! After a quick logistical conversation, she says she is on her way, and I start pedaling towards home. A couple of miles later, we hook-up and I am rescued, and rescued in time too as we are not late for brunch.

When I got home-home last night I went to fix my bike. I get the broken bolt out and find a proper replacement bolt. I put everything back together and as I am tightening it down (more gingerly this time) the entire seat collar snapped in half, so at least I know it was ready to go.

Even though I had to get rescued, I had some good rides in while there. I just know now to never adjust my saddle height when I am out on a ride. At least if my wife's phone is on charge.

Man, I can tell I'm getting old.

2010-06-08T06:06:00.000-06:00

Well, first of all, I lied. I truly thought I'd work out my BHFTF post in my head, liven it up and bestow it upon all of you. Yet, here I am writing something completely different and more than a week later too. Oh well. Maybe I'll finish it up before the next BHFTF.

Tuesday nights are kinda a ride night for the Ramblers. The group ebbs and flows depending on what we're riding, where we're riding and what is happening in everyone's lives. We've had Tuesday rides with 30+ and we've had Tuesday rides with 3. This last Tuesday was scheduled for the Centennial Trail starting at Pactola Resverior. I was NOT looking forward to it.

I wasn't not looking forward to it because of the ride, but because of the moisture we've had lately. Yes, I'll say it again, we've had too damn much rain. Hell, I had to mow my yard TWICE in the same day just to get the grass knocked down to a manageable level. I can tell I'm getting old 'cause I don't want ride in the rain or mud anymore, but it isn't what you think. I could tell you I don't want to because I'm a good IMBA member and I don't want to tear up the trails. And I could tell you I don't like getting all muddy, but I always jump in the shower immediately when I get home from a ride anyhow (prevents monkey butt and saddle sores the size of globe grapes) so it isn't that either. The real reason...I don't want to spend all that time washing my bike.

I am a bit of a bike snob when it comes to a clean ride, but that is why I rarely have a trailside mechanical. So, riding for two hours to come home to spend 2 hours cleaning my bike doesn't appeal to me anymore. Hell, I rode on the road on Thursday morning and hit a stretch that was wet from overnight rain and got pissed.

This isn't to say I categorically ride in the mud or rain, I just prefer to not do so.

Regardless, the ride at Pactola was an absolute blast. It is a sweet stretch of trail, rising and falling just right, twisting in and out of trees and grassy meadows. Plus, it is so green from all the rain it felt like a scene out of Return of the Jedi. You know you've done it. Blasting down the trail, pretending you're Luke (or Leia if you're a bit weird or a girl) on a speeder bike, chasing

down the Stormtroopers. The only bullshit part of that was those fucking teddy bears called Ewoks that beat the Empire. What the hell? So, let me get this right, the Rebellion, with all their X-Wing fighters, blasters and lightsabers couldn't defeat the Empire without the help of 2 foot tall teddy bears with sticks and rocks? Maybe we should round up all the sticks and rocks we can find, give 'em to all the midgets and dwarves (oops, not PC, I mean little people) and send 'em over to Iraq and Afghanistan. Then we'd win.

Whew, sorry about the tangent. Water on the brain or something and I've officially outed myself as a nerd, geek, dweeb or whatever we're called now, but you probably knew that since I write a sissy blog. Anyhow, the ride was great and I am glad I went. This Tuesday is Crow Peak, a top 3 ride of all time for me, so I am looking forward to it. Even if I have to kick a teddy bears ass and clean my bike.

Mother Nature and I are gonna tangle...

2010-06-04T05:30:00.000-06:00

I have been slacking on updating posts lately. Maybe a bit of a mental block, maybe just I've been busy or maybe that dirty little whore we call Mother Nature has put a literal damper on any festivities.

I had (have) a post regarding the Memorial Day weekend ready to roll, or close to it, but after re-reading it, I realized it was boring as hell. I was recapping the great festivities of the Black Hills Fat Tire Festival, or at least recapping from my perspective, in this post. And I'll probably finish it up and bore the world with it this weekend at some point, but today I just needed to cut loose with some light ranting.

As I have mentioned, I usually work out my post ideas when I am riding (esp. by myself) but we've had enough rain in the last week to make Noah nervous. This much rain does NOT make for good riding. Actually, I was gonna go for a ride this morning (yet notice how I am here writing) but I don't like sliding around on the piles of worms all over the road. Shit, I couldn't even finish mowing the lawn last night because of the rain. Yeah, I'm a pussy. I refuse to mow in the rain. Besides, I have a damn-hippy, battery powered lawn mower (note how I put a comma in there so you don't think it was a hippy-battery, which might be a hemp battery that smells like patchouli), so I am afraid of shorting it out or getting electrocuted. And if I get electrocuted and it blows the hair off my body, we'll have a different mess to clean up, but that is another story.

I am getting sick of the rain. And more importantly, I am sick of hearing the pat answer "Well, we need the moisture". I think next time I hear some old codger say that line when someone mentions the rain, I am gonna punch them in the nuts. No, no we DON'T need anymore rain. We're 3+ inches up on where we need to be for the year. We're gonna have mosquitos, ticks and poison ivy so bad it will be like a new form of pestilence because of this moisture, so nope, we don't need anymore.

But, this is all I can bitch about in one day. I'll finish up the BHFTF reporting this weekend at some point, the weather is supposed to "dry out" a bit and I am sure I'll get in a ride or two. But it better hurry up, I am getting prune hands from all this damn rain.

They say when you rub your nose while talking you're lying...

2010-05-21T05:10:00.000-06:00

The whole cycling world blew up yesterday on news of Floyd Landis saying he doped and naming the names of everyone else he rode with (basically) saying they doped too. Including one 7 time Tour de France winner, Lance Armstrong. This whole thing has become so large that even mainstream sports media (ESPN radio) is talking about it.

And of course, many cycling related news sources and blogs are going nuts about it, albeit with a different twist than the mainstream media. Most cycling blogs are saying "finally, the truth is coming out". I won't say that. I will say that there is suspicion around almost everyone that is a pro cyclist. But, what Floyd had to say had no impact on what I thought of pro cycling, one way or the other.

Floyd lost all credibility with me when he made his statement yesterday. For 4 years he's been saying that "I didn't do it. I had a drink after my bad stage, which was the reason I tested positive. Blah, blah, blah." Now, all of the sudden, he said he did it. To me, it was like catching your kid doing something wrong. They deny it and deny it and deny it. Then, finally when you get the truth, they say "well yeah, I did it, but so did this person and that person and that person" to deflect the scrutiny from themselves. Maybe all those other kids did that same thing, but at that point, you don't really care, you're just interested in what your kid did and why they did it.

Same thing here with Floyd. Now, had he come out back in 2006 and said "yup, I did it. I was on teams that had a history of doing it and everyone on my teams were doing it, and I feel I need to come out and stop this from completely ruining my sport" then I'd believe him.

Right now I don't give a shit what Floyd says. Floyd is a liar and a cheat and there isn't too much that he could say to change my mind. I bet Floyd is a decent person. I bet he's fun to ride with and fun to have a beer with, but as a credible source for who is doping in cycling, well, he lost that in July of '06.

I won't be surprised if every other pro cyclist, including Lance Armstrong, are caught doping. I mean, seriously, how can a human, no matter how well trained, ride like they do for 20+ days and not need to take something? Hell, if I ride a bunch for 1 week, I want to take something, much less 2000 miles in 20 days. But, I need someone more credible than Floyd Landis to say they did it.

OK, This is getting weird...

2010-05-17T05:24:00.001-06:00

Well, after we got back from our trip, I got sick. Not just a sniffly nose, but sick-sick, like I went home early from work sick. I rarely get sick. I usually deny the fact I am sick when I am such, but this time I couldn't. Achy joints, tired, a weird cough, the whole works. Needless to say, I hadn't been on the bike until yesterday, so for almost two weeks.

The break gave me time to give my road/CX/do-it-all whip some love. It had not been faring too well as of late, so I got her back into some semblance of riding shape. Then, and this is where it goes all sideways, I started researching doing some riding/training with a heart rate monitor. I found a site that gives me guidelines and calculators for heart rates and I have a training plan for peaking at the 24 Hours of Moab.

Training with a heart rate monitor? What the hell? I wasn't supposed to be serious, and that sounds REALLY serious. That sounds like some leg-shaving, food-weighing, obsessed training program. In all seriousness, it helps keep me from that (or at least that's what I'm telling myself). By using the monitor, I can keep my training hours down to a minimum, opening up the week for real riding, like the kind you'd do on singletrack.

Yesterday's ride with a monitor actually went a lot better than I thought it would. I did a nice little road ride (about 30 miles) with some biggish climbs in it and I kept my heart rate (mostly) in the zone I wanted to. And, I was actually a bit faster than I thought I'd be by doing that...hmmm, I might be onto something here. Yeah, I know I didn't discover this as people have been doing it forever, but I had to find out for myself. And, one ride doesn't make a trend, so I'll have to report back in a week or two.

I'll keep it short today to make up for those long ride reports last week. Besides, I have to go do my weight training today. Really, I'm serious...

Rambler Spring Trip 2010 Part 3: The final chapter!

2010-05-11T05:21:00.000-06:00

The final ride day found us waking the ENTIRE crew up by 6:00 for an 8:00 roll out so we can load up on the shuttle by 8:15. Getting 17 riders up, fed and on the road by 8:00 was going to be a chore at the least, but we made it happen. Everyone was up and rolling shortly after 6.

After breakfast, we were doing quick bike rundowns as we didn't want any mechanicals on the trail. One of the new riders, Jason, had a Crank Bros. pedal that was new and ready to fall apart. We tried to tighten it up with no success, so a few of us blasted off early to get him some over-priced Moab pedals and install them before the shuttle takes off.

As I have hinted to a few times, the weather was a finicky bitch for our whole trip. It was 80+ degrees the day before we got to Moab, then in the 50's the whole time we were there and was to return to the 80's when we left. Nice. We also saw about every kind of precipitation imaginable. When we were on Amasa Back the day before, we noted how low the snow line was on the La Sal Mountains, where our ride on this day was going to take us.

Anyhow, after a somewhat scary 15 passenger van ride to the trailhead (the road was muddy, with no guard rail and a cliff on the side, with the van sliding side to side in the slop) we get out to a supremely muddy road and about 4" of snow...excuse me, fresh pow. We shouldn't be using snowboard terminology for a bike ride.

We saddle up and hit the trail.

We are riding the LPS trail (or Lower Porcupine System) which is some SWEET singletrack above the actual Porcupine Rim trail, dumping you out onto the "overlook" of the Porcupine trail (you know, where everyone gathers and freaks out how high you are above Castle Valley). About 1/2 way through the LPS trail, there is a really steep section called the Notch. Last year when we rode it, a guy slipped, fell and lost his bike, which went tumbling down the hillside. This year it was covered with snow that the sun had softened/melted and turned the whole thing into a muddy slip-and-slide for adults. Imagine hearing 17+ guys laughing, slipping and falling in the mud. Unreal fun. Jay slipped, fell in the mud and went sliding and took out the legs of Jasper. Good times.

As we get to the overlook, the snow is getting lighter, but the dirt sections of the trail are still muddy. We take a few shots of the group at the overlook and are getting ready to roll out when Howie, another trip newcomer, asks me what we can do about his brake. The front brake is pulling all the way to the bar. After Jasper and I fiddle with it for a while, we make the decision to send Howie back down the Sand Flats Road to town as Porcupine isn't the trail to have only one brake. Damn. I hate losing one of the group and I really hate sending him off on his own. I kinda feel like some sort of momma bird. Dumbass.

So, we take off and are cruising down the rim. The guys up front stop every once and a while to let the group reform. At one of these stops, I get to the front of the group when we take off. I am with Cleatus, Marr, Bobki, Nick and Jasper and we are FLYING. Hauling ass down Porcupine with reckless abandon is fun, scary and probably not a recommended activity.

When we get to the singletrack to finish the ride, we had the same group of guys at the front of the pack. At some point on the singletrack, there is a fairly technical section, with a series of rock drops and slickrock ledges. As the group rolls up to this section, a different group of riders was there eyeing the section, seeing if it was "rideable". We all go blasting through it like it was nothing. Damn, damn fun!

We finish the ride and roll back to the camp for our fabled last night dinner, which involved bacon wrapped food, which makes it AWESOME. We had bacon wrapped tenderloins as thick as a phone book and bacon wrapped scallops. As we're sitting around, two of the leaders from Bikerpelli come over and chat with us. Bikerpelli is a quasi-tour group that rides the Kokopelli trail from Fruita to Moab. Their trip was blown-apart by the weather, so they were based camped in our campground sending their riders out on day rides. They tell us they are going to have a game of bike-tag that evening in the parking lot and asked if we wanted to come.

So, fully fed and fairly drunk, we cruise over to the parking lot at the appropriate time. This little section of parking lot is mostly surrounded by a fence, so spectators are lining the sides. I am ringing my cowbell as the riders ride around trying to get their competitors to put a foot down (and thus go out). I hear someone yell my name and I look over to the other fence to see Bobki standing there with his pants off and just holding them over his package. I zip over and Bobki says he needs my cowbell. As the group starts a new game, Bobki goes streaking through the crowd, ringing the cowbell. AWESOME!

Bobki comes back, pants on and says he is going to do it again, but with someone else. We convince Greg (the crazy Aussie) to do it with him. So, both drop trow and when the next round starts, they go streaking through the group again. Bobki runs straight through, but Greg is running side to side, jumping up in the air and clicking his heels together, putting his ass in peoples' faces. People are laughing their asses off.

Finally, Bobki says he'll ride the ride sans pants if someone gets him a bike, which makes Nick shoot off like a shot to get him one. Nick returns with Cleatus' bike, Bobki drops his pants and starts playing bike tag. Of course, Cleatus didn't authorize this use and didn't notice it at first. I lean over at tell him to look at Bobki's bike. Cleatus isn't too thrilled with this turn of events. He yells at Bobki, telling him he just bought an Enduro. And there's Bob, riding around with his grapes dangling over the saddle and his bung-hole on Cleatus' white saddle.

I have to say, a perfect capper on a great trip. We were handed a batch of shitty weather and we made the best of it. We had epic rides, epic food, epic beer consumption (two, count 'em TWO 15 gallon kegs were drained by Saturday afternoon) and epic fun. I can't wait to plan for next year's trip.

Rambler Spring Trip 2010 Part 2

2010-05-10T05:27:00.000-06:00

So, day two comes on our trip FAR too early for me. The previous night saw me drink a lot of beer from the Fat Tire keg (which we found out later we brought into Utah illegally) as I had ridden an epic ride that day and, probably more importantly, Bobki showed up that evening with his nephew and Cletus. We were up until 1 am drinking beer and we woke up at 6:30'ish the next morning...ouch.

So, not feeling the greatest, we load up the troops and drive back out past where we started yesterday's ride for a ride called Baby Steps/Klondike Bluffs. This was part one of a two part ride, featuring Amasa Back in the afternoon. On the way to the trailhead, I feel something break loose inside of me. Uh oh, the Fat Tire is starting to work its magic. I can hold it I think to myself.

The ride rolled out on a two track, with Bobki and Cletus taking the lead. You can tell they didn't ride yesterday, those bastards were rolling on fresh legs! We got to the junction and started up a bit of nice slickrock, but I was having a hard time enjoying it. Hard to ride hungover and pinching your butt cheeks together so you don't shit yourself. Unfortunate too, as the trail was really cool. The slickrock actually dumped us onto real singletrack. For those of you that have ridden in Moab know that singletrack there is kinda like Bigfoot or the Loch Ness monster. You've heard it exists, but haven't ever really seen it.

Anyhow, we ride this really fun singletrack, mixed with a bit of two track and slickrock when we come to the junction of the Klondike Bluffs and we decide to ride the mile plus to the Arches National Park overlook. As we get to the trailhead for the Arches trail, there is a gate, a bike rack and about 40 bikes there (with some of those people standing around). We get off the bikes and I realize my shit has gone code red. I need to take a dump and I need to take it NOW. I get ass-paper from JT and tell the group I'll catch up. I sneak off into the scrub juniper, trying to walk uphill with my ass pinched shut. Ever tried to do that? Not easy, but I didn't want to soil my chamois. And speaking of chamois, it was attached to bib shorts, which made getting ready for the dump that much harder. Anyhow, I find the perfect spot, undress quickly and barely got squatted over before a cow pie came flying out. The wind is blowing and I almost lost my paper, then trying to find it, I almost step in my own dookie. Disaster adverted, I bury my duty and hoof over to the group. By the way, I end up taking 5 dumps on this day. I think my body was revolting against what I was doing and had done to it.

The ride down Klondike was fast and furious and mostly downhill. We get back to the car, have a few beers (well, I didn't) and back to camp for lunch and get ready to prep for the afternoon ride.

Under grey skies we set out for our afternoon ride on Amasa Back. This ride isn't too long, just a 5+ mile out on technical jeep trail and back on the same trail. During lunch JT drank about 7 beers. I don't know how the hell he was riding, but we take off and the first section is a gnarly waterfall type section. JT is BLAZING up to this and I am thinking that the liquid courage was going to cause him to hurt himself, then at the last second, he hits the brakes. Yep, this is going to be an interesting ride.

We climb up the ride at a decent pace and I am feeling about 100 times better than my morning ride, not 100 percent, but a LOT better. Bobki is riding his Yeti freeride bike that weighs about 40 pounds and is climbing up and cleaning everything. Unreal. The guy must be channeling his native billy goat spirits, 'cause he's climbing really well.

We get to the overlook and hang out for a few pictures and looks over the edge. I look back towards town and see there is something nasty rolling our way. We'd best get off this rock in quick manner. Thankfully it takes about an hour and a half to go up and only about 30 minutes to come down. We take off and are BLASTING down the trail. Cleatus was going way faster than everyone down, as usual. About 1/2 way down, Quigley flatted and we stopped and waited for him. YEA! We're learning that we don't leave anyone behind.

We finished the ride with very little issue and a lot of smiles. A couple of beers at the trailhead (including a Yuengling for me from Cleatus) and we pack up for the camp. One more day of great riding in the books and time to hit the Moab Brewery.

As was customary, we had one night out at the Moab Brewery. A lot of beer was consumed and a really REALLY good burger, though at that point they could have served us a dog turd on a bun and we would have thought it was manna from heaven. Our waitress really knew how to work the group for a tip as she was Johnny-on-the-spot (or Jane as it were) and was very charming. Even at the end she wanted to give us all hugs when Owen picked her up and took off with her. That crazy Aussie. By 10 pm, we were all back at camp and in bed. We had to get up early the next day for one more epic and I for sure wasn't going to drink all that beer again. I'm not down with trailside shits.

Rambler Spring Trip 2010 Part 1

2010-05-05T05:12:00.001-06:00

The 4th annual Spring Rambler trip has come and gone and, well, it went off a LOT better than I had anticipated.

I started this post a few days ago, then got caught up in, uh, I dunno, actually talking with my wife about the stuff that happened around here while I was out galavanting around the desert. Then I got sick (and I still am), so I've been slacking on my reporting.

Because we had such epic riding, I'll break this up into 2 and possibly 3 parts, as to completely bore you with the minutia of each ride such as how the rocks sounded when the crunched under my tires and the exact smell of my jerseys after each ride.

Sometime after rolling out of RC at 1:00 am (yes, you read that right, ONE am) the decision was made that we would ride our first ride in Fruita as opposed to Top of the World at Dewey Bridge. We rode Mary's to Horsethief Bench, which turned out to be a smart decision, as sitting in the car for 11 hours does weird things to your legs. This ride was a blast, but we've done it a lot and it was fairly uneventful, so not much to report on this one.

The next morning (after setting up camp in hurricane force winds which gave me Curt Gowdy flashbacks) we woke up to overcast skies and we could see precipitation off in the distance. Time to layer up the clothes and get out there! This day was going to take us on the Gemini Bridges to Gold Bar Rim to the Portal (yes, THAT Portal trail, the one where people have died), a few of us had done the Gemini portion of this ride, but we ALL were virgin Gold Bar/Portal riders.

The plan was to drop one vehicle off at the bottom of the Portal (which we'd use to go get the other vehicles), shuttle 3 cars up to the trailhead to get 14 of us there. Then one of those cars would drive up and over the first pass of the ride, with 4 riders in the car, into the valley where the Gemini/Gold Bar junction lies. This vehicle will contain lunch for our group and this event will play a pivotal role later in this epic journey.

So, those of us that were going to pedal from the official trailhead take off after the other truck has started heading over the pass. We climb the initial big climb and as we're descending into the valley I get *SNAPPED* in the face with something hard. It starts sleeting like I've never seen. The sleet is gathering on the red rocks and running down like a sleet river. Unreal. In the valley, we actually pass our support vehicle, but just a few minutes before the junction where we're to meet.

After we get the support vehicle crew out on the trail, we roll to Gemini Bridges. This part of the ride isn't difficult at all, being all 2 track and/or dirt road, but once we get to the bridges, it was all worth it. The bridges are two natural arches, side by side, spanning the entrance to a box canyon. At the end of the box canyon is a shelf that hangs out over the end by about 30 feet or so. All of this (the bridges and the shelf) are about 300-400 feet above the canyon floor. As I always do when I go to Gemini, I lie down on my stomach on shelf and look underneath the shelf (which is only about 4" thick on the end), which freaked out everyone in the group.

After we were all done playing around on the bridges, we saddled up and headed back to the car, where we had lunch planned. You have to understand, when we plan lunch, it isn't cold cut sandwiches when possible. Nope. In our vehicle, there was coolers and a grill to make buffalo burgers with potato salad and trail beers for lunch. Yes, we do it up right. We ride our asses off on this trip and gain weight (which I don't need to do).

We end up having to find a cave/crack in the rocks to do our lunch to get out of the gale force winds, which was a great move. Hell, we could have stayed there all day, eating and drinking, but there was more trail to experience!

After our stellar lunch, we hit the trail. The first 1/4 mile was a sand trap, which wasn't making me happy. Soon, the trail turned up and into rock, which was perfect. Climbing was fun, trying to clean little step ups and ledges that would be unthinkable unless you had slickrock under your tires for other-worldly traction, which we did. We ran into a few jeepers and saw a few riders far off in the distance, but the trail traffic on the Gold Bar was light at most.

As we crested the Gold Bar, once again we're on top of a "cliff" overlooking Hwy 191, across the canyon from Arches National Park. This time we're well above 600' above the canyon floor. Hell, the cars look like dots moving across the shoelace that was the highway. The trail book we have says it rolls across the rim following "blue dots" painted on the trail. The book also says that when we lose the dots to stay as close to the rim as possible.

Well, we did lose the blue dots. And then some people started to lose their tempers, and NOW it officially became an epic ride. We were lost, people were getting pissed off, and we were too far in to turn around...it was AWESOME! Obviously we weren't too lost, as I am relaying this story to you a week later.

We eventually did find the trail and continued to roll on. At one point the trail rounded a bend

right on the edge of the cliff, turned back and headed back away from the cliff edge. As a few of us that were in the front of the group turned around and looked back, we notice the trail was on a ledge that had NOTHING UNDER IT. Super cool and creepy at the same time. Flashes of Wile E. Coyote and the Roadrunner went through my mind, seeing the rock fall with the riders on it, unaware they are hurtling toward the canyon floor.

We finally come to the Portal. Ahh, the infamous Portal trail. The trail that has literally claimed lives. The trail that has been talked about in probably every single bike magazine in the English speaking world. I was expecting huge, technical ledges and crazy exposure on a trail notched into a craggy cliff wall. It wasn't anything like that. The two spots where there were deaths don't look too crazy at all, which is why I suppose riders have tried those moves before falling to their deaths. Actually, if there wasn't severe penalties on the left side of the trail for messing up, a person wouldn't think twice about riding these sections.

We all walked down this section and as we got to the corner where the really dangerous stuff was over, we all gathered and were waiting for the others to come down. We turn around and see JT walking with Howie and no bikes. What the hell is going on? Jay and I walk back up to them to find out JT's legs locked up on the edge (from fear) and Howie was helping him down. Jay and I get their bikes and get everyone back to the corner. JT has never liked heights or cliffs, so his fear was understandable.

Finally we're on the final stretch of the Portal and I crash going down this stretch, twisting my bars. I have to stop and fix my bike and the group goes past me. What the hell? I was pissed that no one asked if everything was OK. Son-of-a-bitch. Now I am pissed off. Yep an epic ride.

At some point before the bottom we realize that the vehicle that was to take some of us back to the trailhead wasn't going to be able to perform this task as the keys for this vehicle were LOCKED IN THE TRUCK IN THE VALLEY. Holy SHIT! That means a few of us were going to have to ride the 10 paved miles back to the trailhead. A few of the fast guys volunteered but we realized we needed 4 riders, not 3, so I peel off and go with them. 10 miles into the wind. Uphill. On pavement. On the side of a busy highway. Sounds like a great time, which is why I went.

Shockingly, it was miserable. Probably more so for my partners, as they could have been back 10 minutes or so quicker than they were 'cause they were going slower for me. But we got to the vehicles, got back to town and cracked the keg wide open. It was a completely epic day. We had almost every weather pattern one could imagine, got lost, got scared, got hurt, had mechanicals, forgot keys and had an absolutely awesome time. This ride has to rank in my top 10 rides of all time.

WHEW. That was a lot longer than I thought. My next one won't be so long, as it was two small rides and I was fairly well hung-over, so I don't remember all of the ride.

Is it time to panic yet?

2010-04-26T05:59:00.000-06:00

I always get this way before a trip. Right now, I am panicking, thinking of all the stuff I need to get done before the annual Rambler Moab trip. You might ask what I am doing writing on this blog when I could be getting some stuff ready. Lemme explain.

Unlike my normal M.O., I actually got stuff ready this weekend. My tent that was mangled in last fall's Curt Gowdy trip was set up, repaired, cleaned and packed up. All the camping supplies were cleaned and readied. My bike is almost ready to roll, with both fork and rear shock having been rebuilt, new cables, chain, and brakes bled. I'll get my clothes ready tonight.

No, actually, I am panicking because we have a whole bunch of guys going and I am feeling a bit like a camp mom. When we were in the planning stages of this year's trip, I told JT "Fuck it, we need to let one of these other guys plan the trip this year." JT, being the voice of reason said "It will not happen then." He was right. We've had others do more in prepping this year's trip than ever, and I feel like we're still a little behind. Maybe it is the control freak in me that is wanting to know everything that is or isn't happening.

I realize that as long as I have my riding gear, my bike and my sleeping stuff, everything will be OK. But, until we're on the road, I'll be panicking the whole time, sweating the details.

Now, I need to go find that 3.5 mm allen wrench. You never know if someone is gonna need it.

My hands still smell like suspension fluid.

2010-04-21T05:47:00.000-06:00

Returning to a bike related post and something not as snarky as my last one (which according to my wife was NOT funny, but just mean. I might want to disagree, but she's usually right and I'm usually dumb...).

In addition to my excellent bike riding skills (HA), I've always prided myself in my bike mechanic skills. I tore my first bike hub apart at age 11 or so, not knowing what the hell I was doing and been at it ever since. Fucking up a bike part will teach you REALLY quick how to not do it.

I've taught myself or learned just about everything there is to do on a bike, from building wheels to rebuilding suspension parts. I did this for three reasons. One, I never wanted to pay the "shop rate" for repairs. Yep, I am cheap, but I guess that's how I can pay for expensive bike parts. Two, I don't trust a lot of people to do the work properly (this is my problem). Actually, when you go to a shop, there are a few that you really know and trust and if they were the ones working on your bike, that'd be OK, but usually that trusted person takes your beloved and hands it off to some teenager that is in his first week on the job. No thanks. Third, and most importantly, I am REALLY impatient when it comes to getting stuff fixed. If you remember back, this might not be compatible with my ability to PROcrastinate, but they're not necessarily mutually exclusive. Once I hand off a bike or part to someone, I'm wondering when it will be done on my way out of the shop.

SO, with our pending trip less than a week away, I needed to get some annual bike maintenance done. I rebuilt the rear shock over the weekend and last night I rebuilt the fork. I started at 8 pm, keeping with my ability to procrastinate. The best part of doing it at night is if I have any problems and I need to buy an additional part, I can't. Which is awesome as I'll obsess over it, think about it all night long and sleep like shit. But, I didn't have any issues and as I type this I can peer over and see my bike, reassembled and looking good, on the rack in my basement shop.

Everything on my bike is now ready for the trip. I'll take her out for one last ride tonight, making sure everything is working properly, wash it up and have it ready for Moab. I just hope that when I'm flying down a trail in Moab, my fork doesn't explode.

Just Say NO!

2010-04-15T04:53:00.000-06:00

All right, unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your perspective) today's post has nothing to do with cycling, other than the fact that these crazy assed people could run a cyclist over in their rolling pet carrier.

First, at what point in your life does a person decide that they need to get a dog that isn't much bigger than a rat and take said canine with them everywhere they go? Dogs should NOT be smaller than a cat and there are place where these rats should NOT go. Right now, the dog we have is the smallest we've ever had and she's almost 60 lbs. And I realize size isn't everything, but c'mon, I don't dig those kick-dogs.

Second, why do these people think they can be top secret and sneak these stupid dogs into the grocery store with them? They put them in a little bag and put them in the cart like no one would notice. Then, they act all indignant and hurt when you approach them and say that you can't have a dog in the store due to health code reasons. These same old ladies (and weird old gay dudes) are the first to bitch when a child gets a tiny bit out of control in a store, yet here they are with a dog, whose feet have stomped through its own shit, now wiping that shit off in a shopping cart where I am gonna put my food. Why do they do this? I should borrow my friends Great Dane and cruise through the store with that son-of-a-bitch in the cart, head about 7' in the air, barking at people and shitting its dinosaur sized shits all over the store, see how those old ladies like it.

Third, and most importantly, why do so many of these micro-dog people insist on driving around the world with this stupid dog on their lap? Yesterday on my way home for lunch, I was behind a lady THAT LIVES IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD going about 3 m.p.h. with her fucking dog on her lap. It wasn't like she was new to the neighborhood and was driving around looking for a particular address, she lives here. And I KNOW she was going slow because she was French-kissing that damned little shit-eating rat.

What I've always wanted to see happen to these lap-dog-drivers is a low speed front end impact. Have the airbag go off. Permanently imbed the rat into their chest so they ALWAYS can have their dog with them. I just don't get it. When does this whole phenomenon happen? When does a person decide those little dogs are cool (news flash, they're not. They've jumped the shark. Just think about it, Paris Hilton likes 'em, that should say it all) and when did they decide that everyone in the world wants to see this dog? I love dogs. I don't trust people that don't like dogs. But dogs don't belong in a shopping cart or a bag or on someone's lap in a car. Dogs belong outside or sleeping on their back on the couch or in their own seat in the car with their head hanging out the window, slobber running down the side of your freshly washed car.

Actually, there is only ONE time (OK, maybe two times) when those little rats are cool. First, my neighbor has about 200 of those little things. I was out mowing the lawn one day and they were all at the fence barking at me, at other people walking by, and at leaves blowing across the yard. The oldest kid in the house (a teenager...perfect age for embarrassment) comes out to stop them from barking. They got so worked up into a frenzy that they all mounted each other ALL IN A LINE and started humping each other. AWESOME! The kid got super embarrassed, especially when I made some sort of train-fuck comment. Second, while I think it is highly unfortunate for the dog, but damn it's funny, I've heard of multiple times of these dogs cruising around in their back yards and a hawk/eagle/owl/crazed pigeon swooping down and snatching these dogs for that night's dinner. Completely messed up and hilarious all at the same time.

We now return you to your regularly scheduled cycling blog. Please check back soon for actual cycling related content.

The Real Reason I'm Almost Serious About Cycling This Year

2010-04-11T07:02:00.000-06:00

Well, as I spoke about in my last post, we (Teamfubar, which includes me) are doing the 24 Hours of Moab again this year after a 10 year hiatus. Whether I want to or not, it is coming and it will be coming quicker than I want. All the training, there I said it, I've been training. Yes, after all the bellyaching I've done about friends training and taking their cycling so damn seriously, I'm now training. Though I assure you, if our "club" goes out for a mountain bike ride, I won't skip it because I have to go for a long road training ride. Riding is riding and having fun on your bike is the real reason we do this anyhow.

Whew, coming back from that tangent...you'd think all the training I've been doing has everything to do with the 24 HoM. You'd think that, but you'd be wrong. And you'd think that all the training I've been doing was to be able to hang with the jackrabbits I've been riding with, but again, you'd be wrong. And you might think I've been training to do better in the Dakota Five-O this year, but once again, you'd be wrong. And sure all the training will help me with all that stuff, but it isn't the real reason I've been training.

Here's the real reason. The 6 or so of you that regularly read this blog might remember our trip to Curt Gowdy State Park in Wyoming. When we were there, we ate dinner in Laramie. Before our dinner, we went to Mulligan's which is a bar in Laramie that my aunt and uncle own. We started drinking beers there, getting fairly well oiled up before going to dinner at Applebee's and drinking more there, so I do realize a lot of what was said that evening was alcohol fueled. We were in the bar, sitting around a long table, so there were multiple conversations going on. I was sitting next to my aunt, who I was speaking to most of the night, and Bob, one of our Teamfubar members. At some point during the evening, Bob was talking to Nick, the young triathlete and Greg, the wild Aussie/South African/Brit, when I heard Bob say "This mutha-fucker could kick everyone's ass at this table back in the day" (or something to that effect) and pointing at me.

I realized, yup, I used to be one of the fastest in the group. I used to be able to throw down with anyone on a bike and now I can't. And while I don't care that I don't anymore, I don't really like that I can't. And realistically, I know I probably won't be able to throw down like I used to, I want to be able to feel good about my efforts, which I didn't last year. And after yesterday's group road ride, I am getting closer. When we got done, guys that were stomping me into the ground last year were hurting and I wasn't. Yup, definitely getting closer.

There is NO turning back now...

2010-04-03T07:59:00.001-06:00

Well, it's official...we're doing the 24 Hours of Moab. I submitted our application and paid this week. And now I'm scared to death.

You see, I haven't done the 24 HoM in 10 years. TEN YEARS. I was much younger, better looking, in better shape and WAY faster back then.

Oh sure, I've muddled through the Dakota Five-O a couple times, but for the most part, I haven't done a race, much less ride my bike nearly enough to do the 24 HoM. I now face the reality of racing this in October and I don't think I have enough time to train for it, which is why I am scared.

Could I go and do the race now? Sure I could. I could also punch myself in the nuts repeatedly about 700 times and get the same result. Thing is, I don't want to. I don't want to just suffer through the race, although no matter your shape, you will suffer. I want to be able to hang. I want to be able to have fun. I want to be able to have my team be happy with my performance.

When I signed the team up this last week, the website had about 250 warnings saying that it was final and no refunds were to be given. Maybe that is why I got nervous about where I am at right now. I know it is irrational and in a week or two I'll be OK with it and be rarin' to go.

I'd better go upstairs now and eat some Easter candy...