Night riding with my son

OK, onto part two (of 4 or 5) of my recent history.

So the next night after our group night ride on the "M", I took my 7 year old son on his first night ride aboard the tandem. I phoned up Aaron, (well, actually sent him a text, but that sounds like shit. Saying phoned sounds more friendly, like you talked with Marge the switchboard operator before she connected me with Klondike5-4345...good GOD I sound old!) and he met us for the ride.

I got our tandem set up with the lights and put a Petzel headlamp on my son's helmet. I wanted him to have some light so he could see stuff along the trail so it wouldn't be scary, but not have the light be so bright that it was distracting to me trying to see the trail. The light worked perfect for him! The only thing I need to work with him on is not looking directly into someone's face/eyes with the light on. We stopped at the top and he kept looking at me with his light burning. I think I still have little blue dots floating around in my vision.

We rode a basic 5 mile loop on M-Hill, basically riding the same loop I rode the previous night with the group. It was great! My son absolutely LOVED it. I don't think there was ever a time that we rode singletrack that he was so excited about doing it. Heck, at one point he was even singing "I got a feelin', that tonight's gonna be a good night, that tonight's gonna be a good good night...I got my money, let's spend it up!" I love the fact he is still young enough to burst into song when the moment calls for it and not be embarrassed. I think Aaron liked the ride too, and I think it was his second or third night ride, so I think it was a successful ride.

We're ready to do another one soon, so as I fall behind on my posts, it will just add one more in the queue.

WOW, so much to talk about...

Man-o-man, a WHOLE BUNCH of stuff has happened since my last post, which is why my last post was so long ago, so with a big gulp of cold brewed coffee, here we go. Most likely, this will be a two parter, as this is a tale of two states.

The weather has really changed around here...changed for the better! This last week was primo and perfect for riding. After the last cross race, I sent an e-mail out for our "group" or "club" or whatever the hell you wanna call the Ramblers, about our monthly "meeting" and the reinstitution of our weekly rides. I say "meeting" in quotes as they aren't really a meeting at all, but just a bunch of guys using the excuse of a meeting to get out of the house for an evening of being free of any responsibility at all and to drink beer, tell stories and act like we're all 22 and single again (and by single again, I don't mean trolling for chicks. I mean just no responsibility and talking like our wives aren't around.)

So, Thursday night was our first night ride. We; myself, JT, Jay, Chad, John, and Greg, met at about 5:30 at the parking lot of M-Hill and after JT chugged his last beer we were off. There is something cool about looking at a string of lights working their way down a series of switchbacks at night. A nice loop around the top, down a sweet new trail on the backside, back up a series of switchbacks and down a "technical" trail and back to the cars. It is beer:30, off to the Firehouse!

We all descend upon the Firehouse Brewery and Grill like starving rats upon a dropped bit of hot dog, with much fervor and excitement.

Once inside we have a round or two of beer and dinner is delivered. It is funny how when you've ridden with a group of guys, when you're drinking there is a lot of talking and laughter going on, but once there is food, it is basically quiet. And in this quiet we really noticed a table of women to our side that was out of control. You'd hear mumble...mumble...mumble...MANIACAL LAUGHTER...mumble...mumble...mumble...MANIACAL LAUGHTER...etc. So finally after we all had to look at the table a few times and make some sort of snide comment I finally had enough. I rolled up my beanie and marched over to their table with a bit of a crazed look on my face, slammed my hands down on their table and asked "What is so goddamned funny over here?" A look of surprise and a bit of nervous laughter came from the women and they explained they go there every Thursday night and have their own "club" meeting. Their laughter was much quieter after that and soon they disbanded and left. Yup, I still have it! I have about as much moxie and mojo with the ladies as someone farting in church. It's cute when you're 3 or 4, but completely revolting and inappropriate at any age afterwards.

Soon afterwards we disband as well. It feels like it is about 11 pm, but in reality it is 8:45. Good grief we're getting old.

Well, that was long enough for today. I still have another night ride with my son (his first), a ride with JT, a ride in Colorado and a Monday Night Football to talk about...I better get crackin' huh?

Quite possibly the GREATEST weekend ever...

Since we've moved back to the Great White North (otherwise known as South Dakota) I've had a job unlike any I've had before. I am off most weekends, so my they start around 5:30 on Friday nights.

This last weekend also contained the ultimate Halloween day, Saturday. Kids have all day to get ready for it, don't have to sit in class and think about it all day, and still have Sunday to work off that sugar-induced hangover. We had the makings for a perfect storm this weekend.

So, our weekend started off Friday night with a Halloween party for my son. He wanted to have friends over for a small party, which was a great idea on paper. In reality, having 6 screaming 7-8 year olds running around your house make you realize that we're definitely a one child family. In all seriousness, it was fun and at one point during the evening, all the kids broke out in impromptu song, which was really cute and cool.

Saturday came with a clear sky and warm temps, which was perfect for my 3rd cross race! Since the race was on Halloween and it was a cross race, costumes were encouraged. I had mine all planned out and we jumped in the truck and sped off toward the Wyoming border where the race took place.

Once there, much to my joy, I found out they were gonna do 2 races, a short course and a long course! YEA! 30 minutes this time as opposed to an hour. After it was all said and done, I probably should have raced the long course, but hey, what the hell. So, I got the costume on (for which I have no pictures yet, so you'll have to take my word) which consisted of; bib knickers, arm warmers, a red cape and a Nacho Libre mask! And no, much to the dismay of many onlookers, I had NO JERSEY on. To say I am hirsute is an understatement. I have never shaved my legs for cycling because I wouldn't know where to stop. I have hair from the top of my head all the way to some weird tufts on the tops of my toes. So I was in my furry glory...it was SWEET! I had hairy-luchadore power!

My class had 4 or 5 guys and about 6 or 7 girls line up for the race. I knew if I was going for only 30 minutes, I had to put the hammer down. They told us, since each lap was about 8 minutes long, we'd go 3 laps and call it. And we were off. I was right on the heels of the leader through the first lap, but after the last run up and through some seriously grassy, wet section, he pulled away a bit, leaving me and the eventual 2nd place rider about 50 yards behind.

I duked it with the 2nd place dude for a little while on the 2nd lap and he got a bit ahead of me. As we rounded the corner for the start of the 3rd lap, I gave 'er all I could and couldn't quite catch him. I finished in 3rd place, which was kinda last place cause the girls were there for mostly fun (though I guess I was too). It was still a lot of fun to race in costume, though a cape wasn't the best racing accessory.

That night, trick-or-treating went off without a hitch for my son. He went around a few blocks of the neighborhood and decided he was done and wanted to come home and hand out candy. He'd rather watch the kids (or customers as he calls 'em) come to the door and see their costumes.

After an extra hour of sleep (since DST ended), Sunday came and I got a 2 hour ride in on M-Hill with a couple of cousins. We hit a newly cut trail, which was super sweet and flowy and had an awesome ride. They did an outstanding job of building those trails. Even after some snow this last week, the trails were still a bit damp, but the water runs right off without any damage. Great job to the planning crew and IMBA for those sweet trails.

Finally, I finished up by doing 5 hours of yard work. In our house we have a saying with our son "first we work, then we play". We definitely played first this weekend, but I made up for it. I have to say though, the yard looks great now and it is basically ready for the next round of snow or storm, but I am not, I'd love a few more rides.

I HATE to run...

The title says it all. We, in the upper portion of the US, have entered the silly season where the weather has NO idea what it wants to do. Sun one day, cloudy the next, sun again, snow the next, rain the next day, etc, etc, etc. Riding a bike out-of-doors is difficult at best, impossible at worst during this time of year. So, what to do? Put the bike on the trainer inside? No, not yet. Riding indoors is bad enough, much less starting in October. So, a few weeks ago I started to run. Running feels way too much like training. It hurts. It jars your knees, your ankles and your feet. It stinks.

But, in just a few short weeks it has gotten to the point where I HAVE to get up and run in the morning. In the rare day when I missed running in the morning, I felt all irritable and weird. I am not going that far, just a few miles, but I feel like I have to do it.

I was doing a shorter loop by the house, but now I am running down through a little park where I can run on the grass so I don't kill my feet/joints so much. There is a point about 3/4 of a mile in where I feel like I hit my stride. All of the sudden it feels pretty good to run. The fresh air in my lungs, seeing the world starting to wake up, seeing wildlife (I saw a couple of foxes run across the trail the other morning), getting the heart rate going to wake up for the day.

*GASP* I love to run...I can't believe I talked myself into this. And you know, running is almost like training.

Cyclocross race 2.0

Well, I did it. I finally competed in my second cyclocross race. I say competed loosely as you know, I am not in any sort of contention, except for maybe the Lanterne Rouge. And, I said finally, not for the fact that I was anticipating the race, but more because of a snafu of when the race actually took place.

As I said in that ancient post below, this race was, as was my understanding, to take place on Ocotber 17th. I got up that morning, got all ready, and rolled the six blocks to the park with my son to the race venue to find...nothing. Nothing except my friend Jim, who was also looking for the race. After some junior sleuthing, we found that we were either wrong, misinformed or the date was changed. Hard to discern as the date on the website said the race was Saturday the 27th. Um, there is not a Saturday the 27th in October this year. All I can figure it originally said the "17th" and they went in to change the date and only changed the "1" to a "2" but didn't change the "7" to a "4". So, that's the story I'm sticking with. I couldn't have been wrong.

Long story short, Jim and I ended up going for a ride. We couldn't waste a nice day moping about because we didn't have a race (I actually was happy it wasn't that day). So, we ended up riding up M-Hill (my usual mountain bike after-work ride) on our cross bikes, giving me a little different perspective.

ANYHOW (geez, what a wind bag), I did race my second cross race this weekend. As I had mentioned, it took place only six blocks from my house. That coupled with the fact that the guy that puts the race on happens to be my son's dentist. And my son had a dentist appointment on Friday, after which I spoke with him and he asked "Are you racing tomorrow?" Before I even had a chance to make up a lie, hem and haw, or even engage my brain for a logical answer, my mouth had blown it for me "Yup, it is only six blocks from my house, so I'll be there" came out. Shit. I guess I am committed now. No backing out of this one.

On Saturday morning, my son and I cruised down to the venue on our bikes. He was going to do the "hand-ups" to me and cheer me on. The race took off without a hitch and quickly I was squirted out the back like the last drop of toothpaste from a tube. It wasn't immediately, but it happened without a ton of effort.

The course had a cool layout. Right in the middle was a picnic shelter that was the finish area, so my son hung out there and rang a traditional cowbell for me as I came around. In the middle was a small obstacle to jump then a short, steep hill to run up and/or struggle up on a bike. Then back down the otherside, another few obstacles, then back through a creek/wooded area. A 1.2 mile loop which we attacked for 60 minutes. SIXTY MINUTES. Did you see that? When they said we were going for that long, I started to cry once again (much like the first race). We were also told that at 5 laps to go we'd be told as such. At about 35 minutes in at about 6 laps, I was wondering where the call was. At about 45-50 minutes in, I started to cry again as there was still no call for 5 laps to go. I thought maybe I didn't hear it since I was so far off the back, but the man was kind enough to call 2 laps to go. Thank GOD.

I finished up the two laps and as I came into the finish area, the "fast guys" were hanging out by the end and they all cheered me coming across. Damn. The cycling community can be so cool. Giving props to a guy for finishing, even if it was 5 or 6 minutes behind them (and maybe a lap or two). A cool group of guys and gals out hurting themselves together and having fun, no attitudes, especially like the one I encountered last time. I am really glad I did this one. A really fun course with a fun group of people.

I would be remiss if I didn't mention that my son was an AWESOME "pit crew". Every lap through, he'd ring his cow bell (which a cool guy there gave to him) and ask me if I needed water. He held the bottle up every time around even if I didn't need water. What a cool kid.

Well, next Saturday is the Halloween final race. Maybe Nacho Libre needs to make an appearance! If he does, I'll definitely post some pics. NAAAACCCCCHOOOO....

I've lost my inspiration.

I've lost my inspiration to write semi-truthful, quasi-humorous stuff. My inspiration is riding my bike, especially by myself. Getting a chance to go out on a ride, whether it is on the road or on the trail, is the opportunity to clear the cobwebs from the deepest corner of the cerebral attic and find those little nuggets that bug you. Those things that just as you're falling to sleep, your mind latches onto and you start thinking about them and then prevents you from falling asleep. Usually, I can work those things out when I am on a ride and then I can come here and spew them out in a partially intelligible fashion. And now the weather has taken an ugly turn and riding is out, so I am not getting a chance to think about stupid, nonsensical stuff and in turn, bestow it upon this blog.

The day after my CX race, something weather-wise rolled in and has kinda hung out here ever since. Wet, windy and cold. Some rain, some snow and all crap. Ok, I know what you're thinking, hard riders would go out in this and ride anyhow, buck up you weenie and go out and ride. And I will in the snow and the cold, but this is kinda that in-between weather that slops out the trail and going on an hour ride will cause two hours worth of cleaning on the bike and about 3 weeks worth of trail work.

It's gotten to the point that I have started...*gasp*...running! Yikes, I MUST be desperate for some sort of outdoor activity. I took one of our dogs on the trail on Sunday and took a run around my side of town on another day. One would think I am sick, having some remnants of the H1N1 that was floating around the house that swined up my brain. And, unfortunately, I haven't worked my way up to long enough distance running to get a chance to think about a lot of stuff, but if this weather keeps up, I will.

The upside of all this is the weather is lifting and it looks like a nice weekend is in store. Saturday and Sunday in this 60's and possibly 70's, with another CX race on Saturday. I have a feeling that there should be at least one post in all of that. And I KNOW you're looking forward to those musings.

Now I can eat only waffles and be a cycling snob

For a few days I have been contemplating my post about my first cyclocross race. I've been holding off putting anything down in "print" mostly due to my desire to attach pictures to this post and not wanting to go all the way out to the car, get my camera, charge the batteries and upload the pictures. I guess I'll put pictures in later, so I hope my words weave a picture in your mind, but don't expect a thousand words.

So, as I alluded to, I raced in my first 'cross race this weekend. I say raced because, well I am quite sure I didn't race as much as just ride, but it was called a race and since I was a participant I guess I raced and I was a racer.

Initially, I was just going to go watch, but the "Prince" (go back and see some of the previous posts to see the explanation of the Prince) prodded me into doing it because he called me a pussy in a text message. And, as everyone knows, being called a pussy by a cell phone text message is akin to putting a horse head in my bed or saying bad things about my mom...the gauntlet was thrown down and so I had to do it.

So, I dragged the family to Spearfish at 9 in the morning on Saturday for the 10 am start of my first cross race. Once there, we hooked up with the Prince, Princess and their royal court (their awesome little girls). The Prince and I did a practice lap and immediately I wondered why the hell I signed up for this. Each lap was somewhere around 1/2 to 2/3 of a mile on the rolling hills of the Black Hills State University campus. Did I mention the ENTIRE race was on grass? You know what it is like to ride on grass? Like running in mud. A lot of effort put in for not a lot of gain.

At 10 am, the race organizer (and coincidentally my son's dentist) called for a quick pre-race meeting. I had hoped for a 30 minute race and immediately those hopes were thrown to the ground and stomped into the grassy terrain of the course. He says we'll go for 50 minutes....50 MINUTES! Aye caramba. I immediately felt a bit of vomit in the back of my mouth. Before I get much of a chance to wrap my brain around any of this, we're off and "racing". Seeing the lead guys with their strength and seriousness I said to myself that if I didn't get lapped in the first lap, I'd be happy. Well, it took almost 4 revolutions of grassy goodness to get lapped, so I felt OK about things.

After my 5th lap, the woman (and I use the word "woman" in the nicest sense of the word, during the race I was positive that she was some sort of succubus or chupacabra, making a pact with the devil) said we had 5 more laps to go. 5 LAPS TO GO? Holy CRAP. Tears ran down my face and they were decidedly NOT from going fast. My legs already felt like two old Twizzlers left on the dashboard of your car for a week after a road trip through the desert, how was I gonna do one more lap, much less five?

I have to say, most of the people there were totally cool. The fastest guys, when they lapped me, said things like "good job" and "keep it up" and I reciprocated. All except one douche bag. I don't know if the thought it was going to inspire me, but when he barked "You're gonna have to get it in gear", had no inspirational effect on me at all. At all. Immediately I wanted to stop in the trees and bash him right off his bike with a branch. Why does a guy, not even CLOSE to the top 2 racers and no chance of catching them have to act like we're in Belgium at the World Championships? Sheesh. I suppose it was because he realized he and I were in the same boat, getting schooled by the race leader and he was upset that he and I were somewhat equals. Yeah, he beat me, but he also lost with me too.

So, I did finish the race, in spite of what my brain said to do. And I am glad that I saw it through. I love that taste of iron in your mouth when you do something so aerobically hard you know your lungs are bleeding. And with another race in a week and a half, I will have to go do it again.