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

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.

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!

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!

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.

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...

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.

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.