F#(&ing Hell

​Well, that didn’t last long. This summer of normalcy, riding, and just living has been derailed once again by fucking cancer. 

If you’re following the Boi over on his Caring Bridge page, then you know what’s going on, but if not here’s a quick synopsis. 

After routine scans, some small cancer spots were found in his lung, lymph nodes, and upper arm. We are now in full-on fuck cancer mode.  

After a wonderful month+ of being able to ride my bike and be kinda normal as a family, the news of a re-recurrence derailed it all.  We had some appointments and what not before the end of May, then I and my Lovely headed over to Sheridan for the 10th annual Dead Swede.  Hard to believe it’s been 10 years since Cleaver and I did that 40 miler, in the inaugural race, so, SO hungover. I’ve not done it hungover since, so with age comes wisdom I guess, but I was 45 when I did the first one, so you’d think I would have known better than that by then.

Meeting the support crew during the Dead Swede. 

The month of June was a LOT of appointments, including a somewhat rushed trip to the Dana Farber Cancer Institute in Boston, so riding was on the back burner.  I got a few good ones in, but not a lot, so while I didn’t regress, I didn’t progress on my fitness and being ready for the Dakota Five-O at the end of the summer. 

I’m figuring out the right balance of helping the Boi and getting some riding in, so hopefully July will be more productive than June.  

But either way, whether I get less/same/more riding in this month, one thing remains the same.  FUCK CANCER.

Riding My Ass Back Into Shape (With a Cause)

​

One of our last rides together before the Boy's cancer recurrence.

We are racing toward summer at a high rate of speed. I mean, we’re only a month’ish out from the summer solstice, which kind of makes me gag a little. 

Because of this I’ve been riding a lot the last week or two. I was ramping up in April to be sure, but the only thing in April that was consistent with my riding was my inconsistency, with unsettled weather causing most of my problems getting on the bike 

Now, I have no choice but to get cracking.  Not only am I planning on doing the 60 mile distance in upcoming Dead Swede at the beginning of June, but more importantly I’ve opted into riding for a cause in May. 

The American Cancer Society (ACS) has a fundraiser in May, Cycle 300 Miles in May for the American Cancer Society. Normally I don’t participate in things like this, as I feel like the public in general gets inundated with requests for donations too much. But, since our stint at Mayo for the Boy, where we stayed cost-free at the ACS Hope Lodge, I felt the calling for this one. Besides, it’s forcing me to get on my bike and ride. 

And I’m getting some good miles in! Even with a couple days of weather related breaks, I have over 180 miles in the first 13 days. Not too shabby. Forcing me to ride because I definitely don’t want to let the people that have donated down, but also getting me back into some sort of shape for the Dead Swede is a nice one-two punch. 

So check out the fundraiser, donate if you can/want, but please no pressure. Money is a touchy subject right now for a lot of people, so I fully understand if you can’t. But know I’m out there pedaling for it, so if you can’t donate right now, jump on your bike and pedal with me. Riding your bike will make you feel better and will motivate me to pedal a little harder. 

Cycle 300 Miles in May for the American Cancer Society 

Old. Older. Oldest. Me.

I’m starting to see a pattern in this iteration of the NSSC…the word old. What’s old is new again, this shit is getting old, and now I’m too old. 

The very first version of this blog (to which I’ve lost the credentials and even the actual name of it - I’m sure it’s floating around on the internet somewhere) was borne out of a crash on my mountain bike. It seems if I have been good at anything on a mountain bike, it’s been crashing. Hell, this blog had a couple year run of me detailing multiple crashes and even more injuries. 

In keeping with the new theme, what was old is new again, kinda. I went down with the ship yesterday, fairly hard too. It’s been a hot minute since I’ve kissed the earth and I can’t say I’ve missed it. But as with most of my crashes, it was a potent combo of speed, bravado, and possibly (most likely) riding above my skill level.  That coupled with the fact I tend to ride like I rode in my 30s and not almost 55 (I just gagged a little typing that). 

Now, understand I’ve never loved crashing, but it has always been a part of cycling, especially mountain biking. I’ve understood the risks, but as I’ve gotten older, if I’m not feeling something, I’ll go around or walk over the obstacle, no shame in that to ensure riding another day. This was emphasized even more after my rash of injuries a few years back. But, crashing now is on a different level. I was clipping along at a pretty decent pace, descending Far West trail at HLMP. A little maneuver on a high-side banked turn and as I came out of it all of the sudden *BLAM* on the ground wondering how I got there. I lay on the ground for a few seconds, taking account of my situation before I got up, dusted myself off and continued on. 

For the next few minutes, I took it easy on the descent, before finally opening it back up and hitting the few jumps and finally descending through the flow-trail to finish the ride. 

Ultimately I’m OK, but not without some reminders that will linger for a while. 

This elbow has scar tissue
layered on scar tissue.  

Couple this with the fact that now Garmin has metrics on their Edge products that tell you how many jumps you completed, how fast you were going when you jumped, how much hang time you had and how far you jumped and you’ll quickly see that some of these things might not be good for an aged mountain biker. 

This metrics page is going to get me in trouble. 

But hey, I haven’t crashed in quite some time, so I was probably overdue. And it taught me something…I can crash and not get seriously hurt, so I’ll most likely try that again. This most likely wasn’t the lesson I was supposed to learn. 

This is Getting Old

​Well, I decidedly did NOT dust this old chestnut off to just be another platform to discuss/bitch/rant about cancer, but this post will once again be very cancer focused. 

A few weeks ago I had to attend a funeral of a 17 year old that we knew who had a sarcoma recurrence in a similar time frame of the Boy’s recurrence. Obviously, this one hit a little too close to home, but more so I am completely devastated for the family.  It seems completely and utterly unfair after a kid, a fucking child, fights like that only to have dying be the outcome. The survivor’s guilt knows no bounds.  Why is my kid doing so well in the face of very similar circumstances and this innocent 17 year old had the complete opposite outcome? 

Now, today I attended a funeral for a friend and fellow cyclist, Kevin Forrester, who also died of cancer and the age of 58. I knew about Kevin’s diagnosis for a while, but it still doesn’t lessen the impact of the news…like a full on kick to the nuts. 

Kevin’s impact on cycling in the Black Hills is massive and he will be sorely missed. There are plenty of other musings online of his impact through his trail building and his race promotions, for legendary BH races like the Tatanka and the BAM, so I won’t wax on about those. 

I will say Kevin was the first mythical status bike racer in the Black Hills. I’ll never forget the year his name was launched to the forefront on the formative years of mountain bike racing. He was the man to beat and no one could do it. But what truly launched him to that mythical status in my young mind was his finish at the Dalton Lake race. Leading the pack, he got a flat tire on the front wheel, couldn’t fix it and finished on his rim! I was in awe. Leading the pack enough to try to fix your tire then deciding “fuck it, riding on the rim it is,” and still winning the race is the stuff of legend. I probably have this story wrong or I’m conflating a few stories, but in my mind it’s true and what made Kevin the legend he was. 

That taught me a lot about riding that day. 1. Bikes are just tools and you can fix them. 2. There is a way to persevere not matter what is handed to you. 3.  You’re tougher than you think. And finally 4. Don’t quit, even when the cards are stacked against you. 

I even employed this in one of Kevin’s races, the Tatanka 100. I got 4 flats that day, but never quit, never gave up.  I mean, I know it took me a LONG time to finish that day, but I kept going, even when others around me were quitting. 

Godspeed Kevin. Did a lot more for mountain biking than you’ll ever know, but more importantly you taught people lessons on how to live, even if you didn’t know you were doing it. 

So once again, fuck cancer. It’s a bunch of shit that NO ONE should have to go through.  

NSS 4.0, 5.0? I Can't Keep Track of How Many Relaunches This Stupid Blog Has Had.

​What was old is new again. We have war in the Middle East, Trump is president, and The Boy is battling cancer…it seems like a GREAT time to dust this old dirty thing off and see if I can get it started and keep it running.  

Everything, and I do mean everything, has been in a holding pattern for almost a year because of The Boy’s Ewing sarcoma recurrence. I’m sure some of you have followed what’s happening with him over on his Caring Bridge page. 

Over there we keep it positive and mostly about his current treatment status. Back over here I can let it out, so maybe that’s why’s I’m dusting this outdated form of communication off. 

Fuck Ewing sarcoma and fuck cancer. Typically when there is a recurrence of this cancer, it is deadly.  Obviously this created a bunch of anger and fear in us, but clearly The Boy has a greater purpose than he knows, as he is once again kicking its ass. It’s infuriating as hell having this shit rob two+ years of our lives, especially for The Boy, taking around 10% of his life to fight. Ultimately it’s better than the alternative, but fuck that none the less. And now we’re nearing the end of this year long treatment, so it is time for me to start getting my ass back into to some semblance of shape and normality. 

I’ve been at Mayo Clinic for the last three weeks with The Boy helping him through his radiation treatments. With his treatments only taking a couple hours out of the day, that’s left a lot of free time for us. I’ve been taking advantage of it, utilizing the meager exercise equipment here at the Hope Lodge. I am hoping it will be a springboard for a lot more riding when I get home later today. 

Not the most inspiring post, but now that I have a new editing app on my phone, I am hoping I can make this more of a regular thing. 

If you see me out in the world, ask if I want to go for a ride. If I say I can’t, remind me that I need to. 

I can't even describe this mess...

Well, it's not been two posts in a week, but not nearly as long of a hiatus as last time.

Last time I dusted off the portal to this blog, I was saying that I was hoping that 48 was a better  year than 47.  After having accomplished my 48th journey around the sun, I was kinda feeling like this year was going to keep ramping up into something great.  Mother Nature was finally cooperating and I was getting some rides in, I was getting up and riding with Eric in the mornings, and mostly I wasn't injured.  Things were looking up!

The weekend before the 4th of July was a normal weekend here around NSS HQ.  A little work at the store, a little yard work,  a little MTB ride before an afternoon thunderstorm shut things down for the day.  Little did I know, that MTB ride might be my last of the year and the thunderstorm that ended that ride might have ended my riding for the year as well!

The next morning, my Lovely and I got up early as we usually do, had a little coffee and played a little Yahtzee (I am 48 years old for chrissakes) waiting for the hardware store to open so we could run a couple errands.  On our way to the hardware store, we had a load of branches from the previously mentioned yard work to drop off at the yard waste bins at the baseball fields.

We got there and found an empty dumpster, unloaded the branches, and were pulling out to head to the hardware store when my Lovely and I notice this little, old lady trying to push a bag of yard waste up and over the dumpster.  Since the dumpster was about a foot taller than she was, she was struggling.  As my Lovely started to say, "Do you think she needs some help?" I was already shifting the Pequod into park and jumping out to run over and help her.

I sprinted (at least as fast as I can sprint) over to her and just as I got there, I felt the ground give way.  I was sliding on a blanket of leaves, pine needles, twigs and small branches over a sheen of mud on the asphalt.  Everything was lubricated well from the previous evening's rain.  As I was sliding down, I put my hand out and shoved the lady's bag into the dumpster and then I hit the ground.  As I was going down I felt a big *POP* in my left knee above my kneecap.  I looked down and saw my flesh all sucked down into what appeared to be a hole inside my leg.  I thought I might have broken it.  My Lovely rushed over and helped me up, I hobbled back to the car and we drove home. At least I got her bag in the dumpster and didn't take her out when I went down.

Looking like it was about to give birth.

My Lovely had a meeting in the early afternoon, so I said I'd lie down in bed and see if it felt better in a little bit.  If it didn't by the time she was done at her meeting we'd go to urgent care.

Well, when she before she even got home I knew we needed to go.  My knee was starting to look like a water balloon.  Off to the orthopedic urgent care we went.  Long story short, the nice doctor that saw me said that she thought I had a full thickness quad tendon tear, but we'd have to have an MRI ASAP to verify this.  With the long holiday weekend looming, time wasn't on my side.

My new hardware.

An MRI the next day did verify the full tear of the tendon.  Shit.  When they called me back with the results, they said I could get in for surgery on Monday.  Ummm, nope, that won't work I explained to them.  I am self-employed and we have an open house at the store this next weekend.  If it could wait until the following Monday, that would be ideal I explained.  I could hear the person on the other end of the phone shake their head.  "Time is of the essence with his surgery," she explained.  "With the brace on you'll be able to stand and do work for your open house." Well, kick-ass! In the words of that stupid fucking comedian, "Let's get 'er done!"

This website lied to me...

I looked my surgery up on a medical website.  Ah, that's not too bad I thought.  It said people can be down from it for a few months up to a year.  Shit, I am a PT PRO, so I won't have any problems!

Monday finally came and I got to have my surgery done.  Ummm, what the hell?  I didn't ask for a fucking zipper to be installed on my knee.  I mean, shit, I realize that I have had some accidents recently, but no need to put a quick access on my knee, is there?  Obviously, the surgery was a little bit bigger than my findings alluded to.  Crap.  If I get to ride my bike again before the end of

I'm still looking for the YKK symbol on here.

2019, I'll be stoked.

So, maybe it's not the 48th year that is going to be a better one, maybe it's the 49th.  Yeah.  49.  That is the square of 7.  Thats gotta be good luck, right?

Yes, I know, two posts in a month...don't faint.

Kind of crazy, right?  Two posts in a two weeks...what the hell?

My right arm looked like his, but my abs decidedly don't

When I finished the last post I was about to see the doctor and get news about the blood clot that caused my right arm to get the whole Alley-Oop look on point.  I went to the doctor which was a quick check and a scheduling of an ultrasound.  The doctor seemed happy with how my arm looked, which meant it wasn't swollen like a weird balloon animal and was very similar to my left arm. The next day was the ultrasound, which I think is a weird experience.  That warmed up goop they put on the wand to rub all over your body, which was my shoulder, armpit and inner bicep area, feels pretty gross.  Slimy grossness aside, the scan went off without a hitch and then was the wait for the results.

I finally got the preliminary results the next week from the nurse from the doctor's office.  She told me the clot was completely gone and was going to leave it at that.  "Wait, wait, wait," I said, "can I get off the blood thinner? " That's the whole damn point of this exercise.  I want to be able to ride my mountain bike (and really any bike) again without a lot of concern of injury.  Not that I'm looking to crash, I'm not built like Graham, and since crashing kinda sucks donkey balls and got me into this whole mess to being with, I don't want to ride with that hanging over my head.  Besides, I don't want to have the thought of bleeding out on a ride hanging over the heads of any riding partners either.  Of course the nurse didn't know.  She was just the messenger.  She'd have to find out and call me back.  Which she did and guess what? I off the fucking Eliquis!!! Hell yeah!  I got off the Eliquis just in time for another bomb cyclone to hit us with a spring blizzard.  Maybe it's for the best as it gives me time for that to all work out of my system and for me to get back on the bike a little more not-so-seriously.

Getting off that bullshit Eliquis was great for a whole bunch of reasons.  First, I can obviously ride my mountain bike.  But secondly, and more importantly, it made me feel like shit.  I didn't realize how drained it made me feel until I was off of it for a couple days.  It didn't make me feel sleepy-tired, just physically tired.  No wonder I didn't want to do anything physical while I was taking it.  Maybe it is a good side effect of that drug, so you're less likely to go do something stupid (like crash a snowboard at a high rate of speed).

One last medical follow up; I got a call from the doctor a few days later.  He consulted with the radiologist and a cardiologist and looked at my ultrasounds and CT scans I had earlier and based on the blood flow, which was very good, they don't think any further medical intervention is needed at this time! Fuck yeah! I was fully prepared for some sort of intervention, but this is great!  No worries about recovery or injury!  Now it's time to ride.

The "Canyons" from back when I could ride (it's all relative).

And that I did last week, kinda.  Before the snow and before my results were back I went for a road ride with my homeboy, Eric.  Eric for those of you that don't know, is a fucking HAMMER on the road bike.  The dude can flat out haul ass, especially uphill.  I had been kinda blowing him off for a ride the last few weeks, trying to get my health shit all sorted out.  Now there were no excuses.  He wanted to hit the canyons, a good little training ride that we do.  Coming basically off the couch, I told him we could do anything but Nameless Cave as it was too much of a climb for me now.  Off we went and let me tell you that ride SUCKED.  Road riding isn't my favorite thing anyhow, but when I can tell my right lung is at about 75% capacity and every deep breath hurt like hell is piled on top of a road ride, well, that makes for a crabby me.  But it was exactly what I needed.  I went out the next day solo and did a similar ride.  Then the snow fell.  Two baby steps forward and one giant one back.

I am going to get out for another road ride today (hopefully at least on some gravel) and keep trying to chip away at this sad state of affairs that is my riding ability right now.  And maybe by the time the snow is melted and the trails are dry I can ride without sucking too badly.

Look at that rib cage.  Graham isn't breaking ribs...

I heard you all ask who the hell Graham was earlier in this post.  Graham is what scientists say the human body would look like if we evolved (or were intelligently designed like for you creationists) to survive auto accidents without things like airbags and what not.  Maybe if I'm going to keep doing these stupid things, I should change my body shape and become more like Graham.  If he can withstand a car wreck, a bike wreck should be a piece of cake.  He's definitely not sexy, but neither am I,  so if I keep this up I want to be built like Graham.  Or better yet, just stay on my bike and off the ground.

My 47th Year of Life Can Suck It...

About the only thing that is regular on this site is the irregularity in which I post.  I have been chastised recently by a couple of cycling friends that I don't post on here anymore.  Time and life has interrupted my ability to blog about the trivial shit in my life.  Besides, after the stuff we went through with The Boy, my blog seemed kind of silly.  I mean, there are a LOT more important things out there than me whining about my most recent ride or people in yoga pants walking on the bike path.  But I guess there are people that find my ramblings a way to escape or possibly make themselves feel better about their lot in life.  What ever the case may be, here we are.  I won't promise that I'll be more regular with this, but I'll try.  And no, despite today's date, this is NOT an April Fools joke.

I'll try to be as succint as I can about the crap that has transpired in the last (almost) year with me.  A lot of you know, but maybe not all the details.  Some of you have heard more about it than you want to.   Here we go:

Back at the end of May of 2018, which just happened to be my birthday, we had our BHMBA mixer.

After seeing this snake I should have gone home.

As was tradition, we had a group pre-ride planned for the trails on Skyline, with me leading the ride.  Usually these rides encompass a large variety of skills, so I had planned on a ride geared towards all levels.  When only one person showed up, my cousin A2 (which turned out to be a VERY good thing), it changed everything.  We were able to ride whatever and however we wanted, which ended up being a mistake.

Long story short, as we were coming around a corner I have ridden literally 100 times, the front of my bike washed out and I went down. HARD.  So hard in fact, I didn't know what end was up for a few moments.  I couldn't breathe very well and the right side of my chest was hurting bad. I couldn't even ride my bike out of there.  When I tried to get on to coast downhill, I almost passed out.  I tried to call my Lovely, but she was in an appointment, so I couldn't reach her.  A2 called his father, my uncle, and summoned a ride for us.  I hobbled for about a 1/2 mile uphill while A2 pushed our bikes to meet our ride.  Immediately we went to Urgent Care.

My Lovely and The Boy met us at UC and my uncle and A2 were relieved of their duties.  Some X-rays and a quick review of my condition was what the Dr. at UC needed to let me know I was far more than they could handle.  They called ahead to the ER and told me I needed to go there ASAP.  As we left I called an audible and swung by the house for a quick, albeit painful, shower and clothing change.

At the ER we had more scans, blood draws, etc. to find out that I had broken 7, yes that is SEVEN, ribs

Not the birthday present i was hoping for.

and partially collapsed my lung and that they would be keeping me at least overnight to watch my condition.  If the lung got any worse, they would have to insert a chest tube.  No thanks.  The surgeon that consulted with us told me that if I kept moving around and exercising my lung that it would probably heal itself and I wouldn't need the chest tube.  So that's what I did.  I kept walking around the halls of the hospital until I was released the next day.  Happy birthday to me!

Sleeping was a joke for the first few weeks.  Finding a comfortable way to lay down was almost impossible, but things were slowly getting better.  About 3 weeks after the crash I got back on my road bike for some super easy commuting.  It took almost 2 full months before I was back on my mountain bike in a real way.

A good autumn of riding!

Let's fast forward to November.  I got a decent autumn of riding in and was feeling pretty good.  Any pain in my chest was basically gone and it was time to start working out again.  I started my usual winter weight lifting routine, but with much lighter weights and I was easing back into it.  I only did one set the first week, two sets the second week and the third week I did three sets, which is where everything went all pear shaped.  The day after my first "3 set workout" my right arm was kind of tight.  "I didn't think I worked out that hard yesterday," I thought to myself.  The next day my arm was slightly swollen up.  "Huh.  That's weird." I mused.  By the third day, which was a Saturday, it was even more swollen and I had a tender spot in my armpit.  After the weekend was over my arm was swollen to the point of starting to look a little bit like the old Alley Oop cartoons.  Obviously I called the doctor, and I got in the next day (which ended up being more than a week after I worked out).

Looks like I could club you with this arm, doesn't it?

After a quick rundown by the doc, I was sent for an ultrasound.  Even though I might look like it, no,  I'm not having a baby.  After a kind of rough session of getting my arm mashed with that ultrasound wand, I find out I have a fucking blood clot from my elbow up past my shoulder.  And no, that's not where it moved, that's how freaking long it was! Immediately I was put on the blood thinner Eliquis (which is insanely expensive, like $600 per month without insurance) to eliminate the clot.  A couple weeks later I had a follow-up visit at the doctor's office.  We discussed that I would be on Eliquis until the first of April when we would make sure the clot was gone and then most likely do a flow test to see if a rib from the crash last May was impeding the flow from that vein.  If it is, I will have to have a little surgery to cut some rib out to make room for that vein! Also, I was given the green light to go back to working out, riding my road bike (no MTB) and doing the things I like to do in the winter,  BUT WITH EXTREME CAUTION (you can read about some of the dangers of riding on blood thinners in my letter to Lennard Zinn on VeloNews.com here, here and here).  One of the dangers of being on a blood thinner is a head injury, which is an important point for the remainder of my story.  A hard blow to the head could cause a brain bleed that could end the need for blood thinners or anything else for that matter.

But, do you think I could listen to the doctor?  Nah.  That wouldn't be my style.  Sounds like a good time to go to Terry Peak for some snowboarding! What could go wrong?  A few small crashes here and there were no big deal and after a few times of going, I was feeling good about things.  Do you note the feeling of impending doom yet?  Riding on a Monday with my snowboard buddy and long time brother in crime Cleaver, once again everything was awesome until it wasn't (as Cleaver eloquently put it).  We were flying down a run in excess of 45 mph (so says Strava), when the next thing I knew there were two ski patrollers standing over me.  Another long story short, I went down somewhere in there, again HARD (seeing a pattern here?) and was knocked unconsious long enough for Cleaver to get stopped, run back up to me, call the Terry Peak office and say we need ski patrol to come to me, and ski patrol to get to me, somewhere between 5-10 minutes.  A patrol toboggan ride to the lodge for a quick cognitive test was in order before I was released.

Cleaver then drove me back to NSS HQ, to the doctor's office, and to get more X-rays.  My head ended up being OK, although I clearly don't know what is up there to hurt anyhow.  I severely hurt my ribs, on the same side AGAIN, which is the reason for the X-rays.  Nothing was broken/rebroken, but I have massive trauma that included many torn muscles in the area to the point of having areas of numbness.  Once again laying down and sleeping was a bear and actually this injury hurt far worse than the broken ribs, although the broken ribs probably played a part in this injury, as things in that area were already weakened.

Closing day!

Finally, I am healing up from this.  I got to go up to Terry Peak for closing day yesterday, which was my first time back there in about 7 weeks.  I'm back on my road bike, and although I'm sucking wind hard right now, riding is actually making my injury feel better.  And last, but not least, I go back to the doctor tomorrow for my follow-up.  Hopefully I can get off of the Eliquis and get the rib and blood clot thing taken care of once and for all.

I am less than two months away from completing another lap around the sun, which I am looking forward to.  This 47th one can suck it.  This year has been shit and I am looking forward to the next one being FAR better.  It has to be, I have no where to go but up.

I've been silent for almost a year...

Man alive, this web-log has been all but repossessed by blogger.com, out of commision for nearly a year.  And it's not because I've not wanted to blog anything, but more because I didn't feel like I had much to say.  But, things are starting to rattle around in my puny brain, so let's blow the cobwebs out of the corners, dust off the screen and do this.

My last post, nearly a year ago, was really focused on our battle, as a family, with the Boy's cancer.  There will still be some of that in this post, but it won't be solely focused on it.  The Boy is nearly a year out of his treatments and is still cancer free, so about the only thing I can say about it is thank you to all the people that supported him and us (and continue to do so) during this time.

Pictures of the boy taken exactly one year apart.

It's partially because of this support, along with other factors surrounding his cancer, that I haven't been on here in nearly a year.  Lemme 'splain.  See, I get my stupid ideas for my blog when I'm out on long rides, and I hadn't been out doing that.  Part of it is because of us trying to figure out new priorities with our family and after a year of being apart, not wanting to be away from each other for long periods of time.  But the other part of it is because of how my stupid brain works.  I feel like I had to "make up" for being away from work so much in the last year.  I know my co-workers didn't resent me for what we had to do, but I also didn't feel like I could and/or should take time off after being around only 1/3 of the time in the previous 10 months.  I felt like I had make amends.

This last week that all changed though.  I was able to get out on a solo 50 mile pavement/gravel ride, my longest ride since the day after we found out the Boy had cancer almost 2 years ago, and it sure kicked my brain into overdrive.  It was like there was a year's worth of garbage needing to be purged, it came spewing out all at once.  I had to try and focus on just one part of all of what was gushing out.  And here it is...the most political post ever on this site.

A beautiful shot heading back into the Black Hills.

Anyone that knows me personally knows that my political leanings are fairly well to the left, but I also tend to keep quiet about this most of the time for a couple reasons.  One, I live in a blood-red state where finding another liberal person is like finding a unicorn, so unless you want to get into a fight with someone, it is best to keep most of your political opinions to yourself.   Which leads me to number two, politics, like religion, are and should be a very private thing.  I never deny my feelings on a subject when asked about it, but I don't go out shouting my feelings to any and everyone that will listen.

What the hell does this have to do with bikes you might ask?  A lot it turns out.  On my ride the other day, I rode out to the gravel roads north and east of the NSS HQ into the rolling prairie/farm/ranch land past the foothills of the Black Hills.  I love riding out in places like this.  It feels like taking a time-machine back to a simpler time.  As I rolled along, an occasional farm truck would drive by.  Here's this big, bearded guy in spandex, riding a bright orange bike, and every single one of them slowed down, moved over and waved.  They respected me as a person even as I invaded their "territory".  I also knew that if I needed any help out there, I could have walked up to just about any one of those farmhouses, knocked on the door and been greeted like an old neighbor and helped.  And most of these people would do the same for just about anyone else in the same position.

I could make a fairly safe wager that most (yes, most, not all) of these people voted far right in this last election.  But therein lies the rub with the political climate in this country right now.  We are all so fucking eager to label the "other side" with being gun-toting rednecks Trump supporters or free-loading, good for nothing socialist liberals that we don't take the time to realize that a great majority of people we know are not gun-toting rednecks or free-loading liberals, but just solid people that believe a certain thing and that having someone on the other side yelling at you that you're wrong will never, in a million years, change your mind.

My point of all of this is, get out there on your bike.  Explore places that make you feel "uncomfortable".  Say hi to someone that doesn't look like you.  Stop and have a conversation with a person that doesn't believe the same things you do.  You'll feel a lot better because you're riding your bike and you might just learn that the person on the other side wants almost the exact same things you do.  Make a good, honest living, provide for their family, and have a little fun along the way.  And that is how we'll make America greater.

It's been 206 days since we last met.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking.  A NSS post?  These are about as frequent as a positive political post on Facebook these days.  Well, as we near the end of the journey here in Denver for the Boy, I thought instead of posting all the positive stuff on his CaringBridge page, I want to bitch and complain on this page for once.  So, fair warning, the language on this post might get a little colorful so to speak.  Not that it hasn't in the past, but today might get a bit more so.

The meme says it all...

First, fuck cancer.  Yeah, I know that it goes without saying.  But having lived down here for the better part of the last 9 months, I'm seeing day in and day out these kids battling these horrific battles with cancer.  We have friends back in SD that are finding out their daughters/nieces have rare cancers.  What the fuck?  How the hell does a kid, some of these I see are tiny little toddlers, have cancer?  They have done nothing in their lives to invite it.  They haven't done all those things that we're told not to do.  And yet there are people in the world that drink to excess, smoke a bazillion packs of cigarettes, do all the drugs and fuck prostitutes like it's going out of style and yet they still make millions of dollars playing guitar for the Rolling Stones and not get cancer.  Possibly the least fair disease I've ever seen, so yeah, FUCK CANCER.

Look at his smile.  He's a happy boy.

Second, after having lived this whole bullshit lifestyle, I can tell you a secret.  You know how when you find out someone has a traumatic thing happen in their life?  What does everyone do?  You say to that person, "if there is anything I can do, just let me know."  But, I will tell you, that person doesn't know what they need. Has no fucking clue. Their mind is racing a million miles a minute.  They are completely freaked out by the circumstances.  I will also tell you, especially when you're separated from your home like we have been, it can get real lonely, real quick.  When you're alone with your thoughts (in this situation) you dwell on what is happening and what might happen in the future and that can take you down a dark and scary place.  So, what can you do to help?  You don't have to do some big, grand gesture.  All you have to do is shoot that person a text.  Give them a call.  Send a card.  Let them know they are not alone in their battle, what ever that battle is.  I'm telling you, having people break up your days with a quick communication might not seem like you're doing much but it can mean the world to the person on the receiving end.  Thankfully, the Boy had that from some of his friends, school, and family.

One of the few rides I've been able to do this spring.

Third, and let's lighten the mood here a bit, I've gotten completely out of shape and ungodly fat.  I was going back through my last post (I've had 206 days to dwell on it) and I laughed about me whining about finding time to ride.  Shit.  I wish I had that problem now.  It seems like the last month or so I haven't even had the time when I'm here to think about riding, much less actually go.  I've brought a bike with me almost every single trip down and most of the time it rests quietly in the back of my truck.  For a while during the winter I was finding some time to work out, but as we've gotten closer to the end, this whole thing is moving like a carpet unrolling.  It seems like more doctors appointments, scans, cramming school work in, getting my extensive cleaning list done, waiting for the piece of shit infusion drug company (that is getting paid HUGE money) to deliver whenever they fucking feel like it, go in for a blood test and end up being admitted overnight, you name it.  On top of it, as I mentioned in my last post, I can't just go out for a quick ride.  I have to have someone be with the Boy.  And now that we're living at Brent's Place (which has been amazing), we are 30 miles from my mom's house, so it's not quite so easy to find a time just to "pop over" and bang out a quick ride.  When I'm home and I bitch about, it people say "don't worry, you'll get it back quickly". I truly hope they are right, but right now I'm not so confident in that...maybe they are just being nice.  I've heard a couple of those inspirational poster bullshit quotes saying "pain is weakness leaving the body" and "sweat is fat crying".  Well, I've got a lot of fat-crying and weakness-leaving to do.

Fourth, and finally, living apart from my Lovely for the last 9 months has sucked giant donkey balls.  In the 250+ days since this whole thing started, we've spent about approximately 8% of that time together (something like 22 days).  Good thing we've got a strong relationship.  I totally understand how things like this can break up people's marriages.  We're going to have to re-learn how to live together.  Maybe I can ease her into it by not being at home a ton by trying to ride some of my fat off...

So, there you have it.  Not as many cuss words as I had initially anticipated.  I'm looking forward to getting some riding in.  Looking forward to going from ultra-fat to just plain ol' fat.  Looking forward to posting maybe ten times more frequently (so, every 20.6 days vs. 206 days).  But mostly I'm looking forward to all of us being home!

A shout out to single parents that ride.

Ever since this whole cancer thing started, my Lovely and I have basically lived apart, save for the one weekend home and a couple hours here and there. So, it is not unlike being a single parent of a small child. 

Yes, the Boy is 13.  Before we knew he has cancer, leaving him alone to go do something was never a problem. Hell, I'd probably get in trouble for how old he was when we started leaving him home alone. But now that he has cancer, his immune system is constantly compromised because of the chemo, so we have to basically monitor him around the clock. We've been instructed to bring  him to the hospital immediately if he has even the slightest fever. This obviously means he has to be with someone almost all the time. 

Because of this, finding time to catch a ride while I'm alone in Colorado with the Boy is difficult. Sure, I've got family around that is more than willing to hang with him for a couple hours, but it's hard for me to want to put that responsibility on their shoulders should something arise while I'm out fucking around on my bike. 

That all being said, I have gotten out a couple times in the last week and a half. I've had a couple revelations on these rides. First, it feels like I've gotten amazingly out of shape over the course of the last 6-7 weeks (not that I was ever in good shape, but now it's even worse). There's a lot of sitting around in the hospital, as well as in the apartment or my mom's house doing things like homework, art or just talking to doctors, nurses or case workers on the phone. Add a little bit more elevation to the mix and all of the sudden, I'm climbing even slower than I did before! WTF? I thought if I slowed down from my previous pace I'd be going backwards.  Second, I've found that I've become a big pussy on techy descents. Some of that can be attributed to the fact that I haven't been riding much lately (you know the whole use it or lose it thing), but a bigger chunk is because I can't afford to be injured right now. I mean, obviously I can't afford to anytime, but because what we have going on is counting on one of us being there at all times, it is even more so now. I found myself walking techy stuff that I used to ride without even thinking about it. 

But as I said, I did get out. Early in the week, I did a solo ride at Green Mountain. The ride started out with about 4 or 5 switchbacks, which left an iron taste in my mouth. "What the hell? I think my lungs are bleeding!" But overall, it was a good ride. 

Then on Saturday, Cleaver had said he might be in the area and we should go catch a ride. Finally about noon, I hadn't heard from him, so I was gonna write that day off. The Boy and loaded up and headed to my mom's house. Just as we were leaving, the call on the Bat Phone came in. We were gonna ride! And Highlander Andy was gonna join us! Cool!  

Andy took us to a fairly new state park about 25 miles SW of where we're staying called Staunton State Park. One of the things Colorado does really well is their state parks. Even their smallest parks are top notch facilities. 

Anyhow, we did a nice loop there that took us up to 9400', (I was REALLY 

sucking air) took us into snowy terrain and garnered some stellar views of Pikes Peak and awarded us with a rollicking descent. The terrain was smooth enough that speed was the only danger for us on the day (Cleaver's Garmin clocked 33 mph). But, almost immediately when we were done I wanted to get back the Boy. 

I suppose the further into this process we get, the more I'll "figure it out", but I have to say I've earned a new found respect for single parents, especially a single parent of a child with special needs, I always knew they had a tough job, but now I'm living it. So, good job single parents. If you have any tips, let me know, but I'm really looking forward to when I am part of a two parent household again. 

Lance Armstrong, Cancer and Riding Bikes

Have you seen this trailer yet?

All about Lance Armstrong and his system of cheating in the pro peloton, this movie will probably be a huge hit in Europe, but most likely be, at best, an art-house movie here in the US.

Like most cyclists, I was an Armstrong fan when he was starting to win (although I liked Jan Ullrich better, how he started each season fat and out of shape, looking like he just drank a 6 pack and snorted a line of coke off a hooker's ass).  I had my doubts as he closed in on five TdF wins, but when LeMond was bellyaching about Armstrong's doping, I thought it was just sour grapes.  Then as he neared 7 wins, I was pretty sure he was doping, as many of his major (and not so major) competitors were dropping like flies to doping scandal after doping scandal.  No way this guy could have stayed clean and beat all those other guys, right?  (Kinda funny though how each sport has its own doping figure that the media locks onto, like Barry Bonds in baseball, and crucifies them, even though TONS of others are doping.  Maybe if they weren't such assholes to the media...)

I reveled in the fact that Armstrong doped, even going to a party with a bunch of other cycling friends the night Lance "came clean" with Oprah.  I even wrote a blog or two about what a hypocrite he was and how his apologists were idiots, blah, bablah, bablah.  I even got to the point where I kinda felt sorry for him.  I mean, he's been raked over the coals and he's having everything, and I mean everything, taken away, from wins, to the ability to ride in events, to all of his money.  But, he made his bed, now he gets to lie in it.

And then this last week, everything changed again.  Don't get me wrong, I think he's still a cheat and he was an asshole to a lot of people, and that will never change.  I don't like Lance Armstrong the cyclist.  But as I was lying on that hospital couch/futon/bed/medieval torture device, watching the Boy, who was hooked up to about 10 different tubes and/or monitors, have one crazy-assed drug after another pumped into him to rid his body of cancer, I thought about Lance Armstrong and the fact he overcame the odds that were stacked against him from such a shitty disease, not to just survive, but to live, much less ride his bike at a competitive level (yeah, yeah, I know, he was cheating, but still), my opinion of him changed once again.

Lance between his stints as an asshole.

I realize there are many, many other success stories out there, but because I ride (kinda) I can relate to Lance, and not to the doper Lance, but to the survivor Lance, to the LiveStrong Lance.  Suddenly, I could empathize with the Lance apologists.  I understood why the locked onto him and why they gave him a pass when the rest of the world was crushing him.  My thoughts about him went from a white area in the beginning, to a grey area in the middle, to the deepest, darkest black area by the end of his 7 "wins" and were now back in a grey area once again.  They'll never be a "white" area again, but the fact that it's back to a grey area says something.

Which brings me back to riding.  I took a bike with me to Denver with the thoughts of riding some short rides as time allowed, with my mom stopping by to hang with the Boy for an hour or two.  HA.  That was serious wishful thinking.  Besides the fact we were in the hospital for 2 1/2 days last week, when we were out of the hospital, I had 7 alarms set on my phone to tell me the various times I had to get him medications or flush lines throughout the day.  It seems like every time I turned around, I was giving him something.

Now I'm home and my Lovely is in Denver with the Boy and I'm thinking about catching some rides.  But part of me feels guilt about wanting to do something as superfluous as riding a bike for pleasure, knowing that the infusion the Boy has to take every night makes him feel like shit.  Knowing he can't go out and do many of the things he loves to do.  Everyone keeps telling me to make sure I take care of myself during this ordeal, but that is easier said than done.  If I knew for sure he was going to be OK, then riding a bike would be a fun idea. I'll probably still go for some rides while I'm home, and it will most likely do me some good.  I'll ride in hopes that by this time next year, I'll be doing it with the Boy.

One of my all time favorite pics of the Boy.  Tandem riding
at HLMP (M-Hill).

I lied

As most of you know, I post with stunning irregularity on this blog.  All sorts of bullshit gets in the way of being able to puke out some nonsense on this digital paper.  As I stated in my last post, I was going to shutter the NSS blog for a while as we dealt with Samuel's cancer and the ensuing treatments, but with the length between regular posts, I probably didn't even need to state that I was pulling the plug on this blog.  I could have just kept on, business as usual, and no one would have been the wiser.

Which brings me to the reason I lied. 

Yesterday I went into work for a while. The store is closed on Sundays, so I like to go in and write the order, stock the store and get stuff done that's harder to do when it's open and we're focusing on customers. And, as usual, I rode my bike to work. 

As I usually do when I ride my bike, I thought about all the shit going on in my life, which obviously led me to thinking about Sam and all the crap he's going to endure for the next year or so. And I thought about the amazing outpouring of support we've received in the last 48 hours since letting the world outside of a close circle of family and friends know what's going on. All of that overwhelmed me and I cried on the way to work. Let me tell you it's a bitch to ride with tears in your eyes. As I rode I realize that I need this blog to vent some shit, yell and rant and rave as we go through this. And maybe just be silly, or dirty, or, well, just bitch. 

So, after the shortest hiatus this blog has ever seen, I'm back posting with same ridiculous irregularity that you've come to know and expect from me. We'll still be over on Sam's Caring Bridge page, but that will be more updates and news about Sam. This will be just for me to vent. If I get too whiny, tell me in the comments, I probably won't give a shit, but tell me anyhow. 

Who gives a shit about Leadville

I fully expected that the next post I was gonna do for this blog was going to be about how I succeeded or failed at Leadville this year (and it kinda is) but none of that really matters. And as I weave this tale, you'll soon find out why.

Back in January, my son Samuel, crashed skiing. Shortly after this, he started having intermittent hip pain. He'd play basketball, dodge ball or something like that and he'd complain about hip pain. It seemed like he had a pulled muscle or something along those lines. He'd take a couple ibuprofen and everything would be hunky-dory. We deal with this every 3-4 weeks and didn't think much of it. 

Fast forward to mid-July. We went to a friends house for dinner where a giant Slip n' Slide was set up for the kids. Sam ran up and down the hill many times, having a blast on the slide.  The next day he was hurting for sure, barely able to walk. Not cool. We called the doctor and made an appointment. I was convinced it was a pulled groin muscle. 

We got into the doctor a couple days later and you know how those things go. Go to the this place for an xray, that place for a CT scan, make a follow up appointment with a orthopedic doctor, blah, blah, blah. 

About 3 days before heading to Leadville, we had an appointment with the orthopedic doc (which was about 3 weeks after our initial doctor appointment) who then sent us for a color contrast MRI. He said, based on the CT scans, the two possibilities for Sam's hip were an infected bone or a tumor. Shit. A tumor was a possibility? WTF? Nah, no way. That kid is healthy as a horse and strong as a bull. I'd bet (based on some information we received) that it's an infection. No question. He'll get on an antibiotic regimen when we get home and everything will be A-OK.  We then scheduled an appointment for a specialist orthopedic in Sioux Falls for a couple weeks after we got home from Leadville.

So, off we go to Colorado for a couple days at my mom's house, then up to Leadville for the race and a couple days of camping with my mom and my brother and his family. 

Friday we got up early to head to Leadville so I can get signed in, go to the pre-race meeting, etc. As we were at the gas station filling up, my phone rings. It's the doctor's office. Sweet, now we can get the ball rolling. "It's definitely a tumor. We've got your biopsy appointment scheduled for next Thursday." Those words were like a well placed Chuck Norris round-house kick to the gut. Holy shit. It was like one of those scenes in a movie where a bomb goes off and the person is disoriented and can't hear what's happening around him. All of the sudden I had zero desire to go to Leadville, but since the ball was in motion, we continued on to the city in the clouds.

As I sat in the pre-race meeting, all I was thinking about was Sam and hoping beyond hope that it was just a cyst or a benign tumor and that everything would still be good, barely listening to the presenters. We got up early the next morning and without having you suffer through the minutia of this race, I got pulled from the course at mile 74 after missing the time cut off and I could not have cared less.  I had no shits left to give. Was it the two flats I had on the day?  Maybe.  Was it the fact that all I was thinking about was my son during the race?  Possibly.  Maybe it was a combination of everything involved, but I didn't care.  Maybe the day when they tell me Sam is OK I'll get pissed about it, but not now.

Sam going in for one of many scans he's had so far.

We just got home from Sam's biopsy in Sioux Falls and found out he does indeed have a cancerous tumor in his hip.  The doctor said it is either Ewing's sarcoma or osteosarcoma but the course of treatment will be similar.  A round of chemotherapy to shrink the tumor followed by a surgery to remove the tumor and most likely replace his hip with an artificial one, followed by more chemo and/or radiation depending on the cancer.  Of everyone in-the-know, he's taking all this news the best.  When we were talking with him about the surgery/hip replacement he said it will be cool, cause he'll be a DROID (saying the word like the Motorola Droid phone does when it turns on).

Sam yucking it up, pre-op.

Right now the whole bike thing is kinda ringing hollow for me.  I hope that someday I'll be stoked to fire this blog back up, but for the near future it's gonna go dark.  We'll be over on Sam's Caring Bridge page, updating his info so if you feel inclined to follow along, you can see how he's doing.  And of course, feel free to shoot me an e-mail or give me a call.  I'll still be riding my bike when I can, but it for sure won't be what I'm focused on.

When N+1 is One Too Much

In the cycling world, as I'm sure you've all heard or have said, there is an equation that says B=N+1, where B=Bicycles Owned and N=Bicycles Needed, meaning you always need just one more bike.  I've heard this same philosophy thrown about by skiers (although they're using skis instead of bikes) and golfers as well, so I suppose any sports/hobby that requires shiny new equipment has this a running joke.

The Moots is gone...

I was a subscriber to this mathematical formula for a long time.  I had bikes upon bikes in my garage (well, I guess I still do, but hang with me here).  I had a bike for everything.  I had/have a singlespeed, a 5" travel trail bike, a 29'er hardtail, a cross bike, a tandem, a city/pub bike, etc.  You name it, I had it.  And the whole while I should have taken a cue from my cross bike, which was/is my road-gravel-commuter-singletrack-cyclocross bike, which means I use this one bike for lots and lots of different things.  And besides washing it once in a while, the biggest thing I ever do to that bike is change the tires from a beefier gravel tire to a smoother road tire.

The nagging issue of owning all these bike came down to one word...maintenance.  You know, once a bike gets to be a certain age and/or have a certain number of miles on it, it seems like there is always something that needs to be repaired, replaced or rebuilt.  A new brake lever here, some brake pads over there, a new chain, tires on both need to be replaced, oh shit, this one needs its fork overhauled, this one needs it brakes bled, blah, bablah, bablah.  It was nice to have another bike to ride when one was down for the count, but it seemed like those things were overlapping at an alarming rate.

Gone too...

Splitting the difference...

So guess what?  I did something about it!  I sold off two bikes and rolled the money into one new bike that split the difference.  It took a lot of soul searching to come to the conclusion that I needed to part ways with my beloved Moots (I've ridden a Moots for 16 years), but this frame was 10 years old!  Technology was passing me by and while that in and of itself wasn't an issue (I find myself having some retrogrouch qualities) being able to replace parts on a bike of that age becomes more and more difficult.  I thought if I'm ever gonna get anything money-wise for the Moots, I'd better do it NOW or just completely embrace the retrogrouch in me and ride it into the sunset. I also found myself riding my 29'er hardtail a LOT, like almost all the time, but I missed having some squish in the rear of the bike.  While the 29'er wasn't that old and in pretty good shape, I didn't see a need to have two bikes when one would do the trick, again, the maintenance thing, ya know? So, part of it was replacing a slightly antiquated wheel size (26") with a 29'er, but I was just sick and tired of having to constantly do something to one of these bikes.  Will I have to do stuff to this new one?  Yes, eventually, but I'll only have to do it once, I won' t have to do it to two bikes, leaving me more time to do what?  Ride my freaking bike!  Now if Mother Nature would just cooperate...

In defense of Episodes I-III

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know, this is a quasi-bike blog.  But it's also a blog about shit I love too, so we're gonna talk about Star Wars for a minute (or five).  Besides, if you've blasted down a forested stretch of singletrack and you haven't pretended you're on a speeder bike racing through the forest moon of Endor, you're either a liar or you have no business reading this blog anyhow.

The new Star Wars trailer, as the kids say, dropped this week.  In case you haven't seen it, here it is.

 And with this, the news media has gone completely ape-shit.  Good Morning America, ABC Nightly News, (which are owned by Disney, the company making the new Star Wars movies, hmmm) NPR, and others have run stories on this TRAILER (it's a teaser from a movie that is 8 months from being released) and the event, Star Wars Celebration, where the trailer was officially released.  And with it, the ubiquitous interviews with all those quasi-nerds that say the same shit, "Yeah, the trailer was great, but I have mixed emotions, I really hope this is better than the Jar-Jar disasters of Episodes I-III." Or something along those lines.  A fucking 20 something hipster-nerd, who wasn't even born when Episodes IV-VI came out, waxing nostalgic for movies that he hasn't even seen the original versions of?  What the hell?

Let me preface this by saying I don't think that Episodes I-III were great, but they're not as horrible as some people make them out to be.  Could Lucas have done a better job with them by letting someone else direct them?  Sure.  Would they have more depth and character if he didn't rely solely on CGI for every damn effect?  Absolutely.  Can I give you the reasons why they're not the trash you think?  I'm gonna.

Defense 1.  The free flowing story arc.
Episodes IV-VI had no constraints on its story line.  Lucas could have taken us anywhere he wanted to go.  We didn't know there was a second Death Star, we didn't know what Jabba looked like (it's true hipster-nerd, Jabba was NOT in the original version of Episode IV), and we surely didn't know that Darth Vader was Luke's father.

Episodes I-III had a very limited ability to create a story line.  Everything in all the stories had to come to a very specific point.  They had to come to Anakin being trained by Obi-Wan and subsequently being defeated on Mustafar by Obi-Wan and being burned up like a piece of Bantha bacon.  Luke and Leia had to be born, and then hidden from Anakin/Darth Vader.  Yoda and Obi-Wan had to go into

Mmmm, Bantha bacon...

hiding.  Oh yeah, and Anakin had to turn to the dark side and actually become Vader.  Hard to make a new amazing story when the  very specific ending was already written.

This is also why the story line for the new episodes should/better be amazing.  There is no constraint on the stories.

Defense 2.  The acting.

Pensive Luke...that's some SERIOUS
acting.

I hear a lot about how horrible Hayden Christensen was as Anakin.  Yes, I'll agree he wasn't great.  But guess what?  Mark Hamill wasn't great as Luke either!  Seriously, go back and re-watch IV-VI and tell me why you think Mark's acting was better than Hayden's.  Just listen to the whiny, monotone voice that says "BUUT I WAS GOING TO TOSCHI'S STATION TO PICK UP SOME POWER CONVERTERS!" and seriously tell me that this is better that Hayden saying in a 4 year old's best grumpy voice "DON'T MAKE ME DESTROY YOU."  You can't.  And, just like in Episodes IV-VI, there were bright spots of acting.  Ewan McGregor as Obi-Wan was believable, especially when he was monologuing on the bank of the lava river to the fried up Darth Vader, and when Natalie Portman was telling Anakin "you're breaking my heart"...it was real emotion.

Defense 3.  They are kids movies.
I think this is the thing that people forget the most.  Not that these movies were not intended for adults, but they were made for kids!  Lucas has said many times that he wanted to recreate that Saturday serial type of experience he had when he was a kid.  And, lest you forget, you most likely watched Episodes IV-VI when you were a kid and then saw I-III when you were an adult, skewing your opinion on those movies (except for those hipster-nerds, who are just regurgitating what ever is supposed to be cool or not cool about Star Wars).

Defense 4.  Lightsaber battles.
The lightsaber battles in Episodes I-III were WAY better than in IV-VI, don't deny it!  Sure the battles between Vader and Obi-Wan in IV and between Vader and Luke in V-VI had a lot of emotion in them, but they looked like they were swinging 25 lb. baseball bats at each other.  As far as the action goes, they were far better in I-III.  Actual choreography and young actors that could handle it  

(mostly), not old guys or guys in heavy black suits.

Defense 5.  The Jar-Jar factor.
This is the one that gets me riled up the most.  Everyone always points to Jar-Jar as to why Episodes I-III sucked.  Don't get me wrong, I don't like the Jar-Jar character.  I think it's pointless and slightly racist.  Watch these movies with a little kid sometime and see how hard they laugh at Jar-Jar and you'll understand part of it.

That's not my defense though.  My biggest complaint is about the revisionist mentality of those that blame Jar-Jar for I-III and think that Ewoks are OK.  Ewoks suck my balls!  I hated them from the second they came on screen at the Elks Theater in 1983 when I first watched Episode VI.    

Really?  The Care Bears beat the Empire?

Seriously?  Luke, Han and Leia couldn't beat the Empire with the fastest ship in the galaxy and all those X, Y, A, and B wings at their disposal, and yet a bunch of FUCKING TEDDY BEARS with rocks and sticks take them down?  I call BULLSHIT on the whole premise!  Tell me the Empire wouldn't just torch their whole planet, burning the forest down and the tree-forts and teddy bears that live therein.  God I hate Ewoks...

So, here's to A New, New Hope that Episodes VII-??? are better than I-VI, yes I-VI, all of them, but I can almost guarantee that there will be a Jar-Jar/Ewok character or moment in these new ones that will get the nerd illuminati so up in arms that they'll have a fit in their mom's basement.  I loved IV-VI as a kid and still do as an adult, I know I don't hate I-III as much as you say you do and maybe now you won't either.