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.

Mother Nature and I are gonna tangle...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OK, This is getting weird...

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

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

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

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

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

Rambler Spring Trip 2010 Part 3: The final chapter!

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

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

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

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

We saddle up and hit the trail.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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