'Twas about 40 degrees when I stumbled out of the garage @ 5:40 this morning for a quick spin in the dirt. The light was just reaching the tree tops. Not a soul out there until I rolled back into the outskirts of town. Just a simple 50 minute recovery from Tuesday's beatdown, and a warm up for racquetball tonight.
My kids got their a**es kicked last night in soccer. They knew the score...0-6. We have six games left to right the ship. In the meantime, we celebrated defeat by going out for some Mexican food - What? We lost 6-zip? I could care less, as I was quite happy with a Dos Equis in my hand and Lyza was sluggin' a Sprite while we battled it out playing tic tac toe on the kids menu with crayons.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Tuesday Evening Slugfest
While not an official "pay an entry fee, get a timing chip, see your results" type-gig....the slugfest tonight should be good. C-Dub, Snake Tat, Skinsuit Tim, and yours truly will do our best to kick each other to the curb after work until dusk. Somebody's gonna puke, somebody's gonna crash, one guy will win, and 2nd place sucks. The best part is that it doesn't cost $35 to enter this sufferfest.
Update:
Work was good, but who cares? I'll get a signed picture of the resort when I leave someday, a pat on the back, and discounts if I ever want to come and stay on my own dime.....it's all a facade really. I gotta get me some health because work doesn't provide that benefit. So I punch it on the drive home, feed the pooch, change into the silly spandex costume, and out the door.
....So at the trailhead there was a guy loading up downhill bikes to shuttle up to the top of Elden. The downhiller trails are freakin' nutz here, and I do my best to avoid them since I'm a chicken when I look at dug out 20 foot gaps, huge drops, 10 foot high log roll-offs. Much respect to those guys to a point - If they actually rode their bikes to the top and earned their turns, well there you go....but they don't, so whatever. I still don't get it - the climb is the burn that I crave, the white hot anaerobic pain that completely eliminates everything else going on in my life - the ultimate reset button. Maybe for them it's the risk of ending up in the ER that hits their reset button. Maybe they are just stoned enough not to care.
Yellowcard was playing from the downhiller truck. It got my foot a tappin'. Good thing - game on. The neutral rollout was calm tonight, and we was jus' playin' it cool until we hit dogfood wash, and then the door to the pain cave flung open. I was hanging on in 2nd, keeping an even standing cadence. Switching to a 32x19 a week ago has completely changed my performance for the better. The 18 tooth cog I've been pushing for two years - shit - maybe I just can't push it anymore on these climbs. All I know, is I feel a hella' lot better spinning a touch more.
After three steep pitches at near redline effort, we were up near the wilderness boundary having climbed 1,500 vert on the dirt in > 5 miles. We lost Snake Tat on a couple of the pitches but he was never more than a minute back and we all kept the hammer down until the climbing finally stopped and...payback.
Traversing mostly downhill, Snake Tat misjudged a log jump and caught his wheel on the way over - a nice craaaaaasssshh into dry, dusty dirt. It looked like he got hit by an Iraqi dust storm, although I've never seen one. In the process of falling, he ripped the sole off his shoe - and the sole and cleat stayed clipped in. Turns out his Northwave shoes are 10 years old. I'd say he got his money's worth. His cleat was all f'd up, and that was it for him. Confidence blown, and he was hike a biking it home. We followed some sort of made up on the fly "no teammate left behind" mantra because usually we'd have mocked him and made him chase back on. But he was rattled - so we did the right thing and got him to the fire road safely - said adios - and enjoyed the drop back to town on Schultz Creek Trail.
After some leftover chiliquilas, a Tecate, and some Mexican fixins, I was thumbing through mail when I came across an envelope with a stack of pics from my Dad's trip out here last month. He took a shot of my sister in Sedona and I immediately noticed she has these enormous fun bags. I called her and told her, and she laughed and said "no shit, I'm nursing". I realize that, but I insisted that they were extraordinary. Her husband chimed in from the other room "If they turn into flapjacks, she'll get 'em lifted". That pretty much put a good cap on a good day.
Update:
Work was good, but who cares? I'll get a signed picture of the resort when I leave someday, a pat on the back, and discounts if I ever want to come and stay on my own dime.....it's all a facade really. I gotta get me some health because work doesn't provide that benefit. So I punch it on the drive home, feed the pooch, change into the silly spandex costume, and out the door.
....So at the trailhead there was a guy loading up downhill bikes to shuttle up to the top of Elden. The downhiller trails are freakin' nutz here, and I do my best to avoid them since I'm a chicken when I look at dug out 20 foot gaps, huge drops, 10 foot high log roll-offs. Much respect to those guys to a point - If they actually rode their bikes to the top and earned their turns, well there you go....but they don't, so whatever. I still don't get it - the climb is the burn that I crave, the white hot anaerobic pain that completely eliminates everything else going on in my life - the ultimate reset button. Maybe for them it's the risk of ending up in the ER that hits their reset button. Maybe they are just stoned enough not to care.
Yellowcard was playing from the downhiller truck. It got my foot a tappin'. Good thing - game on. The neutral rollout was calm tonight, and we was jus' playin' it cool until we hit dogfood wash, and then the door to the pain cave flung open. I was hanging on in 2nd, keeping an even standing cadence. Switching to a 32x19 a week ago has completely changed my performance for the better. The 18 tooth cog I've been pushing for two years - shit - maybe I just can't push it anymore on these climbs. All I know, is I feel a hella' lot better spinning a touch more.
After three steep pitches at near redline effort, we were up near the wilderness boundary having climbed 1,500 vert on the dirt in > 5 miles. We lost Snake Tat on a couple of the pitches but he was never more than a minute back and we all kept the hammer down until the climbing finally stopped and...payback.
Traversing mostly downhill, Snake Tat misjudged a log jump and caught his wheel on the way over - a nice craaaaaasssshh into dry, dusty dirt. It looked like he got hit by an Iraqi dust storm, although I've never seen one. In the process of falling, he ripped the sole off his shoe - and the sole and cleat stayed clipped in. Turns out his Northwave shoes are 10 years old. I'd say he got his money's worth. His cleat was all f'd up, and that was it for him. Confidence blown, and he was hike a biking it home. We followed some sort of made up on the fly "no teammate left behind" mantra because usually we'd have mocked him and made him chase back on. But he was rattled - so we did the right thing and got him to the fire road safely - said adios - and enjoyed the drop back to town on Schultz Creek Trail.
After some leftover chiliquilas, a Tecate, and some Mexican fixins, I was thumbing through mail when I came across an envelope with a stack of pics from my Dad's trip out here last month. He took a shot of my sister in Sedona and I immediately noticed she has these enormous fun bags. I called her and told her, and she laughed and said "no shit, I'm nursing". I realize that, but I insisted that they were extraordinary. Her husband chimed in from the other room "If they turn into flapjacks, she'll get 'em lifted". That pretty much put a good cap on a good day.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Mother Trucker
I almost forgot Mother's Day this year because everytime I say Mother it's usually followed by a word that rhymes with "trucker". OK, I stole a variation of that from Obama's press corps speech - he was referencing Rham Emanuel launching MF-bombs right and left. I thought it was pretty freakin' funny, and if you caught his other shots at himself, the GOP, Hillary, etc....well the guy was en fuego.
Surfing down the Jedi trail on Saturday was fantastico. There are several log jumps, a few sketchy log roll offs, and some steep and loose Mother Truckin' drops all the while being completely off-camber. I had a few sphinctor puckers - namely a drop into a dusty dirt pile that I barely cleared and would have ended up ass over tea kettle 20 feet down the ledge if I hadn't.
Now I gotta get some mother truckin' stuff done here at the sawmill....
Surfing down the Jedi trail on Saturday was fantastico. There are several log jumps, a few sketchy log roll offs, and some steep and loose Mother Truckin' drops all the while being completely off-camber. I had a few sphinctor puckers - namely a drop into a dusty dirt pile that I barely cleared and would have ended up ass over tea kettle 20 feet down the ledge if I hadn't.
Now I gotta get some mother truckin' stuff done here at the sawmill....
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Now that's a weekend...
Countless hours of hardcore playtime with Lyza, 6 hours of saddle time (4 hammering with the Boyz in the woods, and 2 with D racing up Snowbowl), going 0-2 on the soccer field (for f*ck's sake kids, get your little arses moving would ya! - I'm not in this for fun, I'm here to WIN), great Giro d'Italia coverage, and 3 hours at the office Sunday evening getting a jump start on Monday so I can shred it up tomorrow morning before work.
I stink, my hair needs to get whacked with the clippers, and my dog's hungry...gotta run.
Happy Mom's day Mom. You are the best Midwestern Mom out there!
Signed,
Your favorite son
I stink, my hair needs to get whacked with the clippers, and my dog's hungry...gotta run.
Happy Mom's day Mom. You are the best Midwestern Mom out there!
Signed,
Your favorite son
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Fat Aunt Jemima
How the hell is the Aunt Jemima syrup product still on the shelves? First, you have a rotund African American woman who looks like, for lack of a better term – a happy slave – on the front of the bottle. Then on the back, you see that the brown syrup is made of poison….the #1 ingredient is high fructose corn syrup, followed by a gagillion chemicals, colorings, and additives. I mean fer’ crissakes the stuff isn’t even close to being maple syrup, but it’s manufacturer pays a lot of money to pretend to be. Real maple syrup is about $10 for 12 ounces out this-a-way, and a big ol bottle of Auntie J is less than $2. Who’s the Product Manager for Aunt Jemima? I’d wager it’s a white guy in New Jersey who’s makin’ a fat salary from pouring manufactured maple sweetener down kids throats. You think he asks for his brand when having kamut pancakes with fresh blueberries on the deck of a B&B in Vermont while on summer vacation? On my last visit to the grocery store I was just doing my best to cut some food costs, and paying $10 for maple syrup hurts – but damn brah – would you put lame-ass Colorado 85 octane in a 1995 Old Fashioned BMW? No freakin’ way! Pay the extra $ and cut back on something else.
Racquetball starts again tonight. Ellsie suggested that for this go-round I go out and buy some of those classic BIKE coach’s shorts – you know, the stretchy gray ones your coach wore at baseball practice in the ‘80’s. Then I figured I’d add a red headband, a crappy t-shirt, two mock ACE ankle braces, kneepads, and a pair of white classic Reebok hightops. I don’t even think I could get out of my house without laughing myself back in to change. But – racquetball is 50% mental – and it’s fun to phuck with the guys in the league….so, maybe?
Racquetball starts again tonight. Ellsie suggested that for this go-round I go out and buy some of those classic BIKE coach’s shorts – you know, the stretchy gray ones your coach wore at baseball practice in the ‘80’s. Then I figured I’d add a red headband, a crappy t-shirt, two mock ACE ankle braces, kneepads, and a pair of white classic Reebok hightops. I don’t even think I could get out of my house without laughing myself back in to change. But – racquetball is 50% mental – and it’s fun to phuck with the guys in the league….so, maybe?
Tuesday, May 5, 2009
Wouldn't it be great if...
...Brett Favre signed with the Vikings. Then, on November 1st at Lambeau Field, threw for an NFL record 7 touchdowns. Then, he takes the 12-4 Vikings to the Super Bowl and brings the LOMBARDI trophy to Minnesota. Then he retires for good and five years later goes into the Hall of Fame with a Vikings uniform and Brad Childress giving his dedication speech. Packers GM Ted Thompson would probably hang himself.
What will probably happen is Favre will string the Vikings out for the next two months, finally decide to give it a go if he's allowed to skip off-season workouts, show up for one pre-season game, play just enough to ruin the Vikings' other QB's psyches - then get hurt in week 4 after a 2-2 start and play in every third game thereafter, bringing home an 8-8 record for the season. F'n Favre. I can see why the Packer fans were pretty much done with the guy at the end of 2005.
....It would also be great if Crank Brothers could make more durable pedals. I'm given the gift of a late afternoon ride mid-week, and my right pedal just explodes. Metal shrapnel, and ball bearings spewing out across the trail. I didn't even hit anything - today. I remember a couple if rides back smashing a rock and jacking my bike about two feet in the air at impact. But, it still bums me out......For fuck's sake, I was 500 feet from the top of a climb at about 85% of my aerobic threshold and I had to turn back around early. That's what I call blueballs on a bike. On a positive note it was the first day I've worn a short sleeve jersey in Flag since October. It'll be 80 tomorrow. Wow - where did this come from?
Don't forget your Mums this weekend - card, flowers, or maybe a new vacuum so she can pick up after you during your next visit. You know, just like when you were a kid.......and still are.
What will probably happen is Favre will string the Vikings out for the next two months, finally decide to give it a go if he's allowed to skip off-season workouts, show up for one pre-season game, play just enough to ruin the Vikings' other QB's psyches - then get hurt in week 4 after a 2-2 start and play in every third game thereafter, bringing home an 8-8 record for the season. F'n Favre. I can see why the Packer fans were pretty much done with the guy at the end of 2005.
....It would also be great if Crank Brothers could make more durable pedals. I'm given the gift of a late afternoon ride mid-week, and my right pedal just explodes. Metal shrapnel, and ball bearings spewing out across the trail. I didn't even hit anything - today. I remember a couple if rides back smashing a rock and jacking my bike about two feet in the air at impact. But, it still bums me out......For fuck's sake, I was 500 feet from the top of a climb at about 85% of my aerobic threshold and I had to turn back around early. That's what I call blueballs on a bike. On a positive note it was the first day I've worn a short sleeve jersey in Flag since October. It'll be 80 tomorrow. Wow - where did this come from?
Don't forget your Mums this weekend - card, flowers, or maybe a new vacuum so she can pick up after you during your next visit. You know, just like when you were a kid.......and still are.
Friday, May 1, 2009
My own Stage Race
5 rides
Over 7 days
that's what I call....a good schedule
Work didn't suffer
I got my time in
Up at 5.......home 'round 9
Legs feel good
But not quite great
Got a couple months to train.......for a big July date
41 sucks
Don't let anyone tell you not
Parts are breakin' down
Lungs are feelin' shot
Put the rally cap on and just on keep fightin' back
Phuck you Father time, I ain't gonna finish mid-pack
Haven't got mad skills, to really pay any bills
Think I'll press my shirt,
Put my nametag on,
Eat some chow,
Kiss my girls,
Drive my econobox down the mountain,
Do what I do....
all the while thinkin' bout my next ride. I can't wait.
Over 7 days
that's what I call....a good schedule
Work didn't suffer
I got my time in
Up at 5.......home 'round 9
Legs feel good
But not quite great
Got a couple months to train.......for a big July date
41 sucks
Don't let anyone tell you not
Parts are breakin' down
Lungs are feelin' shot
Put the rally cap on and just on keep fightin' back
Phuck you Father time, I ain't gonna finish mid-pack
Haven't got mad skills, to really pay any bills
Think I'll press my shirt,
Put my nametag on,
Eat some chow,
Kiss my girls,
Drive my econobox down the mountain,
Do what I do....
all the while thinkin' bout my next ride. I can't wait.
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