'11

"Let's keep the Christ in Christmas" That was one of the more comical bumper stickers I saw over the holidays. "My body is a temple 5 days a week, but it's an amusement park on the weekends" drew a smile. Then there was "Fuck you, you fuckin' fuck". Awesome.

The break went a bit different than planned. Me thought I would ride quite a bit, but it got cold and snowy out - thus 5 runs in 6 days. I know, what the hell, right? OK, the runners of the world would scoff, so let me rephrase and say I jogged 4 times and crawled once. I bowled once too - so I got my upper body workout in. I had a great break in Tucson after working straight through Dec 26th. Working Christmas Eve and Day doesn't really mean shit to me. I've never been a big Holiday guy - as in celebrating on the exact day - I just want some time off at some point over the holidays to see family and sip Maker's Mark which reminds me of how weak of a drinker I really am. Total poser.

Now that Defcon 5 has been averted at work its time to turn my attention to turns this week...as in snowboard turns. You know, because I'm forty fuckin' three already and I never seem to get enough turns in. The last thing I want to be is lying in a hospital bed when I'm 71 lamenting a lack of turns when I was a yute. Gold watch from work when I retire? Shaaa, right. Statue in my name at town square? That's a lot of ass kissing. I just want to have fun, today. Right now. All the time.

Happy New Year and spare me your resolutions. Just get whatever it is done quietly, with purpose, and without fanfare and we'll all be better for it.

Points

It's Sunday, and I've had 'one of those days' at work that I just want to erase from my hard drive. Pissed of customers with "entitilitis", broken water lines, backed up sewage, downed electric lines from a blizzard, and the bane of all white people - wireless internet that doesn't work. "OMG - WTF am I gonna do". I dunno lady, try connecting with your husband or your abandoned kids for once?

I drive fairly aimlessly into town and see the lone Conoco gas station on the right. They have 24oz cans of Tecate for 1.99. Yeah, buddy. I bring one of those tallboys to the counter and the young cashier says "Do you have your points card with you".

Points card for a gas station?

Conoco, Hilton, Amazon, and every credit card out there boast a customer loyalty program that is sure to undeniably ensure that you buy more from said vendor just so you can save more. No, I don't have a points card for Conoco. The now not so sweet cashier shrugs as if I'm the dumbass and rings me up.

My personal fave is traveling out of state and going to a grocery store that is not in AZ. Flo asks for my 'shopper card' or whatever it's called, and I don't have one, so my grocery bill goes from $34 to $134 because I'm now paying a 5000 percent markup for apples, power bars, and a sixer of High Life. I explain I'm from out of state....fucking crickets from Flo. So - I stand in line and fill out a form to be a 'shopper card' member for one day so I don't get raped in front of 11 witnesses in the checkout line.

The first two miles were like a Vietnamese downpour, but I was plenty warm and comfortable climbing. A tailwind, after the second turn, I didn't even recognize until I flipped around to come back down. No wonder I was going faster than normal. The road turned to snow at 8,000 feet and conditions went from super fun, to fun, to the point where I really wasn't interested in an A-level solo adventure because the blizzard conditions were making the road hard to follow - on the way up, and I was gettin' a little concerned about descending. I got to Aspen Corner (mile 5), and out of self-preservation I dropped the bike, changed into dry clothes, and pointed it back down. It was then that I realized I had a 20+ mph tailwind propelling me up. Holy sh*t is all I can say, because glasses were worthless, a light was worthless and thank God for giving us all eyelashes. I descended looking for tire tracks to follow but they had been blown away. I wasn't freakin' out, but I had to guess a couple of times on curves as to where the road was. Not a girlfriend/wife ride, for sure.

I must be living, in some respects anyway, right - because outta' nowhere comes what had to be a Snowbowl employee headed down in a big-ass F-150. He leans out his window and says "Nice job Red Rock". That was cool - musta' seen the bibs. I followed his taillights at 20mph with uber traction in the heavy snow until that flat spot near mile 3....the snow turned back to rain, and over the next three miles, in a heavy downpour, I had water running into my MTB shoes, into my bibs, and - so much so that I just started laughing at how f'd up it was to be out in this. Totally got my ass handed to me. Got to the car, hit the heat, and the ride was done.

Powder Day

Recipe

A recipe for falling asleep before 9pm – here ya go:

1-bike of your choice (15psi, 2.3+ tires recommended - studs would be perfect)
1-winter weather fully kitted costume including gore-tex ear band and thermofleece tights
1-1 hour sustained climb on a crusty snowy road followed by a 15 minute sketchy descent in a m’f’n cold ass wind
1-20 minute soak in a hot tub to get the blue/black color out of face and extremities
2-plates of food - random food really, it doesn't matter
1-beer (stronger alcohol content preferred since you're going straight to bed - think Nyquil)

Say goodnight, Chris

Mall Cop

So after a long day on Saturday that included a great bike ride in the Catalina Mountains with several teammates, and 6 hours of non-stop playtime with two rugrats, I was done. We clicked the TBS version of “Point Break” off, and I don’t even remember falling asleep.

4:00am and the alarm goes off at my Sister’s house. She has it shut off in 15 seconds, and I stumble out of bed with a big fat WTF hanging over my head. My contact lenses are in their case and all I want to do is head back to bed. It was a squirrel, or a bird, or a whatever…. who gives a shit. Then my Sister says that it NEVER goes off, and she seemed a bit, well, alarmed.

We checked on the kids and they were not abducted and they were already back to sleep. So we then went about checking doors and doing a pretty informal ‘lockdown’ on the house. The last room to check was the upstairs playroom so up I lead and I see the east side French doors wide open. I ask my sis “were those closed when you checked this room”. She said “those were closed”. My sister is a girlie girl, but she’s pretty calm under pressure. I didn’t panic and just walked right up to them figuring if there was somebody there all I would see is an outline and I’d just start throwing haymakers. Great plan, tough guy. Your vision is 20x150 and you’re plan is to toss haymakers? That’s some crystal clear thinking.

I got to the doors, and looked at the jamb and there was no sign of forced entry. We realized that the doors had been closed, but not latched, and the 30mph breeze outside popped ‘em open. We never did check the closet adjacent to the doors, and I ended up dreaming about thugs hiding in there the rest of the night. I should have just walked up there and did a double check, but the dreams were pretty good. Big guys, little guys, AK 47’s, Glocks, hatchets, Jason and Michael Myers from Halloween. The whole gamut of possible intruders. Turns out, my Sister had the same dreams.

Another relaxing weekend in Tucson.

Survival of the unfittest

Bike practice has been few and far between since early October, and I paid the price last Saturday at the Dawn til Dusk event at the McDowell Mountains. I raced down to the valley on Friday, attended a mandatory work party for our owners until 12:30am, scrambled to catch some sleep, then out the door at 5am on Saturday morning to drive over to the race which started at 7:13am. Goooooooooo! Famous last words were “I’m just going to take it easy at the start since it’s a long day”. Nope. Some local Flagstaff towners were drillin’ it so I joined in.

You know you know you’re fucked when it’s 68 degrees out and you’re chilled to the bone from your effort. I went way over redline on lap one, and sat in our campsite knowing the rest of the day was going to suck. I managed to tack on two more 15 mile laps, and after the 3rd, I was done. My thighs felt like they had vices on them, and women, children, unicycles, were passing me – at least in my mind they were. One guy who had no business passing me, did in fact pass me, and as he went by he said something like “just cruising along”. I took it personal and fired back “fuck off”. Ya think I have issues? He just kept on riding because….. I realized he had headphones on. I was ready to throw down bikes and fight. How great would that headline have been? “Two 40 year olds throw down at local endurance event over 20th place. Both end up covered in cactus and in the ER with lacerations and crushed pride.”

I sat down in a camp chair at 2pm and didn’t get up for an hour. Talk about an ass-handing. Beer didn’t even taste good. Fortunately there were three teammates there to tell me how shitty of a job I did, and before long we were all laughing about this that and the other. Love me some teammates.
Sunday morning was gorgeous, and so we headed over to local pal Mark T’s place for a road ride. It was total amateur hour, so the pace was slow and that was a good thing. 45 miles on the road bikes was the absolute best recovery I could have had.

Monday night, me and MG began the Snowbowl night time hill climb series with a slow SS grind up the mountain at 6pm. Pitch black, a bit of snow on the road, and I felt strong as an ox. Good times. Only problem is that I woke up yesterday with a top quality fever, cramps, and bodyaches that lasted all day. I haven’t missed a day of work in 1.5 years, and that all changed yesterday. I was a sack of shit, all day.

Today, back in the saddle. I rolled into Lyza’s classroom and sang a song with her about supply/demand. It was fun….my little Leo got all shy in front of her teacher. Big hug on the way out the door, and life is good, baby.

Jamochafudge

It’s pretty easy for all of us to look back and mark chapters in our lives. Military service, college, marriage, kids etc. I just lost a dog that had been with me for 15 years, and that was one memorable chapter. Jamocha had seen a lot in her time, and fortunately for her, it was always about finding fun. No less than seven near death experiences, ridiculous vet expenses, feats of survival that still make me cringe, and she only missed one meal because of surgery.

I could tell stories for hours about her. Eating furniture, getting beat by a pit bull, obliterating our neighbors gardens, swimming in any pool without a fence – much to the chagrin of local homeowners associations, several near drownings in semi-frozen lakes, falling out of a jeep at 30 mph, chowing a box of rat poison, and eating 20 pounds of dog food in under an hour. Just awesome stuff that, even when walking her down the green mile of the vets office, made me laugh through the tears.

She went from being called Jamocha, to fudge, to fudgedog, to Japoo, to Geej, to Gramstains. Gramstains was an affectionate name for a ‘grandma dog that left a mark on the wall, the couch, the floor, basically everywhere she went’. That was my girl. Never ever a dull moment.

When I picked her up at 3 months old in 1995, she was jumping from couch to couch in the living room of a single mother who had no chance of handling her. The thing that sticks in my head is that she went out completely used up. Every muscle was shot, every sense, save her sniffer, was gone, and she had a look on her drooping face that said “I’m done”. Good for you ol’ sweetie. We won’t forget you, how could we? You drove on two wheels with your tires chirping at every stoplight for 15 years.

November Singletrack

I put in an honest eight at work on Thanksgiving Day, getting out of the office at 2:30p. Working on Thanksgiving is one of the best days of the year because all of a sudden everyone is so goddamn happy. Garbage disposal stuck? No problem – fix it Friday! You can’t get your favorite game on TV because the channel is out? No problem – there are plenty of games to watch this weekend! I think that family time cures a lot of ailments in the first 24 hours, but after that, it causes more than it cures.

Regardless, it was a good start to the day, but the best was yet to come. It was 23 degrees when I got home, but the sun was shining. I costumed-up, grabbed the singlespeed, and hit the snow covered singletrack for a pre-meal ride. The window of opportunity to ride snow covered trails is so small…..but when you have ½” – 1” of snow cover, cold air, and warm sun – it’s optimal. Great traction, no sloppy slush, and where the hell is everyone? Inside, by their fireplaces and/or stuffing their faces, I take it. Cutting corners hard, climbing with snow flying off the tread, occasionally hitting a clear spot of tacky dirt where my speed would quickly double. Great. Fun. Smiling from ear to ear.

Mmmm, we had baked turkey fillets, roasted root vegetables including rutabagas, turnips, and sweet potatoes with a nice side salad. Pumpkin pie followed with a fookin’ pound of homemade whipped cream. That’s as good as it gets, aside from the fact that by little blondie was in Phoenix.

The good news is that I get to leave work on Friday around 2p, and I’m headed down to get her for a weekend soccer tournament. 65 degrees, sun, and four games +1 if they get into the finals on Sunday morning. Yeah buddy – I’m ready to go and it’s only 8:57a.

Flagstaff Athletes

If you ask anyone who plays any sport out here if they have been training and/or staying in shape, you always and I repeat ALWAYS get the same answer: “Not really, every now and then, but I’m not competing or anything”. The following weekend after your discussion, said person climbs the podium at nearly any event they enter.

Bring up the subject of their most recent ride or run, and you often her terms like ‘vert’ (vertical feet climbed), and other asinine stats that originate from their stem or wrist mounted Garmin. For example: “We hit the summit of Agassiz, dropped back down, and looped the west side of Elden just to reach an even 25. It was 6+ vert with a max 12% grade in 3:40. We’re gonna’ go rim to rim to rim at the Grand Canyon next weekend, you want in?”

Do I want in – are you fucking kidding me?

This is a classic way for Flagstaff athletes to finish their story for two reasons. 1) There are enough people in town who could do that workout at the required pace, so they are serious when they ask if you want to join…..and 2) It’s their way of staying humble - because even though they are aware that running rim to rim to rim is stupid-hard, they also know that there are 100+ people in town that could kick their ass on that route. There is always somebody who can beat your best.

I’m not an athlete by our local definition because I can’t hold a candle to the fast people in town. However, I have fallen into this trap myself. Posting words about elevation gained and lost on rides as if flatlanders would ooooohhhh and aaaahhhhh nodding their heads in amazement, or talking about dangerous exposure points that are “easy if you know the line”. Passing on a 3-hour Sunday ride in favor of a 5 hour marathon because “I need the miles”. Is this an ‘Out West’ thing similar to the way the athletes talk in Durango, Bend, SLC, and Vail? I think it is, and I think a lot of people move out west to experience BIG. Big mountains, rivers, trails, storms, and powder. I love big too, I’m just now figuring out I don’t have to talk quite…. so……big.

So today, I got outside early, just as the sun began to think about coming up. I was chasing the warmth as the rays met the treetops and slowly made their way down to me – on two wheels – on the ground. I stripped off a layer and made my way through the singletrack route. A half dozen deer left me in their dust, and I couldn’t help but notice just how cumbersome I must have looked to them; dodging, dropping off of, and climbing over rocks along a strip of trail when they could bound across the earth in any direction over any terrain. As I headed home, it felt warm. Work was looming, but anytime I can get out and play before work, well, I’m a pretty good boy the rest of the day.

See what I mean? I could have been in NC, MN, AZ, or eastern Kansas. It’s about the ride for me, and that’s what imma’ focus on. I’ll leave the stats to the fast guys.

burnt down to the coals

I was on my way to the hot tub this morning. It was still dark out, and as I made my way through the living room I could see my old girl Jamocha was walking around in anticipation of her breakfast. 15 years, and she’s skipped one meal. I gave her a mulligan on that one since it was post-surgery.

My right foot hit a warm pile of Labrador-made soft serve. I put my other foot down, and hit another. Thankfully, I have heels and they got me to the bathtub without further incident. That was a faster wake-up than I needed. 10 minutes later the pooch was chowin’ breakfast and I was in the hot tub lookin’ at stars and shit.

The fire inside of me has burnt down to coals. No riding. No running. If it weren’t for pull-ups and body weight exercises, I’d be classified as a typical sedentary American. Work has been steady and good in a lot of ways because we’re on a successful run, and my little bean Lyza B has kept me running with her homework/club soccer/social life. At the end of every day, its 9:45pm – Lyza is asleep, the dogs are asleep, and I’ve got a warm house and a book…..and that feels fortunate and fine.

I’m not sure what it will take to stoke the fire inside. Racing bikes feels like a shell of what it meant in early October. Skiing and Boarding are on my mind but it’ll be a while before opening day. The short days are here for 3 months, and it just feels right to take advantage of the down time and have an inward look at just what the fuck is important to me – besides the obvious.

Underneath the barely glowing embers, I still have a bonfire of passion for riding on two wheels. The bikes will be on the rack waiting for me in January when it’s colder than cold, and I do look forward to suffering on cold training days. The pain of underperforming in April always wins over a warm house and a book in January. Yup, it’ll be there when I’m ready.

Fat Man's Pass

Saturday morning I set out alone, and rolled into the garage at almost 3 hours on the nose. It felt like I was in slow motion, just climbing steady with no energy to speed it up, and little ambition to spark the energy. Groves of yellow aspen appeared at various points, and I found some fresh singletrack that was in the process of being built. Love it. After 2 hours and 15 minutes of climbing, it was time to get some payback, and I made sure to draw out that process with some more down than up rollers, followed by a plunge back to the hovel on Cedar Ave. Well done. I spent the whole time thinking about things going on with me and around me, and not once was I able to let it go. Fuck I hate that. In hindsight, it was probably a male therapy session, because guys don’t talk very well to therapists – at least this one doesn’t. The trees and the wind said I was a’ight, so I believed ‘em.

This morning I woke up leisurely after putting in a full day at the office on Sunday. I had a 9am ride booked with Wilkens, and he showed up with his road bike. We got our signals mixed up, and so we high tailed it back to his house to get his phat tire rig. Hey, given a choice on a cool fall day, I’m riding the woods EVERY TIME. Fuckin’ skinny tires don’t stand a chance when the singletrack is tacky.

We bolted into the forest to get outta’ the wind, and I led CW across the technical side of Mt. Elden. This portion of trail isn’t ridden all that much because of the steps/drops/loose granite, and sharp high desert cactus shit all over the place. In my world, it’s a blast and CW was right there with me as probably my only riding buddy who likes risking his body and beating his bike up. We opted for Fat Man’s Pass which includes a 10 minute hike-a-bike section that then leads to the holy grail. 1.5 miles of downhill that looks flat out unrideable, and you best be slithery ‘cause you won’t fit through many of the downhill chutes. It’s white knuckle fun, and worst case scenario is you stack it, fall 4-5 feet into Prickly Pear cactus, some sharp Manzanita tree branches, or you get all raspberried on granite boulders. The point of all this fun you ask?….for 2.5 hours I didn’t even think about work/family/life and the ride?….as my buddy JK loves to say when he sees a hot Hopi woman: “phenomenal”. You’re God damn right it was, the blood on my knee was phenomenal. The two sets of hikers who asked us if we were crazy – phenomenal. The clear blue sky – phenomenal, and the fact that I could get out and do this on a Monday, well that was worth every hour I put in on Sunday - phenomenal. It was all just so freakin' phenomenal.

CW was beat to shit by the end. Not physically, just mentally. It’s tiring riding that stuff, and I think he’s got a lot on his plate too as he’s considering relocating the fam to California for better employment. That’s a lot to think about, and I’m afraid his Monday ride was like my Saturday ride. We’ll get after it again on Wednesday and I have a feeling we’ll both be in the right place. We have a race in a month, and beer/food is on the line as a side bet against another duo. We’ll be ready, or, we’ll be full and drunk, or all three.

Joshdeisha

My Wednesday ‘master of the obvious’ comment pertains to politics. These elections really bring out the worst in people. I was listening to NPR reports on various elections across the country, and only found one story to be remotely interesting – the California Governor’s race.

Jesus H Christ, how the hell is Jerry Brown still in the political game? That dude was in office when I was a teenager, and I vaguely remember a lame attempt for during a Presidential primary back when I worked for the Stinkin’ Grand Hotel in the early 90’s. Now he’s running against the former CEO of EBay, a billionaire woman who certainly has her shit together from a business perspective. Just as the report was heading into the doldrums of political hell, NPR transitioned into a story about a 52 year old transvestite who has made his way up the political ladder in San Francisco. Way up the ladder to the point where he/she is a leading candidate for the SF Board of Supervisors. The thing that caught me was when he came out of the closet, his kids disowned him for a long, long time. WTF? I mean, he’s your Dad. Even if this guy decided to put on a skirt and start riding a pink bike and went to Thailand to have his parts changed – and I’m not talking about derailleur’s and handlebars here – I’d still ride and race with he/she. We might call he/she Joshuita or Joshdeisha, but me thinks he/she wouldn’t be disowned by his/her ridding buddies.

Anyway, there’s no point, as usual, other than I’m skipping the remainder of the political coverage until this election is over next Tuesday – or whenever election day is. I’d much rather hear about transvestites, crash and burn rockers, and great stories about singletrack and fresh powder on the mountain.

Fall Beaut

The singletrack at 9,500 feet - love me some fall colors. It's nothing like back in MN with the red/orange/yellow, but it's what we got - aspen gold.

Changes #2

Got me a season pass today. Got me some Fischer fat boards and boots last week to ski the trees. Got the snowboard tuned and ready to rip. Now, we just need a few more inches of snow. You know, like 50 or so. Let it snow!

History says that when I buy a pass we have a bad winter - c'mon man, let me cash some karma in on this winter. I swear I've been livin' right?!

Sunset lift, 10/14/10 Base: 0 Expected snowfall today: 0

Change

The rains are coming, the leaves are blowing, and there's a fuck ton of change in the air. More on that in a few weeks.

Last night hail and a biblical downpour chased by black spandexed ass off the mountain. I felt like a wave was about to crest on me, as I was mowing down the singletrack decent home. Quickly into the garage, sit down in front of the heater to change out of the clown suit and - I'm surprised my skylights didn't just explode. Hail. Gimme shelter. Love me some warm house.

Aside from a thrilling ride, my legs feel like dock posts from Sturgeon Bay that were cemented in the '80's. I don't know what the heck is going on, but ever since I wasted the form I had two weeks ago, I've felt like a slow sack of shit. Yeah yeah, we're not talking about minutes slower, no - it's more about feeling good. I pounded out a good climb on Saturday with Navajoel and D at Wupatki, but even there I felt flat and unresponsive.

Speaking of unresponsive, the Montana State Cougs were totally unresponsive in the Skydome on Saturday night. With me, Lyza and a ton of friends cheering on the 'Jacks. NAU baby, college football powerhouse - they would only lose to Wisconsin or Alabama by 90+ points.

Remember L7? No? I know you love your Wilco, your Feist, your Coldplay, and your Arcade Fire - I get that, but throw a little L7 on and listen to some music that'll move walls. These chix bring it.

Phoenicians

The Phoenicians will be up in our little mountain town this weekend, so D and I made a good call to go on and get the heck up into the mountains before the really big SUV's with every kid donning A&F clothes clog the first mile of every trail in and around the peaks. Today? Sunny - 70 degrees, maybe 10 cars tops. The Aspen tree leaves are turning gold, and it all felt really pristine. I think that was my 50th trip up this year, and it never gets old. It never gets easy either. We rode at a very modest pace, taking nearly 50 minutes to do the climb. PR is 36:30, so it was a chill ride....but, it still hurt and I loved every minute of it.

The Phoenicians. They are like FIBS (f*ckin' Illinois bastards) are to Michiganders. Sure, come on up and spend your $$ here, but go on and get the hell home come 2:00pm on Sunday - and don't come back until next Friday. The difference between us Flagstaffians and Michiganders is that all Michiganders are one generation or less removed from white trash roots, often substituting snow machines for cars 9 months a year. Horriffic wine, pasties, Kid Rock, and Insane Clown Posse cap off the backwards-assness there.

Of course, I'll be heading down to Phoenix next weekend for Lyza's soccer tournament, and I expect to see lower gas prices, affordable lodging, unclogged freeways, and great food/service at an attractive price. You know, because you f*ckers stomp on my trails all weekend. It's like that.

"dumbification" of trails

I came home from work yesterday and my daughter was playing ‘leader of the pack’ with the neighborhood kids. After ensuring she had her cellie, I put on the costume, and drilled it into the woods. Some local trail advocacy group has been doing so much work on Rocky Ridge that it’s close to deserving the name Less Than Rocky Ridge. Jesus people, back in the 90’s this was the litmus test for tech skills. These days – if it weren’t for the west side being obliterated by flood damage, thus incredibly fun and technical – it’s on its way to being one of those horizontal escalators you see at airports. I know, I sound like some retro grouch, but for fooks sake you don’t have to dig down a country fookin’ mile to remove rocks from the Paleozoic era just to smooth out a bumpy trail. What’s next, pavement?

Anyway, the big wheels kept on rollin’ until dusk and after sharing a colossal taco meal with the fam, it was “watch Brett Favre further self-destruct” time. Dude – it’s time to bail. Please. For the sake of everyone you have scorched in MN and WI. Can you please spell O-V-E-R? You can always come back to the booth, or go on Dancing with the Stars in a couple of years. It’s just time to get the hell on.

Somehow I missed just how great The Replacements were in the 80’s and 90’s. I stumbled on a Paul Westerberg track a few days back, and a few clicks later I’m uncovering gems I used to live for like “Alex Chilton”. Those guys were drunk for 10 years straight, and managed to rip off a sequence of songs that laid the path for a lot of bands – Fish, insert Wilco here. Quick transfer to my cell phone, and I’ve got some more killer tunes to listen to and from work this week.

Saturday I got semi-suckered into a pair of phat alpine skis – used, at the right price – but man after skiing last spring I really “needed” a pair. Yo, I’m still a knuckle dragging boarder, but these Fischer fat boards are going to be a blast. OK then, let it snow!

comin back

After the Tour of the White Mountains, I took a week off – had my bike repaired at the shop – and just worked a lot. It took a while to let go of that wasted opportunity. Me and JK, we’re still friends, no blood no foul, but it was a mental hurdle for me to get over.

Saturday afternoon I rolled out for a ride in the fading light. My legs felt like they had vices on them. Lungs, fine. Legs, worthless. The regression after 7 days off the bike was demoralizing, but not enough to keep me from smiling most of the way because the trails were in primo shape after 3 days of rain mid-week. I had sent Big Steve an e-mail last week talking about dumping my SS and getting geared bike. He didn’t reply because he’s heard it before. I was talking jibberish. Me love me some one gear.

Sunday brought another ride in the fading light. I still felt weak, but a small improvement was encouraging. Even today, my legs feel flat, but I think that’ll all go away soon enough. That mental takedown from a week ago hurt – much more than I thought it did.

Ahhhh, a new week. Soccer practices, work, a Snowbowl road ride with D on Thursday morning, and bam – it’s Friday. Here we go.

F'd up

I fucked up. A half day off from work, 5 hours of travel time, many days of riding/training – and I pissed it all away by agreeing to ride the same pace as a buddy over a 60 mile bike race. He exacerbated my frustration by crashing the race (skipping the entry fee), and experiencing numerous mechanical, psychological, and physical issues over the course of 6 hours, 15 minutes.

It wasn’t as though it was a bad day on the bike. The course was fun, the temp was perfect, the aid stations were well stocked, and the volunteers were overly nice bluehairs. As mon frère battled his issues, I had plenty of time to relax and see that riding in the B/C group meant I was surrounded with a bunch of guys who have plenty of money, but are short on time to ride. $5,000+ bikes were the norm. Carbon full suspension was the choice for most of these guys. I didn’t run into any posers – rather – these guys were all genuinely nice, and were giving it their all through some tough terrain. Most of them were a bit out of their element once we hit mile 50, but they were all leaving everything they had on the course. Pretty cool, I thought. Hell – these are the guys who keep the bike industry going. They pay the bills for companies like Specialized/Trek/Cannondale/Mavic/Shimano to ensure innovation year over year.

Once JK worked through his issues including severe neck pain that required a 20 minute shut down going into the last major aid station, we knocked out the last 10 miles with a moderate pace and no unnecessary stops except for one Latin woman he had to “help” because her chain came off. Latin, Navajo, Cuban, they are all like Goddesses to JK, and I wasn’t surprised to be waiting trailside for another five minutes after I passed a female rider. I was disappointed in him for not paying to ride (and not telling me about it until we met at the start line) in a well organized event – although he wasn’t taking from the aid stations along the way – but it just seemed lame.

So, I rolled into the finish, in my estimation – at least a full hour plus slower than I could have. Instead of me standing on the podium as part of the top 5 singlespeeders, it was my other teammate Adam who made it into 4th place. He had a great ride, and I would have loved to have ridden wheel to wheel with him. I have had very few podium-worthy rides, and it would have been nice to get one on Saturday. I congratulated him, and immediately just let it go. “IT” being the jealousy and aggravation associated with knowing that I threw a rare opportunity away. I fucked up.

The lesson from all this - for me anyway. Don’t waste an opportunity. A pie truck could hit me tomorrow and after a funeral with 11 people max, I’d be a distant memory. So, show up, punch it, and leave your best effort….dammit.