Thursday, October 29, 2009
Happy Halloween
We’re headed to Phoenix for a couple of days of riding and trail running. Enjoy your Halloween.
Here’s a reprinted account of a ride I still think about nearly every month.
“Four years ago today, I rode out to Walnut Canyon for a night ride. Walnut Canyon has a lot of historical significance to it, primarily because it was home to many Native Americans. Cliff dwellings still exist, as well as sections of the canyon that you are not permitted to enter as they were/are sacred burial grounds.
I remember the night being warm, and I was riding fast, cutting through the darkness with an HID light that could pave the way for a car. It’s a 20 mile out and back ride, and I reached the half way mark after a twisty, technical drop into the mouth of Walnut Canyon. I stopped, turned off my light, looked at my watch – 10:55pm I distinctly remember, and took a couple of deep breaths and a look up at a moonless night and an abundance of stars. With shadowed 500 foot rock walls on two sides – it was sight I won’t forget.
‘ching ching’….’ching ching’. It was as if someone was maybe 50 yards away – in the darkness of the canyon – shaking chains in a semi-rhythmic pattern. ‘ching ching’…..’ching ching’……’ching ching’…… I tried to stay calm, and I did, but I had to work at it. I know full well that Walnut Canyon is less than five miles from two major freeways and local kids will drive out from town, hike down and party hard. But, it was late at night, on a schoolnight, and it’s a long way for someone to haul chains - so they could shake them………..and it was pitch freakin’ black.
‘ching ching….’ching ching’. It wasn’t stopping and it sounded like it was getting louder. My heartbeat got louder too. I turned my HID on, flipped 180 degrees and hammered up to the rim as fast as I could. A sign at the top indicated that a right would take me to the overlook and a left would take me home. I chose overlook, turned off my light, and walked carefully to the edge to surely catch a glimpse of the A-hole kids or transients who were messing with me. Darkness. Just the breeze blowing the trees. No chains. A million stars, but my heart was still racing and I remember feeling like I was being watched – from where though, I had no idea-just that sinking feeling that you're not alone.
Once again, I flipped it and was ready to wrap this ride up. ‘click’ the HID – ‘click’ again, and ‘click’ again….my light wouldn’t come on. ‘click’ again, no luck. OK – my mind is now one step away from melting down. I let my eyes adjust to the dark as much as possible, and pulled the battery and bulb connections – gave them a quick dust off – reconnect them…..’click’. The bulb came on, and I was in business. I glanced at my watch to see where I was at time-wise. 10:55pm? That was the time when I had stopped at the bottom of the canyon. My freakin’ watch had stopped?
Hauling ass, and headed for a shortcut back to town, I was ready to be home behind a locked door. I was apologizing to unknown Indians all the way home and cursing douchebag kids, when pffffffffffffffffft. Flat tire. I’m running Geax Sturdy 2.5 tires and I flat? Physically, I changed that tire calmly, but mentally I was looking over my shoulder the whole time. The winds calmly swayed the trees as I finished the repair, but no sounds of chains. I pounded the pedals home, got inside, locked the door, and told D what the hell had happened. She said off the cuff “that’s Indian Burial Ground out there”. I was explaining the part about the stop on the rim, and got a look at my watch. It said 12:05am. You gotta be kidding me. It was 25 minutes slow, but it was working again. 25 minutes was the time it usually takes me to climb out of the canyon.
Friends have offered invitations to group rides out there. Nahhh, no thanks.
Here’s a reprinted account of a ride I still think about nearly every month.
“Four years ago today, I rode out to Walnut Canyon for a night ride. Walnut Canyon has a lot of historical significance to it, primarily because it was home to many Native Americans. Cliff dwellings still exist, as well as sections of the canyon that you are not permitted to enter as they were/are sacred burial grounds.
I remember the night being warm, and I was riding fast, cutting through the darkness with an HID light that could pave the way for a car. It’s a 20 mile out and back ride, and I reached the half way mark after a twisty, technical drop into the mouth of Walnut Canyon. I stopped, turned off my light, looked at my watch – 10:55pm I distinctly remember, and took a couple of deep breaths and a look up at a moonless night and an abundance of stars. With shadowed 500 foot rock walls on two sides – it was sight I won’t forget.
‘ching ching’….’ching ching’. It was as if someone was maybe 50 yards away – in the darkness of the canyon – shaking chains in a semi-rhythmic pattern. ‘ching ching’…..’ching ching’……’ching ching’…… I tried to stay calm, and I did, but I had to work at it. I know full well that Walnut Canyon is less than five miles from two major freeways and local kids will drive out from town, hike down and party hard. But, it was late at night, on a schoolnight, and it’s a long way for someone to haul chains - so they could shake them………..and it was pitch freakin’ black.
‘ching ching….’ching ching’. It wasn’t stopping and it sounded like it was getting louder. My heartbeat got louder too. I turned my HID on, flipped 180 degrees and hammered up to the rim as fast as I could. A sign at the top indicated that a right would take me to the overlook and a left would take me home. I chose overlook, turned off my light, and walked carefully to the edge to surely catch a glimpse of the A-hole kids or transients who were messing with me. Darkness. Just the breeze blowing the trees. No chains. A million stars, but my heart was still racing and I remember feeling like I was being watched – from where though, I had no idea-just that sinking feeling that you're not alone.
Once again, I flipped it and was ready to wrap this ride up. ‘click’ the HID – ‘click’ again, and ‘click’ again….my light wouldn’t come on. ‘click’ again, no luck. OK – my mind is now one step away from melting down. I let my eyes adjust to the dark as much as possible, and pulled the battery and bulb connections – gave them a quick dust off – reconnect them…..’click’. The bulb came on, and I was in business. I glanced at my watch to see where I was at time-wise. 10:55pm? That was the time when I had stopped at the bottom of the canyon. My freakin’ watch had stopped?
Hauling ass, and headed for a shortcut back to town, I was ready to be home behind a locked door. I was apologizing to unknown Indians all the way home and cursing douchebag kids, when pffffffffffffffffft. Flat tire. I’m running Geax Sturdy 2.5 tires and I flat? Physically, I changed that tire calmly, but mentally I was looking over my shoulder the whole time. The winds calmly swayed the trees as I finished the repair, but no sounds of chains. I pounded the pedals home, got inside, locked the door, and told D what the hell had happened. She said off the cuff “that’s Indian Burial Ground out there”. I was explaining the part about the stop on the rim, and got a look at my watch. It said 12:05am. You gotta be kidding me. It was 25 minutes slow, but it was working again. 25 minutes was the time it usually takes me to climb out of the canyon.
Friends have offered invitations to group rides out there. Nahhh, no thanks.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
October 28th and it's snowing. The big stuff is hitting Colorado. For us, the first snow of the fall, and I hope we get 200+ inches this winter. Bring IT.
Back at NAU in the winter of 1989 - I think, the skies dumped 24+ inches over a 12 hour span. In college, classes cancelled, nothin' to do -wait. Rottenberg has an idea. So off we go to the Woodlands Village Apartment Complex where we find the car of one of our "brothers". About 45 minutes later we had the equivalent of eight parking spaces worth of snow piled on top of his car and around the front and back. It looked like a snowplow pushed 2 feet of snow for 100 yards and then dumped the load at the edge of the lot. We payed special attention to the front and back so he had to spend a lifetime digging the little Nissan out. That wasn't enough because we wanted him to see his expression when he saw it, but it was 1am.
So we called his house and Rottenberg acted like the father of his girlfriend - demanding to speak to her. He bought it. Hook...line....sinker. When we started laughing and said we were outside he peeked out and was a full 11 on the 1-10 scale of the pissed-off-o'meter. We thought it was funnier than he did, of course, and we ended the morning out hiking in the snow convinced we were going to find the lava tube caves, 1/2 crocked on Schlitz Malt Liquor and freezing in jeans and lame jackets. We never found them, and when we went back after the snow melted we realized we were hiking about 2 miles away near volcanic cinder pits. Wrong turn, or two. Good thing DUI's weren't real big then.
Back at NAU in the winter of 1989 - I think, the skies dumped 24+ inches over a 12 hour span. In college, classes cancelled, nothin' to do -wait. Rottenberg has an idea. So off we go to the Woodlands Village Apartment Complex where we find the car of one of our "brothers". About 45 minutes later we had the equivalent of eight parking spaces worth of snow piled on top of his car and around the front and back. It looked like a snowplow pushed 2 feet of snow for 100 yards and then dumped the load at the edge of the lot. We payed special attention to the front and back so he had to spend a lifetime digging the little Nissan out. That wasn't enough because we wanted him to see his expression when he saw it, but it was 1am.
So we called his house and Rottenberg acted like the father of his girlfriend - demanding to speak to her. He bought it. Hook...line....sinker. When we started laughing and said we were outside he peeked out and was a full 11 on the 1-10 scale of the pissed-off-o'meter. We thought it was funnier than he did, of course, and we ended the morning out hiking in the snow convinced we were going to find the lava tube caves, 1/2 crocked on Schlitz Malt Liquor and freezing in jeans and lame jackets. We never found them, and when we went back after the snow melted we realized we were hiking about 2 miles away near volcanic cinder pits. Wrong turn, or two. Good thing DUI's weren't real big then.
Monday, October 26, 2009
cx #1
Ahhh, I totally wussed out on the cutoffs and goofball outfit for the cross race on Saturday. D reminded me of the worst word in cycling that rhymes with ‘racing’. Yup, ‘chafing’. With all the on/off/on/off involved, 30 minutes of pain could have turned into 72 hours of hell in a handbasket. So, I donned the spandex costume and looked like just another Joe racer boy at the start ‘cept for the mountain bike I was riding. Cat 4 mens – big field of riders at all kinds of levels.
3, 2, 1 GO! Heart rate went from a slightly nervous 90 to 170+ and stayed there for 30 minutes. Three ringers rode off the front immediately and I spent the whole time in a chase group of four, working our asses of for what….bragging rights or something like that? My old mountain bike did it’s job on the singletrack, but I was getting dropped when the course looped through the high school parking lot. Dropped, chase back on, dropped, chase back on until the fifth and final lap when teammate CW made a strong move on the pave’ and I just couldn’t match it. He nailed 4th and I came in about 20 seconds back in 7th. Yup – lotsa’ traffic, lotsa’ racing, and although I wasn’t nauseated at the finish, I was dizzy for about a minute until my head cleared. Then the layer of silicone jizz you get in your mouth and nose – yum – that cleared.
I think I’d be sold on cx racing in Wisco, or Portland, or back east. Out here – not so much. 65 degree temps. One cowbell, no chicks in bikinis, and nobody with beer handups. I think the cross vibe out here just ain’t what it is in the colder climates.
3, 2, 1 GO! Heart rate went from a slightly nervous 90 to 170+ and stayed there for 30 minutes. Three ringers rode off the front immediately and I spent the whole time in a chase group of four, working our asses of for what….bragging rights or something like that? My old mountain bike did it’s job on the singletrack, but I was getting dropped when the course looped through the high school parking lot. Dropped, chase back on, dropped, chase back on until the fifth and final lap when teammate CW made a strong move on the pave’ and I just couldn’t match it. He nailed 4th and I came in about 20 seconds back in 7th. Yup – lotsa’ traffic, lotsa’ racing, and although I wasn’t nauseated at the finish, I was dizzy for about a minute until my head cleared. Then the layer of silicone jizz you get in your mouth and nose – yum – that cleared.
I think I’d be sold on cx racing in Wisco, or Portland, or back east. Out here – not so much. 65 degree temps. One cowbell, no chicks in bikinis, and nobody with beer handups. I think the cross vibe out here just ain’t what it is in the colder climates.
Thursday, October 22, 2009
Barriers and Run-ups?
It’s been just over a year since the crapola hit the fan in the tourism industry down here in the sunny southwest. Working on the 2010 budget - so much fun – shows me just how much things fell off when Lehman Bros. went in the tank last fall. What a clusterfuck, and now that we’re a year away and the drama has subsided, it’s given me a chance to realize just how screwed up things were, are, and will be for a while. I certainly don’t need Glenn Beck to tell me about it. Can someone “lose” him, permanently?
Financial institutions and ‘Murkan car manufacturers aren’t the only ones that struggle. For f*cks sake, we can barely run a social cycling team without getting into it with various members from time to time. It always comes down to what’s in it for me, and what will our jerseys look like. Take those two elements out of the picture and running the team would be a breeze. Potential cash sponsors have eschewed me out of their offices/e-mail in boxes faster than hair bands left the 80’s. So – onward with a smaller budget, and the best part is that the whiners are almost gone. Afterall, when they can’t put a finger on their tangible benefits, they suddenly lose interest.
On the agenda is my first cross race - ever - this weekend. I’ve never practiced, and the only quick dismounts I do are crashes on mountain bikes. I watched a Youtube video of a cross race today, so I’m sure I’m ready to go (said with 100% sarcasm). I just want to be out competing on a sunny October day on a local course ‘cause that equals good times. So with that, I’m going to take the race as seriously as I am about preparing for it: No tighty lycra cycling costume – instead it’ll be cutoffs, t-shirt, old helmet…but with matching shades, and high socks. No cross bike either, unless I can scam one on race day. Yup, I’ll be “that guy”.
NAU homecoming is this weekend so the scene in downtown Flag will be drunks, drunks, and more drunks. I think Lyza and I will take in the football game, and call it an early evening with D after she gets home from a costume par-tay/fundraiser. Bring on the weekend, baby!
Financial institutions and ‘Murkan car manufacturers aren’t the only ones that struggle. For f*cks sake, we can barely run a social cycling team without getting into it with various members from time to time. It always comes down to what’s in it for me, and what will our jerseys look like. Take those two elements out of the picture and running the team would be a breeze. Potential cash sponsors have eschewed me out of their offices/e-mail in boxes faster than hair bands left the 80’s. So – onward with a smaller budget, and the best part is that the whiners are almost gone. Afterall, when they can’t put a finger on their tangible benefits, they suddenly lose interest.
On the agenda is my first cross race - ever - this weekend. I’ve never practiced, and the only quick dismounts I do are crashes on mountain bikes. I watched a Youtube video of a cross race today, so I’m sure I’m ready to go (said with 100% sarcasm). I just want to be out competing on a sunny October day on a local course ‘cause that equals good times. So with that, I’m going to take the race as seriously as I am about preparing for it: No tighty lycra cycling costume – instead it’ll be cutoffs, t-shirt, old helmet…but with matching shades, and high socks. No cross bike either, unless I can scam one on race day. Yup, I’ll be “that guy”.
NAU homecoming is this weekend so the scene in downtown Flag will be drunks, drunks, and more drunks. I think Lyza and I will take in the football game, and call it an early evening with D after she gets home from a costume par-tay/fundraiser. Bring on the weekend, baby!
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Keepin' the fire lit
I used to hate everybody else’s kids until I had a daughter of my own. It changes you, or it might change you, and I’m glad it changed me. Patience is the #1 thing I’ve learned from the experience, and the value I place on family changed exponentially.
So I’ve been patient for 8+ years as my baby girl has evolved into the complex animal that she is now. I put a lot of racing and training goals on hold, without regret, in place of doing what I knew was right – taking care of my family when they needed me.
All of a sudden - and I mean all of a sudden, I have a daughter that digs on staying home alone for 1.5 hours while I ride or run. She enjoys going to races and hanging out with other friends and their kids, giving me an opportunity to ride with the boys – not worrying about her safety one bit. She helps race organizers with food/drinks/timing while I get to compete stress-free. The change in her mental makeup between age 7 and 8 may be subtle on the surface and complex underneath, but the change for me is monumental.
When I was in my mid-30’s, older friends spoke of their kids being grown enough to take care of themselves, and I just looked at them with tired eyes wondering how and when that happens. Sleep deprivation dulled everything for me and I just saw the vision they painted with words as a mirage. So, I rode at midnight after staying awake with a sick girl until she fell asleep. I ran at dawn so I could be back by 7:30am to give my wife a break. I showed up to many races knowing that I was a step slower and knowing I had no chance, but I kept the fire of competing front and center by….showing up.
Now I’ve got several peeps out there that are having kids soon – the 30something crowd. My friends I will pass on what was shared with me. Be patient, don’t worry about missing a training ride/run or two, take your lumps at the races and take your time with your family. Know that you’ll be back when the time is right. Rested, motivated, and with a new understanding of the importance of taking care of your body like we all didn’t when we were young.
So I’ve been patient for 8+ years as my baby girl has evolved into the complex animal that she is now. I put a lot of racing and training goals on hold, without regret, in place of doing what I knew was right – taking care of my family when they needed me.
All of a sudden - and I mean all of a sudden, I have a daughter that digs on staying home alone for 1.5 hours while I ride or run. She enjoys going to races and hanging out with other friends and their kids, giving me an opportunity to ride with the boys – not worrying about her safety one bit. She helps race organizers with food/drinks/timing while I get to compete stress-free. The change in her mental makeup between age 7 and 8 may be subtle on the surface and complex underneath, but the change for me is monumental.
When I was in my mid-30’s, older friends spoke of their kids being grown enough to take care of themselves, and I just looked at them with tired eyes wondering how and when that happens. Sleep deprivation dulled everything for me and I just saw the vision they painted with words as a mirage. So, I rode at midnight after staying awake with a sick girl until she fell asleep. I ran at dawn so I could be back by 7:30am to give my wife a break. I showed up to many races knowing that I was a step slower and knowing I had no chance, but I kept the fire of competing front and center by….showing up.
Now I’ve got several peeps out there that are having kids soon – the 30something crowd. My friends I will pass on what was shared with me. Be patient, don’t worry about missing a training ride/run or two, take your lumps at the races and take your time with your family. Know that you’ll be back when the time is right. Rested, motivated, and with a new understanding of the importance of taking care of your body like we all didn’t when we were young.
Friday, October 16, 2009
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