Now that Alberto and Andy have kissed and madeup with the common courtesy of a youtube video and certainly a reacharound, we can get on with the rest of the world. Raymond Poulidor - a Merckx rival from the 70's coined it best by saying: “If riders have to wait for punctures, falls, pipi breaks or Andy’s nail varnish to dry, it’s not racing anymore. In my days I was attacked when I had a mechanical.” Thank you Raymond. If I heard one more "Alberto should respect the yellow jersey" comment I was going to barf. Respect what? The fact that 90+% of tour leaders that have worn the yellow jersey since systematic team doping began in 1994 have been doped to the gills? Yeah, that is a great example of fairness and winning respectfully. Time to move on to what should be a nice fight up the Tourmalet come Thursday.
Hey man, I got me the chance to ride this mornin' at a bit before 6 and it was brilliant. The air was a cool 50 degrees, the soil was a smidge tacky, and me big brown bike rode like it wanted to race. I made the turn downhill and home with regret, but I'll be back out tomorrow. About this time last year I was gettin' ready to win the 24 hour duo with Josh B at Granny Gear's first and only stab at the 24 hours of nine mile forest. A year later - Granny Gear is down to one event that I raced in 2008 and is colossally overrated (24 hours of Moab), and I'm crusin' through a soft stretch in my little old man amateur racing calendar. Other than missing a visit to Beechwood, riding with Josh B and the old/new Big Ring crew, and hanging at Big Steve's cabin on the bay, I don't miss it at all. So, what that means is I miss every minute of that trip last year - good times that I hopefully won't ever forget.
Tuesday, July 20, 2010
Monday, July 19, 2010
My wife called me a f*cker...
....because I had caught her on the climb, patted her ass, and forced her riding companion to chase me to the top - leaving her :30 seconds in arrears at the finish. Competitive? Yes she is. Fun to ride with? Hells yeah. She came in 3rd in our little local team ride up the mountain on Sunday leaving a couple of dudes in her wake. Love it.
Wednesday, July 14, 2010
pretty much, that's why i ride
As I was driving home last night I knew I wasn’t going to make it to the community criterium, aka the night at the races. Work has been a big fat hole that is sucking me in deeper and deeper, but ya know what? I’m OK with that because I still have the flexibility I need to not turn into an ugly, bitter beer face Keystone drinkin’ man.
That’s 4 weeks in a row that I’ve missed the road races. But ‘cha know what? That’s the last thing I needed on Tuesday night. Somebody on Drunk Cyclist said that road racing isn’t about who’s the best/fast/strongest, it’s all about who can fuck over the rest the best. If there is a better metaphor for American life – then tell me because I don’t know what could top that random comment on DC.
That’s why I ride mountain bikes………and I ride ‘em into the ground until the frames are broken and the parts are shattered because it’s better than me falling apart.
Last night I needed time alone riding in the woods. A cool breeze, hard packed trails from monsoon rain, riding my own pace and my own crazy trails to clear the junk from my cabeza. I left the garage on a mission, and no-dabbed Lower Oldham in a 32x19 gear. That doesn’t mean crap to you, but to no-dab Lower Oldham is a good day on the bike for me. It’s actually a great day because it wasn’t even hard. The rains had rid the trail of dust and so traction was as good as it is in November. I felt fit, and rode smooth through the tech. But I wasn’t done.
Riding across Rocky Ridge gave me a chance to just put my brain in pure MTB mode – because the trail is an up/down fiesta of tech and the crapola at workola disappeared like it always does. Gone. What fire ban that could impact group business? What immigration law that could decimate my staff in two weeks? So what about the fact that my job description is expanding like the oil spill in the Gulf? Gone…..G O N E, gone.
That’s why I ride mountain bikes.
That’s 4 weeks in a row that I’ve missed the road races. But ‘cha know what? That’s the last thing I needed on Tuesday night. Somebody on Drunk Cyclist said that road racing isn’t about who’s the best/fast/strongest, it’s all about who can fuck over the rest the best. If there is a better metaphor for American life – then tell me because I don’t know what could top that random comment on DC.
That’s why I ride mountain bikes………and I ride ‘em into the ground until the frames are broken and the parts are shattered because it’s better than me falling apart.
Last night I needed time alone riding in the woods. A cool breeze, hard packed trails from monsoon rain, riding my own pace and my own crazy trails to clear the junk from my cabeza. I left the garage on a mission, and no-dabbed Lower Oldham in a 32x19 gear. That doesn’t mean crap to you, but to no-dab Lower Oldham is a good day on the bike for me. It’s actually a great day because it wasn’t even hard. The rains had rid the trail of dust and so traction was as good as it is in November. I felt fit, and rode smooth through the tech. But I wasn’t done.
Riding across Rocky Ridge gave me a chance to just put my brain in pure MTB mode – because the trail is an up/down fiesta of tech and the crapola at workola disappeared like it always does. Gone. What fire ban that could impact group business? What immigration law that could decimate my staff in two weeks? So what about the fact that my job description is expanding like the oil spill in the Gulf? Gone…..G O N E, gone.
That’s why I ride mountain bikes.
Tuesday, July 13, 2010
Someone like you
My taste in music could and would be predominantly viewed by educated people as – less than cool. So as my soon-to-be 9-year old daughter relentlessly listens to the local pop music station, I find myself getting used to Ke$ha – Justin Bieber – Myley Cyrus – Fergie – Paramore, while at the same time introducing her to the Stones’ Sympathy for the Devil in between the pop drivel. Hearing her sing “But what’s puzzlin’ you is the nature of my game!” all the way to soccer practice is inspiring. There is good music out there little lady, you just need your Daddy to help you find it. Eventually, I’ll leave my mark on her musical tastes when she shows up at Stanford in the fall of 2019 with vinyl copies of Exile on Main Street, Kiss Double Live Platinum - and a map on her I-phone13 showing her how to get to UCSB because she definately made a wrong turn in Barstow, CA.
……..my parents didn’t adapt to the pop/rock music we listened to as kids. They can’t be saved now, and they have obviously faded into oblivion with their relentless thirst for Celine Dion and Bluegrass tunes. Bluegrass is funny to me, funny like a sad clown. Depression, starvation, prison time, lost loves, broken down trucks, disloyal pets, lost fortunes, missed opportunities and occasionally, and I mean occasionally, mixed with the optimism of a new start/new day or a pretty face. My Dad eats this stuff for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and, well….you can tell.
My wife listens to really deep meaningful multi-cultural stuff that can’t even possibly be turned off and on in between stops to the hardware store and the dry cleaners - it cheapens the music. With great power comes great responsibility and I’m clearly not responsible enough to listen to her collection of chants, cello solos, and evocative South American rhythms. Maybe when I grow up, I’ll realize that she’s on to something great and I’ll have a lot of catching up to do.
Shallow as a kiddie pool yes I am, but, smart enough to not get washed down into a current on the River of Schmaltz they call Adult Oriented Radio featuring drivel from Coldplay, Kings of Leon, Train, and Wilco. You know what’s next on your float trip to the Muzak headquarters? The Celine Dion rapids are straight ahead for your listening pleasure at age 50 – enjoy!
Ohhh, I just saw a new Judas Priest collection on Napster – better go get me some.
……..my parents didn’t adapt to the pop/rock music we listened to as kids. They can’t be saved now, and they have obviously faded into oblivion with their relentless thirst for Celine Dion and Bluegrass tunes. Bluegrass is funny to me, funny like a sad clown. Depression, starvation, prison time, lost loves, broken down trucks, disloyal pets, lost fortunes, missed opportunities and occasionally, and I mean occasionally, mixed with the optimism of a new start/new day or a pretty face. My Dad eats this stuff for breakfast, lunch, and dinner and, well….you can tell.
My wife listens to really deep meaningful multi-cultural stuff that can’t even possibly be turned off and on in between stops to the hardware store and the dry cleaners - it cheapens the music. With great power comes great responsibility and I’m clearly not responsible enough to listen to her collection of chants, cello solos, and evocative South American rhythms. Maybe when I grow up, I’ll realize that she’s on to something great and I’ll have a lot of catching up to do.
Shallow as a kiddie pool yes I am, but, smart enough to not get washed down into a current on the River of Schmaltz they call Adult Oriented Radio featuring drivel from Coldplay, Kings of Leon, Train, and Wilco. You know what’s next on your float trip to the Muzak headquarters? The Celine Dion rapids are straight ahead for your listening pleasure at age 50 – enjoy!
Ohhh, I just saw a new Judas Priest collection on Napster – better go get me some.
Monday, July 12, 2010
Stage 8
Every rider has shown some sense of vulnerability, particularly one old rider. The outrageous performances in years gone by (spurned by drugs/testosterone/bloodwork) have been limited to 1-day efforts by riders like Chavanel, and Cancellara - only to watch those efforts sap said rider to mediocrity the following day. The cheats, it seems, appear to be a thing of the past. It's exciting, it's real, it's unpredictable. Shleck, Contador, Evans, Gesink, Wiggins, and on and on - they all have faults and they all have bad days, and you'd be crazy to bet on any of them.
For so many years Big Tex and his team resembled everything great about America. Dedication, preparation, determination, and incredible organization. Unfortunately, those years are unraveling in parallel to Lance's 2010 Tour. I watched Lance blow up yesterday with mixed emotions. A proven champion falling victim not to his competitors, but to his own failings. He's too old, and karma is a bitch.
So, enough with the Lance stories as there will be plenty of that crap to read this winter when a new book is written about US Postal. For now, let's get on with the racing because it's, well....brilliant.
For so many years Big Tex and his team resembled everything great about America. Dedication, preparation, determination, and incredible organization. Unfortunately, those years are unraveling in parallel to Lance's 2010 Tour. I watched Lance blow up yesterday with mixed emotions. A proven champion falling victim not to his competitors, but to his own failings. He's too old, and karma is a bitch.
So, enough with the Lance stories as there will be plenty of that crap to read this winter when a new book is written about US Postal. For now, let's get on with the racing because it's, well....brilliant.
Friday, July 9, 2010
Weekend
Our new baby is through her period of jaundice, and is healthy and ready to hit the road. D had a quality bike fit done, and her new to her Ruby fits better than OJ's glove. 50 miles tomorrow out at Wupatki National. Just her and Me. Me and her. It should be stellar. We may get a huge monsoon during the ride - and we'd be smilin' the whole way through it unless of course it becomes golf ball hail.
Sunday will be schweet, unless I have to work. On tap at 7am is the first mountain stage in Le Tour, followed by the World Cup Final at 11:30am. If you don't care about the World Cup final, then you were probably watching Le Bron's hour of Narcissism on Thursday night. Who cares where LBJ goes; he can't hold MJ's jock and never will. King James? Dude, what have you won besides the game of Money?
Three cheers for World Champ Cadel Evans this weekend - Just keep your lead through the Alps baby.
Sunday will be schweet, unless I have to work. On tap at 7am is the first mountain stage in Le Tour, followed by the World Cup Final at 11:30am. If you don't care about the World Cup final, then you were probably watching Le Bron's hour of Narcissism on Thursday night. Who cares where LBJ goes; he can't hold MJ's jock and never will. King James? Dude, what have you won besides the game of Money?
Three cheers for World Champ Cadel Evans this weekend - Just keep your lead through the Alps baby.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Home and Home
Flew into Minnesota like a wave of El Nino
Kicked off the bumpercars at Valleyfair
The walk of shame with my daughter past 50 other bumpercar-ers
3 days on the north side of Lake Superior
Remote beaches, untamed rivers, geologic heaven
Croquet, fireworks, games, and fish'n
Off to Northwest Wisconsin
Running rapids in a canoe
Dumping said canoe and my daughter 3x
Smiles in spite of the missing paddle and cooler and camera and and and...
Great times
Just great
Spent the 4th of July swimmin’
Talkin’ with family
Eatin grilled treats
Drinkin’ LaBatts Blue
Joined 1000 other boats
Fireworks over the bay
Hattie, Juan, Pops, Tomke and the Fam
Thanks for a great time!
We’ll be back
But I'm back home. Back in Flag. Back where I belong. Changed 4 tires on Monday night, and got my bikes ready to roll - left 'em both kind of beat when I left. 55 minutes on the trail before work this morning felt....so....good. Yup, I'm back.
Kicked off the bumpercars at Valleyfair
The walk of shame with my daughter past 50 other bumpercar-ers
3 days on the north side of Lake Superior
Remote beaches, untamed rivers, geologic heaven
Croquet, fireworks, games, and fish'n
Off to Northwest Wisconsin
Running rapids in a canoe
Dumping said canoe and my daughter 3x
Smiles in spite of the missing paddle and cooler and camera and and and...
Great times
Just great
Spent the 4th of July swimmin’
Talkin’ with family
Eatin grilled treats
Drinkin’ LaBatts Blue
Joined 1000 other boats
Fireworks over the bay
Hattie, Juan, Pops, Tomke and the Fam
Thanks for a great time!
We’ll be back
But I'm back home. Back in Flag. Back where I belong. Changed 4 tires on Monday night, and got my bikes ready to roll - left 'em both kind of beat when I left. 55 minutes on the trail before work this morning felt....so....good. Yup, I'm back.
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