Grinding Gears

This last Sunday I left work and jumped on the turnpike to head to Texas.  Roadtrip to see my Dad, and Mom, but this was for my Dad's 70th birthday.  My wife and I bought tickets to take my Dad to see WWE Smackdown at the BOK.  I was on my way to pick him up and hang out.  He is a huge fan of wrestling, Professional Wrestling that is.  Has been since I can remember.  And, I remember watching wrestling with my Dad on TV, well as long as I can remember watching TV.  That is a lot of TV wrestling watching.  It's a pure miracle that I am so well adjusted.  Or am I?

Monday came early and we set out to ride, me on my bike and my Dad in the follow truck with the dogs.  I was on a mission to bag some climbs.  There are not too many "climbs" in the Texas Panhandle, but there happens to be two massive (by panhandle standards) climbs 40some odd miles from my parents front door.  I set off to slay these two dragons and call it a day.  The weather was very beautiful, but the wind was forecast to be out of the North, it was out of the South.  Headwind/crosswind all the way.  Two hours and some change later we were descending down into the canyon.  I could see my prize across the way.  It was daunting, and staring me in the face.  I flinched.  Totally underestimated this climb.  I felt beat. Scared.

I stripped off my armwarmers, hat, and unzipped the jersey.  This was going to be a battle.  Man I did not do my homework on this climb.  I had already, in my mind, won this thing.  About a mile into this slog, I cracked, there was a small explosion, one might call it a Pop.  Yeah, that was me.  Done, with a big fork sticking out of my back, not even half-way up.  I don't know what it was that hurt the worst?  Lungs? Legs?  D -all of the above and other things not even on the list were calling in damage reports.  "Captain, we've lost contact with the brain, the legs are out of power, and the lungs have imploded.  Imminent and total destruction."

Not to ruin the story, but if you are reading this -then I had to write it, so I am still alive.  There was no way I was going to willingly get off of my bike with my Dad in the car behind me.  Gravity was going to have to pull me to the ground, unconscious, eyes rolled back, mouth foaming.  I could not stop even though every fiber of my existence was a deafening roar to quit.  I would like to write that I "dug deep" "went to my special place" "gutted it out" "buried myself in the pain cave", but these would be lies.  Knowing my Dad was with me, I forced every labored pedal turn one over the other in a slow display of "square pedaling", out of sheer pride.  That's right, Pride. 

I had cracked, but I wanted my Dad to see me, to be proud of me, to show him that I could fight and be his son.  I wanted to be able to look my Dad in the eye and know that he was proud of me.  My Dad would have been proud of me if I had stopped at the start of the climb.  I wanted him to share my victory against this climb as if it were his own.  There was no stopping, I turned myself inside out for pride.  I was so spent, I was finished.  We pulled into the rest stop/scenic overlook to potty the dogs and to have a look at the beast from the top.  I pulled off my jersey and changed into street clothes, put the bike in the pick-up bed and hopped in.  Finished.  I had one more climb to do, but not today.  I won a battle, but the war is still there waiting.  Like General MacArthur I shall return.  I will live to fight another day, my Dad at my side pushing me up a small canyon wall in the Texas Panhandle.

Cheers, Dad

Closing time

At the end of the North 40 I stopped at the trail head and waited for The Wife to appear.  "Wanna go again?" I asked in my best begging, but still sounding cool voice.  I got the look of, well I got The Look.  We were done.  It was a short little double with a slight down hill all the way to the car.  Coasting.  What a way to top off a trip.  One where I thought I would not get to ride my bike, turned out that I got in some pretty impressive riding.  Got lucky, no all day in the saddle rides, but quality.  Not quantity.  This was the kind of trip that gets the juices flowing, but dose not drain the life out of you.

Of course standing in the parking lot of the Moab Brands trail head, we were over 1,000miles from home.  Talk about a buzz kill.  Back to the hotel, shower, pack, leave.  Six hours in the car to Albuquerque.  By my best guesstimate we will be in the hotel by 6-7pm.  Fueled up and we were out.  Miles and miles of road trip.  The Wife is reading, and I am trying not to plow head first into the side of the road or into oncoming traffic.

I don't know what it is about New Mexico drivers and why they have a problem with me, but I always find some kook that wants to race me when I try and pass them.  With the cruse control on.  At least it keeps me entertained, and the anger like a little fire keeping me warm with colorful insults running through my head. 

We found the hotel this time.  First try.  No google issues trying to get us killed.  Plus, it was the one we stayed in just a few days previous.  Do I trust google maps to find me a pint and food?  I like to live dangerously, so I gave it a whirl.  Marble Brewery.  3.5miles away.  Ended up in a dark industrial part outside of the bright lights of down town ABQ.  Thanks google.  Wait, there it is.  There are people outside under heat lamps.  We are here.  Yes I had their IPA, took a hard look at the double IPA and decided I want to drive home, not to the crash site.

I have to say that Marble's IPA was the best of the trip.  I don't know if it is an actual winner or that it just came at the apex of the trip and the culminating experience just made it all the better.  Which ever it might be it was one tasty IPA.  If you find yourself in the greater ABQ area and are parched from the high desert air, I highly recommend Marble Brewery.  They have a limited menu (food), but more than make up for it with the liquid brewed confections.  We shared some nachos.

We hooked up with my sister for a short night cap, and then to the hotel, another long day tomorrow.  New Years Eve.  10hrs in a car, driving wishing that you were still riding single track in Utah.  This was not to be.  We stopped briefly to eat lunch with my parents in Amarillo, and then kept rolling.  We made it back to Tulsa in time to clean up and head over to a party.  Normally I would be all-a-rage to party it up, but the drive must have taken the wind out of my sails.

Branded

I am going to get very controversial, but I feel this needs to be said.  I do have loads of hesitation, but I would not be genuine if I did not tell it like it is.  This is my opinion and I have an opinion just like everyone has an opinion like they have _____.  Keep an open mind when proceeding, and allow me to explain myself.  Please commit your opinion, if you are bold enough to do so.

I am not a fan of Slick Rock.  Sorry if I just pissed on your Alamo, but I love flowy-buttery-bermed single track.  Slick Rock is the antithesis of my style of riding.  Before you get all ranty and ravey, and call your congressperson.  Hear me out.  The actual geography of SR is super cool, there is nothing else like it anywhere.  I give it high marks for being original.  The original.  We did not ride a whole lot of SR because of the sheer other-worldly-ness of the place.  To say that we were weirded out by the place is an understatement.  I have to be honest and say that the exposure really jacked with my senses.  I was scared, and rode scared.  I felt like I was going to fall off, down, go over the bars, every little rise I crested.

It has been several weeks, and I still cannot come up with a better excuse than just plain old FEAR.  I cannot bag on the place, because it is rad.  I just don't have the round circular objects that bounce to ride a place like that.  If I had a week to get used to it I might be able to rock it, but I don't feel that I would enjoy it as much as a loamy tree covered rail-able trail.  The one face saving grace (my face) is that I totally dug being able to just go off "trail" and carve up what ever you could without falling to your death.  It is a rolling sandstone paved skate park, with banks, drops, whoops, and plenty of places to get some surf inspired turns.  This is the part that I love about SR, the ability to choose your own line.  I will go back.  I have unfinished business.  Side note: The Wife hated it.

We made our way to the nearest Mexican food joint and filled the tank.  Bummer no imports, just domestic beers, which means Mexican Beers (which I love, but I want local), I'll have a water.  The Boss had a fish-bowl margarita, it was tasty.  We did a little souvenir shopping and then stopped in at Poison Spider Bikes.  This is one of the premier shops in the country.  $$$$$$$.  Super cool and totally small shop feel.  Guys were actually cool and not a-hole shop types.  I chatted with him for a while and then dropped the "where do you ride?" question.  Told him what I was looking for and like a good dealer who uses, he pointed us in the direction of the Moab Brands trails.  Sounds good.

We went back to Moab Brewing after Smiths to get The Julie some root beer.  Travis said that I had to have a Derailleur Amber, I had two.  I tip my cap to Travis' discerning taste in the brewed beverage department.  Good show mate.  Back to the hotel, clean up, pack up, early wake up, tomorrow is going to be a long day.

At the Moab Brands trail head I checked the map one more time to get my mental picture, and we were off.  It was freaking cold, the sun was still fighting for elevation to make it over the La Sals in the East.  Hands and feet were starting to protest, but the blood was pumping trying to do its job.  First up, the EZ trail.  Flowy single track with some rocks and a little elevation change, but no climbing.  Heaven.  We hooked with the Bar-M to get to the Rocking A, this was just a double with some elevation change.  We arrived at the Rocking A, which was Navajo Slick Rock.  Cool.  Not so Cool Navajo SR is just like the sandstone, except it is rough with pock marks that make it ride rough.  Not a fan.

1.5miles of rough SR and we were done.  Circle O was out of the question, it was more of the same.  Scratch that.  Back to the Bar-M, and we headed back to the end of the EZ and we hit up the Lazy.  The Lazy is the sister trail of the EZ.  Super fun twisty single track with some elevation gain, but no climbing.  Up and down and up and down again.  We rounded a corner and the trail dropped down into a shallow slope that was twisty and BERMED.  I railed!  I was off-the-hook-out-of-control.  This produced a permigrin.  I might have let out a "Wheeeeeee" once or five times.

At the end of the Lazy we were back to the start, and the North 40 trail head was begging for me to come explore.  I asked The Boss?  She said OK.  We headed out and it started off a little tech, but it has promise, I kept asking if we should continue?  Yes.  YES!  Next little up put us into an awesome contour carve into some twisty down hills.  Sweet.  I'm sure my legs were a little tired, but I felt nothing but the pull of the trail begging for me to keep turning over the pedals.  I no longer felt the bike, I had melted into the man-machine.  A oneness that happens, and is unexplainable unless you have been there for yourself.  Stoke.  I was starting to become this trail, a trail that I had never ridden.  I couldn't stop, couldn't slow, just had to go.  This was Christmas morning and I just opened a present that I didn't ask for, but it was one that I have always wanted.

M to the OAB

This is like when you get all into a series on TV and they get to the end of the season, you have to wait until it comes back on and they have new shows.  Yeah, kinda like that, except not as entertaining.  I really think the two or three of you that actually read this are just waiting for a break down or for me to go verbally insane and just write horrible things about people you know.  I'm not to that point....Yet.  But if it got more people to read......

So when we left our wayward travelers they were about to embark on a single track daytime assault mission at Dead Horse Point, UT.  It was cold, the air was crisp with the morning sun warming the red rocks.  The view, spectacular.  The man and his wife donned the frocks of mountain biking.  Words were spoken, helmets fastened, chains were aligned into the proper gear ratio.  A small wheelie of joy was held for the slightest of time dropping from pavement to high desert dirt. 

Time to rail some sick turns.

DHP is a trail system with two conjoined loops with an inner short/easy loop and a longer/easy loop.  Distance worked out to be a mile or so less than what was posted.  It was a very well thought out trail, and it did have a few intermediate sections, but all in all it was super fun.  All single track with flowing turns a few ups and down, but no climbs.  Fast, fast, and more fast.  There was quite a bit of snow on the trail in the shaded zones, but no mud to speak of.  The snow on the tires mixed with the powdery clay dirt an made some crazy sugar cookie tires that shed like fragmentation grenades.  This was a little annoying at times and fun at other times.  Perspective.  Remember this is the first time I had been on a bike in a few hundred hours, so I had it pinned.  The wife was not too amused with my childlike enthusiasm for speed, to her credit she was riding a broken bike.  Front fork seized, and rear brake was spongy as Mr. Squarepants.  She soldiered on like a trooper not wanting to rent a $45 bike.

At the end I was ready for another lap, but there was a pint and a burger waiting at Moab Brewery.  My wife asked for a sample of their Stout, and the waiter with limited English comprehension skills brought a pint.  She did not like this one.  I had an IPA, was elbow deep into my burger and then tried to finish off her Stout.  Yes, and we were still going to go to Slick Rock to check out the world famous trail.  I am ashamed to report that I could not finish the job and left beer on the table.  It was a sad sad day, I felt shame walking out with a half empty beer on the table.  -Optimist.

Hold on folks this is the part of the show they call the cliff-hanger.  They build up the action right at the 0:55:00 mark and then put up the to be continued...  We headed from Moab Brewery to Slick Rock and geared up for some more MTB action.  The parking lot was full of intimidation, it was the view, the feel, everything about rolling out of the lot onto the trail felt ominous.  We headed to the Practice Loop, and the first up section was a gear grinding 4mph short climb right into a roll-over screaming downhill turn into some snow and ice.  It gets better???

Setting Course for Moab

The four of us ended up eating at a Mexican food joint on Main, and then back to our respective rooms at the same hotel.  The next morning found us headed off to some squiggly line on a map that the snowshoe rental guy pointed us.  He put off the attitude that he was less than helpful, yet very helpful.  Even through the fog of a few pints I had "a feeling".  The Forest Service Road was clean and dry up to the point that we are rim deep in snow.  We unanimously decide to turn back, back to the safety of pavement and road signs.  FiL and wife tell us of a trail that their Realtor showed them yesterday, and we point in that direction.

We pulled up to the trail head and it was, get this, just a few hundred feet from where we XC skied the day before.  How's that for you?  We did a nice little hike down into the valley below where the river and the Durango Narrow Gage RR tracks are nestled.  It was a beautiful hike and then we had to hike climb back out.  Luckily we had not strayed too far.

Packed up and ready to make some time to the promised land of Utah.  I have not been to Utah in over ten years.  The drive back reminded me of moving.  It was a flood of emotions, old scars were suddenly new and pink. Wounds fresh from battle.  My mind raced with images, and clips from the movie of my past.  Mostly good but like they say "you take the good, you take the bad", and there were a few bad apples in the basket.  There were memories that I have not thought upon that came to the surface like it were yesterday.  I really feel that geography can also attach itself into your subconscious and once back in a region or specific place it becomes a trigger.  I'm not talking about seeing, I'm talking about being.  Fragments of yourself that are left behind to be retrieved later, or never.

I never lived in Moab, and I only traveled through when going home or for vacations, but it had the feeling of familiarity.  I felt I knew the place and like I had belonged or do belong. It was good to be here.  We drove straight through town and right to Arches.  This place is huge.  I cannot describe it any better than that.  I like the word enormity.  Giant.  One, Arches is spread out and there is some drive involved in seeing the sights; two, everything is just so big.  We tried to do the express lane drive through and it was still too much.  The sun was leaving for the day, my passenger was becoming bored, I was feeling pressure to entertain my passenger.  Needless to say we left a great deal to see for next time.  I pray there is a next time.

Dead Horse Point is___________.  I can write cliches all night and they would all be true, but never show you what it is to see.  It made my knees weak and my stomach turn.  The void was massive, a negative space that seemed to want to drag me into it, if I stared too long or stood too close.  It had gravity an attractiveness that tugged at my soul and at my flesh.  I couldn't stop.  Looking.  I was an indiscriminate landscape voyeur.  Every vantage point a different pleasure yet it all was of the same.  All of this is too much to take in.  Good thing there is a MTB trail at the visitor center.  Time for some single track.

Last Tango in Durango

XC skiing is hard work, I don't like hard work, but I do like this.  If I lived in a snow-covered geographical location I could see myself getting all into to this.  That is just what I need another gear intensive sport that requires mountains of time to get good at, like I don't already have a garage full of toys.  Jack of All, Master of None.

With the sun directly overhead and my stomach sending my brain text messages, it is time to eat.  I do the whole man thing and go ask the rental guy where to get a good pint.  And some food.  The Old Schoolhouse just up the road.  Pizzas and beer.  Tons of atmosphere.  Closed.  Now what?  We are about 20some odd miles from Durango and starving.  Guess we are headed back to Durango, I am not going to fight the crowd at Purgatory Durango Mnt Resort.  Thirteen-ish miles and I spy a tiny Restaurant sign sandwiched between Gas and Groceries.

First impressions would have most people running for the hills or back to civilization, but the smell said "Stay".  Oh, heck yeah, pizza-by-the-slice -to order nonetheless.  Well worth the stop and I highly recommend.  Fuel level says F, time to humble oneself with some more XC.  Sun was warm, no wind and it was perfect.  The boss and I did another small loop, crashed some more, got tired and hung it up.  One more notch in the belt of life, XC skiing -check.

On the drive back to Durango it was decided by majority rule that we need to check out and quality control a local brewer.  Durango Brewery a few miles up and on the left.  I made a quick scan of the cars parked in the parking lot and determined we were headed into Locals Territory.  Other than stepping out of an Oklahoma platted Rav, we were pseudo-local.  Never look at a beer menu when wanting to present yourself as a local, just ask for the IPA.  No, really I just look to make sure they have an IPA, but what kind of brewery would you be if you did not have an IPA.  Come on.

The Boss texted the FiL to come out and have a pint.  I quickly made sure to get some samples for the FiL and wife.  They are not accustomed to craft beer.  Not to fear, we were able to get them into a Golden Ale for the FiL and a Hefeweizen for FiL's wife.  There was a slight mix up in the order and we had a Golden Ale that was orphaned.  Not to fear again, for I am a beer disposal unit and I adopted and promptly drank.  After a few pints time to hit the town to rent some snowshoes for the in-laws for an outing in the morning.

So I was about 0.0005secs from wetting my pants.  Don't judge, I had a few pints and then a cup of coffee.  It was the coffee that put me over the edge.  Thank goodness for the restroom in the back office of the snowshoe rental place, otherwise I would be facing indecent exposure charges or an embarrassing pant wetting story.  So it is time to get something to eat again and we head to another Durango brewery named Steamworks.  It was loaded, packed.  It was like an hour wait or something crazy bad like that.  It was packed full of tourists.  Not my cup of tea.  Time for a walk.

Falling or Failing

Dear Adoring Fan, and Mike,

Sorry I have not updated the blog with more of the Trip out West saga.  More to come on that.  Seriously, it's coming.  Just bare with me and stay tuned. I've been sick, traveled to Texas to celebrate my Dad's 70th Birthday.  Now I'm back in town trying to get into the routine, which it to not have a routine.  Anyway I know this all sounds like excuses, well good because that is exactly what it is. Excuses.  No, really it should sound more like and apology for my extreme amount of lameness.  I will try and crank out some more of the lies story to entertain you for the two and a half mins of your day.

I did have a good time at the folks house.  Got to see some cousins and family that I have not seen in ages.  There were a few missing, and that is just a part of this life thing.  People getting older, and at this late in the game it is either birthdays or funerals.  I hope to see more birthdays than the latter.  My parents look good and are doing good.  So good to spend time with them.  Don't want to forget my sister.  She came over from the Land of Enchantment and we had a good time drinking my homebrew.  My sister is the coolest, was when we were growing up and still is to this day.  Too bad we didn't have the Def Leopard lps so we could rock out to some Pyromania.  Just like old times.

Oh memory lane, the road that would be fun to travel, but only in our minds.  You can go home, just not to the past.  Time such a funny concept, or is it a funny construct.  Sorry I'm not supposed to swim out of the shallow end, these floaties aren't rated for my weight.  As those crazy kids say "Good Times".  Well, you and Mike, I've got to get some things done around the house and run some errands for the boss so that I can continue to live my fabulous lifestyle. 

See you in the funny pages.

Glenn Duh!

In the thick of it

All cleaned up and time to hit the town.  I can already feel the vibe of the awesomeness envelop us before we even make it to Main.  FiL wants some Italian, so the search is on.  I pull up Google Maps and somehow can't spell Italian, is it I before A except after L? Google pulls up a few restaurants.  Turn left here, and it is right on our right.  Parking lot?  Was that 12th?  Oh, no not again Google!  Next.  Get back on Main and look for a left turn on 7th.  Alright, 1 for 3 ain't bad.

Hoity toity super expensive hostess girl asks if we have a reservation.  Otherwise it's going to be 45min.  I'm thinking I can rack up a GDP sized bar tab in this place in 45min.  Must have been my shoes, Fox Racing...not Prada.  Thanks but, No thanks.  Time to pound some pavement in search of sustenance.  FiL spies a familiar place on the corner and we proceed to our destination.  Upon opening of the door, first look says Bar and not so much Grill.  It is all of 40' across and packed with a mixture of locals and tourists, we fit somewhere right in between.  We find the table that is open right next to a tiny stage and a speaker.  People at the bar have been there for a while, or at least for a few shots.  Maybe they had been there for a long while, or a lot of shots.  I'm starving and the body is shutting down starting with it's ability to make conversation.  I'm in full on tool mode and FiL is looking at me like this is going to hurt a little.












I need carbs.  Beer me!  Now!  Stat!  Where is that 1800's clad dancing girl waitress?  Oh, great the "talent" is taking the stage.  Well at least we don't have to worry about conversation.  Pizza, and could I get another beer in this century?  So this C&W singer cranks it up.  I'm not into Country or Western music.  It's somehow a sing-a-long and I don't know the words.  Dude stops and says "sir, you are not participating"!  I gave him my best I'm not from your country and don't understand your strange customs.  "Sorry I don't listen to Country"  After my second beer and half a pizza down the hatch, I tried my hand at heckling.  I, being fluent in music and somewhat of a smart arse, I yell out Don Mclean!  C&W guy seems to be more fluent than I and busts out into American Pie.  Touche!  

And a good time was had by all.  It was a rocky take-off but a smooth landing.  Next morning up early, body still set to central time.  Time to hit the road and find Durango Nordic Skiing Club.  I'm going to try XC Skiing, for the first time in my life.  I am excited, and a little apprehensive.  I have knowledge of XC and know that it is 90% technique and 120% cardio.  I am going to hurt tomorrow, hurt in places that are new and interesting.  First I need to learn how to clip into these stupid skinny nothing of a ski.  It took me so long that the rental guy came out of the club house to help out the "challenged" kid -me.  I'm feeling so cool at this point.  Can I get a padded helmet and a safety vest?  And, can you have the short bus come by to pick me up?

Learning new things, one sometimes has to set aside ego and embrace ones inner self deprecating loser.  I love me.  The club has 20k of trails.  We dabbled in a few of the k's and I found that I can't turn when going downhill.  I did learn that gravity is most certainly real and not just a myth cooked up years ago.  The earth is flat, at least the parts that I hit with my arse are flat.  The views were some of the best of the trip. (up to this point) 

That's all for today...Coming up...More Pizza...and a trip to the Durango Brewery

Albino Polar Bear pt. 2

Traffic is slow go with us running a gantlet of single lane road girded by cars on either side.  Those are not parking spaces, just for your information -a PSA that falls on deaf ears.  Just 15mins ago we were feeling like the smartest people in the 505 area code for getting up here so early and done already.  Now it is looking like we just got caught up in the I-just-woke-up-from-my-hangover-to-take-the-kids-sledding crowd.  Crowd is not the word for it, Sea is more like it and I feel my life-vest is not rated for this mayhem. 

We continue to crawl our way down the mountain when we get just a few hundred yards away from the ski area parking lot.  Dead.  Dead standstill.  As in no moving.  Oh, four letter words.  Tire Stop Move Cars Many Time.  People are out of their cars trying to figure why we are not making forward progress down the road, well other than people out of their cars.  I stay firmly at the helm while my first mate takes an observation crew down to the surface of the planet to make contact.  Park and ignition off.  We are going to be here for a while.  Observation done, information gathered.  Police car across the road stopping traffic in both directions.  No other news.

We have not reached Freaked-Out level, but we are currently at Def-Con III.  Tensions are running moderately high.  I see that cars brake lights and reverse lights are coming on.  This means that people are starting their cars and putting them in gear.  There is movement.  We are being freed from our certain-to-come meltdown-name-calling fight.  On the move.  9 more miles and we have to find a hamburger, stat.

All the way through Albuquerque and no burger, and now the car needs a burger.  Bernalillo is just what was needed.  Burgers at Blake's Lotta Burger and petrol for the Rav at Connoco.  We are officially on the Albuquerque to Durango leg of this adventure.  Blake's, not the best place to go when you feel like you have miles to go and a deadline to fill.  I did however score a free burger.  Not sure if it was my fault (as in stealing) or their fault?  I was either handed the two bags or I grabbed the two bags.  Pretty sure I was only supposed to get one bag.  For my penance I had to eat the whole burger.  I was already full, but I suffered for my sins.  Yummy sins.

Uneventful drive, lots of snow everywhere except for the road.  There is always that one driver, or in the case of New Mexico, drivers that do not like to be passed.  I always find them.  I pull alongside, and then they speed off like it's a race or something.  This does not happen once, but several times.  Really? 

We pull into Durango about an hour after sunset, so no beautiful mountain sunset today, maybe tomorrow?  Turns out the Father-in-law is staying at the same hotel.  Must be genetics, booking the same hotel.  How weird/cool is that?  The wife and FiL (Father-in-law) book the same hotel without previous knowledge.  Spooky right?  Anyway FiL is only a few mins behind and we are cleaning up for dinner.

Holly expletive Yeah! We are in Durango.  Going to explore some new snow-sports activities, find an awesome brewery, and get called out by a C&W singer at dinner.  Oh geez look at the time... guess you will have to wait 'til next post.

Albino Polar Bear pt.1

Staying at a Holiday Inn did not make me feel like an expert at anything, but I did wake up with a mild case of altitude induced dehydration.  It's like a hangover with chapped lips, but not all of the preceding fun.  I'm like a normal sized human, I said human not American, and being normal sized you would think that I would be able to walk into a bathroom and close the door without having to be a contortionist.  I felt like I was sneaking into the bathroom, you know to scare the toilet.  I cannot fathom how someone of, let's just say of greater proportion could manage to get into the bathroom and shut the door.  That was my only gripe, and the coffee was bad.  Drinkable, but not good.  

Day after Christmas and the city is sleeping one off, the streets are dead, business closed.  We headed for the hills.  Today would be my foray into snowshoeing without snowboarding.  This was going to feel like peanut butter without chocolate, rock without roll. 

Sandia peak received 18" of snow in the last snowfall just a few days before.  We drove to the top of the Crest Trail and the road was less than clean and dry.  The parking lot was empty, the snow was deep, and the trees were loaded.  Temps were in the 20's, but the sun was out and had no competition from clouds.  Postcard views in every direction.  Sandia is a 10,000' ridge with a drop-off on the Albuquerque side (west) and a gentle slope to the east.  We hiked snowshoed the ridge, with this ginormous drop just a few meters away, but it eventually gave way to some tree covered trail all the way to the tram house.  The wind was whipping, but in the trees we were pretty sheltered. 

We made it to the tram house and decided to have a drink at the High Finance bar, highest establishment of it's kind.  Drank a beer at two miles high.  I tried in vein to find out if there was a two-mile high club.  Guess I should have asked the ladies?  After we finished our beverages we headed back out into the wilderness with a little liquid warmth and a since of head-home-ed-ness.  We backtracked half way back to the car and then decided to take some other trails.  The locals were starting to come out of the wood-work, and I asked some Nordic skiers where we were headed and they said to a different trail-head than what we wanted, so we trudged on and then decided to turn back to the car.

We made it back to the car and didn't have to resort to cannibalism al la Donner, this time.  We were still staring down a 4-5hr drive to Durango.  Time to pack up, leave and get some much needed fuel.  At the car we were engulfed with populace, the city was awake and headed for the high country.  This place had become a mad house in just a few hours.  It is most definitely time to leave.  The drive down was crazy.  Cars everywhere headed to nowhere, really there was no place for all of these cars to go.  The parking lots were at capacity.  We were starting to get a little nervous and tense with all the traffic, cars parked on the side of the road reducing it to one lane.  Oh the humanity...



Oh, no...what is going to happen?  Looks like the Duke boys got themselves into a beehive with no smoke...

To be continued...

Look for pt. 2 coming soon to magic screens near you

I captured a Snow Ninja

It's beginning to look a lot...

Waking up in my parent's house on Christmas morning, the house that I grew up in, was an electric feeling.  Knowing that Santa came and put presents under the tree/trees.  I felt young again, and excited to see what I had in my stocking.  Dang it, forgot to get Santa cookies and milk.  Coal for sure.  I did not hang a stocking so nothing in there for me.  One look outside the bedroom window and I could tell that Santa had been busy.  Very busy, and by the looks of it was still busy covering the ground and everything else with white flocking.  It's a Christmas Miracle!  A White Christmas in the Texas Panhandle.  What the heck?  Forecast said nothing about snow, much less a Winter Weather Advisory brought to us by the lovely people at the NWS.   Awesome, Right?  Yes, and no...we still have to drive to Albuquerque this afternoon.  Not a chance, not in this weather. 

So here I am packing up the car in a snow storm.  I had to get the bikes off the rack and into the car.  Thank you Tetris, for my unbelievable packing skills.  This is stupid, we have about 60miles of crap to drive through to get to good weather and clean roads.  Not smart.  The Boss said go so I jumped as high as I could.  I've put down a fair share of snow and ice miles in my existence on earth, with trips and living in UT.  It was against my better judgment, but Wife-y knows best.  (as it turns out leaving when we did was the smartest thing, probably should have left earlier)  [just don't tell her that she was right!]

Travel was slow and the crazies were out in full force.  On the outskirts of Amarillo I am flying at a whopping 40mph, which felt too fast, and I am getting passed by people of superior intelligence and 4x4 awesomeness.  Something catches my eye in the rear-view mirror.  It looks like a tractor sliding sideways, it is a tractor-trailer sliding sideways about 3-4 car lengths behind us.  Looks just like the movies, all slo-mo with snow roosting into the air and cars hitting the ditch to avoid being smooshed.  Oh yeah, this was a great idea.  I'm about to pull the plug on this excursion, but I already have the bit between the teeth and my destination is calling.  Turning around at this point would be idiocy and failure.  I must fight the good fight and spit in Mother Nature's eye.  Ha Ha I laugh under my breath, as I tell the Wife what a bad idea this was to be out in this weather.  10 years ago I would have been driving too fast and trying to pass every car on the road.  I'm getting soft.

A few miles from the Tex-NewMex border the roads are clean and dry.  Live to fight another day.  The metal of the medallion felt cool on my skin, a feeling I was not accustomed.  My sister had only hours earlier given me La Madonna del Ghisallo.  Even if I was driving a car, somehow the patron Saint of Cycling was already at work.

A few more hours down the road, a closed rest stop, a closed truck stop, and an emergency pit stop at the side of the road.  We were now inside the city limits of Albuquerque.  Google Maps the hotel and we are in bed in a few mins...  Not if Google Maps is WRONG.  Not sure if ghetto is the correct term, I'm thinking barrio is more apropos.  Finally after driving down a (this is so cliche) dark alleyway, I called the hotel and asked for directions.  Yes, I am still a Man, and I asked for directions.  Stupid Google maps.  2500NW and 2500NE are worlds apart, even if they are only 3-5miles away.

Day two done, a hotel bathroom that I have trouble getting in without shin-ing myself on the toilet.  Sleepy time and a day after Christmas to remember.  Look for part three coming to an internet near you.  There will be beer, I've been driving all this time so no drinking for me yet...

Sick - Bad

It's day one of my Christmas Vacation and I was awakened this morning by the age old sound of vomiting coming from the bathroom.  I'm thinking this ain't good.  I will have to say that this was not bottle induced, this is good old fashioned stomach virus.  That's what the PA at the minor ER said.  Awesome, thanks for shaking my hand.  I'm already freaked out by being in a waiting room full of sick people, and the Dr. has the audacity to shake my hand.  Really?  Don't you know about the spread of germs?  I might be a little on the germ-o-phobia side of things.  I know, I know, but I see it as job security.  Dr. gets me sick by spreading some little bug to me, and viola...I'm in the office in two days complaining of what the kid in the next room had.  Very sneaky, very sneaky, too bad I washed my hands as soon as she left the room.  Bam! Take that!

Stomach virus confirmed and a mild case of dehydration calls for some anti-nausea medicine and an IV.  Half way through the bag and little miss sick-o is feeling better.  On the way home we get to stop at Sonic.  Bacon is awesome.  Back home and we start loading the car for the assault on the West.  Bikes, snowshoes, too many bags, snacks, Christmas gifts, and the doggies to drop of at Grandma's house.  This trip is a Go and we are only a few hours behind schedule.  Two to be exact.

We stop at the Mom-in-laws/Grandma's house to multitask...drop the kids doggies and exchange gifts. Done and Done.  On the road.  Not much to talk about between here and Texas.  Lot of road and not much to look at.  Traffic was not bad, weather was good, and we were T minus one state away from vacation.  Stopped off at El Reno, or someplace Garth Brooks is from, or they claim.  Taco Bueno.  10mins to close on Christmas Eve night.  I'm pretty sure I ate spit, and the food was a lovely room temperature. Tasted good though.

We made it to my parents house without incident, fighting, vomiting, or speeding tickets.  Pretty lame, no real story here, oh well maybe next time.  Right?  Mom and Dad start in on me as soon as we get there.  "You want anything to eat?"  "yes I do" I said as my Mom pulled some brisket out of the fridge.  One does not go hungry at my parents house.  Oh yeah, and my sister brought me a beer from NM.  Merry Christmas Eve, to me!  It's good to be with family, especially when they all take such good care of me.  No, I'm not spoiled.  Well, you be the judge...

Stay tuned for day two of the magically awesome trip out West.  Is it magic or an act of a Saint?

Hang Over...Hung Over?

It's January 1st and I have a massive hang over.  No, you silly little monkey, I did not drink too much last night.  I'm hung over from my wonderful trip out West.  It's a mixed bag.  I'm happy to be home, but I also feel that part of me belongs on the high desert dusty single-track, or up in the thin air of the snow covered mountains.  That part is sad to have left.  There is a little part of me that is happy to be back.  Today affirms that it is good to come home.  I did miss my friends and family -family that is not related to me.  The family that puts up with me because I put up with them. 

I have so much to share, but not a lot of time to write right now, but bare with me and I will crank out some good lies, stories and a few jokes along the way.  Just a little teaser right now and more to follow.  Sorry it has been so long since I put something down.

Julie got sick the day we were supposed to leave.  White Christmas miracle in Amarillo.  Winter driving 101.  Snowshoeing in Albuquerque.  Country singer showdown in Durango.  Nordic skiing is not as easy as it looks.  Snowshoeing with the in-law in Durango.  Arches National Park.  Grand Canyon like views -super afraid of heights.  Super awesome mtb, and not so super mtb in Moab.  Long drives with a lot to see, and not a lot to see.  Dirty towns and scary drivers. 

There you have it.  I hope I did not give too much away.  Oh, yeah...I forgot to mention my favorite part...Breweries!!!!! I love a good beer.  Stay tuned and look for new posts.  They will be a coming.

Eve of Christmas Eve

It's the day before Christmas Eve, or Christmas Eve's Eve.  It really should be on a Thursday, because Friday is the Christmas Eve of the Weekend, and we all know Thursday is just Friday's Eve.  Or, as I like to affectionately call it: Friday's bastard brother.  I like you and all, but you are not fooling anyone.  The 23rd of December is a Thursday to me.  So close yet so far away, as a child this is one of the longest days of waiting.  Waiting for that magical day to come with its surprises and disappointments.  Disappointment of getting socks or the wrong G.I. Joe without kung fu grip. 

I'm in an even bigger eve of sorts.  I am just days away from embarking on a trip out West.  I'm excited, super excited, but I am also concerned that the weather is not going to be conducive to what I want to do.  Ride MTBs in some of the best country for doing so on Earth.  I am so worried that I'm going to drag my MTB all the way to Utah and not get to make one pedal stroke in the holiest of holies.  I know that I should be happy about getting to go out West and see the mountains, hike in the snow, drink the best beer, eat the best food, and just basically live the life.  LIVIN'

Think good thoughts, be thankful for what you have...Ahhhhhhhh!  The suspense is killing me, I want Santa to come and put perfectly groomed singletrack under the tree with blue skies, and, and, and.  I am going to have a great time -why do I have to keep telling myself this?  I am that spoiled brat opening presents and not getting exactly what I asked.  Yeah, but I wanted the BLUE one!  What no batteries?  What were you thinking?  Slippers?  Ok, so I will admit...Some things people never change.  People being me. 

It's not that I set my expectations high, it's that I am not flexible with the things that I want.  It is getting everything you want, but it is not everything you want.  There is always more, bigger, better, awesomer.  It always seems that I come back to perspective.  I need new eyes to see the country that I have.  In a few days I will have new country to view, I pray that it is good enough.  I know it is more than I deserve, and I hope that I appreciate it for everything that it is worth.

Enjoy your time with family, your time away from work, eating too much, the bad gifts, horrible TV, and the wonderful Christmas spirit in the Wal-Mart parking lot.  Life is brief, enjoy your next ride -as if it were your last.  Advice is sometimes a bitter pill to swallow, especially when it is your own.  I look forward to what is in store for me.  I will embrace the future, no matter the color or flavor.  As for you Christmas Eve's Eve, you will never be Christmas or the day before Christmas, but at least the procrastinators worship you as they are scrambling to grab that last or first gift.

"Real" road riding

On my recent trip back to Texas to see my parents, and get some bike riding done.  I took the CX bike to take advantage of all the dirt road mileage that is available right out my parent's front door.  I was blessed with slightly damp to muddy conditions the first day.  This is a gauntlet thrown down my Mother Nature that could not be refused.  My Dad decided to load up his two dogs and be a follow vehicle.  He is an excellent moto-pacer, but today's course did not allow for speeding inches behind a farm truck.  Maybe next time.  We headed out on roads that I have driven tractors, combines, grain-trucks, cars, farm trucks, but never a bike.  This was a new and interesting way to see the country that I knew, or did I know?  Riding a bike is one of the most intimate ways to see country, and I was now seeing my home with new eyes.

Texas dirt roads, flat, straight, abundant

Old farmhouse owned by cousins

Farm Schoolhouse in the middle of nowhere

Me with a Texas "tree" in background

Dirt roads rock

My Team Car Truck

Illusions of

I was given a hall pass to go down to Texas to see my parents last week.  I always have big plans to do some sort of travel-blogage.  I have great ideas, I plan on taking all kinds of pictures and what not.  Seriously, I have written some great stuff, albeit in my head, but it's good stuff, it just never makes the page.  I swear that I have a great travel guide to Sprintingthebelllap's Texas Panhandle, it's awesome, now if I could only get it out of this vast empty expanse of a brain and cultivate words and sentences.  Is that too much to ask for?

I always get in a hurry to get down to see the parental units that it turns into a race, where nature breaks are timed and the one gas stop is handled with NASCAR precision.  This is no time to stop and smell the roses.  I'm at the Flying J yelling at the dogs to do their business, we're on a time schedule that they seem to not have received the memo.  "You smelled that spot like 20times, go already!"  I'm sure the locals look at me as if to say "that boy aint right".  I'm being crazy thinking that I am 5mins behind schedule.

I cant wait to get to the place of my birth and hang out with those people that me and one other person call Mom and Dad.  Crazy runs in the family, and this apple did not fall far from the tree.  So when I am with the family I seem to not have anytime to write.  There is a constant barrage of food.  OK, I get that I am not big, and some might say skinny, but I eat.  I eat a lot, but I will never be able to eat enough to satisfy my Mom and Dad's idea of the ideal caloric intake.  "You want your Mom to make you some eggs and bacon?" my Dad says as we are watching wrestling at 9:30 at night.  We just ate like an hour ago, and I'm already getting hit with the question of eating.  So, just to show what a trooper I am, I ate a bowl of cereal.  "Sure you don't want any eggs, or maybe a waffle?" Dad questions as I am finishing said bowl of cereal.  Right, and I've only just gotten here.

I really do wish and hope that I will be able to write when I am home sometime.  There is just something about being in the house that I grew up in around family.  On the family farm, with the history, and all the ghosts.  Ghosts of my past, that just seem to be more real when I am on their turf, in their 'hood.  They are the ghosts of Christmas past, something like the "Ghosts of Sprintingthebelllap's Past".  The connections are so much more visceral in the vicinity of the past.  Oh, if only to be able to tap at a keyboard with the flood of emotions, smells, and sights.  It truly would be a cathartic experience to capture some of what is elicited when visiting home.

Cedro Peak

Last Saturday I woke up with a massive elevation/one too many beers hang-over in the oxygen-challenged city of Albuquerque.  Something about hanging out with my sister and the ability to open a refrigerator makes for a toxic combination of too much blood in my alcohol.  Head feeling like a broken cinder block in a metal trash can, I hit the coffee pretty hard and tried to force some bread down.  Rye bread and I don't get along, and in my weakened condition the first bite of what was supposed to be sourdough -almost came up.  Luckily I had an army's supply of clif bar products in my bags.  Sports nutrition is awesome for "curing" the chemical imbalance that a night of consumption creates, oh yeah and coffee, don't forget the coffee.

Thirty mins down the road and I was in a parking lot of one of Cedro Peak's trail heads, still reeling from my night of "youthful magic moment", I was starting to question the intelligence of riding.  Then I came to my senses and threw a leg over the saddle.  Good choice.  Buttery single track, some rocks, lots of rocks, bermed down-hills, and lung busting climbs -this is the mountain in mountain biking.  All other riding is just off-road.  The fog in my brain lifted and the machine that is the human body started firing on all cylinders, Houston we have lift-off.

Cedro is a multi-use trail system in Cibola National Forest and Albuquerque Open Space.  The trails range from fire roads, motorcycle tails, to double and single track.  They can be as hard as World Cup or as easy as weekend warrior.  It has not rained in the Albuquerque area in a very long time and some parts of the trails were powder, we are talking over the rim powder.  I have ridden in over the rim sand (pain), but never over the rim powder.  The traction is not that bad, but it just freaks you out, some drift involved but nothing that you wont get used to.  At Cedro you have to earn your turns and there is work involved to "get the goods".

 

The biggest problem I have with riding Cedro is charging all of the climbs.  I power up as fast as I can so I get to the down-hill, a little over-eager on my part, but I get so excited and the prospect of another down-hill is too much.  Rookie, I know, but railing bermed turns through pine trees with mountain vistas in the background just does something to me -kid in a candy store with a winning lottery ticket.  Cedro will make you pay, there is no free ride and you have to get up to get down.

Head West young man

I loaded up the mtb and headed to Amarillo to see the family and, well do some mountain biking.  The drive was pretty much uneventful, which is a good thing when traveling in a metal, petroleum burning, coffin.  So, I will take uneventful, and the weather was great.  I am a little disappointed with the offerings at the truckstop, no samurai swords, no tigers, and no scantily clad ninja warriors.  Guess I am not stopping in the right places.  I'll try and find something worthy on the way home.

I got to the farm just after two and my Dad and I went to the best cafe/greasy spoon.  Country Pride.  Gotta love it.  I stuffed myself with a beef and cheese enchilada and a side of fries.  That's right, ate it all, and I could feel my arteries clogging even before I got up from the table.  Oh, but the taste, you can't live life without risk -Right?

This morning was a morning in bed a little longer than normal after a late night staying up with my parents.  I thought old people went to bed early?  No, Not Here.  I have not been up past midnight in ages, apparently it is a regular occasion with the parents.  Breakfast brought to the table via Mom, -waffles, bacon, coffee -and made with lots of love.  Nothing beats being home and hanging with the parentals -well I am their favorite/only son.

After having caffeine surge through my veins for an hour I found myself at the bottom of Palo Duro Canyon throwing a leg over my mountain bike for an all-out session of sweet self destruction on some of the buttery-est singletrack known to man.  There was no stopping, no slowing, and Full-Gas was the order of the day.  When it is this good, I can't slow down, just push push push.  Push until the body breaks or equipment fails.  Since mtbikes are pretty solid, the body usually raises the white flag.  As you can guess my legs are shot, and add in the fact that that I am about 3,000ft higher than I am used to, and tomorrow will be a slow starter.

Sorry it has taken so long for me to get some words out to you. I tore myself up this weekend, and I am a hollow shell of the person who loaded up Friday morning for a weekend of racing. I am fighting a cold and right now it is a stalemate, and I just have not felt like doing anything. I know bummer, right?


The weekend was awesome. We had a slight little problem with the Hal 5000 navigation system in Gina’s car. Hal wanted to send us into Fort Worth 5:00 traffic, and we were having such a good time to realize that Hal had not routed us through Lawton and instead chose the “traffic free” route into Fort Worth.

We finally made it to registration, unpacked at the hotel and went to Joe’s Pasta and Pizza. Not a bad place if you are starving, but I do highly recommend the house dressing. Back to the hotel for a few homebrews, number pinning, and readying for battle the next day. Morning came early with Bryan racing the first crit at 7:15am. Jason and I grabbed a ride with Gina and Brooke. The Speed limit in Mineral Wells is 30mph, at least the local constable was only in the mood to write a warning.  Yeah, if I had been driving it would have been "haul him off to jail" but, with Brooke driving it's "please slow down, thanks for your cooperation".

We had several categories racing on Saturday and it was a little bit of a logistical mess getting people to the Crit, and dropping and picking-up at the TT. It was a point to point with climbs and a tailwind, so riding back to the start would have been horrible, for lack of a better word. I watched the Cat IIIs and IVs and then raced the Crit myself. Did the TT and then came back to see the finish of the Cat Vs and then watched the Women’s Open, and Women’s IV Crit. We started our day when the alarm went off at 5, and then the last crit of the day was at 5:15 in the afternoon. This made for a long day on and off the saddle.  I was done, back to the hotel for a quick shower and off to eat.

Morning came early again, funny how that happens.  The RR was about 30miles out of town and our first category guys had to be on the start at 7:10.  My start was an hour later.  It was cloudy and windy, I was secretly praying for rain.  I don't like racing in the rain, but unlike a few people out there I will.  The wetter the colder the nastier, as it turns out it was hot and humid.  When my race was over the clouds were gone the wind was "hurricane" force and it was hot.  The ladies on the team and the Cat V's still had not started.  I felt sorry for them, we have all been training in forty and fifty degree weather.  80 degrees is murder, it took it's toll.

The road trip back home was a blur of smoke hazy roads (Texas and OK are on fire), bawdy humor, race recaps, and a close to exploding bladder.  I read some song lyrics as poetry, "blinded by the light..." check that one out... it's a little crazy.  We also ate at every stop, we tried in vane to find a Taco Bueno.  The final stop had us unpacking and then repacking our cars to head for home.  Here it is four days since I got back and my bags are still packed, my wife is a little concerned with my abilities to handle roadtrips at this point.

I'm sooooo not Pro

This is going to be a little series this weekend on Team Tom's Bicycles' road trip to Mineral Wells, Texas for a USAC stage race.  Look for other posts this weekend and a wrap up on Monday, or Tuesday or whenever I find the time.  We have several first time racers, a couple of Cat IIIs, IVs, and a group of us 35+ racers in a 4/5 race.  And best of all (best for last) we have some ladies racing this weekend.  Stay tuned.

I'm getting packed for the road trip, trying not to forget anything, packing too much so that I won't have to scrounge if the weather changes.  Every time I think about racing this weekend I get nervous, wonder if any Pros get pre-race jitters?  Hope I can take this nervous energy and put it into the crankarms and squeeze some watts out of this silly emotion.  I think I have all of my cycling kit covered, probably will forget to pack off-the-bike clothes, toothbrush, underwear, but I have an extra pair of socks in case it rains.

Have some last min chores around the house and then some errands to run.  Don't forget to pick up some tubes at the shop, the wife's clothes at the tailor, do I have my shoes?  Am I excited or is it really nerves?  Focus.  This is fun, I am not getting paid -I am paying to do this.  Spending money to travel, stay and race, last time I checked my license, it did not say UCI PRO.

This is just a road trip where we will get to ride our bikes.  (don't tell anyone, but I would rather be riding my mtb on a road trip -but it is called a ROAD trip not MTB trip)  I will be racing a Crit tomorrow around noon and then turn around and then do a 7.2mile hilly Time Trial about two hours later.  I will not lie -I'm feeling good (other than the nerves) and can't wait to get the first lap of the crit in to settle down.  I want to drill the TT for a good overall position and then work the road race to the team's advantage.  If we play our cards right we could grab enough points to win the team competition.  I have some really good team mates riding with me this weekend and hope we can "work together and move up".

Thanks for all the "well wishes", and "good lucks" from the Team.  Wish everyone was suiting up with us, you will be missed.

Caio for now