For those of you who know me and for those that don't, I am a huge fan of the Cyclocross. Love that stuff. It is so much fun to watch. It is fast, and the PRO Elite fields only race for 60min. Full gas. Mud. Sand. Grass. Ice and snow and rain, wind, whatever, you name it they race in it. How can you not love 'cross? This brings me to the point where I actually race 'cross, or I at least enter, pay my money and line up for a race. If you see how fast I go, I would not call it racing. More like surviving. Racing 'cross is like a dare you make with your own body. "I dare you to go as hard as you can without puking." "oh yeah, try me." Why would anyone want to do this? 'Cause it's FUN. Right? Sure.
NO, it hurts like heck. But. We do it anyway.
I have not raced all season, so I decided to race a three day race this last weekend. I am a shell of a human, after. Not being in race-shape and then racing three days in a row is incredibly intelligent. "Race yourself into shape" -add that to the long list of Cyclist Lies. This is the most painful way to gain fitness, maybe. Three days down in the books and I'm shelled, beat, cracked, broken. So, I should enter a 50 mile MTB race. Great idea.
So there is that. I'm headed to Texas to hang out with the family and destroy my body one pedalstroke at a time. To paraphrase Tyler Durden, "we are dying one second at a time" it's how you spend those seconds that matter. I should spend close to 18,000 seconds of my life dying, riding in what I consider one of the most beautiful places (Palo Duro Canyon). What are you going to do for five hours on Saturday? Maybe, just maybe I'll let you know how this goes...
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Thursday, November 14, 2013
Thursday, June 7, 2012
What? Me? .....NO!
This has all been said before, so you can stop reading right now. No, really you can stop... because I have said it once, twice, three times a lady. This thing, this tool, this toy that has many names. The bi-wheeled contraption. What ever it is to you, it is a very important part of my life. I rediscovered the bicycle 14 years ago this month. The snow was melting on the Wasatch and I heard of a Texan that was racing bikes in a place called Tour de, or something like that. I swore off spandex and decided that the fat tires were just the thing for me. I loved to snowboard on the mountains, might as well put some rubber down on them.
Fast forward a few years and the bike moved with me to the no-mountains of Oklahoma. I was a big time mountain biker from Utah, what could I possibly learn in OK? Everything. I sacrificed blood and flesh to the "mountain" that we call Turkey. Humble pie is not a tasty thing. I was schooled every time knobby touched rock and root. Don't get me wrong, I am not what I would consider a "good" rider, but I do have fun and I acquired the skills to do what makes me happy. In my book that is all that maters, anything else and you are way to serious. Have fun.
The problem with addiction is that you reach a point and you have to have more, and once you get more, you need more. And the cycle continues. [no pun] [ok, maybe just a little] I was bummed on the days that it was too wet to ride Turkey and I did not want to ride my mtb on the road. So. Naturally I bought a road bike. Still swore off spandex. Then a funny thing happened. Tulsa Tough. I was already a cycling fan, thanks to Lance, but now I had the chance to see it up close. Close enough to feel the wind of the draft blow by like a gust front. The sound of freewheels on a downhill, the shifting of gears transmitting through a carbon wheel, the zip of hundreds of chains being turned in anger...
I was hooked, even more so than before. Addiction turns into obsession turns into a lifestyle. Admittance is the first step? I'm a sick junkie. Get the Thorazine, find a nice "hug yourself jacket", padded cell for one -please. I look at porn on the internet, yes I will admit it. I go to sites like Colnago.com Cicli Pinarello Dedacciai Ridley etc etc etc. What can I say, I have a problem, and I like Italian sexiness and Belgian prowess. It does pain me so that I do not own a Campy groupo. Oh, to have Italian sexiness firmly in my grasp, with a freehub that speaks "bedroom". Someday.
This is only a few steps above shooting heroin or snorting lines. Eat, sleep, dream. Bikes. I don't have room in my life for anyone who does not think the same way. I surround myself with junkies, I try and convert "regular" people into cycling. If you are crazy and you can get more people to think and act the way you do, the less crazy you look. It's a cult, want to join? Would you like some cool-aid?
Fast forward a few years and the bike moved with me to the no-mountains of Oklahoma. I was a big time mountain biker from Utah, what could I possibly learn in OK? Everything. I sacrificed blood and flesh to the "mountain" that we call Turkey. Humble pie is not a tasty thing. I was schooled every time knobby touched rock and root. Don't get me wrong, I am not what I would consider a "good" rider, but I do have fun and I acquired the skills to do what makes me happy. In my book that is all that maters, anything else and you are way to serious. Have fun.
The problem with addiction is that you reach a point and you have to have more, and once you get more, you need more. And the cycle continues. [no pun] [ok, maybe just a little] I was bummed on the days that it was too wet to ride Turkey and I did not want to ride my mtb on the road. So. Naturally I bought a road bike. Still swore off spandex. Then a funny thing happened. Tulsa Tough. I was already a cycling fan, thanks to Lance, but now I had the chance to see it up close. Close enough to feel the wind of the draft blow by like a gust front. The sound of freewheels on a downhill, the shifting of gears transmitting through a carbon wheel, the zip of hundreds of chains being turned in anger...
I was hooked, even more so than before. Addiction turns into obsession turns into a lifestyle. Admittance is the first step? I'm a sick junkie. Get the Thorazine, find a nice "hug yourself jacket", padded cell for one -please. I look at porn on the internet, yes I will admit it. I go to sites like Colnago.com Cicli Pinarello Dedacciai Ridley etc etc etc. What can I say, I have a problem, and I like Italian sexiness and Belgian prowess. It does pain me so that I do not own a Campy groupo. Oh, to have Italian sexiness firmly in my grasp, with a freehub that speaks "bedroom". Someday.
This is only a few steps above shooting heroin or snorting lines. Eat, sleep, dream. Bikes. I don't have room in my life for anyone who does not think the same way. I surround myself with junkies, I try and convert "regular" people into cycling. If you are crazy and you can get more people to think and act the way you do, the less crazy you look. It's a cult, want to join? Would you like some cool-aid?
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Water Carrier
I can't tell you how much I hate reading cyclist's blogs about how they did in their last race. I mean seriously post some pictures of yourself and tell all of us how much you love you. I'm tired of just the total self love out there, and really, if you are gonna write about you, you might as well tell the truth. What happens in races and what gets transformed into words seems to take a transformation that just does not seem to equal the sum of the parts. I'm not throwing stones at anyone in particular, I'm just being general. Truth in journalism, I mean blogs.
With that being said... I raced this race the other day, and I was so awesome I was asked on the spot to become PRO and race in Europe. Just like that. True story. Then I woke up realized I had been asleep and decided to make some coffee and breakfast. I did race a race the other day for the first time in, a long time. It was a un-retirement ,it's not that I retired -I just have not had the time or money. Wait for it, it is coming... the point to this. Don't skip ahead and spoil the ending. You silly monkey.
Can't tell you how good it felt to turn blood into acid, lungs into barbed wire, and legs into cement. I love that feeling of turning ones-self inside out, because one can. It is not a self-loathing torment, but rather a rendering of ones soul on a physical level that has the power to heal. The true feeling of goodness is when you do this with people you share a common bond, or a common jersey and bibs. I'm talking about my teammates. Teammates that work and suffer together for a common purpose. Selfless teammates that know, that understand what they need to do to accomplish greatness.
Cycling is not a stick and ball sport. Cycling is about teammates working together so that only one can claim victory. Yes, there is only one First Place, and there can be only one winner. Why would you enter a race and not try and win? Who does this? That is just so stupid not to try and win every time you toe the line. I feel that there is no explanation as to why I would work rather than win, but it is an argument waiting to happen. Eddy Merckx once said that a Belgian child knows more about cycling than the United States does collectively. There is some truth to that. There are Stars and there are Water carriers. The true power lies in knowing which one you are.
I'm gonna flip it on you this time... in life you need to know for what or who you are working. Going for the Win might mean different things to different people. Knowing your station in life and doing that job to the best of your ability is true LIVIN'. You are not what you do...
With that being said... I raced this race the other day, and I was so awesome I was asked on the spot to become PRO and race in Europe. Just like that. True story. Then I woke up realized I had been asleep and decided to make some coffee and breakfast. I did race a race the other day for the first time in, a long time. It was a un-retirement ,it's not that I retired -I just have not had the time or money. Wait for it, it is coming... the point to this. Don't skip ahead and spoil the ending. You silly monkey.
Can't tell you how good it felt to turn blood into acid, lungs into barbed wire, and legs into cement. I love that feeling of turning ones-self inside out, because one can. It is not a self-loathing torment, but rather a rendering of ones soul on a physical level that has the power to heal. The true feeling of goodness is when you do this with people you share a common bond, or a common jersey and bibs. I'm talking about my teammates. Teammates that work and suffer together for a common purpose. Selfless teammates that know, that understand what they need to do to accomplish greatness.
Cycling is not a stick and ball sport. Cycling is about teammates working together so that only one can claim victory. Yes, there is only one First Place, and there can be only one winner. Why would you enter a race and not try and win? Who does this? That is just so stupid not to try and win every time you toe the line. I feel that there is no explanation as to why I would work rather than win, but it is an argument waiting to happen. Eddy Merckx once said that a Belgian child knows more about cycling than the United States does collectively. There is some truth to that. There are Stars and there are Water carriers. The true power lies in knowing which one you are.
I'm gonna flip it on you this time... in life you need to know for what or who you are working. Going for the Win might mean different things to different people. Knowing your station in life and doing that job to the best of your ability is true LIVIN'. You are not what you do...
"you are not the contents of your wallet." -Tyler FC
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
U So Crazy!
People who just don't know are always saying how dangerous it is to ride bikes. Listen here grandma bluehair, bikes are not dangerous, that gas exploding engine driven deathmachine you call a car is dangerous. I will admit that riding a bike can be dangerous, dangerous in the fact that it can be habit forming and possibly addictive by nature. Really? Is it such a bad thing? I ride bikes because the alternative would be self-destructive and illegal. Drugs. Yes I will admit that I have formed a habit that is borderline addictive, screw-it I am addicted up to the eyeballs. My track-marks are road rash scars, shaved legs and awesome tan-lines.
It's a healthy addiction, right? Eat-sleep-dream-ride bikes. Healthy? No, I'm sick and I have a fever, a fever and the only cure is more...bike. You know who you are, and if you are shaking your head yes you have it to. Thinking about the WNR makes your pulse race, looking at Italian bikes on the internet is almost lewd behavior. You are shaking your head, is that a yes sir or a yeah sure?
I don't care what it is, but there is always that guy or guys that take it too far. The ones that have to drink too much, have to jump off the third story balcony into the kiddy pool, and pour gasoline on the campfire. Boom!!! Hitting a little too close to home? We in society have a word for you..CRAZY. Crazy can be used as a noun, verb and those other things adv, adj something or others. The way we use crazy is usually a term of endearment or respect. You did what? That's crazy! We don't think you lost your mind, at least not all of it, but we say it because we would have to be crazy to do what you accomplished. Yes, you can probably smell the jealousy coming off the comment.
I have the opportunity to ride my bike with all kinds of people, all of them are crazy. There are a few standout certifiable, should be institutionalized, padded cell, hug yourself jacket people in this group. You know who you are. You are crazy and I have much love and respect for you. Keep doing what you are doing and enjoy it to its fullest. Remember the crazies are the ones who run the asylum.
The next time someone calls you crazy, consider the source and context. They might just be paying you a huge compliment. Next time your coworker says you are crazy for riding your bike, what they are really saying is "dang, I wish I could do that".
It's a healthy addiction, right? Eat-sleep-dream-ride bikes. Healthy? No, I'm sick and I have a fever, a fever and the only cure is more...bike. You know who you are, and if you are shaking your head yes you have it to. Thinking about the WNR makes your pulse race, looking at Italian bikes on the internet is almost lewd behavior. You are shaking your head, is that a yes sir or a yeah sure?
I don't care what it is, but there is always that guy or guys that take it too far. The ones that have to drink too much, have to jump off the third story balcony into the kiddy pool, and pour gasoline on the campfire. Boom!!! Hitting a little too close to home? We in society have a word for you..CRAZY. Crazy can be used as a noun, verb and those other things adv, adj something or others. The way we use crazy is usually a term of endearment or respect. You did what? That's crazy! We don't think you lost your mind, at least not all of it, but we say it because we would have to be crazy to do what you accomplished. Yes, you can probably smell the jealousy coming off the comment.
I have the opportunity to ride my bike with all kinds of people, all of them are crazy. There are a few standout certifiable, should be institutionalized, padded cell, hug yourself jacket people in this group. You know who you are. You are crazy and I have much love and respect for you. Keep doing what you are doing and enjoy it to its fullest. Remember the crazies are the ones who run the asylum.
The next time someone calls you crazy, consider the source and context. They might just be paying you a huge compliment. Next time your coworker says you are crazy for riding your bike, what they are really saying is "dang, I wish I could do that".
Thursday, March 15, 2012
I know you
Last night was the first Wednesday Night Ride of the year 2012. This is a big deal, it is a rite of Spring, an annual marking of the cycling season. That's right, right here in Tulsa. A mecca of cycling. It is a gathering of who's who in the Tulsa cycling world. The touring riders all the way to Cat I racer types meet up to do what we all dream about when we are not doing what we are dreaming about.
The meeting point at the first of the ride is swimming in the excitement of the ride to come. It is the "business up front" time. People are airing up tires, checking brake rub, changing out of work clothes, getting prepared for The Ride. We all gather here from our different lives, jobs, families, but once we throw a leg over the toptube we are all transformed into the same living breathing human-machine. Here is a Star Trek quote for you... "resistance is futile". Once you start riding bikes you enter this community, a community that is bigger than the sum of its parts. It's like Fight Club, but you can talk about WNR and you are encouraged to do so.
Riding a bike strips everyone down to their most simple form. You are no longer a business owner, a surgeon, a trash collector, a high school student. You are a cyclist riding a social vehicle that knows no boundaries. The bike brings us together and erases the worldly class structure. Now you are judged on style, speed, and etiquette.
At the end of the WNR, the "party in the back" time flows with adult brewed beverages shared between warriors that just battled each other on the tarmac. Fierce competitors on the road now sharing stories and friendship. Boundaries are all washed away with a few sips of beer. I'm beating a dead horse here, but it's easy to go back to the well when it is this deep. I know that if it were not for the bike that I would never have the chance to meet or know the people that I call friends. Oh, the places that a bike will take you. This simple piece of machinery is so many things, and I am grateful that it has given me the freedom to live.
The meeting point at the first of the ride is swimming in the excitement of the ride to come. It is the "business up front" time. People are airing up tires, checking brake rub, changing out of work clothes, getting prepared for The Ride. We all gather here from our different lives, jobs, families, but once we throw a leg over the toptube we are all transformed into the same living breathing human-machine. Here is a Star Trek quote for you... "resistance is futile". Once you start riding bikes you enter this community, a community that is bigger than the sum of its parts. It's like Fight Club, but you can talk about WNR and you are encouraged to do so.
Riding a bike strips everyone down to their most simple form. You are no longer a business owner, a surgeon, a trash collector, a high school student. You are a cyclist riding a social vehicle that knows no boundaries. The bike brings us together and erases the worldly class structure. Now you are judged on style, speed, and etiquette.
At the end of the WNR, the "party in the back" time flows with adult brewed beverages shared between warriors that just battled each other on the tarmac. Fierce competitors on the road now sharing stories and friendship. Boundaries are all washed away with a few sips of beer. I'm beating a dead horse here, but it's easy to go back to the well when it is this deep. I know that if it were not for the bike that I would never have the chance to meet or know the people that I call friends. Oh, the places that a bike will take you. This simple piece of machinery is so many things, and I am grateful that it has given me the freedom to live.
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Puttin' the legs up
All I want to do is lay down and close my eyes for a little. I'm so tired and sleepy, I might just fall asleep right here on the bike, maybe then the pain would just drift away with my sleep. I can't focus on anything except sleepy tiredness and 4723. 4723 4723 4723 4723 4723 4723 4723. Now it says 4732 4732 4732 4732, now it is 4745 4745 4745. My brain is chanting these numbers like a beat in a club. I'm numb all over, except for when the road points up I feel my muscles in my legs tearing, burning, breaking through my skin, through my knickers exposed to the air. 4788 4788 4788 4788. How are my legs still moving, I'm pretty sure I told them to stop miles ago?
How did I get to this point, laying on the bathroom floor in the fetal position praying for a swift and clean death? Did I not eat enough? Drink enough? Kill me now. I am weak. My body thinks I am weak and it is shutting down and closing up shop. Maybe if I just empty the contents of my stomach I can start over? How pathetic is this? I should know better? Why is it every time I am hugging the toilet it is self induced? At least my brain is not pounding against my skull trying to free itself from a chemical induced death. So I've got that going for me. This Pepsi is coming up, maybe not. A little sip of recovery drink, a little more Pepsi, some more recovery drink. This cold tile feels good, or does it? All I can feel is the sickness in my stomach taking over my body, organ by organ like a game of Risk.
I can feel my legs, they have a few miles in them and a few thousand feet of climbing. Are the miles and feet of climbing in your legs or do they come out like a deposit at a bank? You start your day with X miles and Y feet, and you just keep making withdraws until you are in the red, Overdrawn? I don't know? I started my day with zero, zero. I already had a metric century and 3k' worth of climbing in or out when we met up with Marty to do another lap. I should know better, but there is something about feeling good at the "in the moment" that reduces brain function to "sure let's go again".
Mile 79.8 I stopped. Not cracked, blown up, shelled. Stopped. Hindsight is 20/20 and I should have called it a day well before that point, but now we are 13mi from town, and 18mi from the comfort of my bathroom floor. Matt and Marty pushed and nursed me back to the Pedestrian Bridge where we said good bye to Marty and Matt paced me back to my turn-off. Thanks Matt -sorry about getting caught in the rain.
Between the point of failure to the point of being home is a blur of sensory overload. 13mph feels like 70mph out of control on ice skidding to your death. Pedal strokes are involuntary one second and the next are so labored I can't tell if my crank arms are frozen or broken off? Am I peddling backwards? Are those my feet attached to my legs, I can see feet but they don't feel like mine. I know these legs are not mine because there is a compatibility issue with the interface. They are not doing what I want them to do, and they are telling me what I don't want to hear. These are not my legs.
Long before all this happened yesterday, Matt and I were having a conversation about hurting and pain, and trying to explain how it feels to someone who has never experienced suffering. How does one put into words the feeling one goes through emotionally and physically when you put the body into a situation such as this? After the morbid pain and misery subsided, I was left with the hallow feeling one gets from stressing the body, and it feels....good. Not a good like ice cream and cake good, but like I just survived good. I like to call it the "putting the legs up". If you have been there you know what I am talking about. Putting the legs up on the couch or the ottoman with the satisfaction that you have inner accomplishment of physical and emotional greatness. You just made yourself better.
We talk of having a bad day on the bike, but is there really such a thing? I could easily say that yesterday was a horrible experience, or I could say that it was anything that I want it to be. My attitude towards what happened forms the person that I am, that I will be. Can you take a negative in your life and make it a positive? My Mom always said "your worst day of skiing is better than your best day at work". What I take away from yesterday is, one) a good story to tell, b) strength, secondly) I know the people that I have surrounded myself with -are incredible people. Yesterday is history, and it is now just part of my foundation of who I am and what I am.
How did I get to this point, laying on the bathroom floor in the fetal position praying for a swift and clean death? Did I not eat enough? Drink enough? Kill me now. I am weak. My body thinks I am weak and it is shutting down and closing up shop. Maybe if I just empty the contents of my stomach I can start over? How pathetic is this? I should know better? Why is it every time I am hugging the toilet it is self induced? At least my brain is not pounding against my skull trying to free itself from a chemical induced death. So I've got that going for me. This Pepsi is coming up, maybe not. A little sip of recovery drink, a little more Pepsi, some more recovery drink. This cold tile feels good, or does it? All I can feel is the sickness in my stomach taking over my body, organ by organ like a game of Risk.
I can feel my legs, they have a few miles in them and a few thousand feet of climbing. Are the miles and feet of climbing in your legs or do they come out like a deposit at a bank? You start your day with X miles and Y feet, and you just keep making withdraws until you are in the red, Overdrawn? I don't know? I started my day with zero, zero. I already had a metric century and 3k' worth of climbing in or out when we met up with Marty to do another lap. I should know better, but there is something about feeling good at the "in the moment" that reduces brain function to "sure let's go again".
Mile 79.8 I stopped. Not cracked, blown up, shelled. Stopped. Hindsight is 20/20 and I should have called it a day well before that point, but now we are 13mi from town, and 18mi from the comfort of my bathroom floor. Matt and Marty pushed and nursed me back to the Pedestrian Bridge where we said good bye to Marty and Matt paced me back to my turn-off. Thanks Matt -sorry about getting caught in the rain.
Between the point of failure to the point of being home is a blur of sensory overload. 13mph feels like 70mph out of control on ice skidding to your death. Pedal strokes are involuntary one second and the next are so labored I can't tell if my crank arms are frozen or broken off? Am I peddling backwards? Are those my feet attached to my legs, I can see feet but they don't feel like mine. I know these legs are not mine because there is a compatibility issue with the interface. They are not doing what I want them to do, and they are telling me what I don't want to hear. These are not my legs.
Long before all this happened yesterday, Matt and I were having a conversation about hurting and pain, and trying to explain how it feels to someone who has never experienced suffering. How does one put into words the feeling one goes through emotionally and physically when you put the body into a situation such as this? After the morbid pain and misery subsided, I was left with the hallow feeling one gets from stressing the body, and it feels....good. Not a good like ice cream and cake good, but like I just survived good. I like to call it the "putting the legs up". If you have been there you know what I am talking about. Putting the legs up on the couch or the ottoman with the satisfaction that you have inner accomplishment of physical and emotional greatness. You just made yourself better.
We talk of having a bad day on the bike, but is there really such a thing? I could easily say that yesterday was a horrible experience, or I could say that it was anything that I want it to be. My attitude towards what happened forms the person that I am, that I will be. Can you take a negative in your life and make it a positive? My Mom always said "your worst day of skiing is better than your best day at work". What I take away from yesterday is, one) a good story to tell, b) strength, secondly) I know the people that I have surrounded myself with -are incredible people. Yesterday is history, and it is now just part of my foundation of who I am and what I am.
Thursday, February 16, 2012
Have you met Matt?
I am always skeptical when people say "he's the nicest guy" "they are great", you know all that nice crap. Anytime I hear the name Matt Carnal it is always followed by something flowery and sweet, like he is every one's best friend. I have always been 6 degrees away from Matt, so I don't know that much about him. I do know the dark side of Matt, the underlying layer of the onion. That's right the part that will make you cry, not out of sadness. Out of Pain.
This is an unofficial view of the person we call Coach, Matt, King of Strava, and other things behind his back -because you would never say it to his face for fear he will rip your legs off and beat you with them. Actually people that call Matt "Coach" allow him to rip their legs off... willingly. I know how crazy is that? I have only had a peripheral friendship with Matt and for what I knew of him he is a stand-up guy. Never have I heard anyone talk about Matt in any other light.
Most recently I started following Matt on Strava.com and he was involved in the Base Mile Blast. This was a challenge to see how many miles one could accumulate in a set time (Jan6-31). Matt put in 3,347mi and his last ride was cancelled due to mechanical issues. He was only planning on riding the great state of Oklahoma from South to North. No big deal, Right? Even without putting in miles that he wanted on the last day, Matt had a lead of 981mi. Not bad. Oh, yeah I forgot to mention that Matt is gearing up/training for RAAM. Now we can officially add "Crazy" to the things we call Matt.
Matt's dark side, let's get to the juicy tabloid stuff... Matt has been coming by the shop and getting some work done on bikes and what not. He has invited me to ride, so I decided to meet up with him yesterday for a little ride, I would turn around and he would continue. I rode to the meeting point and Chad showed up to ride with us. Chad and I chatted and then Matt showed. We headed out in the light rain/heavy mist on the trail and then made a slight detour to head West. In conversation something was mentioned about my wanting to climb 29,000' in a month. Matt said he would like to do that in a weekend, and he could, and probably will.
The lights started to go dim around mile 62, I'm pretty sure Matt was just getting warmed up. He rode 100+ the day before, I commuted 10mi. I did my best "keep calm...", and then I was shelled, literally and figuratively. Matt and Chad slowed to allow me to catch, and I told them to leave me, "I'm a big boy, I know my way home, don't want to slow you down." Matt would have nothing of it. Here is the guy that has been ripping my legs off and turning me inside out for the last 2-3hrs and now he is playing the nice guy routine. This is the genuine Matt. This is what makes him such a great coach, he knows how to motivate you all bad guy style and then when you need it most he can be there for you. Not a crutch, but a gentle push.
Riding bikes has allowed me to meet all kinds, types of people. The bike is the vehicle that brings people together. If you have not met Matt, you should. He is as exactly as billed. Don't be fooled by the names people call him. Beast, Machine, Evil, Crazy, these are how he rides the bike -not who he is.
Follow Matt on Strava.com
Follow Matt on Twitter
I hope to do a follow up actual interview, a first for sprintingthebelllap
This is an unofficial view of the person we call Coach, Matt, King of Strava, and other things behind his back -because you would never say it to his face for fear he will rip your legs off and beat you with them. Actually people that call Matt "Coach" allow him to rip their legs off... willingly. I know how crazy is that? I have only had a peripheral friendship with Matt and for what I knew of him he is a stand-up guy. Never have I heard anyone talk about Matt in any other light.
Most recently I started following Matt on Strava.com and he was involved in the Base Mile Blast. This was a challenge to see how many miles one could accumulate in a set time (Jan6-31). Matt put in 3,347mi and his last ride was cancelled due to mechanical issues. He was only planning on riding the great state of Oklahoma from South to North. No big deal, Right? Even without putting in miles that he wanted on the last day, Matt had a lead of 981mi. Not bad. Oh, yeah I forgot to mention that Matt is gearing up/training for RAAM. Now we can officially add "Crazy" to the things we call Matt.
Matt's dark side, let's get to the juicy tabloid stuff... Matt has been coming by the shop and getting some work done on bikes and what not. He has invited me to ride, so I decided to meet up with him yesterday for a little ride, I would turn around and he would continue. I rode to the meeting point and Chad showed up to ride with us. Chad and I chatted and then Matt showed. We headed out in the light rain/heavy mist on the trail and then made a slight detour to head West. In conversation something was mentioned about my wanting to climb 29,000' in a month. Matt said he would like to do that in a weekend, and he could, and probably will.
The lights started to go dim around mile 62, I'm pretty sure Matt was just getting warmed up. He rode 100+ the day before, I commuted 10mi. I did my best "keep calm...", and then I was shelled, literally and figuratively. Matt and Chad slowed to allow me to catch, and I told them to leave me, "I'm a big boy, I know my way home, don't want to slow you down." Matt would have nothing of it. Here is the guy that has been ripping my legs off and turning me inside out for the last 2-3hrs and now he is playing the nice guy routine. This is the genuine Matt. This is what makes him such a great coach, he knows how to motivate you all bad guy style and then when you need it most he can be there for you. Not a crutch, but a gentle push.
Riding bikes has allowed me to meet all kinds, types of people. The bike is the vehicle that brings people together. If you have not met Matt, you should. He is as exactly as billed. Don't be fooled by the names people call him. Beast, Machine, Evil, Crazy, these are how he rides the bike -not who he is.
Follow Matt on Strava.com
Follow Matt on Twitter
I hope to do a follow up actual interview, a first for sprintingthebelllap
Friday, February 10, 2012
Smackdown
My wife and I got my Dad tickets to go see WWE Smackdown for his birthday/Christmas. I would also go with him, you know for company. He can't go by himself. Dad is a huge fan of the 'rastling. Watches it religiously. Since before Hulk, Andre, and the WWF Dad would watch. With the advent of the VCR he could "tape it" and watch it later, and now with the DVR and Dish network he is set up.
Yes, we used to bug him with the "is it Real" questions, and how stupid the conversations were. Over the years I have made peace with the authenticity, and have embraced the entertainment value. Whatever that value may be, my Dad is entertained by it, and that is all that matters. Right? I think it is great that he has something that is his joy. The last several trips to Texas that I have made have involved several hours of watching 'rastling with my Dad. Like anything on TV if I watch it long enough I get into it, or just get used to it.
I went into this WWE "project" as something for my Dad, and I wanted to go into it with a good attitude. I love my Dad and want to support him, the way he has supported me all my life. I was going to enjoy going to the 'rastling matches, if it killed my sensibilities. At first I was going to make a joke of the whole thing, but then I realized that, this is something that my Dad is into. So, I can't make a joke of something that is part of my Dad, no matter what I think about it.
After going to see the WWE, I have made some changes to my thinking. A) The people that go to watch are just as diverse as any sporting event involving a winner and a loser. I saw everything there. All walks of life, and yes I wanted to document it all on film, but that would make me and A-hole. One can throw classifications around all day, just be careful that you don't get hit by them yourself. "People who live in glass houses -shouldn't throw rocks" The average 'rastling fan is there to be entertained. And you know what? It is entertaining. The fans love it and the WWE spoon-feeds them what they want. It is like the most base common denominator entertainment, but it works, and works well. Is it simple, yes -but it works. I cannot hate on these people because of my system of entertainment. They love what they love, and it is to be entertained. Plain and simple. Don't judge.
2) I was entertained. I had a great time. Do you know how cathartic it is to Boo the villain? Cheer the hero? I found out that clapping or chanting someones name they gain strength and can whoop anyone. It is amazing, I think the next time someone needs CPR, I'm just going to clap and chant their name. This multi-million $ enterprise sells a great product, and they do it a lot. They are playing a show almost every-other night. I am impressed with this business. Not a fan, but I was entertained. I would go back. It is base, simple, and no matter the authenticity it is pure. Pure entertainment.
Yes, we used to bug him with the "is it Real" questions, and how stupid the conversations were. Over the years I have made peace with the authenticity, and have embraced the entertainment value. Whatever that value may be, my Dad is entertained by it, and that is all that matters. Right? I think it is great that he has something that is his joy. The last several trips to Texas that I have made have involved several hours of watching 'rastling with my Dad. Like anything on TV if I watch it long enough I get into it, or just get used to it.
I went into this WWE "project" as something for my Dad, and I wanted to go into it with a good attitude. I love my Dad and want to support him, the way he has supported me all my life. I was going to enjoy going to the 'rastling matches, if it killed my sensibilities. At first I was going to make a joke of the whole thing, but then I realized that, this is something that my Dad is into. So, I can't make a joke of something that is part of my Dad, no matter what I think about it.
After going to see the WWE, I have made some changes to my thinking. A) The people that go to watch are just as diverse as any sporting event involving a winner and a loser. I saw everything there. All walks of life, and yes I wanted to document it all on film, but that would make me and A-hole. One can throw classifications around all day, just be careful that you don't get hit by them yourself. "People who live in glass houses -shouldn't throw rocks" The average 'rastling fan is there to be entertained. And you know what? It is entertaining. The fans love it and the WWE spoon-feeds them what they want. It is like the most base common denominator entertainment, but it works, and works well. Is it simple, yes -but it works. I cannot hate on these people because of my system of entertainment. They love what they love, and it is to be entertained. Plain and simple. Don't judge.
2) I was entertained. I had a great time. Do you know how cathartic it is to Boo the villain? Cheer the hero? I found out that clapping or chanting someones name they gain strength and can whoop anyone. It is amazing, I think the next time someone needs CPR, I'm just going to clap and chant their name. This multi-million $ enterprise sells a great product, and they do it a lot. They are playing a show almost every-other night. I am impressed with this business. Not a fan, but I was entertained. I would go back. It is base, simple, and no matter the authenticity it is pure. Pure entertainment.
Wednesday, February 8, 2012
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
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
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Come Together
I've been kind of a hermit with my riding lately, just riding from and to work with the detour here and there for some extra miles. Riding bikes is about riding bikes, but one can make the experience so much better when it is shared. I was reminded this on Sunday when I was coerced into riding with the group. It looked like the makings of a horrible ride. High wind and flat roads. Two of my least favorites especially when put together in an equation such as this. I rode to the shop to meet up with everyone and overdressed. Good thing I have a locker at the shop.
Quick inspection of the group, and I don't know half of these people. I'm starting to sweat, and it is not from layers -I just took those off. We headed out onto the trail and my worst fears were coming true. The crosswind had everyone ducking for cover. There were a few squirrely wheels and I was on high alert. Flat, right out of the box. This is not a good sign. I rubbed the Madonna hanging around my neck and made a quick plea.
Back on the road and we were working the headwind, we had the horse power to do it. I stayed in the back to keep an eye on everyone, and to get comfortable riding with strangers. It took a little more than an hour before we started having people come apart, but that was cool because we formed small groups and worked to keep everyone together.
I do love riding in groups, especially when it has good cohesion and somewhat of a common goal. Stay together. I firmly believe that absence makes the heart grow fonder, I just forget the fondness that I have. This was a great group ride and everyone in the group "got it". With everyone working together and staying together we were able to maintain a good pace and not have to surge and slow, surge and slow.
Companionship is a group thing, it's hard to practice alone. There is nothing better that flying with a tail wind with your 'mates arm over your shoulder bar-to-bar at 25mph telling you how good it is to be on a ride with you. The feeling is mutual. The shared experience, may it be one-on-one or with a group it is a special bond that we all share. Pain, Joy, Freedom, Friendship.
Quick inspection of the group, and I don't know half of these people. I'm starting to sweat, and it is not from layers -I just took those off. We headed out onto the trail and my worst fears were coming true. The crosswind had everyone ducking for cover. There were a few squirrely wheels and I was on high alert. Flat, right out of the box. This is not a good sign. I rubbed the Madonna hanging around my neck and made a quick plea.
Back on the road and we were working the headwind, we had the horse power to do it. I stayed in the back to keep an eye on everyone, and to get comfortable riding with strangers. It took a little more than an hour before we started having people come apart, but that was cool because we formed small groups and worked to keep everyone together.
I do love riding in groups, especially when it has good cohesion and somewhat of a common goal. Stay together. I firmly believe that absence makes the heart grow fonder, I just forget the fondness that I have. This was a great group ride and everyone in the group "got it". With everyone working together and staying together we were able to maintain a good pace and not have to surge and slow, surge and slow.
Companionship is a group thing, it's hard to practice alone. There is nothing better that flying with a tail wind with your 'mates arm over your shoulder bar-to-bar at 25mph telling you how good it is to be on a ride with you. The feeling is mutual. The shared experience, may it be one-on-one or with a group it is a special bond that we all share. Pain, Joy, Freedom, Friendship.
Friday, January 13, 2012
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 tohike 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.
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
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.
Thursday, January 12, 2012
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 atPurgatory 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.
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
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.
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
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 thelies 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!
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
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!
Friday, January 6, 2012
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
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
Thursday, January 5, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
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...
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...
Monday, January 2, 2012
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 thekids 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?
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
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?
Sunday, January 1, 2012
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.
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.
Friday, December 23, 2011
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...Somethings 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.
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
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.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Let's Ride
Dark is not the opposite of Light, it is the absence of Light.
-Beastie Boys
Last night was the longest night of the year, or more importantly the shortest day of the year. This is what we call the Start of Winter. Which seems kinda crazy considering the temps outside have been Winter-like for some time now. Welcome Winter, have a beer, but please keep your feet of the couch, and try not to overstay your welcome. For me and my like minded outdoorsie people, this is a turning point with our battle that we wage with darkness. From this day forward the Sun will begin to creep more toward the North and provide us with more daylight. I just heard a slight cheer. I give it a Heck Yeah!
I've been fighting the good fight -with lights, and with unemployment I have been taking advantage of the daylight hours. I don't feel safe enough on the road to ride at night, but hitting up the Riverparks trail and Turkey instead. Turkey at night is an interesting experience, especially if you are rolling alone. Enough. Buy a light and go use it, it is well worth the money. That is unless you like bolting your bike into a mid-evil torture device, pain and suffering intervals, and cleaning up puddles of sweat. Then by all means. "I'm suffering for my art" Something like that.
Not to brag, Ok maybe just a little, but I have been able to get some good rides in lately. Outside. The Good Dr. and I went for a little Riverparks spin on Tuesday. One word...Under-dressed. Not really, but I did not take gloves. I was thinking that 50* is warm enough for naked digits. It is well above the temps for frost bite, but I lost feeling in my hands and it made the bars feel like I was flexing them. I could not figure what was under my finger, it was my other finger. It was a little strange, next ride... Gloves... check. There is a point here, no it is not wear your gloves.
Sharing a ride with someone who, like yourself loves to be on a bike, will make any ride better. No matter the condition. Shared experience is best served with good company. Speaking of good company, I rode with a teammate yesterday. We will call him Seth (any resemblance to live or dead persons is a mere coincidence). "Seth" and I met up on Riverparks and headed South. Beautiful weather, slight wind with a little bit of a chill. I have not been on the bike more than 90-100mins in the past two months. Yesterday was a full three hours. I don't know how I managed to be in the saddle that long? I would have cracked at about 90mins in, except. Except the fact that I had good company to share my ride, this transcends the time-space continuum and enters the unexplained "fun zone". Don't question it, it is real and if you have not experienced it you need to find someone like the Good Dr, or a "Seth" to share your ride with.
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