racerwannabe

Want it Wednesdays: Kestrel RT1000

2012-02-08T07:20:00.000-05:00

Three of my last four posts were Want it Wednesdays, where I post about something I want, or have, that is much nicer than it needs to be. Some people, obviously narcissistic and void of any real character, start to think their wants are needs and that right there is the problem with American consumerism. Silly, that’s all.

I need a Kestrel RT1000 with full Ultegra. Ultegra components rock. Sure, all the hip kids these days seem to be going over to SRAM Red. Whatever. The RT1000 modular monocoque frame set uses Kestrel's component integration design where each size is custom tuned. Kestrel frames are ultra stiff in the head tube and bottom bracket area but still offer a comfortable ride. More importantly, the RT1000 is Kawasaki Green and I have wanted a Kawasaki Green bike for a long time. I bought a carbon fiber Kestrel back in 1995 when carbon fiber was heavy, and Kawasaki Green bicycles weren’t invented yet.

I started thinking about a road bike with gears towards the end of a hard ride last summer. I spent most of that ride above 172 BPM. My legs started feeling like cement and, just as I was about to sit up, the person I was riding with looked at their watch and said, very relaxed-like, it was getting late so we better push it a little. This fall she got a coach. I will be screwed in spring. I told her I was looking at a new road bike. She said she would just ride slower.

I have been eyeing a Kestrel RT1000 all winter but a $4,149 bicycle is a bit much. Colorado Cyclist just dropped the price down to $2,099. I saw this as a sign from god I should buy it. God’s will is ambiguous at best. The only way I could pull off buying this high-end road bike was if I sold my Kona and Inglis. The thing is, I really like those bikes too. I was torn, like a spoiled child crying in the cereal isle of Kroger’s because he can’t choose between sugar frosted coco puffs or chocolate covered sugar puffs. I was agonizing over my dilemma last week when the transmission failed in my truck, 839 miles out of warranty.

It just so happens that a remanufactured transmission costs about the same as a Kestrel RT1000 with Ultegra components, another example of how life sometimes hands us fate wrapped in less than ridiculous packaging. I’m not bitter; dollar per pound, a transmission is a better value, I suppose.

Want It Wednesdays: Sweet Wings

2012-01-25T07:23:00.003-05:00

This is my second attempt to link a post to Want it Wednesdays. And sorry if I get a little weepy eyed as I cast my mind back to the late ‘90s, it was a sweet spot in my life: I was a strapping young lad, a new father, and my career seemed to have potential. The only thing missing from my life was a 520 gram pair of Sweet Wing cranks; so beautiful that they could actually make the hair on my neck stand up. There were a lot of companies making pretty anodized cranks CNC’d out of aluminum; Sweet Wings were completely different (actually I think Bullseye and Coda had similar cranks but I will simply ignore them to make my story more dramatic, and I’m not motivated enough to research my hunch).

Unlike all the other cranks, Sweet Wings were steel, hollow, and had an integrated bottom bracket. They were the lightest cranks available back then and are light even by today’s carbon fiber standards. The Sweet Stem was a steel quill stem made by the same company which only weighed 180 grams, lighter than quill stems made out of titanium, but that’s for another post. Sweet Wings are so similar to the current Shimano cranks that I have to imagine Sweet Wings, either directly or indirectly, influenced Shimano. That is a nice way of saying Shimano, that juggernaut of a company, stole the design. Sweet Wings remain a coveted retro mountain bike part and I still want a set. A savvy entrepreneur should re-introduce Sweet Wings in the same way BeBop re-introduced their pedals right after I gave up trying to find NOS BeBop pedals and switched everything over to Shimano.

Now that I think about it, I wasn’t really a strapping young lad, I mean, "strapping" and "young" are both relative. Emilie was brand new and charming but changing dippers wasn’t all that much fun, plus a meaningful conversation with her was still 10 years away. A potential career was stressful. My employee’s problems became my problems that I had to deal with in between working on my post graduate degree and taking terrible plant assignments to make myself look good on paper. Hum...the 90's kind of sucked.

I suppose one could make an argument that the Shimano XTR cranks currently on my Tomac are better than Sweet Wings. XTR cranks weigh only 33 grams more and Sweet Wings had significant issues: they rusted, creaked, wore out bearings quickly, the inner race wouldn’t stay tight, and the spider occasionally broke. I’m not aware of any issues with XTR cranks. And you can buy ceramic bearings for Shimano cranks if you are neurotic.

Maybe I tend to glorify the past in my head. On second thought, I don’t want Sweet Wings; I’m pretty happy with the way things are.

Buddy The Cake Boss Can Kiss My Ass

2012-01-17T10:41:00.003-05:00

I had Monday off work. The plan was to help Allie make a cake then get a good ride in. I have been consistently disappointing myself this winter with my lack luster training and yesterday was going to be the beginning of a solid effort.

But not an ordinary cake. A box cake wrapped in fondant and piped. Allie has developed this fascination with Buddy the Cake Boss. She compares me to him often; I don't stand a chance. After I took Em to Nashville, Allie asked if I could take her to Carlo's Bakery in New Jersey, the Garden State.

Allie really did most the work. I watched from the sidelines.

This was our first attempt to use fondant. Buddy makes it look easy. Allie was anxious to work with fondant and maybe rolled it too early. It cracked when we tried to set it over the cake.

The cake collapsed when we set the fondant on it anyway.

I added water to the fondant on our second attempt, like you do with Play-Doh when it cracks. The fondant turned into a heap of useless goo.

We stopped by the cake store for more fondant on the way to dance practice. I signed her up for a cake making class because I have no idea what I am doing.

While Allie was at dance, I baked another cake to replace the one that collapsed. She likes to do everything herself but it was getting late. I have the cooking skills of an 11 year old girl anyway.

Allie said she needed to do the "dirty icing" before we tried the fondant (again). "Dirty icing" is a term Buddy uses.

I had no idea how to handle fondant. She did. Thanks again Buddy for being my daughter's roll model.

Allie insists on coloring the frosting...

and using a bag instead of buying premixed tubes.

Some of the cake mix fell to the bottom of the oven. It looked like dog poo. Allie and I thought it would be funny to set it on Emilie's bathroom floor. Yes, this was terribly immature of me...

but Allie could not stop laughing, not even for a picture of her and her cake.

The cake only took 8 hours to make. I will start my solid training effort tonight instead.

Want it Wednesdays: Rudy Project Ekynox

2012-01-11T12:38:00.007-05:00

Following the Chain Line is a blog I follow. Jez has an interesting feature where he links to readers that share one bike item (on the second and fourth Wednesdays of the month) that they have, or want, that is, I don’t know, extra blingy. I’m not sure I am disciplined enough to blog every other Wednesday but here is my first attempt.

But let me put my point of view in perspective. I am consumed with guilt anytime I buy so much as a chain ring for my bike. I ask myself if it really is the best decision for my family. It seldom is. And I try not to buy any part just for emotional reasons; there needs to sound reason for it. I violate this guideline too. I work in a grey area between Engineering and Marketing and this affects my decision making. I listen to arguments over, say, brakes on lite duty full size pickup trucks. The brake Engineers want to use rear drum brakes for cost, performance, and manufacturing reasons. The Marketing people want disc brakes because they look better in sales brochures. Both valid reasons but I tend to side with the Engineers. This is why I was the last person to get disc brakes for their mountain bike: yes they work great, especially in the rain, but I don’t often ride in the rain, and slowing down is perhaps the only riding issue I don’t have. Bleeding disc brakes isn’t all that much fun and they tend to be heavier than V-brakes even if you consider the rotating mass savings from disc specific rims. My god, I am actually boring myself with my own disclaimer.

Okay, my only nonessential purchase in the last two years was a pair of Rudy Project Ekynox sunglass. I didn’t realize one could adore their glasses as much as I adore these. They cost $179 which is about $100 more than I have ever spent on riding glasses. In just one month I lost or consumed the three pair of glasses I have been using for the last 5 years. My normal riding glasses are cheap sunglass frames with clear prescription lenses that have been broken and repaired so many times that there was little, if any, life left in them. My road riding glasses have the same cheap frames with tinted prescription lenses which I lost in November, the very same month I lost my Smith non-prescription sunglasses. The Rudy Project Ekynox glasses replaced all three. They have prescription transition lenses that (in theory) go from clear to dark and the frames came with two sets of interchangeable tinted non-prescription lenses. I’m a little disappointed with the transition lenses. They don’t seem to transition, they are stuck in a gray, middle area. I sent them back and three weeks later they were returned to me, still not transitioning, with an explanation that they work OK in California. I am not sure how to even respond.

I never had a good set of riding glasses before. The Ekynox wrap around nicely for protection, have no distortion, vent well, and stay secure to my noggin. And they are white to match my bike, just for vanity sake.

After I bought the glasses I went on Rudy’s website to see how to interchange the lenses and saw they had a combination special where if you buy a pair of glasses, they would send you your choice of helmet, watch, kit, or backpack. I chose a backpack to replace the pre-vintage Jansport I bought 20-some years ago. Since I didn’t buy the glasses at the same time I filled out the form for the free offer, I wasn’t sure if they would send it to me. They did. It has a helmet holder and lots of pockets for bicycling things. It’s a clever design and just added to my veneration for Rudy Project.

Thank you Rudy.

Coveting Another Man's Bike

2012-01-06T09:12:00.006-05:00

Crazy nice weather today. Kevin emailed me last night to see if I wanted to ride after work. He just got a beautiful, sub-20 pound carbon fiber Felt with full SRAM XX so I’m guessing he would want to ride regardless of the temperature. Apparently the Felt replaces his titanium Merlin with full XTR. If it were a sin to covet another man’s bike, I would surely go to hell. But not really. I have a plan. Right before I die I am going to pray for mercy. It’s a loophole. I'm screwed if I die suddenly.

I packed my bike this morning. Island Lake will be muddy. Cleaning a muddy bicycle in an apartment is a little complicated. It is actually the first thing I thought of when I considered moving. Sue gave me a detachable shower head on this long flexible hose for Christmas. This seemed an odd gift at first but she explained I could use it to wash my bicycle in the bath tub. Brilliant. I dig biker chicks.

Nashville Haiku

2012-01-01T16:35:00.003-05:00

Em and I drove to Nashville.

'Hated the music,

but loved spending time with Em.

Open Letter to the Random Person Who Just Bought Me a Latte at Starbucks

2011-12-24T11:28:00.003-05:00

Thank you to the random person who bought my tall Latte at Starbucks. Anymore, it is a big decision for me to spend $3.18 on a coffee so your act of generosity meant a lot. I feel bad I didn't even bother to look at you up there in the car ahead of me. I did look at your car, a Black Malibu. I looked at your car because I couldn't help but noticed how long it took you to order, creep up to the window, and pay. I wondered what it would be like to live in a world where one had so much free time that they could drag out buying a cup of coffee. I pulled right up on your ass after you paid to encourage you to move forward a little faster, went to pay the Starbucks guy, and he said you bought my coffee. I'm touched but I feel like a prick.

I'm really not a prick. I was all worked up over trying to get Emilie the perfect Christmas gift. She wanted a guitar which seemed simple enough. I haven't looked at guitars since I was her age but I work with so many techs that play, I thought I would be a guitar expert in no time. They all went into so much detail that I was lost. I guess I know how they feel when they come to me for advice on buying a bicycle. I was told what type of tuner to get. I didn't even know what a tuner was. I thought you just tuned the E string with a tuning fork then tuned all the other strings based on that. The techs laughed; that's how they did it 30 years ago. And going into Guitar Center was stressful. The salesman knew I didn't know what I was talking about and that I have no passion for guitars. He rolled his eyes when I asked about the $79 guitar and he explained why I needed to drop over $200 on one. I guess I now know how it feels going into a bike shop when you aren't that into into bicycling. $200 was more than I could spend so I looked on Craigs List and found a perfect Fender acoustic guitar across the state. I know it was a good deal because in the time it took me to drive there, he sold it to someone else.

And while I was waiting behind you at Starbucks, my sister emailed me and asked if I sent out a Christmas letter. She has really been pushing me to send out a letter this year, she even sent me a list of addresses. My sister has much more social grace than me so no, I didn't send out any letters. I tried. Nothing that has happened this year looks right on watermark paper framed in a holly boarder. I know, I tried to spin it.

But don't you worry none, random coffee buying person, it is good now. I got Emilie a kick ass Fender acoustic guitar and I'm starting to work on my Christmas letter for next year which I promise will be every bit a vain as any letter I received this month. The free coffee just adds to my optimism. Thank you again and really, I am sorry for pushing you out of my way; I hope you put it in context.

Prometheus

2011-12-21T12:39:00.000-05:00

I have been doing an indoor Thursday night group ride in an effort to break up the monotony of riding alone in my apartment and to encourage myself to ride harder than I have been. My motivation when riding alone seems to be waning and I don’t want a repeat of last season, or the one before that, or the 14 previous seasons. It’s helping. Possibly.

Allie said I am always riding. Clearly few, if anyone, I race against follows a more half ass, low volume training plan than me but her observation hurt so I’m making an effort to only work out when the girls aren’t home or when they are sleeping. Waking up at 4:00 to go to the gym is fun and all but I’m averaging less than five hours of sleep a night. When the alarm goes off, I feel like Prometheus being woken up by an eagle pecking at his liver.

Prometheus, for anyone who didn’t pay attention in their junior high Greek Mythology class, was the Titan who stole fire from the gods and gave it to mankind. This pissed off Zeus so he chained Prometheus to a rock where a giant eagle would peck out his liver every day. His liver would grow back at night just in time for the eagle to come back and peck it out again. I think Prometheus did what he thought was right, it’s just that most decisions have unanticipated consequences.

Losing a Child to Adolescents Part II

2011-12-04T14:47:00.007-05:00

Kevin and I made plans to ride today. Crazy nice weather lately (that is, no significant snow and my Camelbak doesn't immediately freeze solid) lulled me into thinking this was a realistic plan. It's raining so I will ride the trainer instead. I find if I ride indoors by natural light and with a fan blowing in front of me, it is every bit as good as riding outside.

Who am I trying to fool; this sucks.

Emilie and Allie and I went skating yesterday. It was nice. Em seemed more interested in the hockey players than in skating. Two years ago I saw I was losing her to adolescents so I suppose I don't have the right to be distraught.

Allie went to 6th grade camp last week. She came back with a fear of snakes and an appreciation for indoor plumbing.

And her first boyfriend.

We had a good time skating last night. I have skated with Emilie before but this was my first time with Allie. She had to hold my hand the whole time so as not to fall on her ass. I remember when she insisted on holding my hand all the time.

2011 Iceman

2011-11-18T13:39:00.014-05:00

I did my 14th Iceman earlier this month. An excellent time but another poor result, which would have hurt my feelings if I had any expectations, fortunately I didn’t. I haven’t even pretended to train since the snow melted last spring; no lack of desire, just collateral damage from a long, complicated year. I’m seriously looking forward to next season. There is something warmly satisfying with putting an awful season behind you and starting fresh.

I miss the rural setting of Brighton but I’m adapting just fine living smack dab in the middle of Canton. Lots of cars and the roads and MTB trails around here suck but none of that really means anything. I enjoy riding and I’m as optimistic as ever; not the kind of optimism that is grounded in reality but the kind that transcends it. The kind that lends itself to a discussion I just had:

Me: “I’m having a rough day, I’m treating myself to a delicious and nutritious McRib.”

Sue: “Ooh McRib-gross? Does it taste like rib?

Me: “Yes, it tastes like ribs but I don’t know if there is even any pig in it at all. It’s proprietary.”

Sue: “It is an odd pressed shaped patty…”

Me: “As opposed to the naturally shaped Filet-O-Fish sandwich and Chicken McNuggets? You have very high expectations.”

The Surreal World of San Francisco

2011-09-26T10:17:00.008-04:00

I was in San Francisco last week for work. My only exposure to this area previously was from watching Full House with my daughters, and that show, as it turns out, paints a terribly distorted picture. San Francisco is amazing, in its own, bizarre, way. I would have stayed longer if it were practical.

We rented hybrids from one of the stands that caters to tourists. Not my first choice of bicycles but the riding was good. We rode across the Golden Gate Bridge, windy and foggy, down into Sausalito which was warm and sunny.

We rode through the Golden Gate Park where a Tour de Fat bicycle festival was going on.

I have never seen so many bicycles. And every bike was unique.

Very unique.

I was amazed with the food in L.A. the last time I was in California. San Francisco somehow raises the bar. I ordered tea in a Chinese restaurant. They put a dead, dried up flower bud in boiling water. The bud opened up into a bright red flower as it slowly sunk to the bottom of the cup. Apparently the flower was the tea. Maybe I am easily amazed. Regardless, it was excellent.

The tables in San Francisco restaurants tend to be close together so you inadvertently hear other’s conversations. Sitting next to us on our last night was a surfer dude, his beautiful Norwegian wife, and her parents who were apparently visiting from Norway. Half the conversation was in Norwegian but from what I could make out, the parents were asking them to move to Norway. Surfer dude explained why, for numerous reason, San Francisco was the greatest city in the world. While he was explaining how clean the city was, the person I was having dinner with described a homeless transvestite she saw defecating in a flower pot in front of a shop. I suppose San Francisco is difficult to see objectively.

You Don't Know Me At All, Maybe

2011-09-06T11:49:00.001-04:00

I did a training ride last week, two hours at my aerobic threshold. If I could do more than one training ride a month, I might be on to something. This blog started as a training tool, as if publishing goals and a plan to get there would somehow make it happened. It helped. I am going to try to nudge this blog back in that direction. Later.

Somehow I don’t fully realize real people read my blog. I am taken back when someone introduces themselves at a bike race and say they read my blog. I met Ali B, who I only knew through her blog, at the Log Splitter race last year. She looked at my result then looked at me and said: “You did well, I mean, you don’t suck as much as you imply in your blog.” Or something like that; I was star stuck and not really listening. Things have gone downhill since then and now I really do suck as much as I imply, possibly worse.

After a particularly whiney post about how all my friends have road bikes and I don’t, Bob, who only knows me through my blog, offered me his Giant TT road bike for just a token price. I didn’t take him up on his kind offer but was touched by his generosity

Emilie and I went on a ten hour road trip to Ohio yesterday to deliver Sally to her new home. This provided a good opportunity to really talk to Em. I also used this time to expand her musical horizons. I can’t get her to budge from this horrible Country Music genre so I tried to expose her to good Country Music; difficult to find at best. I like Lyle Lovett, Cowboy Junkies, and Patty Griffin enough. Em wasn’t impressed. I even played Mary Chapin Carpenter who is more mainstream Country but sometimes uses big, three syllable words, like “perilous”. Nope. It left Emilie more convinced that I haven’t a clue. She is only 13 and will figure out on her own that the best music isn’t on the radio. Or maybe I haven’t a clue. I don’t even know anymore.

Mary kindly offered to take Sally. Mary is a clever girl and apparently figured out through my posts that I am not in a great position to take care of a pet. I struggled so hard to find a good home for my Yamaha RD350LC that finding a home for our family dog seemed impossible. I figured out through Mary’s posts that she is a unique dog person and my best option. It is just a trial right now; Sally can be difficult.

Emilie cried when we left Sally at Mary’s. I wanted to make Em feel better. Sushi was the only thing I could think of. After a round of normal Sushi (Shrimp, Tuna, and Salmon), Em suggested we get Sea Urchin. I honestly didn’t know Sea Urchin was eatable. I’m still not convinced it is. Neither of us could eat it but we laughed hard as we tried. That was worth the $6.95. We were still laughing as we walked to my truck in the parking lot. I think everyone will be fine.

2011 Maybury TT

2011-08-22T12:17:00.003-04:00

A few weeks ago Allison showed some interest in doing a race this summer. We went to Maybury to practice and decided to do the 8/20/11 Maybury Time Trial. Allie changed her mind Friday night, which is fine; I am excited she even considered it. I did the time trial anyway. It could be my worse result ever but I’m glad I went. I get a little anxious when I go too long without racing and, after spending the previous week moving most of my stuff to Canton, Maybury is now my local trail and I want to support my new community and everything it has to offer.

Canton isn’t all bad. They have an Ikea. Home furnishings aren’t something that normally interests me but Ikea is kind of cool. I took Emilie, Allie, and some friends to Ikea after dance class for a cheap dinner and to pick out some cheap yet stylish furniture.

After the race I assembled an Ikea loft bed and clothes cabinet thingy for Allie. The girls are excited to move and helped clean. I hate Canton less today than I did last month. I suppose I am moving in the right direction.

How to Lose Friends and Manipulate Children

2011-08-01T16:04:00.000-04:00

Most of the riding I did last year was just social rides. They seldom went anaerobic so I occasionally told fibs so I could ride alone. Over the winter there was a flurry of changing jobs and priorities with the people I ride with. This season I find myself pathetically asking them to ride with me, like Bob Roll in that Road ID commercial. The few rides I have done with friends last month concerned me.

Paul isn’t exactly a mountain biker but he does spend 20 plus hours a week in the gym. I had to work harder that I expected to keep up with him on the flat, straight sections of trail. Randy fell in love with a tri girl, the kind of love that gets you out of bed before work to swim laps. He worked hard over the winter and is now officially faster than me. I rode with Bill Saturday. He got a job at a bike shop and is deep into bicycling. Bill recently had his ass measured for a new saddle; I didn’t realize this was even an option. I struggled to keep up with Bill at first but figured I would drop his Clydesdale ass and matching saddle on the hills. Nope. I kept my heart rate pegged at 173 BPM as he effortlessly climbed away from me.

Maybe I’m not as fast as I thought. And I didn’t think I was all that fast to begin with.

I was supposed to do a shop ride with Bill yesterday but I took the girls out for dinner and ice cream in downtown Ann Arbor instead. As usual, I used this time to point out the hip U of M kids in the retro stores and coffee shops. I subtly talked about how cool it would be if Em and Allie went to the University of Michigan, and about GPAs and SAT scores. Em, my sweet angel, was enthusiastic but I noticed Allie, my, Allie, was wearing Michigan State flip flops; I’m sure that was no accident. Allie is not one to be manipulated. Maybe I’m not as clever as I thought.

Daddy's Girl

2011-07-26T11:08:00.005-04:00

I love being a dad but I had no idea it would be this hard; the hours spent playing Pretty Pretty Princess and how my heart breaks as I offer muddled advice to help my girls navigate through the atrocities of middle school. I was naïve before children. Part of this is because I lack dazzling perception, but I think a better explanation for my complete lack of understanding is an ignorant bliss concerning parenting wired into our DNA. If it wasn’t, Adam and Eve never would have had children thus avoiding the whole Cain and Abel debacle and robbing everyone thereafter the wonderful experience of parenthood. All fairytales have universal truths.

Emilie is a sweetheart but I have lost her to friends; I eagerly wait for any time she has left for me like a dog waits for table scraps. I’m not so naïve that I didn’t see this coming 13 years ago. I have had time to prepare. Allie still digs me and I know the clock is ticking.

Yesterday after work I got ready to ride as I do every time I get a little rattled. Riding is a drug and I have no qualms about that. Allie walked into the garage and asked to go with me. This is the first time she has shown any interest in riding single track. That right there made the hours of playing Polly Pockets all worth it.

Allie did great. I never noticed how technical the Brighton trail was until I looked at it from the point of view of a 10 year old. She attempted everything and didn’t complain once. We cut through the woods to lop off a few miles. It happened to be at a spot where I crashed hard during a race two years ago, knocking the visor off my Giro helmet as I bounced off a tree. I went back to look for my visor after the race but couldn’t find it. I would briefly look for the visor as I passed that spot for a few weeks afterwards but eventually bought a new helmet and gave the Giro to Allie, figuring she wouldn’t notice it was missing a visor, and had a dent in the shape of a tree.

While Allie and I trekked through woods last night I found my long lost visor. I assume it was mine; it’s a Giro visor that fits my helmet, 15 yards from the tree I hit. It’s the little things in life that delight me. It doesn’t take much. I quietly thanked Adam for his naïvety.

Log Splitter Race Report

2011-07-18T12:46:00.011-04:00

I really don’t do race reports, unless I don’t mean the report literally but rather use it to hint at something else just to amuse myself. And I’m not even sure the Log Splitter Challenge was a race. It was a clever 28 mile point to point course that went from North Higgins Lake to Hanson Hills, well marked, and someone even took the time to rake leaves off the wooded sections of single track. It looked like a race, I mean, there were number plates and it was timed. The problem is it had a fun, relaxed atmosphere, only one category, and free beer at the finish line. It was more like a very well organized group ride. I had fun but did poorly.

There was no official starting grid but rather three signs in the starting area that said “Fast”, “Medium”, and “Slow”. Everyone knew where they fell in the pecking order and apparently lined up accordingly because I was neither passed nor passed others more often than when the race is categorized by age and ability.

Looking at the riders and making a conscious decision where to line up at the start made me really consider what kind of racer I was. I down loaded my HRM data Friday and, just like my previous data dump, saw I only averaged 4 hours a week on the bike. I know I must ride at least 8 hours a week to be competitive. I haven’t taken training seriously for the last few years. I was embarrassed as I took my humble place in the group and quietly committed myself to kind of train.

But training takes time and motivation. My motivation comes and goes. And I have serious time management issues. I took Em to see the new Harry Potter movie Friday morning at 3:30 AM, dropped her off at home afterwards, and went straight to work. Friday night I drove up to Grayling after the kids were situated and only got a few hours of sleep before the race Saturday morning.

When I am hyper tired, things have a way of seeming more profound. In between Higgins Lake and Hanson Hills was a straight, flat stretch of paved road. I looked at the long line of riders in front of me and tried to quantify where I would be if I were more dedicated. If I lost those last 5 stubborn pounds, I might be up the road another 100 yards. If I rode 8 hours a week, maybe I would be up a quarter mile. If I lost weight, rode more, made an effort to do hard group rides, and followed some type of training plan, perhaps I would be up a mile. No matter how far up I envisioned myself, there would still be a long line of riders in front of me. Fast is so relative.

I am going to put my guilt on hold tonight and ride at Brighton just for fun.

Not Quite Home

2011-07-14T11:34:00.003-04:00

Back to work this week and back to reality. Em and Allie are back in Dance. They are dancing on the same nights so yesterday I had 3 hours to myself while I waited, not enough time to go back to my house in Brighton but enough time to ride in Canton.

Maybury is the only trail in the area so it made my choice easy, which was nice since I tend to be a little indecisive. By the time the girls start school in September, Maybury will be my local trail. And I am resolute to make the best of it.

Maybury is a cute trail, like a Girl Scout nature trail, without the nature. It’s a short trail which is convenient if you only want to ride for 30 minutes. And if you want a longer ride, you can do it several times. It doesn’t have any outdoorsy smells, maybe it does but it is buried under the scent of Ambercombie Fierce from pretty body builder Northville boys in matching Specialized kits.

The trail looks almost magical as the late afternoon sun sparkles off the broken reflectors lining the single track. The hills are small, indistinguishable as hills if not for the horde of pretty body builder Northville boys in matching Specialized kits on shinny new Specialized bikes still with pie pans, some with reflectors, who wait at the top to catch their breath. There are no sections of Maybury where you can crack the throttle to blow out the carbon yet the trail isn’t technical, just twisty and hard packed, like an impacted colon.

It was a nice ride. I finished with plenty of time to make it to the dance studio, even with the crazy congested Canton traffic. I loaded my bike on top of my truck, surrounded by new cars probably owned by pretty body builder Northville boys in freshly dry cleaned matching Specialized kits, right down to the socks; the sweet sweet smell of Ambercombie Fierce hanging gently in the air.

As I drove the girls home we passed a nursery lined with palm trees. Charming but they looked out of place. They don’t belong in Canton. It’s just not natural.

Backroads to Hell and Back

2011-07-06T14:55:00.004-04:00

I'm off work all week; a near perfect staycation. Lots of riding. I use to do a weekly road ride to Hell Michigan but the roads between here and there are horrible. This year I got a cross bike so I could substitute dirt backroads for broken up paved roads. It works out well, nice roads and no truck outside rear view mirrors whipping past my head.

Crisscrossing the backroads are freeride trails made by young hoodlums, hoodlums I can relate with. Making trails on public property is technically illegal but admirable, much more admirable than playing video games.

I noticed one of these trails right behind the Hamburg Police department. This must put the police in a conundrum. The thought of an overweight police officer on his department issued Trek chasing a group of trespassing 12 year old boys is a wonderful image. Apparently some lack luster detective came up with a different plan: trap the kids by posting a sign asking for their help to build a freeride course in a parking lot. Seriously? That's the best the Hamburg Police could come up with? I can't imagine any 12 year old boy would fall for such nonsense. The whole scenario cracked me up. My driver's license says I'm 45 but my heart thinks I'm still a teenager.

Bill, not 40-dollar Bill but someone I work with, took my Yamaha RD350LC this morning. Apparently Cyclo-Dan reads my blog because Bill burst into my office after going to Dan's bike shop last week and asked if it were true I own a Canadian RD350, and if I would sell it. Ah no. I explained how it was more than just a motorcycle, it is the last little flicker of my youth. Bill is one of the few people who understands such things, and he also understands the art and science of tuning 2-stroke motors. He called me earlier this week and suggested I give him the motorcycle for free. He would tune, ride, and store it until I wanted it back. I agreed to this scheme but as the truck left I felt like one of my children was leaving me for prep school. Anyway, now I can fit everything left at my house in the back of my truck. A big step along the path of simplifying my life.

Acting Manly

2011-06-27T23:55:00.001-04:00

Yesterday was the Pontiac race. A good course and a fairly big local race. I opted out, not because my result was predetermined (take the number of racers, divide by two, round down) but because I just wanted to enjoy riding this weekend at 129 BPM. And it was an excellent weekend of riding. But I feel a mild pang of guilt for not racing.

Today Allie and I set out to get crackle top coat nail polish. Crackle applied over a base coat makes an interesting design, like lacquer checking on a classic car painted by an incompetent painter. Apparently crackle is popular because the first few stores we went to were sold out. We finally found it at Justice. I sat down on a bench in front of the store.

Me: "Why don't I put the base coat on now so when we get home I can put on the crackle?" The truth is I wanted to ride and if I didn't have to wait for her nails to dry, I could.

Allie: "Right here? No Dad, that's not normal."

Me: "I always do your nails. And when have I tried to be normal?"

Allie, whispering in case anyone was listening: "But it's not... manly."

Me, whispering back: "What if I put it on in the car?"

Allie: "I guess that would be OK."

But the final product didn't look good. Allie took it off and we tried again, this time applying just a thin layer of crackle. No, it didn't look right either. Another try, this time only doing the tips with crackle. Still not the look she was after.

Finally Allie suggested we just do her nails in White and she sketched out some type of African print on a paper plate which I copied onto her nails. Brilliant.

By then it was dark out, which is fine; there will be plenty of time to ride when Allie no longer wants me to do her nails.

Horse of a Different Color

2011-06-22T14:15:00.006-04:00

My Tomac is as good as new; better, actually, since I hooked up a hyperdrive to my bike over the weekend. I was about to go riding yesterday when Allie reminded me I told her we would go horseback riding during her summer vacation. She had only been out of school for two days but, true to my word, I took her to a riding stable by our house. Of course I didn’t think we could just walk right up and go riding. I was wrong. We rode horses.

The stable is by the Brighton Req area and uses trails right next to the mountain bike single track. Brighton has been able to avoid the equestrian vs. mountain biker conflict that other areas seem to have by dividing the area in half: horses have the West side and bicycles the East. Nothing can fix a conflict as easily as a complete separation

We had a good time and I see the charm in horseback riding but it’s the kind of thing I am content doing, maybe, once a year. I know I looked out of place at the stable just as people who don’t ride bikes look out of place unloading their bicycles at the trail head. We all have a limited amount of time and energy; where we spend it is an important decision. Going forward, I will be less smug when I pass bicycles with reflectors and pie pans.

Pretty Perfect Day

2011-06-20T09:00:00.001-04:00

WickWerk Chainrings.

Wheels Manufacturing Ceramic bottom bracket.

Shimano cables and housings...

and pulleys.

Fresh Dot 3 fluid.

New Kenda Nevegal 1.95 in front, slightly used 2.0 Karma in back.

Lunch with Em and Allie at our favorite party store. Allie asked to go riding when we got home. A pretty perfect father's day.

WickWerks

2011-06-14T09:20:00.001-04:00

So after two seasons, my middle chainring was cooked and my outer chainring and bottom bracket were on their way out the door. It wasn’t as simple as just ordering new parts. The XTR bolt pattern is unique and the MSRP for a set of Shimano XTR chainrings is about $400. You can find new M970 XTR cranks complete with rings and bottom bracket for that price. M770 XT cranks cost just over $200 and have the same bearings as the XTR and only weigh 75 grams more. I have a dollar a gram rule, that is, if one dollar will save me a gram, then I will spend it. I have a two dollar a gram rule for rotating mass. My Tomac is slowly dumbing down because of this logic from full XTR to full XT as I replace worn parts. I started to order a set of XT cranks.

But getting rid of an otherwise perfectly good set of XTR cranks bothered me.

My bike came from the Kenda race team with these beautiful WickWerk chainrings. The teeth are tapered every couple inches to form ramps for crisp shifting. I adored these chainrings as much as any man can adore chainrings but I figured they were big, big money so I didn’t even consider buying a set until last week. I was surprised to find out a set of WickWerk chainrings only cost $140. This completely changed my calculations. I bought a set of WickWerk rings and a Wheels Manufacturing ceramic bearing bottom bracket for what I was going to pay for XT cranks.

I ordered the chainrings directly from WickWerks. I seemed to have a problem paying for them through PayPal so I emailed WickWerks. The owner of WickWerks emailed me back right away, verified the order was processed, and threw in an extra middle chainring just because. An extra middle chainring will allow me to squeeze out an additional season on these rings.

I’m happy; although, I find ceramic bearings a little pretentious, like titanium bolt kits. Worse than that, companies shamelessly market ceramic bearings to cyclists the way late night infommercials market weight loss supplements to desperate people looking for an easy fix, the kind of people that foolishly go from one easy fix that doesn’t work to the next because the thought of getting some type of benefit without investing the necessary effort is so gosh darn enticing. Pathetic. But I’m getting off point.

The ceramic bearings in my Black Flag wheelset didn’t seem to help me but this time it’s different. Price Point says “install one [Wheels Manufacturing bottom bracket] on your bike and you’ll swear you somehow hooked up a hyperdrive to your bike.” I’m not sure what hyperdrive means exactly, I think it is a concept in science fiction that refers to a way of traveling faster than light. Regardless, I’m sold. My days of being an average bike racer are over; I will thread this puppy into my bike and rocket past other racers at speeds that transcends understanding. That’s the plan.

Chainrings and Demigods

2011-06-07T09:41:00.007-04:00

My Tomac’s middle chainring is useless. I planned on replacing it before I left for Hanson Hills. An XTR chainring costs $180 which made me procrastinate. I found someone who had a used set that would have worked fine but we couldn’t seem to find a time to meet before I left for the race. I found a bike shop near the race that had a 32 tooth XTR chainring. I started to take off the old ring but discovered the chainring bolts take a torx instead of an allen wrench. I bought a ¼ inch drive torx bit at an ACO but stripped out one bolt. A local bike shop drill out the stripped bolt and I replaced it with a spare allen head bolt I keep on hand. Lost a second torx bolt but found another allen head bolt in the bottom of my tool box. Made another attempt to replace the chainring but realized the cranks have to come off. I have a XT crank tool but the XTR uses a different style. I couldn’t find an XTR tool anywhere near Grayling so I raced Hanson Hills in the big chainring.

Let’s compare my life to that of my older brothers’, just for grins.

Before I left for the race, Dave came by to take my Honda power-washer. He mentioned if I came across his 1964 AC Cobra slot car, he would like it. It was his favorite toy as a child and he had just gotten back from the East Coast where he bought a real 1964 AC Cobra. For $250,000. A quarter million dollars is a lot of money for a used car, that’s 1,388 XTR chainrings to put it in relatable terms. It wasn’t even assembled, just a trailer of parts that could be combined to make an original, number matching AC Cobra. Dave will have restored the car by August.

He has always been that way. Dave built a rat buggy when he was a teenager. Normally these types of cars are powered by a VW engine but he took the engine out of the front of a Cortina and used a crown adapter to modify it to fit in the back of his race car. The Cortina engine put out about twice the horse power of a VW. He beat pro teams.

Dave is a great brother but he set the bar too dam high.

Not too high for my other brother. Glen got the motorcycle in this picture from an insurance company back when he was 15. It was in a garage fire and considered totaled. He rebuilt it, got a salvage title, and patiently waited until he turned 16 so he could (legally) ride it. He is currently building an experimental airplane in his garage.

Tonight I will take another swing at replacing my middle chainring.

2011 Hanson Hills XC

2011-06-06T10:45:00.002-04:00

Yesterday was the Hanson Hills XC race, I finished in the middle of 45 - 49 Sport. I won here once, leading me to mistakenly believe I could race Expert. Denny and and his wife were at yesterday's race. We finished 6th and 7th. We have been friends for a long time but I don't typically race against him so this was kind of cool. As we made our way back to our age group we joked about how we have gotten old. It was a perfect weekend.

Yesterday

1986

1981

1971

Letting Go

2011-05-31T23:57:00.005-04:00

I took the day off work to get some things done around the house. Bill stopped by as I was taking the girls to school and asked if I was up for a ride later. I said I was always up for a ride. Apparently that sounded as non-committal as I intended so he had Randy text me. With that much peer pressure to ride with them, I caved. I almost squandered a perfect summer day cleaning the garage.

Yesterday was my third attempt to empty out the shed. Silly how hard it was for me to get rid of things I don't need. I decided to hang on to my Yamaha but everything else was on the chopping block. I left some items on the porch for Bill, including my 1932 Silver King. Bill belongs to this group called Freak Bike Nation. They build from scratch or heavily modify bicycles, much like people do with custom motorcycles; not my cup of tea but I appreciate their art work. I knew Bill would like to subvert the Silver King into something.

Bill loaded the bicycle tires and trailer hitches and saw horses into his truck. As he loaded the bicycle, he turned to me and said he would take my bicycle, and hang it from his garage rafters, but when I get my shit together, to come back for it because it is still my bicycle. It was very cool of him to say that. I feel bad he doesn't really comprehend how long he will be storing my bike.

Rain King

2011-05-29T20:48:00.002-04:00

I down loaded my heart rate files last night. Apparently I rode less than 4 hours a week in May. In addition to life's normal distractions, there has been this strange phenomenon where, when I ride alone, the simple act of snapping into my Shimano pedals causes it to rain. Not gentle Spring showers; torrential rains. Rivers crest their beds, parking lots are submerged. This has happened with alarming consistency. And I feel responsible.

So it is with this back story I rode Brighton today. Alone. It was an excellent ride. I thought about how silly it was to think I was causing the rain, like god had nothing better to do than mess with me.

Halfway through the ride, the skies turned green. Then tornado sirens went off. Allie called me from her friends to tell me they had taken cover because of the tornado warning. Nice.

As I rode home, I pictured the wind pulling me up into the sky, like Miss Almira Gulch. I survived.

Earlier in the day I took another shot at cleaning out the shed. Last week I tried but I think the problem was I had too much ambition: I tired to get rid of the motorcycle that was a integral part of my tumultuous youth. Today I just tried to clean the rafters of the shed, nothing but an old bicycle and used tires. 20 sets of used tires. No one needs 20 sets of tires, I get that, but you need more than one set. A set of studded tires for riding on ice. And 2.2 Kenda Nevegals for snow, 1.5 Continental Cross-Country Pros for mud, 1.9 Maxxis Maxlite 310 for non-technical hard pack conditions, Gearx slicks for riding on roads in the Spring before the trails thaw, and apparently 15 other reasons because I didn't end up throwing out any tires. I will revisit the need for tires and my Yamaha RD350 later.

I considered the bicycle. My dad's 1932 Silver King. It looks like a mountain bike but of course it would be another 40-some years until Fisher (or Ritchey or Cunningham or someone) invented the mountain bike. But still, the bike has an 18" aluminum frame, wishbone rear seat stay, double butted spokes, and front suspension. And, although this bike has tubes, my dad said he had friends back in the 30's who had tubeless tires on their bikes. Sure seems like a mountain bike to me but so many people agree the mountain bike was invented in 1979 that I am not going to stand up and argue the point. Maybe they didn't have dirt trails before Gary Fisher either. What do I know.

Putting a Price on Sentimental Value

2011-05-23T11:02:00.004-04:00

This weekend provided me a rare break in the weather and my schedule; I got a few excellent rides in. I didn’t even pretend to train. I ride at Pontiac Lakes every so often but I think yesterday was the first time I rode there at well below my lactate threshold. I never noticed what a pretty trail it is.

I intended to spend the weekend emptying out the house in anticipation of moving to Canton. I looked at some storage units in that area, $187 a month, much more expensive than the storage units here in Brighton. This changed my calculations for what I keep and what I pitch. I will likely live in an apartment for a year. I’m not sure the sum total of everything I own is worth the $2,244 it will cost me to store it for 12 months.

I started with the shed because I figured this would be the easiest place to start purging. It is full of things that are useful when you own a house: generator, mower, wheelbarrow, jack stands, ladders, etc. As I looked at the stuff in the shed, I realized it was more than just tools. My dad made the sawhorses for me. The shovels were from my Grandpa. Everything had a story and witness marks that meant something to me. My heart raced as I considered scrapping or craiglisting the stuff in the shed.

In the back of the shed was my 1982 Yamaha RD350LC. Wow. What do I do with this? It is much more than just a motorcycle. I bought it new, back in the olden days before Suzuki came out with the GSXR, when people were road racing GS550s. The RD350LC was a wonderful 2-stroke production race bike: light, fast, and could wheelie easier than my RM250. Best of all, it wasn’t legal in America, just the challenge for a smug teenager who though he was smarter than he was. I went to Canada to buy it. The US Customs agent tried to prevent me from bringing it across the border but I tied him up in the same bureaucracy that the government created to prevent people like me from importing bikes like that. I was happy to debate hydrocarbon parts per million and DOT standards with him. He finally granted me a onetime exemption from Federal emission and safety standards just to get me out of his office. Then I had to get a Michigan title and plate. The girl at the Secretary of State thought she could send me away empty handed. I am nothing if not persistent. I got a title and plate. I think I made her cry in the process.

I really like this motorcycle. But it isn’t worth $2,244. How do you put a price on sentimental value?

I was thinking about this as I took out the trash. I noticed Cindy threw out her wedding dress. It cost more than my motorcycle.

2011 Brighton Race, Blah

2011-05-15T17:13:00.010-04:00

Today was the Brighton Cross Country race. This was my "A" race since the trail fits my riding style and it's just a short bike ride away from my house. I finished 3rd which, at a glance, doesn't look bad at all. But there were only 4 people in Sport Single Speed; I guess the cold temperatures and rain kept away all but the dumbest racers. And I DNF'd. This will likely be my highest finish this season so I will proudly take the medal even though it doesn't really mean anything.

Actually today's race was part of a two day stage race but I skipped the races yesterday so I could go to the girls' dance competition. I will trade my Inglis for a recumbent before I miss another dance competition.

Allie spent Friday night at a friends. I told Em we could do anything she wanted. Anything. One should carefully consider signing a blank check like that. She asked to go to the Detroit Hoedown. Why couldn't she just ask for a pony. Em took my I-pod to Florida last month. She told me it was because I had Pearl Jam on it. I thought I was moving her past her country music phase.

I went to the Hoedown about 20 years ago. I didn't like country music back then either but I figured it would be a spectacle that could not be missed. I went with the right group of friends and we had a good time.

Either I have changed or the world has changed but regardless, I am not clever enough to string together the right combination of words to adequately describe the skankfest I stepped into.

I try to turn everything into a learning field trip. Em and I talked about how clothes make a statement and we tried to guess what statements the people at the Hoedown were making. I treated it like that "Scared Straight" program where kids that were headed down the wrong path spent a day listening to inmates in order to get a sense what prison was like. Em seemed horrified and I felt like I was making progress nudging her towards my way of thinking.

There were a few parents there with their kids. As parents, we all try to nudge our children into our own way of thinking. It is probably best we don't all succeed.

Mud, Sweat, and Beers

2011-05-07T21:20:00.007-04:00

Today was the Mud, Sweat, and Beers race. They didn’t have a Sport Single Speed class, and I knew I would have my ass handed to me in Open Single Speed, so I dropped down to Sport 45 – 49. I finished 13 out of 70 (I think), further proof I can have a good time and still finish poorly.

I had a little trouble finding my starting wave. Normally finding my group is easy; it's towards the front of the sea of racers and the bikes only have one gear. Saturday I had to work my way back until I found my age group. First the Single Speeders, then teens, next guys in their 20’s, further back men in their 30’s. I finally came to a group of older men with grey goatees. Their eyes looked tired.

I am likely delusional and I have an irrational (?) fear of aging but I scanned their faces and could not believe I was that old. What the hell happened? I mean, I don’t feel old. I like to think I am really immature for my age. My skin tingled and heart raced, like when you start to go over the bars but at the last second save it only to immediately hit something else and jettison from the bike, and as you are soaring across the sky you have a moment of hyper-clarity. It’s funny the things you consider in a moment like this. Perhaps it was just a clerical error on my birth certificate. I thought about how Shirley Temple found out her mom had been lying to her and the public about Shirley's age for years. Maybe I wasn’t old. Maybe this was all just a horrible misunderstanding.

I sheepishly asked a gray goateed racer if this was 45 – 49 Sport, like I was walking into a Leper Colony for the first time. “No” he said, “Those are the old guys behind us.”

It was a good race but I felt guilty for going. I missed my kids' dance competition last weekend so I could race at Fort Custer, leaving me riddled with guilt. Last night I left the kids before Cindy got home so I could drive to Traverse City early. Allie didn't want me to go. I told her she could come with me. She decided to stay home but as I drove up North, Allie kept shooting me with arrows made of pointed texts telling me how selfish I was, very well thought out texts for a 10 year old but her spelling is atrocious. They hurt because they're true.

Fort Custer: Licking Wounds and Changing Gears

2011-05-02T09:49:00.003-04:00

I finished 8th out of 17 in Sport Single Speed yesterday, another reminder of just how remarkably average I am. A hard crash and resulting mechanical pretty much ended the race for me on the first lap but things were falling apart before then. I have been training. Almost. I don’t think it is a physical thing. I mean, I think my heart is fine; it just isn’t into racing anymore. It was a perfect weekend despite a disappointing finish.

Next weekend is Mud, Sweat, and Beers. I’m pre-registered for Open Single Speed. I will try to get moved down to 45 – 50 Sport geared. Tonight I will replace the chain, cassette, pedals, and brake pads on my Tomac. I am going to order Stan’s valve stems and sealant and finally make the switch to tubeless. I am slow to jump on band wagons.

Before bicycles I was into motorcycles. I had a wonderful collection. But it seemed the two best days of owning any particular motorcycle was the day I bought it and the day I sold it. It isn’t that way with bicycles. The days in between are just as good. With that said, I was giddy when I got my Tomac. I never had a high-end bicycle before. I bought this bike used from the Kenda race team. It worked as perfect as I knew it would. I’m still smitten. Every relationship should be like that.

Florida Photo Essay, Of Sorts

2011-04-24T20:22:00.005-04:00

It was an excellent vacation in Florida.

We stayed at a nice resort. Actually swanky by my humble standards. I had a great time with the girls,

but...

they seemed content just watching the first season of Criminal Minds on DVD in our room. I found myself reminding them they were in Florida.

I missed watching the Paris-Roubaix since I was on vacation,

but...

I got to ride on cobble stones, that are used in Florida often for reasons that aren't real clear to me, just like the Paris-Roubaix, except I was riding at tempo, and it was 92 and sunny.

Because it is perpetually summer in Florida there were many sports cars and motorcycles that left me with a pang of jealousy,

but...

There are also F150s pelted by shotguns,

and people living out of cars

and horrible cars that came out of Detroit in the 80's that brutal salty winters mercifully killed off in Michigan; they cling on to life in Florida.

Somehow our stuff expanded while in Florida. I bought a Yakima Rocket Box in Orlando so the girls could lay in the back of the truck for the ride home,

but...

The stuff expanded again so the girls still had to curl up in the fetal position as they slept.

We drove straight through from Florida. I had time this afternoon to ride the trails for the first time this year. Michigan changed a lot in the two weeks I was gone. The trees are budding and the trails are dry. It was 59 and sunny. Beautiful.

I timed myself like I do every year at the beginning of the season. 39:29, 5 minutes slower than last year. Oh crap. I hope this is because of sleep deprivation and tired legs from two weeks of solid riding, not the deflection point where my results will start to go down hill,

but...

I'm 45. It is silly to get my chamois up in a bunch about my race results that have always been iffy at best. It was a great ride. I am as excited about riding this year as I have ever been. This is going to be a good summer even if (when) I get clobbered at Fort Custer next weekend.

My Parents Rock

2011-04-18T11:02:00.000-04:00

My mom just bought me the new Foo Fighters CD. I feel like I am 15 again, back when my mom bought my friends and me tickets for a Nazareth concert. I told her Nazareth was a Christian rock band. She may have gotten the tickets regardless but I didn't want to take a chance.

I was looking at my dad's driver's license and see he has no restrictions, not even corrective lenses. He also still has his cycle endorsement. I am pretty sure he is the oldest person in Michigan who can still legally ride a motorcycle. That's not to say he would ride a motorcycle. I assume he keeps his endorsement because he isn't ready to acknowledge that stage of his life is over. I get it.

This ends our vacation with my parents. I'm not sure our Anglo-Saxon bodies can take any more beach time. We are off to spend the next week at Disney. I will ride when the girls are at the pool. It is difficult to ride around the Disney Resort but I make do: sprint from the Pluto section of the parking lot to the Goofy section, rest to Donald Duck then sprint to the Daisy Duck section then repeat.

I put the girls' toys back up on the shelves in my parent's garage, toys my parents have kept for 10 years. Inflatable rafts, butterfly nets, toy cell phones, bubbles, sidewalk chalk. I know this is the last time my girls will play with these toys but I put them back in storage because I am not ready to acknowledge that stage of my life is over.

Father of Mine

2011-04-15T02:33:00.006-04:00

I broke a temple off my riding glasses. My dad was eager to repair it. A normal person would just have epoxied the broken pieces back together. Not my dad. He drilled a small hole in the center of the broken ends then inserted and glued a thin metal pin. He explained that the length of the pin needed to be twice the circumference of the temple. I think this rule applies more to repairing something like, say, the Hoover Dam but my dad is an Engineer's Engineer. I am a hack.

Everything my dad repairs is like that. He bolted a metal plate on the door to prevent someone from getting to the deadbolt, which is fine. But then he did something I think only he would do; he painted the section that covers the door to match the door, the section that covers the wall to match the wall, and he painted a line down the center to match the gap between the door and the wall. I wish I had his work ethic.

Anyway, another perfect day of riding. Warm and low humidity. There was a slight breeze that seemed to change so I always had a tail wind. My parents live a short bike ride from the Ocean. I rode along the cost for 5 hours today, occasionally stopping at a Starbucks for an Ice Latte and slice of pumpkin bread. A Navy pilot on a carbon fiber BMC caught up and asked to ride with me. We rode together for about 20 miles and talked about bicycles and bike racing and his time in the Middle East. I don't think I could have scripted a better vacation.

No, I take back what I said about wanting my dad's work ethic. That would be a heavy cross to bare.

Florida and Absolute Truths

2011-04-13T21:37:00.009-04:00

It took me 3 days to drive from Michigan to my parent's house in Florida. I took the scenic route and stopped to ride along the way; just a fantastic trip. I got a water bottle in Ohio; best souvenir ever. Friday I pick up the girls from the airport.

As I was getting ready to ride this morning, my mom reached under the sink for the sport sunblock I bought for riding during a previous vacation down here. She told me she called the company and was told it lasts for 10 years, even put the expiration date on the container, typical mom. I must have gotten it 11 years ago because it was expired, another reminder how little really changes. My mom was pretty lax when I was young but now she seems very concerned about my safety. She told me to ware my helmet and ride on the sidewalk when ever possible. She's my mom and I love her so I patiently listened as she explained how traffic circles work and other things I guess I need to know.

I like Florida but riding with the vehicular traffic down here is strange. The motorcycles have training wheels and I rode for six hours today during which time not a single person gave me the finger. Though friendly, the drivers in Florida are just a little random. They don't take stop signs or red lights seriously. Rules here aren't absolutes, merely suggestions. This is an ideology I can accept.

Florida 2011

2011-04-07T14:16:00.004-04:00

I'm packed and ready for two weeks in Florida; two weeks of quality time with my family (and bicycle).

I have gone to Florida every year since I was a child. It looks like time laps photography in my mind's eye as I consider how the trips have evolved. I have vivid memories of driving down with my parents. My dad treated the drive more like a quest than a vacation; driving straight through and well above posted speed limits. Stopping to pee in between fuel stops was out of a question. He would rather me catheterize myself in the back seat than pull over.

My dad and I would go to Florida throughout the year to buy and flip mussel cars: leave Michigan on Friday, buy the car on Saturday, come back on Sunday, sell on Monday. He made a killing selling old cars, but I think he did it for the hunt.

In college I went to Daytona for Spring Break. My memory from these trips is a little blurry. That whole period of my life is a little blurry.

I went to training camps in Florida a few times when the kids were too young to miss me. Honestly I tried but god, in his infinite wisdom, decided not to give me the watts necessary to be successful at road racing. I couldn’t bring myself to shaving my legs anyway.

There was a sweet spot when the girls were at that perfect age to stay in constant amazement, amazement that was contagious; a very small window I didn't take for granted.

Emilie is taking her friend with her this year. Em is very sweet and would never say this out loud, but I know she is looking forward to the day she can go to Florida without me. I know this reality because where she is now I once was. Where I am now, she will be sooner than she could possibly realize. The trick is taking nothing for granted.

If I Could Borrow Mister Peabody's WABAC Machine

2011-03-31T23:39:00.000-04:00

I did intervals tonight. I'm doing a pretty good job following my training plan this year. For some reason which isn't entirely clear to me, I document every ride.

On April 1st 1994 I rode at Maybury. I averaged 7.6 MPH. I was in the prime of my life, hadn't made any catastrophic mistakes yet, had full use of both legs, and had lots of time to ride. And it took me 1:36 to ride 12.3 miles of non-technical, flat single track? Really?

If I could borrow Mister Peabody's WABAC time machine, I would go back 17 years, walk right up to me in the Maybury parking lot, and bitch slap myself for squandering my youth.

Yakima Racks and the Lowest Common Denominator Part II

2011-03-27T01:16:00.009-04:00

What's even dumber than forgetting your bike in on top of your car (more than once) is crushing your finger between the liftgate and the roof while replacing the damaged Yakima rack.

Nail and bone broke in half. Evening in the ER and an appointment to see an Orthopedic Surgeon; terribly inconvenient. Allie and her girlfriend had to come with me to the hospital. They kept texting from the waiting room to tell me they were bored.

The doctor said it was a good thing I wasn't wearing a ring. I had to think about that for a bit.

Yakima Racks and the Lowest Common Denominator

2011-03-20T16:22:00.002-04:00

Yakima used to make a warning sign that would pop up when a vehicle slowed below 10 mph, saying something like: "toys on top". I clearly remember wondering what kind of moron would need a waring sign to remind them their bikes were on their roof and why Yakima Engineers considered the lowest common denominator of bicyclists when making accessory items.

I think about this every so often, like when the McDonald's drive through warning sign hit my Felt in North Carolina, or last Fall when my garage hit my Tomac.

I thought about it again today as I took parts from two broken Yakima racks and made one good rack. I am fool enough to make a mess but resourceful enough to clean it up. That right there could be my motto.

The Life and Times of Rocky Raccoon

2011-03-13T21:26:00.002-04:00

Today was my first ride on the Kona Major One. The bike came with a 38 x 18 gear. I never rode a single-speed cross bike before but this seemed silly low. I changed it to 42 x 16 without even test riding it. 42 x 16 was spot on. I also changed the seat post, seat, tires, and pedals. I wanted to change the stem too but I also wanted to ride and I was starting to squander the extra hour of daylight savings. It was an excellent ride; gray and cold but, in a sure sign spring is coming, I had to bunny hop over a lot of raccoon carcasses.

As any middle schooler who vaguely paid attention in science class knows, the life expediency of a male raccoon in the wild is 3.1 years. What their teachers spare them is why this is so. You see, life is very unforgiving for the non-dominant male raccoons. Raccoons tend to reach their peak around 2 1/2 years of age (25 in human years). Life is good for a two and a half year old male raccoon. He gets his choice of cribs and female raccoons come knocking on his door. He goes into hibernation with nothing but blue skies ahead only to emerge in March as a 3 year old (45 and balding in human years). He gets his ass kicked a few times, assesses his situation, and decides the most humane thing he can do is throw himself in front of an unsuspecting motorist.

At least that is what I think happens. I don't really know. I'm just an Engineer. And I didn't really pay attention in middle school.

Daylight Savings Time

2011-03-11T13:31:00.001-05:00

Daylight Savings Time will begin at 2 a.m. on Sunday, leaving people whining about their biological clocks and feeling entitled to accidentally walk into work an hour late Monday morning.

I have spent the last 6 months anxiously waiting for Daylight Savings because, starting next week, riding after work will be possible. Theoretically. But this is Michigan. I followed a snowplow into work this morning at well below the posted speeds. Snowplows are tricky to pass. I walked into work late. And cold.

All this after reading Mary’s blog over breakfast; a blog filled with wonderful pictures of rides under sunny blue California skies. That’s fine. There are signs that winter is coming to an end. I will be in Traverse City for the Mud, Sweat, and Beers race in May. And following snowplows will be like a dream where you wake up and quickly forget what it was that you dreamt, like watching your breath vapor disappear as quickly as you exhale in winter. I’m as optimistic as ever.

Parts and Stuff

2011-03-04T12:50:00.004-05:00

Last night I got a box of stuff from Jenson USA. I’m excited. It’s just like Christmas in that I can sincerely say everything is exactly what I wanted, but actually mean it. I got shorts to replace the ones that are worn to the point of being inappropriate, a CamelBak bladder and a cleaning kit because I am a germaphobe, and an Easton carbon fiber riser handlebar to replace the flat bar on my Inglis SS. Uhhhh…new bars.

My Inglis needed a riser bar. Right before I sold my Felt, I swapped its nice titanium Merlin flat bar with the cheap, pre-vintage Profile riser bar from my Inglis, but the Inglis never felt quite right after that. It was hard parting with my Felt; there was no way I was going to let it go with the Merlin handlebar, this very rare, beautiful bar. And an incredibly strong bar too, stronger than the “low clearance” warning sign at a McDonald’s drive through. This is the kind of handlebar you could hang on your living room wall as a conversation piece, like an original M. C. Escher print. Definitely not the kind of bar I would leave on a bike I was selling to a guy who has no real interest in bikes; who only bought it to pose with.

That and I wasn’t sure I actually owned the Merlin handlebar. Kevin loaned it to me 5 or 6 years ago. It’s not clear how long one can borrow something from a friend before they can claim ownership. The rules are a little murky.

2011 Race Schedule

2011-03-03T11:26:00.001-05:00

I got into the Iceman. Barely. I was registering for a few people which added to the stress every time the system crashed, which was often. It was an emotional roller coaster. I was getting a constant stream of emails and texts asking if I was having any luck. I felt like I was back in high school, trying to win free Rush tickets from the local radio station. For anyone who couldn't get in, people will be selling their spots on the MMBA website classifieds right before the dead line (6/1/11) to transfer.

I guess this is the time when racers with blogs are supposed to list their schedule. Everyone is optimistic in March. I really wanted to do the Yankee Springs and Pontiac races in April but I will be in Florida. I'll have my bike with me, you know, to get in some good hill training before the season starts.

I plan on doing Ft. Custer on 5/1, Blood, Sweat, and Beers on 5/7, and the Brighton Stage Race on 5/14 and 5/15. For the rest of the summer I will do a race here or there just for fun, I’m thinking Hanson Hills on 6/5, Pontiac on 6/26, Boyne on 7/9, Big M on 8/7, Maybury on 8/20, and the Log Splitter race in September if they have this race again.

In the back of my mind I'm thinking about doing some cyclo-cross races in the fall. I am determined to see what the fuss is all about. I tried some CX races before, completely unprepared, and had no fun what so ever. As it turns out, it's prudent to show up to a cyclo-cross race with some type of fitness. Go figure.

2011 Iceman Registration Opens 3/1/11

2011-02-25T10:42:00.004-05:00

Just another public service announcement. Iceman registration opens at 10:00 AM EST on March 1st. The race itself is on November 5th. I assume it will sell out quickly since the race is limited to 3,700 people. Limited? That number seems crazy high for a post season race in Michigan. It’s smart to set up a Swift account before March since registration gets a little crazy. I’m not sure the course can handle 3,700 racers. The registration website can’t. But it’s worth all the drama (and $75) to get in.

The Iceman race is in Traverse City. TC is beautiful. If one were to fly into the Cherry Capital Airport from out of state, and didn’t bother to look down below at the passing frozen wasteland that is the rest of Michigan, they would get the wrong impression of our state. TC is hilly and wooded and has the Lake Michigan shoreline. Down town Traverse City has interesting shops and cool bars; just a good atmosphere. If TC had any use for automotive engineers, I would never leave.

New Relationship

2011-02-22T18:48:00.007-05:00

I bought a new bike today. And she's gorgeous. Scandium tubing and clean tig welds. By "new" I of course mean used. The fact that she had someone in her life before me isn't discouraging in the least. There could be a few lingering issues from her past but nothing I can't fix.

I almost bought this bike; a very nice carbon fiber BH CX bike with Ultegra components that's on sale at an amazing price at Speed Goat. I put the cursor on the "buy" icon, and gently taped the mouse, just gentle enough not to buy it. I would leave my desk to get a coffee, come back, and tap the mouse again. I couldn't quite bring myself to buy it. On paper it looked like a better choice but it just didn't feel right. Buying a bicycle is an emotional decision, not a rational one.

My new Kona is a single speed, not because cyclo-cross isn't challenging enough with a geared bike but because I like single speeds. Single speeds are clean and sincere. And since I am going to be racing my single speed mountain bike this season, it almost made sense to buy a single speed cross bike to train on. That's what Cyclo-Dan said when I told him I was looking at this bike. He knew I needed a nudge.

The bike came with an extra fixed gear wheelset. I could ride around down town Ann Arbor with all the hipsters on fixies, and maybe get that tattoo I want.

All right then, back to something a little closer to reality. We just got a foot of snow so she will stay in the garage for a few more weeks. I keep going out there to gawk. The previous owner sold her to buy a custom Quiring single speed ti cross bike. I doubt he is more excited than me.

Almost Training

2011-02-13T21:42:00.015-05:00

Earlier this winter, John left a comment on one of my posts suggesting I get Chris Carmichael's book: The Time-Crunched Cyclist. John got fast last year so I figured I should at least look at this book. The premise of The Time-Crunched Cyclist is that it is better to carefully follow a high intensity, low volume (6 hours a week) plan than to partially follow a more traditional, high volume schedule. Hard to argue that. Riding more than 6 hours a week is just not feasible for me. I have been doing a half ass job following Joe Friel's book, The Cyclist's Training Bible, for the last few years. I am going to try following Carmichael's plan to the letter.

I start next week. I have been increasing my training effort these last few weeks in preparation for this. Today I took a test to establish training intensity ranges; two 8 minute all out efforts. I'm still doing this half ass, I should be using a power tap to record my watts. I'm just not that serious about training. Anyway, a flawed plan is better than no plan at all. I am going to use heart rate as my basis for intensity. I averaged 169/170 BPM for each attempt. Last year I figured my lactate threshold was around 170 so no surprises there.

OK, now that I publicly stated my plan, I'm obligated to follow it. Or go back and do some serious editing later. It will hurt either way.

The Essence of Being Average

2011-02-07T10:20:00.011-05:00

I just down loaded a month worth of HRM files. Hum… I could have sworn I have been riding more than this. I did forget my HRM for a few rides and I have been spending more time on strength training than I have in past seasons but regardless, I need to pick it up a bit. I am going to start working out in the morning to squeeze in a little more time lifting and on the bike. I have never been real successful getting in quality workouts at 4 AM. Just making coffee this early is a chore.

I am planning on doing the Ragin’ Raisin race on April 16th. A 36 mile road race on dirt roads this early in the season sounds horrible; however, I need it on my schedule to give me a clearer sense of urgency. And the starting line is riding distance from my house.

This race has a team competition option. Teams made up of women or people over 35 have points added to their over results to level the playing field. 35? Really? I would give more than I will openly admit to be 35 again. 35 year olds are kids really, sophomores in the game of life, still capable of generating significant watts.

This is the first time I have been offered a handout because I am, I guess, disadvantaged. Silly, that's all.

Finding Things To Eat At 173 BPM

2011-01-31T22:22:00.009-05:00

Still trying to find a good way to consume carbohydrates while riding near my lactate threshold. Shot Bloks don’t work. I heard good things about them but never was a fan. Tonight it occurred to me that every time I tried them previously, they were either frozen solid or coated in sand from bouncing around in my jersey pocket. They are much better dirt free and at room temperature but still difficult to eat at 173 BPM.

I will burn about 1100 calories an hour at race pace but I guess I can only digest about 50 grams of carbohydrate (200 calories) in that time. Trying to process fat or protein from food at that effort is less effective. I think I will stick to shorter races and not worry about eating, maybe jump on the cyclo-cross bandwagon.

Even if I can't sort out my caloric intake, I remain defiantly optimistic about the upcoming season. In 8 short weeks, frogs will be chirping and trails should be rideable. I need about 8 weeks to find some type of fitness. Riding the trainer works well because I am not distracted by any enjoyment caused from riding outside. I am feeling stronger and, fortunately, I have no real information from a powertap or lactate test to tell me otherwise. Apparently I thrive on blind optimism, mind numbing boredom, and fuzzy observations. I’m OK with that.

PEDs

2011-01-26T12:33:00.016-05:00

Last summer Velo News published an article about an amateur cyclist who was suspended from racing by the USADA for using Erythropoietin. As luck would have it, he was from the same state, had a similar first name, raced in the same age group, and had results only slightly less mediocre than me. His response clearly, and I believe sincerely, apologized for using EPO and explained how Erythropoietin affected his Hematacrit and wattage. I don’t know him but Neal seems like a normal guy that had higher expectations than what his ability allowed. Accepting our natural abilities isn’t even close to being OK with them.

I’m reading A Dog In A Hat. This is an excellent autobiography by Joe Perkin, an American who raced in Europe during the time of Greg LeMond. One of the things I found interesting in this book wasn’t so much the prevalence of performance enhancing drugs in the pro peloton but rather the pier pressure Joe felt to take PEDs. At one point Joe claimed he took Captagon, even though he didn’t, just to appease his team director. The book left me feeling a little self-righteous and silly questioning drug use in pro cycling, like questioning synthetic testosterone use in pro bodybuilding. Hell, what do I know

A recent Sport Illustrated article on Lance Armstrong seems to show he used PEDs, or not, you have to be a lawyer to make heads or tails out of all the conflicting evidence and bitter accusations. As a matter of full disclosure, I am a fan of Lance Armstrong and remain optimistic that he raced clean. My sister was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer in 1999. Lance’s rise back to the top of the sport that year gave me hope. She died right after the 1999 Tour. Expectations and optimism are fickle things

**********1/27/11 edit **********

So yesterday I gave my incredibly naive insight into PEDs in pro cycling. Today I see Alberto Contador will likely be suspended by Spain's cycling federation because minute traces of Clenbuterol were found in his system last year. I give. There seems to be no solution. Maybe. Let me humbly just throw something out there. I propose the UCI takes a lesson from those fun loving good ol' boys that drag race in the NHRA and provide different classes for pros to compete in: Stock (no performance enhancing drugs what so ever), Modified (blood doping, synthetic testosterone, and stimulants allowed), and Unlimited (anything goes). I mean, it's just a suggestion. As long as it doesn't lead to climate change, I'm cool with it.

Worst Day Of The Year (Ride)

2011-01-23T22:31:00.005-05:00

Today was the annual Worst Day Of The Year Ride. Statistically, this week is the coldest of the year. I skipped the ride last year because it rained and the trails were muddy, and it seemed a little disingenuous to call a day the "worst" when there was little or no chance of dieing of hypothermia. It was 0 degrees F this morning, without considering the wind chill. I suppose that whole global warming fad is over. It warmed up to 10 degrees by the time the ride started. But it was sunny and not terribly cold in the woods. A good ride, an interesting mix of urban riding and snow covered trails in Ann Arbor.

My last time on frozen trails I used worn 1.9 Kenda Karmas. Sketchy. I used 2.20 Specialized tires today. They were very steady on the frozen trails. I heard it takes 7 years to master a sport. Shoot, I should have mastered mountain biking more than twice by now. I am still figuring it out. I'm still trying to figure me out.

Deciding What To Keep

2011-01-17T21:52:00.011-05:00

I am taking a more methodical approach to training this winter than I have in the past. I'm even experimenting with drinks and gels in an effort to find a way to consume 50 grams of carbohydrate in an hour while riding very close to my lactate threshold without getting sick. I don't think I can. My best bet seems to be vanilla bean gu. I like vanilla bean gu. I swear I could put that stuff on my morning bagel.

About 10 years ago I coaxed Denny into mountain biking. He wasn't looking so good towards the end of our first ride so I gave him a gu: "These are great Den, just squeeze it in your mouth, take a gulp of water, and hang on," like somehow it would magically propel him up the hill.

It didn't propel him up the hill but he stuck with the sport, and he has amassed a much nicer collection of bicycles than I will ever own. It's nice to ride with him a few times a year.

I waited at my parents' condo while the girls were at dance the other night. I looked through my mom's photographs and found this classic picture of Denny and me. The bike we were washing was his but I bought it from him for $5. I'm not sure who owned it when my mom took this picture. My parents hung on to the bike until recently. It's funny the things you keep.

Tattoos

2011-01-10T14:51:00.012-05:00

I think I have a solid training plan for this year. Quickly scanning my posts from previous winters, I see I always seem to have a solid training plan. I think I will actually follow it this year, another common theme. Regardless, I am riding my trainer with purpose. Splendid but not much to blog about, so instead I will post about biker girl tattoos.

I have no qualms about my fondness of tattoos on girls who ride mountain bikes. I have hinted around at this in a few posts. As a middle aged father of two, I wouldn’t ogle over a biker girl’s tattoos for any longer than I would gawk at the sun because I really try to stay this side of socially appropriate. Anyway, I am way too conservative and uptight to pull off an ogle.

I just stole this picture from Bike Snob. I imagine if most guys are like me, the first thing that strikes them when they see this picture is the ankle tattoo. Very nice, but I am constantly disappointed when I hear the stories behind girls' tatoos.

The girl who cuts my hair just got a tattoo of a butterfly on her forearm. I asked what it meant. I was expecting an introspective story about how it symbolized rebirth. She said it was just a modification to an earlier tattoo, it use to say “Jim” but her new boyfriend wasn’t down with that.

There was a thread on the Michigan Mountain Bike Association board about a girl looking for suggestions for her first tattoo. Another girl warned her to give the design serious consideration; she explained how she got a Yin and yang ankle tattoo to symbolize how polar forces are interconnected but as it faded, it looked like “69”, which means something completely different.

The subject of biker girl tattoos came up during the Team Tree Farm night ride two weeks ago (as it often does during group rides). A girl who rides with them came from California. She had a neck tattoo that said: “Cali-Girl”. But the first “i” looked just like an “l”, again changing the meaning considerably.

Em turned 13 last week. She often watches Miami Ink on TLC. I’m a nervous wreck. If she ever considers a tattoo, I hope she thinks it through. Regret leaves an indelible mark.

Sugar and Spice

2011-01-03T17:49:00.006-05:00

This was a significant Christmas in that it was the first year where the girls didn’t get any toys that come with a million little pieces tie wired to the packaging, another sign they are growing up. Allie got Mario Cart for the Wii. This is the first time I have been addicted to a video game since I left my Atari behind with my parents shortly after high school.

My parents never pushed me towards any activity but they never stood in my way either so I have no regrets. I secretly try to nudge my girls towards racing bicycles. They show little or no interest in this; I have to be so subtle they don’t even notice. I casually brought up the idea of racing to Emilie. She was on her computer and didn’t give me eye contact or even a patronizing “hum.” More of what I say is meaning less, or meaningless. I accept this reality; however, I see pictures of Kim and M. E. Rider riding with their dads and I feel a twinge of jealousy.

Last night Em asked me to set up her bike on the trainer. She rode for 30 minutes. I don’t want to make anything out of this that it’s not but still, I am encouraged.

Tree Farm

2010-12-29T09:20:00.005-05:00

I had a feeling I fractured a rib during the Abominable Snowman Ride a few weeks ago but I didn’t go to my doctor because I figured there was nothing he could do. I broke down and went last week. He said I fractured a rib but there was nothing he could do. That right there wasted a morning in my life I can’t have back. He also told me to avoid crashing for the next 8 to 10 weeks.

Last night I did a group ride with Team Tree Farm; a fast night ride on a technical snow covered trail with worn 1.9 Kenda Karmas and clipless pedals. Nothing could go wrong with this plan. It was a hoot.

It was tempting to stay home and ride the trainer in the comfort of my house but the thing is, there were people in Ohio doing a figure 8 crit on a frozen pond last night. And registration has opened for the Yankee Springs TT. December is too early for things to fall apart.

Only A Fool Learns From His Own Mistakes

2010-12-18T16:04:00.003-05:00

I usually don't learn from my mistakes.

I went to spinning this morning. I have mixed feelings. It is a good workout. The instructor is very motivational; I guess last Saturday someone had chest pains and had to go to the hospital. Kelly is a good instructor in the same way a good interrogator can get people to admit to stuff they didn't even do.

Let me recap December. Two weeks ago I went to spinning and was disgusted by the cesspool of humanity around me and vowed to stick to riding trails on the weekends.

True to my word, last Saturday I rode outside. It was so cold my CamleBak froze and my snot covered mittens slipped off the bars. I smacked the ground so hard I thought I broke a rib because it hurt to breathe; coughing almost made my knees buckle. I think I'm OK; I can breathe now without wincing, pretty much.

Thursday I went to spinning again. As I was leaving Jim called. Jim was my auto shop partner in high school and is now my occasional hunting buddy.

Me: "Hey Jim."

Jim: "What are you up to?"

Me: "Just finished a spinning class."

[Pause]

Jim: "You're taking a spinning class?"

Me: "Yeah, not real manly but too much snow to ride outside."

[Pause]

Jim: "Seriously?"

Me: "And it's dark before I get home from work. So what have you been up to?"

Jim: "Like, do any other guys take that class?"

Me: "A few, mainly fit women. Has Brandon had a wrestling meet yet?"

Jim: "So...do you take the class just to meet girls because dude, you really need to get laid."

Me: "That's not really how I look at it, it's good exercise that's all. Done Christmas shopping?"

Jim: "I'm getting concerned..."

[Pause]

Jim: "Are you making a rug? Bro, you're turning into a chick."

Me: "What the hell does that even mean?"

Jim: "Right, that would be weaving."

Me: "Wait, not spinning like making yarn, spinning is an aerobics class where you use stationary bikes."

Jim: "That's not much better Neil."

After spinning this morning I went to Target to get Allie a new Caboodle for her makeup. Maybe I am becoming a chick.

Abominable Snowman Ride

2010-12-11T13:33:00.009-05:00

Last week I committed myself to ride outside on the weekends and not whine about it. Noble plans are easy to make when the task itself is off in the future. Today was the annual Abominable Snowman Ride.

Bill calls...

Bill: "Are you riding or are you hiding?"

Me: "What, oh yeah, of course I'm riding. Pfft, are you kidding? You want to ride.....right?"

Bill: "Yeah, Abominable Snowman Ride, you want to swing by on your way there to pick me up?"

Me: "Uh, sure. You're serious about riding right? I mean, it's 19 degrees."

Another in a long line of perfect rides. The trail was icy but fun. I went down pretty hard but it had nothing to do with the ice; I was a foot or two above the ground when things came unraveled. My snot covered mitten slipped off the grip. I grabbed for the bars and found the grip just as I was landing but by then my ass lost the seat and a foot lost a pedal.

Falling face first on a pile of snow covered rocks is fine. The problem is Bill rounded the corner just in time to witness the tail end of my landing.

Bill: "You're on the wrong side of the bike."

Nice.

Befuddled Santa Part II

2010-12-09T19:38:00.002-05:00

I took a couple days off work this week. I had vacation days to burn and I thought I could get a solid start to my 2011 training by taking advantage of the trails before they are buried under snow. I didn't ride much. My days filled with tasks so quickly that I was left wondering how I ever had time for work.

Last year Allison asked Santa for a code activated deadbolt for her bedroom and, even though it made no sense, he did not disappoint. This year she asked for an I-Touch. Santa spent the day trying to set it up with her songs and configuring it to her email, facebook, and our wireless router. He has a good heart but is technologically inept. He spent the morning just trying to load I-Tunes on his computer.

The Santa I gave my list to 30-some years ago would not have put up with these shenanigans. He was a stick German Engineer and wonderfully practical when it came to gifts. Had I asked for an I-Touch, and if they were invented, he would have pointed out that there were plenty of MP3 players out there that play music for much less. Anyway, I had to hide my Rush albums under the bed like most boys hide their Playboys. My daughters have a gentler and less practical Santa.

Santa really did come through when I was 11. I wanted a BMX bike, one I could race. Every bicycle I had up to that point was pulled out of the neighbors' trash by Santa. But Christmas of '78 Santa left me a beautiful high end Raleigh Rampar. Back then it was popular to drill out any possibly unnecessary metal, around the chain ring, brake levers, frame gussets, etc. My bike was carefully drilled out by a bike shop mechanic, metallic paint and gold anodized parts. That was 33 years ago. I still think about it every Christmas.

Spinning

2010-12-04T12:37:00.004-05:00

Last night Allie and I watched the Suite Life on Deck Christmas special.  Zack is the cool, slacker twin who gets all the cute girls.  Cody is the studious brother who suffers the brunt of their mishaps, normally caused by Zack.  Everyone was making fun of Cody because he had to dress up like a Christmas elf. Cody complains: "Why do I always have to be the elf?" to which someone replies: "Because you are the only one with their own elf tights." Cody says, slowly and in frustration, as if he had explained this several times already: "They are not tights, they are compression pants, for my spinning class."

I went to the gym this morning.  Most of the people in the gym early on a Saturday take fitness somewhat seriously. The men tend to go to the free-weight area. I went to the spinning class with the fit women and a few older men in matching kits. I'm not sure which group I identify with better, neither actually.

Riding in tight quarters with Lady Gaga blaring over the speakers is a bit much at 8:00 AM but spinning is an easy way to go anaerobic when I would normally be drinking coffee and checking email.  15 minutes into the class, a huge man walks in and takes the bike in between me and a fan. He has a lot of cologne on. I am already at 173 BPM so this is horrible. I have an amazing sense of smell. I can smell girls before I see or hear them on the trails. I actually smell large spinning guy's scent transition from over the top cologne to a complex stench of rotten milk and dead and bloated animal. As the eternal optimist, I consider if there is some useful purpose for this. I think about how the four student demonstrators were shot at Kent State in 1970, and how the police could have dispersed the crowd in a somewhat more humane manner if they took a dozen large spinning guys and set up fans behind them. Then I became terribly concerned that the other people in the spinning class downwind might think it was me wafting over towards them. And I thought about how much like Cody I am. And if compression pants might actually help.

Bill has recovered from his meniscus surgery and started riding again. Cold weather does not discourage him. I think I might stick to riding trails with Bill this winter.

Relative and Peer Pressure

2010-11-27T21:15:00.068-05:00

Cindy and I both love our families but neither of us wanted to deal with them this Thanksgiving. We spent the holiday with Renee and her friends and family. Renee makes a warm, nonjudgmental surrogate family, like the Island of Misfit Toys. After Thanksgiving dinner, Renee, Randy, Bob, and I agreed to do the Second Annual Black Friday Ride at Rolling Hills.

This seemed a better idea when we were sharing a bottle of wine around the warm glow of the fire than when I was loading up my bike in the damp, grey, subfreezing, windy morning. But the thing is, Randy and Renee are so hard core, I couldn't back out. As I was leaving I text'd Randy: "Are you riding?" He responded something like: "It's pretty cold, think I will spend the morning in bed."

I don't like doing group rides where I don't know anyone. The ride was in Ypsilanti so I figured I might be on my own. As I was unloading my bike I hear: "Hey Neil." It was Cyclo Dan, the rolling encyclopedia of bicycle stuff. He can spend an entire ride talking about the art and science of wheel building. He was on a beautiful titanium Quiring 69er (29" wheel in front, 26 in back), so beautiful it actually made the hair stand up on my neck. The last I knew, he had a Trek 69er, a bike he adored. We rode together and he talked about geometry and how the 26/29 is the best design ever. He has so much bicycling knowledge that it is hard to argue with him, but I suspect he just likes saying "69er".

It was a no drop ride, which normally would be cool because I am typically the one getting dropped; however, this was a very slow bunch. I almost toppled over we were going so slow. I am not arrogant, it's just blocking a whole morning off to ride is a huge deal for me. People don't have to be fast, I get it. But if you are going so slow that your 29" wheels cannot generate any gyroscopic affect, then those wheels better not have Chris King Disc hubs because that is just disrespectful to Chris King. Despite creeping along at 5 mph, we dropped someone. I don't know how this was even possible. They wanted to go look for him. I suggested the deer hunters would find him, if not this season then next. We went back after him. It was a good ride. When will I realize every ride is a good ride. Getting out of the house is always the trick.

Em ran a 5 K race Friday night. I am so proud. She was spending the weekend with friends and they all decided to do this race. It is amazing what peer pressure can do. The race was right before a light parade in down town Howell so there were lots of people lining the street. It was cold. Allie and I drank hot chocolate trying to stave off hypothermia. Allie insisted on waiting until we saw Emilie.

I didn't know how Emilie would respond when she ran by with her friends. She will be 13 in January so I'm not cool anymore. She stopped when she saw me, walked over and gave me a hug, like when a racer in the Tour de France passes through his home town. It made standing in the cold and the last 12 years so worth it.

Denny called earlier in the week and asked me to go riding with him at Pontiac this morning. It seemed a better idea when I was talking to him on the phone than when I was loading up my bike in the damp, grey, subfreezing, windy morning. Another perfect ride.

Off Season

2010-11-21T20:27:00.001-05:00

I rode at Maybury today. It is one of the few trails near me that doesn't allow deer hunting. I am not a hunter but I don't want to mess things up for those who are. I understand others have rights to state land even if how we choose to use that land doesn't always fit together well. It is a slippery slope when you pick and choose who's sovereignty to infringe on. That and I don't want to get shot.

Now that my race season (I'm rolling my eyes) is over, I'm starting to follow some type of actual training plan. When the weather is perfect and it stays light past 4:30, I just kind of meander along, riding with no focus at all. This shit makes no sense. I suppose right now I can look down the road to April and, in my little yet optimistic mind, comprehend doing well and wrap said little and optimistic mind around the tasks I need to do to get there. I'm always optimistic in November; carrying that over to Spring is the trick. I have a good feeling about next year.

Thanksgiving Special Edition

2010-11-16T09:44:00.000-05:00

I rode before work today. And I have been dragging my tired old soul to the gym. Yes, I am a racerwannabe.

Dear Hunter Sonnet

2010-11-15T15:59:00.014-05:00

That shadowless time of year where cold winds dost blow,
When weekday riding outside is nye,
Early night hides me inside, stationary and slow,
Ushered in by the Energy Act of '05.
The trail, its sultry sweet voice like a Siren's call
Whereon hunters fall upon like Autumn's cold rains,
As they have done, like I once did, early every Fall,
Descending from Taylor and Drayton Plains.
I could ride on roads or write a bitter sonnet instead,
Maybe ride dark trails woken up by lights,
Since a bad ride is better than a good ride shot dead,
And worse than dieing is infringing on rights.
Rights and sovereignty left scattered in the sand
Takes the shape of discarded Budweiser cans.

2010 Iceman

2010-11-08T13:08:00.006-05:00

That child who refused to smile, first row 6 columns across, is me. Third row down third column across is Denny. A couple years later Denny would crash in front of my house and lose his two front teeth. I kept thinking about that as I raced on the back of his tandem Sunday at the Iceman. We finished 14th out of 30 in the tandem class, 2:46. I'm satisfied. I averaged 164 BPM, which I believe is what I averaged at the Yankee Springs TT. I think that's all I'm capable of anymore.

I felt completely out of control, probably because I was. I just pedaled and didn't worry about things that were out of my hands. There is probably a metaphor that hints at some larger truth somewhere in all this.

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One Trick Pony

2010-11-02T18:01:00.008-04:00

I had today off work. Voting day I guess. I don't understand it but thank you to my brothers and sisters of the UAW. I spent the day reading email, making sure the kids played nice together, and raking leafs. It was nice having Tuesday off from my normal routine of reading email, making sure the technicians work well together, and cleaning up messes that then leaves a vacuum which is filled with almost identical messes.

It was a perfect Fall day. I got a ride in. An easy ride. A ride that concludes my taper for the Iceman; a taper that started, hell I don't know, about halfway through the Yankee Springs Time Trial in April. I am going into the Iceman well rested and with no overuse injuries what so ever.

As I was leaving to ride, Emilie looked up from the TV and said: "You got a new jersey?"

I said: "Yes I did, it's from Marshall's," and strutted down the hallway as if it were a catwalk, turn, hip out, and over my shoulder I continued: "And it was 80% off."

Em looks back at the TV and says to herself in her typical early-adolescent sarcastic tone: "Hum, I wonder why."

Somethings don't change. Actually very little really changes. Kids get older, people walk in and out of my life, I replace my bike every couple years, my time fluctuates a minute or two either way at the Iceman but life is amazingly the same. I'm not saying this as if it were a bad thing.

Singlespeed World Championship, Sort Of

2010-10-30T23:45:00.063-04:00

Today was the self-proclaimed Singlespeed World Championship. I'm not sure how official it is; in fact, the race brochure stated, several times, it wasn't even a race. The winner took home the coveted Singlespeed World Champion beer mug. It looked like a race from where I was sitting.

I didn't do the race. I was on the fence this morning. A singlespeed race at the Poto the week before Iceman seems a perfect venue but I wasn't in a racing mood. I wasn't even in a riding mood. This is odd. I haven't been riding lately but it hasn't been lack of desire, just collateral damage from a hectic schedule. Kevin and I took off on our geared bikes a little while after the racers.

The Singlspeed World Championship is an annual race but this year it was a fund raiser for Jason Lummis. Jason is a local pro who represents Michigan well when he races out of state. I don't know him personally but I heard he is a great guy. Jason was hit by a truck and left for dead in a ditch while riding his bike home from work about a month ago. It's not clear if he will ever be the same. What is clear is today when I was quietly whining to myself about the grey skies, cold temperature, and my lack of fitness, Jason was home in a full body cast. I thought about Jason a lot on this ride, and how I complain about silly things, and how easily I lose prospective. It was a good ride and, as always, I came back with a better attitude than I left with.

I went right from the ride to pick up the girls from dance. Em wanted to go to a friend's house in Canton then for me to take them to a haunted house after dark. This left me with 3 hours to spend with Allie, not quite enough time to go back to Brighton but a lot of time to spend in Canton. Allie wanted to go to Jungle Java like we did in previous years when we had some time to kill. I wasn't half way through my cup of coffee and Allie wanted to leave. She is getting a little old for a play structure. Kids don't get old all at once, it come in little waves. We went shopping.

One of the stores we went to was Marshall's, a store that gets other stores' overstock items. 99.9% of what they have is crap. In between all the crap is often a jewel or two. The jewels they had today were Columbia Highroad cycling jerseys, windbreakers, vests, and jackets. I picked up on a long sleeve jersey, normally $70 on sale for $15. I left the store with a better attitude than I walked in with. Finding cycling apparel at 80% off MSRP while looking for clothes for your daughter can do that.

Diabolical Plan

2010-10-23T14:16:00.009-04:00

I just reviewed the 2010 Iceman website looking for help with logistics. They had some good information, like it might be cold in Northern Michigan in November so bring winter riding gear. Here is my favorite quote from the website:

And, oh by the way... 27 miles of hard riding, especially if the weather is nasty, is not only hard on your ride, but physically demanding as well. Ride your bike regularly for at least eight weeks before Iceman.

Oh crap, Iceman is two weeks away, now I read their training suggestions. I have done this race since 1996 (I think) and never have I been so unprepared. This is fine, the year was just a little off, it's not the beginning of a downward spiral. Still, I am screwed. I will look back someday at all my times and this one will look pathetic. Worse than that, every time I ride with a new group of people next summer, someone will casually ask what my Iceman time was. I will take a deep breath and tell them with no good way to explain it away and they will relegate me to the back of the group.

It was raining today so I set up the trainer. I have 6 weeks of training to get in today before I pick up the girls from dance at 4:00.

But, I have a plan, a way to get out of turning in a poor time at this year's Iceman without anyone noticing.

Denny recently asked me to race his tandem with him. I wasn't his first choice. His wife has a family obligation during the Iceman weekend. His second choice, Paul, fortunately ruptured a disc in his back last week leaving the position of stoker open for me. Racing on the back of a tandem is actually terrifying but I can blame our iffy time on Denny. Denny, like so many people recently, has fully jumped on the cross bandwagon so he is in good shape right now but that doesn't matter, next year during a group ride when someone asks me my time, I will tell them but immediately explain I was on a tandem, in a tone that suggests I had to lug my partner across all 27 miles. Brilliant. Diabolical and brilliant. I am so glad no one reads my blog.

Silence

2010-10-10T21:15:00.009-04:00

Yesterday was beautiful. I had a lite schedule but got up early to ride because life has taught me if I don't ride early, I often squander my opportunity. My dad called before I rode and asked to take me out for breakfast. On my way back from breakfast I got a call from work. Apparently a VP had an issue with the cars I had waiting for the media to drive at the Royal Park Hotel in Rochester. I went to see what I could do. I hate working on cars in hotel parking lots. I went to a local Home Depot, bought a rivet gun, and helped the techs put the cars back together as best we could.

I should have stayed later but I had to pick up the girls from dance. We are living with one foot in Brighton and one foot in Canton. I went to Canton to pick up the girls. They each wanted to spend the night at friends in that area. It kills me when they choose friends over me even though I would have done the same thing when I was their age; a decision that doesn't even require a lot of thought. I delivered them to their friends' houses and drove back to Brighton alone.

It was quiet ride home. I don't like silence. I stopped by Bill's house to get a light I loaned him and to talk him into doing a night ride. He will normally ride whenever I ask but he hurt his knee and was going in for a MRI Monday. A night ride alone sounded pretty pathetic but it seemed my best option.

Sally doesn't bark, she doesn't even realize she is a dog. She growls in a deep, deliberate, fluctuating tone. It sounds like she is talking. But Sally had nothing to say when I got home. It was very quiet.

I spent an hour trying different lighting configurations on my bike in the dead silence of my garage. I feel like a drunk on roller skates when I ride at night and thought a few extra lights might help. I took off on my ride and made it a block from home when Emilie texted and asked for me to come pick her up. It was 10:00 pm when I got to her friend's house in Canton. I was glad to have her back. She hopped in the car and asked if she could lay the seat down and go to sleep. I drove back to Brighton in silence.

Unremarkable

2010-09-30T19:40:00.004-04:00

Today was beautiful. I was overcome with the desire to play hooky, but it was just not practical. I had meetings to go to, spreadsheets to fill in, cars to build. I went to meetings and filled in spreadsheets and built cars and came to terms with the reality that I would end the year with two weeks of unused vacation days.

Cindy called and said she was taking Emilie to the hospital because Em was having chest pains. My heart broke. Em removed her sticky little EKG pads and turned them into finger puppets.

The physician's assistant came in. She was younger than me. This is getting common but still makes me uneasy. She told me Emilie's X-rays were "unremarkable". Uh what? She repeated, slowly, and clearly, as if I were deaf or just dumb: "UN-RE-MARK-ABLE". No, I have a pretty good grasp of the English language, just an odd word to choose. She could have said "normal" and saved us both 10 seconds of our lives. She apparently does not have kids because if she did, she would understand that there is nothing unremarkable about our own children. It was just a virus in Emilie's rib cage, fairly common I guess. She gave Em a shot in the butt and sent us on our way.

I took Em home, snuck back into work before the next meeting, sped through my emails like Evelin Wood, and no one noticed I was ever gone. I left work on time, which is seriously frowned on ever since GM went bankrupt, and made it to the MMBA group ride tonight.

I was dropped, even worse than last week. First by the fast riders, and then by the Fred's, and then I was on my own. Seems my twice a week training plan still isn't yielding the results I was hoping for. Apparently one must start off with some type of athletic disposition for it to work. It's unfair, that's all.

I haven't been riding but that's not to say it has been a bad season. Spending a Sunday at a cider mill is hardly a harsh sentence. Watching the kids grow up is nice. I'm looking forward to Iceman. Riding can wait.

The Art of Living in Denial

2010-09-24T11:46:00.004-04:00

Last night was the Poto MMBA group ride. I struggled and took chances and went down pretty hard. I don’t care about the road rash, the body has an amazing ability to repair itself, I care that I went through yet another pair of shorts. I am down to a mere two pair that are appropriate to wear in public. I can tell I lost a lot of skin; I had to rip the bed sheets off my thigh this morning like a band-aid. It’s best to do it quickly and with authority.

I forgot lights so I didn’t do the North loop. I rode the last part of the trail by myself. In this slow, quiet rhythm, I contemplated if my poor performance had a medical explanation. I normally blame my waning performance on weight gain but fortunately I have been under so much stress this year that I have no appetite at all, very convenient.

Maybe my arteries are restricted. It’s not my fault, it’s McDonalds’. Perhaps I need to go in for a routine angioplasty to crush fatty deposits in my blood vessels. The increase blood flow should catapult me up hills.

Maybe I have chronic pneumonia. Those poor microscopic air filled alveoli in my lungs are under water, or whatever fluid that is which fills one’s lungs. Sure, I haven’t noticed any symptoms but when it comes to overlooking ailments, few can live in denial better than me. I went to the doctors two years ago because I crashed pretty good and landed on my knee. The arthropod looks at the x-ray and points out a partially calcified fracture at the bottom of the image. He asks if I realized I fractured my tibulae the previous summer. Uh no, I did not notice. He asks: “Well, did you crash your bike last year too?” I didn’t even know how to respond.

Maybe my testosterone level is low. I was tested before and my levels were high, off the charts actually; however, I’m not in my 30’s anymore. Again, nobody can live in repudiation better than me but I see myself in pictures and shutter and realize I am not immune to ravishes of old age. I might go get tested. Maybe pick up a six pack of EPO while I’m there.

Maybe my poor performance is my fault, the result of only riding twice a week, and typically uninspired rides at that. No, that doesn’t even make sense.

Maybe it’s my bike…

Triple Trail Challenge

2010-09-18T16:23:00.014-04:00

Today was the annual Triple Trail Challenge, a very cool ride that uses a combination of the Poto, Waterloo (which is normally closed to bicycles), and the Lakeland trails to make a 47 mile loop. Tree Fort Bikes supplied the corn roast, chili, and beer afterwards, very nice.

Randy, Renee, and I pedaled over to meet Brad and his friends who were waiting for us at the trail. Just as we reached them it started to pour. Brad and his friends took off on the ride; Randy, Renee, and I went back to wait it out. Typically Randy and Renee seem completely unaffected by crappy weather but they spent the last two weekends racing in a cold down pour and just didn't feel like riding in the rain again today. Shew.

After an hour of waiting they decided to go home, I waited around for a bit longer because I wanted to buy a Brighton Bulldog jersey from someone who was doing the ride. I just wanted the jersey, apparently I joined a club. That's cool. The sun came out shortly after Randy and Renee left. Poto is sandy so it perks wonderfully, the trail was fine. I only did the Poto section of the ride since I was taking off about an hour after everyone else.

I like the atmosphere of this ride, it is almost like a race but without the pressure. And lots of vintage bikes with rigid forks and V-brakes and non-racey bicyclist which is a refreshing change. There are the over the top people with shinny new carbon-fiber Superflys that will crawl into a cold outdoor shower with their bikes but mostly just people who like bicycling. It's like an alternate universe where I seem almost normal.

Almost Done With Base Miles

2010-09-13T07:47:00.008-04:00

Iceman is 8 weeks away and I seem to be still stuck in my base building phase, without the quantity of junk miles that normally go into this phase. That's fine, I got a lot out of riding this season even if fitness wasn't one of those things. I spent some quality time this week playing complicated games of hide and go seek that require the use of walkie talkies. I still don't understand all the rules.

I rode with Bill and Jeremy yesterday, first time on a bike since Traverse City. Since we ride to the trail from our neighborhood, we don't enter the trail from the trail head. We paused before we hopped on the trail to take a drink, start our HRMs, and respond to texts. A couple riders went by as we were getting situated, then two girls flew by, Bill noticed and took off. I rolled my eyes, one girl had a SSE kit and the other one had a Dark Horse kit. I don't know who they were but it doesn't matter, I'm pretty sure all the girls on those teams are faster than me. Those kits are like the chastity slashes the girls wore in the book 1984: symbolic clothing that made it clear we were not going to reach them. We never did see them again but we passed a lot of guys, guys who had their egos run over by SSE and Dark Horse girl.

Earlier in the day I went grocery shopping by myself. I had a simple task: get frozen sugar cookie dough, SOS pads, laundry detergent, and snacks, nothing that took a GED to figure out. I go grocery shopping all the time but normally my responsibility is limited to pushing the cart and paying. I am becoming more independent, today I was on my own. I was baffled. The pre-cut cookie dough didn't look very fall-like so I tried to figure out what type of frosting to buy to accessorize it; I have no idea. For some reason they don't put SOS pads by dish soap, that would make it too easy I suppose.

Laundry detergent...I never noticed there were so many to choose from. I wanted Tide, but did I want fresh scent, mountain scent, with bleach alternative or stain lifting formula?

And snacks for the kids' lunches? How have I never bothered to notice what they like. My parents would never let me have snacks made with enriched flour, niacin, thiamine mononitrate, or partially hydrogenated palm kernel. I try to be a little more lenient, it's a delicate balance at best.

But the groceries were nothing compared to me trying to help Em pick out makeup last night. I have no idea. I didn't even know what to say, or where to start. I'm not dumb, I just have a limited number of brain cells and perhaps I have been overly selective with what I put in each one. Em was understanding but I could tell she was disappointed with me. "Just wait up front dad." Ouch.

Traverse City Extravaganza Part II

2010-09-06T00:11:00.019-04:00

My vacation in Traverse City is reaching its end. I like it here but I am glad I wasn't raised in TC because if I were, any other place I lived from that point on would seem a little, I don't know, ordinary.

As always, Tom and Tammy were the perfect hosts.

Thursday I rode with the Cherry Capital Cycling Club near the VASA trails. Don led the group on unmarked trails. He picked out an amazing route. It is encouraging to ride with an older man who isn't afraid to go down, a couple times actually. It was a leisurely pace until it got dark and we turned on our lights, then they flew, or maybe I am just slow in the dark, either way I struggled to keep up. I missed a turn off and when I got to a straight away I realized I was alone. I accepted the fact that some hunter was going to fine my lost, frozen corpse in November but Don came back and shepherded me towards our group, very kind indeed, typical of everyone I met this weekend.

Renee and Randy came up late Thursday. Friday I wanted to show them where Don had taken us the night before but I knew I would get lost. We rode the normal VASA trail and I got lost, not because I am an idiot because even an idiot couldn't get lost on perhaps the best marked trail ever but because I tend to get lost in my own thoughts. Often I end up back at the trail head and have little or no memory of the previous hour. It's a problem for sure. I made a wrong turn Friday and met back up with them at the truck.

Saturday we did the Logsplitter Challenge. I am legally required to give Diane Ursu credit for this picture; however, somehow through lighting and other tomfoolery, she manipulated this image to imply it was much more pleasant outside than it really was. The weather held out for my previous two rides; however, Saturday looked bad. Right before the race started the sun came out, so quickly and so dramatically that as I walked into the bathroom, someone walked out, looked up, and asked: "How long was I in there?" This was fortunate because the extent of my winter riding gear was a set of foot warmers apparently left in my bag from the Iceman last year. It rained towards the end of the race but by then my tolerance for pain was way up.

I didn't really want to do this race. I planned on subtly talking Renee and Randy out of it but before I could plant this seed, Randy mentioned that Bob was coming up to do the race too. With three people planning on racing I kept my mouth shut. It was a good race, well marked and a fun atmosphere. My goal was to finish in the middle of the pack. I finished 29th out of 58. Mission accomplished I guess. I met Ali and Di at the race. I was kind of star struck actually.

The best part of the weekend was riding with Emilie and her girlfriends. When Em was young we often rode single track on our tandem. She was fearless and loved it but as she got older she lost interest in riding, that's fine, she is her own person. As soon as we got on the trail Sunday, Em said her braces were cold. She must have been smiling. Sweet.

The VASA trail was a little long for three adolescent girls so I took them on a short cut, and got lost. Getting lost with three giddy girls (four if you count Renee) isn't a problem, it's an adventure. We ended up on a road that dead ended at an oil pump. Renee and the girls climbed up. Irresponsible but fun. Most fun has an element of irresponsibility.

Em followed me on the trail. I would give advice but I was careful not to sound like I was telling her what to do. I suggested she look where she wanted to go, not at the sand and roots and rocks. Em thought about this for a minute and said: "That would be a good quote for life, 'look where you want to go, not at the obstacles'." That is exactly what I would have said if I was just a little more clever than I am.

Kevin, my original riding partner from 1990-something and the person who introduced me to mountain biking, happened to be in Traverse City this weekend too. He brought his bike and google Earth maps of the Iceman course. We met Monday and did half the Iceman. For the third ride this weekend, the rain held off until after we were done riding and had the bikes loaded up. An excellent way to end an excellent holiday.

Second Annual Traverse City Extravaganza

2010-08-31T12:10:00.003-04:00

Cool nights, leafs on the deck, Bill and I did a night ride last weekend…it’s the end of summer. I handle autumn no better now than when I was 8 and really didn’t want to go back to school. My summer swan song will be our second annual Labor Day trip to Traverse City and, possibly, the Logsplitter Mountainbike Challenge Race. The challenge part of the race is not getting lost, a challenge which my friends and I all failed miserably at last year.

Allie and I went grocery shopping last night for snacks for the Labor Day weekend that will start Wednesday night. I let her pick out everything on her own; I was careful not to encourage or discourage any choice, I just walked along, neutral, like Switzerland. Allie can make the right decisions without any input from me, encouraging but with a hint of sadness at the same time.

Paul and Laura decided against going to TC this year. That’s a pity. They are a fun couple and such good cooks, they made the kind of meals you lay in bed at night afterwards just thinking about. We are on our own this year, I imagine we will just put Vanilla Bean Gu on store bought bagels and call it good. Bon Appétit.

Now to try and find some locals that can show us the Iceman course. I tried to pick out the course on my own before and got lost. I am often lost.

The Art of Being Un-Cool

2010-08-28T10:32:00.026-04:00

Nothing blog worthy this week really. Tuesday I rode Poto with Randy, Rob, and Renee. The ride was interesting. We left later than planed, it took longer than planed, and it got dark earlier than planed. We did the last few miles in the dark. Pretty fun actually. Rob and I went pretty hard then we would stop and wait for Randy and Renee. I never talked to Rob before. He is maybe 21 and the polar opposite of me. He works enough to save a little money then goes hiking in a foreign country. He has been through Europe and South America. He told me stories, like when he tried to leave a bar in Peru (?) and the police wouldn't let him because it was too dangerous at night. He meets people along the way that let him stay at their house and show him around. Very cool. He is planning to go to Antarctica next, with no real plan as I understand it, just head south until he gets there. When I was 16, Mike and I drove my truck to Colorado with no real plan, just headed west, spending the nights at rest stops. Antarctica is a completely different animal.

I hit and killed a deer Wednesday and felt awful. I was getting ready for bed when Emilie asked for a strawberry banana smoothie from McDonald's. She just got braces and apparently smoothies are the only things she can eat. I couldn't let her starve so I went and when I was almost home a deer leaped out from the woods and ran into the side of my truck.

I normally drive very careful around my house. The woods are loaded with deer. I noticed the cool, adolescent deer egg each other on to play this game of chicken where they wait at the side of the road for cars to come by, leap out in front of the unsuspecting motorist at the last second, and watch the cars swerve. They then prance back into the woods and have a good laugh. I think they post video clips of these encounters on their facebook pages. The deer that ran into me miscalculated.

Yesterday I picked up Emilie from a friend's house. She asked to stop by the Apple Store on our way home. Apparently all the cool kids use MACs. The Apple Store was giving a class on how to use the I-Phone to a half dozen retired people, all looking very baffled. The Trekkie trying to teach them how to text had a hint of frustration in his voice. I think the problem wasn't they couldn't text, I think they didn't understand why they would want to. I felt very cutting edge compared to them, then realized I was the only person there who doesn't have an I-Phone. Maybe, just maybe, I am not only un-cool by "free-spirited lets go to Antarctica on a whim" standards, but also by "hip adolescent deer" and "retired and living in Novi" standards. This could be worse than I thought.

If I Had It To Do All Over Again

2010-08-22T10:34:00.007-04:00

The girls were with Cindy all week in Traverse City, leaving a horribly empty vacuum in my evenings, filled slightly with riding all I wanted. By Thursday my legs felt like goo. I didn't think I had it in me to do the Thursday night MMBA group ride so I rode with Randy, Rob, and Bill instead. I think they all did their first races this year so I figured I should have no trouble keeping up. I would have struggled if they didn't ware themselves out by crashing so much. Ptfff...young bucks, except Bill, he's my age, and managed to stay upright this ride.

Saturday was the Maybury race. I had to work in the morning but took my single speed with me so I could do the race on the way home. It rained right before I left and this race didn't mean enough for me to do it in less than ideal conditions. The significance here was I intended to race. I don't think god intended me to be a racer; instead of making me in his own image, he made me a fat little kid, always the last one picked for baseball, the atrocities of which I haven't forgotten.

Saturday afternoon I met Cindy in the parking lot of Caribou Coffee to get the kids. Not to sound all introspective or anything but on the way to pick them up I considered if I would have lived my life differently if I could have a do-over. I made a lot of dumb mistakes. It's a silly thing to dwell on.

The kids ran to me in the parking lot and everything seemed normal again. We went into the coffee shop. I get coffee all the time, a pretty mundane experience really, but not with kids, they make it an adventure. Allie somehow got hot chocolate in her nose. God I love them.

Em asked me to take her to a friend's house when we got home. Allie asked to have a bicycle race, a very complicated race with ambiguous rules that seemed to change on a whim. Allison won. But I should point out that since I didn't know the course, I had to follow her which made passing pretty much impossible. And I haven't really been training this season. Why do I feel so compelled to explain my poor race results.

After the race, Allie asked to go swimming. We didn't have our suites or towels but that didn't curb her enthusiasm.

Which leads me back to my original question: would I live my life, a life filled with unforgivable mistakes, differently if I had the chance? Absolutely not.

Changing Gears

2010-08-16T11:18:00.006-04:00

Sunday morning I changed my 16 tooth gear (left over from the Bloomer race) to something a little smaller in case I do the race at Maybury this weekend. The Surly gear did less damage to the aluminum cassette spline than my Chris King gear. I'm starting to dig Surly. My affection for Surly started when I saw they integrated a bottle opener into the single speed tug nut I bought earlier this season.

As if I needed another reason to dislike discs, I had to remove the rear caliper off my Inglis in order to slide the wheel back through the horizontal drop outs. No big deal yesterday but it would be very inconvenient if the rear flats during a race. And tires do flat no matter what set up you have. My front tube went flat yesterday as a matter of fact.

My Tomac came with Stans but somehow during its trip from Colorado to Michigan, the inside of the sidewalls bonded themselves together; I could not get them separated. I ended up cutting the new Kenda Karmas in half to get them off the rims, covering myself in this sticky Stans goo in the process. Are tubeless necessary? Really? I converted the wheelset back to tubes, yes, I know, I'm a Ludwig.

I don't give a lot of consideration to the type of tubes I use. I bought 20 Bontrager tubes this Spring, not that I thought Bontrager really had anything to do with them. My flat yesterday was caused by a broken valve stem. That was the third time I had a Bontrager valve stem rip. I'm expecting to have this problem 17 more times. I don't think Keith really knows what's going on down here. I don't think he really cares. I imagine he lost all concern for his good name when he sold it to Trek.

After I got the gear and brake and tube issues sorted out, I went to Maybury with Bill. It is kind of crazy trail to race on. The ground is hard like cement but with a thin layer of talc on top. It is a very tight, twisty, and flat course. The race next week won't be so much about one's ability to go fast but rather their willingness to. It is a time trial, probably because it's narrow single track with few places to pass. Every so often the course offers two or three sections of trail to choose from, this is where a lot of the passing will happen. One choice will be smooth, the other choices you just take the weight off the front wheel, go hard, and hope for the best. Hoping for the best is a fickle strategy. My strategy will be to go slow, wait for the other single speeders to break their collar bones, then carefully maneuver around them. This strategy is slightly more fickle than choosing the technical passing lanes but we go to the races with the skill sets we have, not the ones we want.

Pithy Princess

2010-08-14T17:57:00.013-04:00

Typical Saturday evening, I'm sitting on the deck with Allison, we are grilling salmon for dinner or lunch or something. She is instant messaging on her notebook and talking to Cami on her phone. She keeps warning Cami that she is on speaker, as if Cam might say something I'm not suppose to hear. I tried to muster support from Emilie and Allie to go to the Brighton Art Fair tonight; they are happy just hanging around the house.

I timed myself at Brighton today, 37:28. To put this in perspective, I did a 35:27 as I came out of hibernation in March. Lord things have fallen apart this season. Bill and I are going to pre-ride Maybury tomorrow. I'm thinking about doing a race there next week. I will get my ass kicked but I feel I need to line up in a race soon; it's better to be uncompetitive than not competing at all.

Allie and I went swimming after work yesterday. I will miss the lakes and mountain bike trails around our home when the house sells, if it sells. We have been trying since May and haven't receive one offer, frustrating. I guess the cold reality is my house is worth less now than when I bought it 13 years ago. The plan was to move to Canton after we sell the house. Emilie had her heart set on starting school in Canton.

I asked Em to go to the lake with Allie and me yesterday. Em decided she would rather stay in her un-air conditioned bedroom and text her friends. I pointed out that she could text at the lake but she was happy where she was. It is so hard seeing her slip away into adolescents. I knew this day would come, it's normal and I realize I became coolly indifferent towards my parents at that age but still, I'm not ready for it. I thought playing endless games of Pretty Pretty Princess with her when she was four would somehow buy me a few extra years.

On the way back from the lake with Allie, I rented some scary movies for Em and I to watch. Not my favorite genre but she has developed this infatuation with horror films. I won't allow the gory movies but try to pick out scary ones that are appropriate for a 12 year old. I am still not comfortable with this but we talk about them beforehand, like you would in English class. I liked English classes. I liked school. I got my masters just for fun really. Em and I talk about the classics and put them in perspective to the time they were written.

Frankenstein was written in 1818, a few years after Luigi Galuani published his discovery of bioelectricity that demonstrated that electricity was the medium by which nerve cells passed signals to the muscles.

Vampires have been folklore since maybe prehistoric times. Dracula was written in 1897. The move came out in 1938, after the roaring 20's when sex was becoming more open and America had a syphilis outbreak, at least that is what I told Em. As as dad I can say things with authority that I'm not sure of. Vampires are slightly erotic but they kill you. I think people may have linked syphilis to open sexuality like they would death to Dracula in the 30's. Incidentally, we rented Interview With a Vampire last week and Em pointed out how fake it was; it contradicted Full Moon.

Dr. Jeckell and Mr. Hyde came out in 1931 during the American Prohibition; there are some parallels there.

Plan 9 From Outer Space came out in 1958 (even cheesy by 1950's standards, so cheesy it's great). This movie was about aliens protecting the universe by preventing humans from creating a doomsday weapon, much like the Atom bomb.

Night of the Living Dead came out in 1968 when people were use to seeing horrific pictures on their TVs from Vietnam. Also there is a Civil Rights element to this movie, a movie that I decided was too much for Em. Maybe next year.

But the real reason I picked up a scary movie for Em on the way home from the lake was much more selfish. Em curls up like a little child when we watch them, her face pressed tightly in my arm. She won't let me leave her side, much like when she was young. Scary movies lets me experience Em as a child for just a little bit longer. And I'm not ready to let go.

Understanding God and Math

2010-08-09T09:26:00.011-04:00

Yesterday was the Pontiac race. A nice course but I crossed it off my list earlier this year. I almost added it back last week when Randy encouraged me to do this race with him and Rob. I tend to cave with the slightest amount of peer pressure but it just didn't feel right yesterday. I stold this picture of Pontiac from Diane and went to church instead.

As we were sitting down in church, Allison whisperers: "How was Jesus born if he created everything?" I am on the fence a lot when it comes to Christian theology but this question concerned me since it was so basic. I whispered back: "God created everything, Jesus was his son". Allie replies: "Who were God's parents?" I tried to explain the Trinity as quietly as I could since by then the service had started. It is difficult explaining something to a 9 year old that you don't really understand yourself. I may have done myself a disservice when I lied to Allie about Santa Clause, now she questions everything I tell her that sounds a little made up.

I remember being Allie's age and learning about fractions. I wasn't a brilliant kid but I was solid in math. The teacher talked about taking away from a whole. I thought she meant "hole" so my little brain raced to understand what that meant. I figured you needed to add to a hole to take away from it, like filling it in, which made fractions much more complicated. Five seconds of clarification from the teacher would have gone a long way in my understanding of whole numbers. Maybe my brain just worked a little differently than the other kids'. Allie is a lot like me in many regards.

With the race and church over, I decided to do the Sunday shop ride. Although not race pace, it is a fast ride. I fell asleep while getting dressed, apparently while putting on my socks because when I woke up I was sitting in a chair and missing a sock. I missed the ride.

I did yard work and got a short ride in; a productive day on different levels.

That Time Of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold

2010-08-01T16:13:00.015-04:00

This was a big weekend, Emilie move up to a 26" wheeled bike and Allie moved up to Em's old 24" wheeled bike. The 20" wheeled bike just became obsolete. The kids are growing up. Ouch.

Cindy and I visited my parents yesterday. Cin mentioned she has poison ivy and my dad leaped into action, always the problem solver. He goes upstairs and brings down an aerosol can of something. This picture I took from my BlackBerry is horrible but if you look closely you see the can is from 1984. Cindy, always a trooper around my parents, let dad spray this 26 year old crap on her. I cracked up, who keeps medicine back from when Regan was in office?

I was in high school in 1984. I have a hard time comprehending it was really 26 years ago. In 26 more years, I will be 70. Yikes. I can't do anything about that but I have committed myself to spend less time doing yard work these next 26 years, and to use that time instead for riding.

Hometown Bicycles

2010-07-25T21:17:00.021-04:00

Cindy and the girls were in Mason OH this weekend at a national dance competition, leaving me home to watch the Tour and ride all I wanted. With Lance, Levi, and well heck, all the Americans out of reach of the podium, the race lost something for me. And it rained at home. And I missed the girls. But still, it was a vacation of sorts.

The trails were muddy Saturday so I decided to ride to the Ann Arbor Art Fair. If I could choose my skill set, instead of being at the random mercy of the DNA my parents gave me, I would be an artist, an elite bike racing artist. I am neither but I do respect those that are. Typical of my poor planning, I got to Ann Arbor right as the art fair ended. It was interesting to see the artists close up, a side of the art fair I haven't seen before. Like everything, selling art is a business and a lot of effort goes into it.

Since I am considering selling my Tomac, I figured I better fix the spongy front brakes. I bled bicycle brakes for the first time today since all my other bikes had V-brakes. I'm still not enamored with discs. Hydraulic brakes work great but V-brakes are light, cheap, simple, and they stop a moving bicycle. Hardly a problem that needed solving in my simple way of looking at things.

I did a bike shop ride this afternoon. Sean recently left another local bike shop to open up his own: Hometown Bicycles. If I couldn't be an artist or professional bike racer, owning a bike shop would be a close third. Being an Engineer is way down on my list. The riddle goes: "What is an Engineer's best form of birth control? It's their personality." Meh. Sean does a lot of neat things as a shop owner, like letting us drink beer behind his shop after rides, things the big stores just can't do. He is a good mechanic too. I told him my brakes were spongy even after I bled them. He asked if the hose around the compression fitting had a clean cut. I noticed it didn't. He said that's the problem, the little stringy things that stick out from a poor cut affect the movement of brake fluid through the lines. It is nice knowing someone who really knows bikes.

The shop ride itself was an eye opener; I got my ass kicked. I wasn't expecting that even though I haven't been riding hard this season. I struggled on Thursday group rides and my race results have been poor; in fact, I dropped down to Sport geared for The Big M race a month ago. Before the race I told myself I would stay in second until the very end so I wouldn't win by too much. I didn't want to get tared and feathered for sandbagging. The previous time I dropped down to Sport geared for a race was a few years ago and I won by 7 minutes, I didn't feel right about that. I finished The Big M in the middle of Sport. I need to get my act together before the Iceman. And I will.

Tell Me Why I Don't Like Mondays

2010-07-21T09:28:00.008-04:00

Monday started off as usual, I looked through mail while I had breakfast. I noticed my Sprint bill was about $4,000 higher than usual. I looked closer and saw apparently I made about 4000 calls to Jamaica. Funny, I don't remember calling Jamaica once. I called Sprint Customer Support. They are looking into it.

I cleared brush around my house on Sunday. Apparently I cleared Poison Oak in the process because after I got to work I broke out in itchy blotches. Nice.

I had an off site meeting after lunch. I didn't want to walk in late so I decided to eat my Greek salad while I drove. This plan worked flawlessly until I pulled into the parking lot and the damn salad jettisoned itself off the center console and onto my lap. I went into the men's room and tired, in vain, to wash the Greek dressing out of my pants. Classy.

Monday evening we met with an Orthodontist. Em needs braces. I feel bad for her. I never had them but I had friends who did and it doesn't sound fun. For the last 100 years GM paid all our dental expenses. This year they stopped. Braces cost about what a full XTR Carbonfiber Tomac is worth. It looks like I will be single speeding it this summer. That's fine, I dig my Inglis.

After sorting out my Sprint bill, dressing my poison oak, washing my pants, and considering the fate of my Tomac, I went for a ride. An excellent ride. That kind of ride that makes the other 22 hours of the day worth it. I'm not bitter anymore.

Ex-Girlfriends

2010-07-16T20:49:00.015-04:00

Emilie is 12. She has a boyfriend. I am the poster child for neurotic, over protective fathers so this makes me uncomfortable. She has been asking a lot of questions about my past girlfriends, which makes me even more uncomfortable. I try to gloss over this subject like unsavory parts of my past. I imagine if I tried to explain ex-girlfriends to her, they would come across like fictional characters, as if I were making it all up. How could she understand girls I dated, girls like Lois Lane.

I dated Lois Lane before she was with Superman. I liked everything about her, even her name. Lois Lane...how my tongue tapped the uvular ridge at the base of my front teeth to make the "L" sound and how I would drag out "Laneeeee....." until it faded into nothing. I adored her sassy wit. She was self confident and an excellent writer. And she was gorgeous. If all this wasn't intimidating enough, she hung around with the super hero crowd. She didn't talk about them much and said it was platonic (not in so many words) but I felt a little self conscious the entire time we were together. She was sweet and didn't mean to make me feel that way but she would say things like: "Your arms are soft...", and I would pause, and she would correct herself by saying: "Oh no, I mean in a good way, I love the feeling of your warm, soft arms."

I met Superman before I knew Lois. We actually did a race together, I said hi to him at the starting line. He was pleasant but imposing; his deep voice reverberated in my bones, my scrawny little hand was swallowed in his when he shook it, and his eyes seemed to look right into my soul. I came in last place, he won; in fact, he lapped everyone. It was a point to point race. This was an amazing win but afterwards he did something a bit odd, something that maybe only I would dwell on because I see reality different than most, he circled the Earth at the speed of light to reverse it on its axis and go back in time, sat with his buddies, and watched himself win. Not once or twice but 70 or 80 times.

Things between Lois and I went well for a while but often she would talk about Superman, not in a giddy, love struck high school girl way but just matter of factual, like: "I wonder if Superman wares his suit, you know, commando..." I would try to come up with a witty response, one that didn't indicate I was jealous, like: "I suppose since he can travel at the speed of light, he might want something supporting his boys," but this just came across awkward, and left her thinking about his junk. And so it went for a while.

I knew things were falling apart when I saw he was a friend of hers on facebook. I considered the real possibility she had feelings for him. She was truly amazing so I pushed these thoughts aside but I think at that point I stopped investing in our relationship. If I had it to do all over again I would have done things differently but that's silly to dwell on, in life we are seldom afforded do overs. The end came when she casually mentioned Superman was taking her flying. I could imagine them talking about me as they sored across the sky. He would say something clever and belittling, like: "Well, you don't need ex-ray vision to see Neil is a poser, ha ha ha...." and Lois would giggle in agreement. After that we saw each other less and less until one day I came home and saw she had removed everything in my life that might remind me of her. And we didn't talk again until she called me up and announced she was dating Superman. This seemed strange to me since I knew this, and I knew she knew I knew but I figured she needed some closure. I still adored her so if listening gave her the closure she needed, then I would listen, and be polite, and say good bye, and that was it.

Right then I decided to allow myself to be bitter for one year. It is difficult to give things like this a time limit but I find I do better with a certain amount of finality. During that year I imagined what it would be like to be a super-villain and hold Superman at bay. I would monologue like all good super-villains do: "Superman, eh? You don't know what it is like to be human. Everything comes easy to you, you can't feel pain, you have no idea what it is like to have your ass handed to you in Expert...you might be super...but you are not a man," and I would throw in an evil laugh.

I won't tell Emilie about Lois Lane because it makes me seem a little ordinary. My daily victories are things like getting Em to dance and putting money in her 529 college fund, all of which pale in comparison to traveling at the speed of light.

I wonder if Lois ever thinks about me, and maybe accidentally calls Superman by my name, and if he would even notice if she did.

Vacation Photo Essay

2010-07-11T07:54:00.019-04:00

My job provides me a decent number of vacation days; however, most of those days are spent taking care of things, not really a vacation. This last week was nothing but vacation. A great week.

There is a festival in Ann Arbor (Top of the Park) that has been going on for the last three weeks. This is a brilliant nightly event with bands, good food, and outdoor movies. Often the girls bring friends.We went to a water park during a rain storm. Emilie and Allie didn't seem to notice.

The riding this week was casual but great. It started in Traverse City.

I did a couple rides around home with friends, which was good because I was lacking motivation, especially to ride in the rain. Somehow peer pressure will get me to ride in anything. Bill and I rode Poto, a trail that I think is the nicest in Michigan, in lower Michigan anyway.

I did a road ride with Bill (AKA 40 dollar Bill) and Dan (AKA Cyclo-Dan). I want a road bike. I'm planning on winning one from either www.versus.com/leadthepack or http://www.trekbikes.com/. The 1 in 50,000 odds of winning hasn't discouraged me in the least.

Denny, Barb, Cindy and I saw 311 and The Offspring at the DTE amphitheater. It made me feel a little old, an excellent concert regardless.

Em, Allie, and I saw Despicable Me. I was secretly looking forward to this movie. It was even better than I expected. Sometimes I feel like a kid trapped in a middle aged man's body. It's more like I was a kid, fell asleep, woke up and I was 44. What the heck happened?

Perhaps the best part of vacation is waking up without an alarm clock. My biological alarm clock still goes off before the rest of my family wakes up. I have a cup of coffee out on the deck and read blogs and email and bicycle classifieds while I wait for the Tour to start on Verses. I have vacation down to an art, it's reality I struggle with.

I Think I Need a Road Bike

2010-07-09T14:37:00.017-04:00

I pretty much watch TV just once a year, really 21 times, all during the first three weeks of July. I can't get enough of the Tour De France but, probably because I don't get a lot of sleep, it puts me out like a cure for insomnia. Cindy paitently waits for me to nod off so she can pry the remote from my hand and watch The Bachelorette. She took this picture to show her friends, my hand still in the remote holding position.

I know this sounds sappy but every Tour I think about buying a road bike or, since the roads are so bad around my house, a cyclocross bike. This week while I was considering how complete my life with be with a new 700 cc wheeled bike, I received the following email from someone in Japan asking if I still had my Bianchi road bike for sale:

Re:Re: 50 cm Bianchi EV2 Dura-Ace/Ultegra $1200 伊藤　博道 to you - 2 days ago

Hi,
Thanks for reply.
I see this bike at

http://www.mombu.com/marketplace/transport/t-50-cm-bianchi-ev2-dura-aceultegra-1200-6178125.html

Thanks,

-- wrote:
>Sorry, I sold it 5 years ago. Where did you see it for sale?
>
>Thank you,
>Neil

I sold this Bianchi 5 years ago so I could buy a cross bike; however, I squandered the money I got for this bike on a mortgage payment or something.

I forgot all about posting an ad for this bike. It is amazing that once you put something on-line, it can float around indefinitely. I wonder if I have unwittingly launched something out into the cyber universe that will come back to bite me squarely on the ass? More than likely.

So I start to obsess over getting a cross bike some more.

I stop by Denny's. He just got a beautiful metallic green Salsa cross bike.

I obsess a little more.

Bill calls me up this morning and shames me into doing a dirt road ride with him and Dan. I try to put my Geax 1.5 slicks on my mountain bike but the tires are dry-rotted. I ride my bike with 2.0 Kenda Karmas on paved roads. It feels like I am riding a tank. Bill and Dan glide effortlessly on 29" skinny tires. I really need a cross bike.

Dan works for a bike shop. One problem with this is we cannot go but 20 miles without someone recognizing him; they pull over and talk bikes. The bigger problem is he is a rolling encyclopedia for all the really cool bicycling stuff out there: Paul center mounted cantilever cross brakes, fixed cogs that mount to the 6 bolt disc bosses...cool stuff I didn't even know I needed until today.

I get home, all worked up into a frenzy. I cannot possibly carry on one more day without a cross bike. I check the mail. The mortgage payment is coming up. I have just 18 years left to pay on my 30 year fixed-rate mortgage. Once the house is paid off, I am going to buy a cross bike. I mean it this time.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

2010-07-05T19:17:00.017-04:00

Cindy and I went up North for the holiday weekend, along with everyone else in Southern Michigan. I have never seen traffic like this. Maybe it is a sign the economy is improving. I always look for the positive. Who am I trying to fool, the traffic really sucked; really, really sucked.The plan was to drive up to Traverse City, pick up the girls, then drive home. Just as we were leaving the house, the family the girls were staying with offered to let us stay at one of their cottages near beautiful Torch Lake for the long weekend. This was very kind of them. I saw this as an opportunity to do the Boyne Marathon. It is my favorite course in Michigan but it is 250 miles North of Brighton. I can't really justify driving that far for a bike race but since we were going to be in Traverse City, I would be a mere hour away. I grabbed lots of water bottles and Gu, threw my bike in the back of the truck, and we were off. I checked the race schedule on the way up North and, typical of my piss poor planning, saw the race was next weekend. Without a race to worry about I was free to ride for fun this weekend. The girls had things to do so they wouldn't miss me. I suppose this is a good thing.

There are a few nice trails near Traverse City but I stayed on the Vasa Trail. The trail is beautiful and flowy and it is used in the Iceman. There is one point in the trail that always causes a bottle neck at the Iceman: two trees are only 20" apart. It shouldn't be a problem, you just fish your bars through the opening by flicking them from the left to right but there always seems to be an issue at this spot. I see someone recently notched these trees so handlebars will clear. It struck me as funny. Wrong and irresponsible, but funny. The Vasa trail isn't very technical but there are signs all over indicating that by attempting this (flat and smooth) trail, you may surely die. Cute. I don't get it but still, it is a beautiful trail.

Not just beautiful but stunning. I saw lots of deer and turkey and at one point, when I was chuck full of endorphins, a hawk flew a few feet over my head and straight down the single track in front of me and I was overwhelmed with a feeling that I am suppose to live in Northern Michigan, not Brighton which is a crowed town a mere gun shot away from Detroit. And I am suppose to do small engine repair, not work for a large corporation that has me bound by golden handcuffs.

I considered the real possibility that every decision I have made was poorly thought out; I have been shooting from the hip and not considering life seriously. Maybe I am not suppose to be at this junction in my life; this isn't how it is suppose to be.

As I was obsessing over this revelation I was passed by local inbreds in a Dodge pick up with confederate flags and an exhaust that went up from the back of the cab up to the roof. Exhaust that was routed up because, well, because they were inbreds in a Dodge pick up with confederate flags.

Maybe I don't belong in Traverse City. Maybe my life is as it should be. I think every decision I ever made was poorly thought out but still, I ended up where I belong, and I am grateful.

Allie wanted to go for a walk with me today. We walked to Skegemog Point and picked through rocks. It made everything worthwhile.

It took us 5 hours to get home, a trip that normally takes us 3. The kids didn't care. I felt a little guilty letting them entertain themselves but they were content. Em asked to stay in the car after we got home to finish her movie. I guess technology is grand.

I guess this is normal.

A Parent's Love

2010-07-02T08:39:00.011-04:00

I took the day off work yesterday to help my dad around his barn. He had a list of things he needed help with but really he just wanted to go over things I might need to know someday. He reviewed the combinations of the locks, where he hides keys, how to start the tractors, where stuff is. He had another heart attack this spring and seems to be planning for the future. And should he go home to be with the Lord, he doesn’t want me trying to hotwire his 1959 Ford tractor. This was the closest thing to a display of affection I have seen from Paul.

I have great parents but still, they are, you know, parents. Emilie and Allison were spending the night with my mom and dad last week. I stopped by under the thinly veiled premise of wanting to have tea with my mom and saying good night to the girls. Really I was giving Allie and Em a chance to bail. I lived with my parents for 18 years so I developed immunity to their stick German Evangelical mannerisms, their disapproving glares would bounce off me like marshmallows off armor. Emilie and Allie haven’t developed this skill to that level yet. Em came home with me and Allie stayed.

When I got to my parents, the girls were looking at photo albums from when I was their age, and laughing it up. My mom did a good job documenting everything in pictures with little captions underneath, an analog blog of sorts. Thousands of pictures, including this one where I took Judy to a BMX race and locked my mom’s keys in the trunk. I didn’t tell Em or Allie this story as they didn’t need anything else to laugh at me about; I have worked very hard to create the illusion of having my shit together so the less they know the better. I normally don’t post pictures of people without their permission but Judy will never see this. If she knew I had a blog, she wouldn’t look at it just out of spite. Every girlfriend I ever had now hates me in direct proportion to how much they once loved me. Judy hates me just a little.

Another photo shows me after the first of many disappointing races. My mom’s caption reads: “Almost won.” If in “almost won” she means almost finished in the top half of the quarter final heat to qualify for the semi finals at an entry level BMX race, then sure, I almost won. Maybe my mom really thought I almost won. That right there is the love of a mother, a love than transcends reality.

Big M

2010-06-28T09:36:00.009-04:00

I had a very mediocre result at the Big M race yesterday. It was a good race, just my effort was more mediocre than usual.

My heart just wasn’t into racing this weekend. The Big M course happens to be on the way to Traverse City where we were dropping off the kids for the week. I vaguely remember doing this race before and liking the layout. It is a hilly cross country ski trail and I think hilly cross country ski trails make the best race courses. I casually mentioned something to Renee about doing this race and she immediately preregistered for it. It doesn’t take much to talk her into racing.

It took 45 minutes longer than I planned to get the kids herded up and into the car Sunday morning. Add a few unscheduled pit stops and I didn’t think I was going to make the race, which would have been fine. We accidentally made good time so I had Cindy call Renee to see if she was serious about racing in the rain. She was.

Just after I picked up my race packet, Renee called and said she was running behind and didn’t think she was going to make it. While I was on the line ready to take off, it started to pour, the kind of rain where you can only see a few yards in front of you. I thought: “Oh man, this sucks”.

I raced hard for the first lap, almost clocked a tree at the bottom of a long muddy downhill, and decided to stop racing and just ride for fun. And it was fun. The sun came out halfway through the race and the trail was great, maybe a little slick. There was no pressure to place. This season is a wash but I’m OK with that. Next year I will come out swinging. Or I will ride just for fun. I’m good either way.

The value of racing for me is just knowing I have a race coming up; it's in the back of my mind on those days I am on the fence about riding, or when I am choosing what I want for lunch. The race itself is just a means to an end.

How to Buy Farm Equipment (and other things you know nothing about)

2010-06-23T09:09:00.008-04:00

There is nothing I am an expert in, a few things I understand a little (actually just bicycles, motorcycles, and cars), and an infinite number of things I know nothing about.

My friend Mike lives on a farm in Northern Ontario. He called me up last weekend and asked if I would look at a three point implement for sale near my house. I told him I would take a look, and I would buy it if it looked like a good piece of equipment. And, since I was doing a race in Northern Michigan this weekend, I would bring it with me and save him a few hundred miles. A solid plan except farming equipment is part of that infinite number of things I know nothing about. I didn’t point this out to Mike since I didn’t want to seem any less competent or manly than I already am. Plus, Mike has known me since we were 13; he should have no delusion about my farm equipment prowess.

I went to Howell Monday to look at this tractor thingy. I examined it as if I knew what I was looking at. I thought I better say something so the owner didn’t think I was some clueless city folk.

Me: “Uh yes, John Deere…they make fine, you know, tractor thingies."

Dar: “Your buddy is going to drive all the way from Ontario to pick it up?”

Me: “Well, I’m doing a bike race near Manistee this weekend so I might bring it up with me.”

Dar: “What kind of bike do you have?”

Me: “It is a small company no one ever heard of, it’s a Tomac.”

Dar: “Johnny Tomac’s company, he’s cool. I just finished riding at Highland Req.”

We spent 15 minutes talking about mountain biking and discovering common riding friends. I have no idea what I bought but I am confident I got a good deal because now I trust Dar.

I thought about my one and only job interview. It was for a position at GM when I was fresh out of U of M. A Director started off the interview by asking me what the advantages of dual over-head cams were. I explained about intake and exhaust valves and surface area and rotating mass. If I were smart I would have used the GM Quad-4 engine as an example because I think it was the only GM engine back in 1989 that used this application. I’m not so I used a Yamaha FZR motorcycle engine as an example of this brilliant and cutting edge technology. GM Directors like when you use a Japanese company's engine as an example of brilliant and cutting edge technology in the same way Sunday school teachers like when you openly question freewill in light of god’s sovereignty. I’ve done both. The interview stopped right there and this Director pulled out pictures of his motorcycle collection. We spent the rest of our time together talking about motorcycles. I got the job.

I am constantly amazed how I’ve managed to muddle my way through life knowing so little about so few things.

The Art and Science of Breaking and Entering

2010-06-19T10:46:00.007-04:00

I have locked keys in a car twice in my life. The first time was when I was 12 and at a BMX race. Not only did I have the normal stress of getting ready to race but my girlfriend came to watch. Having your girlfriend sitting with your mom is a lot of pressure, at any age. Stupidly I shut the deck lid with the keys in the trunk. My mom went to one of the shady looking characters lurking around the track and he broke into our car in no time flat.

The second time was at a Boyne race, 150-plus miles from home. I was 30 years older and wiser. I unscrewed the truck's antenna, fished it between the side glass and the window frame, and hit the unlock button. Problem solved.

Just as we are taking off for Thursday's group ride, a girl comes over and asks for help breaking into her (?) car. A damsel in distress will halt a group ride for sure. I unscrewed her (?) antenna, hit the unlock button, and wha-la, problem solved.

I treat Thursday night group rides like a race but, when I struggle, I feel more self-conscious on group rides because I lose some anonymity. I struggled and got dropped Thursday. Getting dropped is nothing new but what did happen for the first time ever is they stopped and waited for me. I don’t feel respected as a rider but I think I impressed them with my aptitude for B and E. And that’s something. I guess.

Polar S-725X Haiku

2010-06-13T10:51:00.012-04:00

Left on my door step

was a new, vintage, Polar.

Found it on eBay.

Junk Miles

2010-06-08T09:19:00.006-04:00

Cindy took the kids to a special dance practice last night so I found myself with the rare occasion of having a Monday night all to myself. It was a perfect evening, cool, low humidity, sunny. I didn’t call anyone to ride. And I didn’t plan on a hard ride. I rode just for fun. I don’t have enough opportunity in my week to waste time on rides without purpose but since this was unscheduled, I didn’t feel guilty.

It was a great ride. My mind was someplace else. I past a rider and didn’t look twice since I didn’t recognize the bicycle. I hear: “Hey Neil”. It was a friend who was on his spare bike. He is a fast rider so apparently he was riding without purpose too. I slowed down and we talked until we got to the trail head. He went back to his truck, I kept riding. I rode just fast enough so the mosquitoes couldn’t catch me.

My phone rang. It is always a judgment call whether or not to stop riding and answer. It was Cindy.

Me: “Hey.” (Mosquitoes start to congregate around me.)

Cin: “You didn’t answer your phone earlier.”

Me: “Sorry, didn’t hear it ring.” (Mosquitoes find my veins.)

Cin: “I called several times.”

Me: “I’m riding with my Ipod.” (I start swatting at mosquitoes.)

Cin: “I called at 5:00, you weren’t riding yet.”

Me: “I must have been working on my bike.” (Swat, swat, swat.)

(Pause)

Me: “Or in the bathroom, I had Thai and…” (Swat, swat, swat, swat.)

Cin: “Didn’t you see I called?”

Me: “Yes but you didn’t leave a message.” (Swat, swat, swat, swat, swat.)

Me: “So, what’s up?” (Swat, swat, swat, swat, swat, swat.)

Cin: “Just calling to see why you didn’t answer.”

Nothing to Report

2010-06-05T18:26:00.018-04:00

It has been a rainy week but I managed to get some decent riding in. I can't prove it because my heart rate monitor died, again, and I lost the two months of data I carelessly left in it.

I like riding in between rain showers. The air was so thick and warm that I could feel it colliding with my body. And the smells are strong...damp Earth, crisp vegetation, musty swamps, and yes, dead and bloated deer. I will take the good with the bad. Plus, there is something satisfying with feeling like you pulled a fast one over on mother nature (think you're going to up and ruin all my training plans hu? Not this time [insert evil laugh]).

I get this real disconcerted feeling when I glance down and don't see my pulse, like when Bruce Willis discovers he is dead in the movie Sixth Sense. On the positive side, I find it's easier to convince myself I am going really fast when I have no hard data to suggest otherwise.

I miss my HRM. It's not just the data (speed, lap times, altitude, temperature, heart rate) but the notes I add to the files I download from my HRM: where I rode, with whom, how I felt, what I changed on my bike and whether or not it helped. I usually include a note that would mean very little to anyone else but me like, I duno, "rode with Bill and his new 29er today; now everyone drank the Kool-Aid but me."

There will always be a two month gap in my records. But I'm OK with that. The last two months were really messed up. Now it's like they didn't even happen.

Bloomer 2010

2010-05-29T21:53:00.026-04:00

I did the Bloomer race today in 1 hour 37 minutes, a minute quicker than last year.

I went to this race with realistic expectations so I was pleased with my time. It was just a good race: my legs felt good, my bike worked flawlessly, and my gear choice was spot on.

Cindy, Allie, Denny, and Barb came to watch.

Renee and Randy came to race.

Randy placed in his first race. Very cool.

Renee won her class...by over 5 minutes. It is only a matter of time until she is faster than me. She would probably be faster than me now if she was willing to descend hills as quickly as she ascends them.

Cindy got a bike this week. She's practicing for her first race.

Denny didn't race today. He sometimes takes pictures of races and posts them on his website instead. Today he let his son take the pictures, which I hijacked. Nice. Jeremy did a great job.

During my shake down ride on Thursday, it occurred to me I have been installing my rear wheel crooked. The Inglis’ horizontal drops give me a little flexibility in how I position my rear wheel. I always slide tire irons between the sides of the tire and chainstays to make sure the tire is centered. It struck me that the tire shouldn’t be centered; my rear wheel is dished so it should be closer to the left hand chain stay. I stopped riding and carefully lined up the rear wheel with the rest of the bike. The gear noise went away. I rolled my eyes. I just cannot comprehend how this didn’t occur to me before, like maybe the day I got the frame? I have this bad habit of assuming I am right and not looking at things objectively.

Maybe I have wasted too much time fretting over (not) training and where I (don’t) place.

Bishop Lake

2010-05-26T22:12:00.011-04:00

Em didn't have dance today for some reason so Allison and I got to spend Allie-Day around home. We went swimming at Bishop Lake. The beach shares the same parking lot as the mountain bike trail. While we swam, bikers would ride down to the beach and go swimming to cool off. Every time a rider would come down I felt a pang of guilt like I should be riding. But not really. Allie is at a really fun age and I wouldn't give up our time together for anything. I feel Em slipping away; she wanted to go to her girlfriend's house instead of swimming. Ouch.

Allie asked me to set up a CD player in her room. This struck me as a little strange because she is not part of the CD generation; all her music is in a MP3 format. It was fun seeing her re-discover my Ramones CDs like I re-discovered my older brother's Neil Young 8 tracks. She has been listening to country music lately and I was getting a little concerned.

My new chain and bottom bracket showed up today, kind of like Christmas. Apparently I never tried to put a 16 tooth cog on my bike before because my chain wouldn't stretch far enough to accommodate such a big gear. I think I need it for Bloomer this weekend. I would back out of this race but I ran my mouth off about how I was going to do it and now some non-race friends are coming to watch me get my ass kicked, I don't want to disappoint. When everything was apart I noticed my bottom bracket was fried. I'm surprised I didn't notice this earlier.

Once the kids were settled down, I had time to do one lap at Murray Lake. 37:24. It was slower that I expected. I didn't leave the house until 8:30 so it was pretty dark in the woods. I will blame the low light and not the fact that I haven't been riding. My reality is a fickle thing.

Training Plan

2010-05-19T21:11:00.009-04:00

Today I dusted off the training plan I put together for myself earlier this year. I guess I was suppose to do 1 minute intervals today. To be honest, I'm not sure I would be following my plan even if I wanted to. Allie and I went to Plymouth to pick up some pottery we made last week and then to a very cool bike shop, Trails-Edge. This shop has vintage race bikes covering the walls, like Slingshots and Yetis, back from when these frames were made in the States, a little sad. And they have a great parts selection. I wanted a bigger cog in case I do the Bloomer race next weekend. I think I used a 34x14 last year and I did pretty well but I just don't think I have it in me to use such a steep gear on a fairly hilly course. I got a Surly 16 tooth gear. It's a gamble. I also picked up a Surly Tug Nut Chain Tensioner.

My rear wheel kept coming lose and throwing the chain at the Brighton race. I was afraid that might happen so I went to my local bike shop earlier that week to see if they had any chain tensioners. The guy behind the counter said he would look but went over to the tool section of the shop. He had no idea what a chain tensioner was. It isn't a tool. Apparently he is. I would love to work at a bike shop so it frustrates me to see a shop employee who really doesn't care about bikes. Maybe he is just trying to provide for his family so I should relax a bit.

Allison and I then went to the Maybury State Park. There is an okay mountain bike trail there but Allie isn't ready for that. Maybury also has paved trails which we rode. We looked for play structures they have throughout the park so our ride would seem to have purpose. Of course our ride had a much deeper purpose. It will be very hard when she doesn't want to ride with me anymore but I will worry about that some other day, right now I will just appreciate my riding partner.

Jack

2010-05-18T11:16:00.012-04:00

I am not a dog person. We have a Miniature Schnauzer but only because my daughters wanted it. I’m sure I would somehow get them a unicorn if they asked because I love my girls, not because I enjoy picking up unicorn manure in the backyard.

I took yesterday off work to power-wash the deck which I should have done Sunday but I was at the Brighton CC race, yet another reason to contemplate racing. It was raining but that didn’t interfere with washing the deck. A dog came into the yard to hang out with me, perhaps the ugliest dog I have ever seen. I think it is a Chihuahua/Jack Russell Terrier mix, a dog with big bulging eyes that point in two different directions, wet and shivering and very skinny. And no ID.

Em was home too, she was too ill to go to school but had an amazing recovery when she saw the dog, like when Lazareth was raised from the dead. She asked if we could keep him. I am trying to act more like a dad so I said no. She said: “Come here [insert as many names as you can rattle off in 30 seconds].” When she said “Jack,” he came running.

Apparently we have a new dog. Cindy put Jack on the Livingston County Humane Society lost and found web page. Tonight, instead of riding, I am going to put posters on every single telephone pole in Brighton. The Humane Society said if we bring Jack to their animal shelter, and no one claims him in 7 days, we can adopt him. They will even install a chip in his ear and neuter him because a dog like Jack should not procreate.

I am bright enough to make rational decisions but emotional enough not to. I think I am doing the Bloomer race next weekend.

*************** 5/22/10 Update ***************

Jack's owner finally claimed him. He was a sweet dog so I almost miss him. His real name was Jixter, not too far from "Jack". He hopped into their car and didn't even look back, like he didn't even care.

Brighton Cross Country Race

2010-05-16T16:34:00.009-04:00

I just finished the Brighton race, 1:53:19. I was a minute slower than last year, somewhat disappointing but not unexpected. The 3 grams I saved by going to a Chris King cog didn't help as much as I was hoping. It was a good race. Racing a familiar course and dropping down to Sport did take a lot of pressure off. I finished 4th out of 14 so I think I am in the right class. It was a beautiful day, sunny and in the mid 60's. And it was very convenient; I picked up my number this morning after I dropped Allie off at a birthday party then rode my bike from the house to the starting line. I am home with plenty of time left to cut the grass; this is as perfect of a race as they come I suppose.

I might skip the next race or two and give some serious thought to whether or not I want to compete. I am an optimistic person but really, racing without training makes about as much sense as buying a Chris King cog.

Maybe if I buy a Chris King headset I can get some solid results. Maybe...

Solving Problems That Don't Exist

2010-05-13T20:32:00.003-04:00

I have Thursday evenings all to myself. I am not motivated enough to ride in the rain so tonight I used my free time to install disc brakes on my Inglis single speed, and in doing so became the last racer in Michigan to go from rim brakes to disc brakes. Disc brakes work swell, especially in the rain, but slowing down isn’t my problem. And I don't ride in the rain. The only reason I made the switch to discs was to use my Black Flag disc wheelset. The only reason I am using my Black Flag disc wheelset is because I sold my Chris King wheelset. It isn't entirely clear to me why I sold my Chris King wheels; perhaps it was so I would have money to buy disc brakes.

Regardless how I got to this point, my Inglis now looks light and spiffy, and I have time left to ride on the trainer which isn’t a horrible way to get in an hour ride. Not a bad Thursday night really.

Mating Ritual of the Male Homo Sapiens

2010-05-11T08:35:00.019-04:00

I did the Murray lake trail yesterday in 34:28, exactly what I did it in the day before. If nothing else, I am consistent. Between rain and other commitments, I think this will be my last ride until the Brighton race on Sunday. Since I will have nothing to say for the rest of the week, I figure I am overdue for a long drawn out nonsensical entry...

Different trails have different atmospheres. Poto is a challenging course so the riders in the parking lot either take riding serious or are unsuspecting novices. Poto was the first place I ever rode so I can relate with the unsuspecting novices. The other extreme is Island Lake which is flat and non-technical. The parking lot is full of shinny new bicycles that still have reflectors and that plastic pie pan that goes between the cassette and the spokes. People here seem to spend more time hanging out in the parking lot than riding. It was interesting following Renee through the Island Lake parking lot as we went from the Yellow to the Blue loop. Randy and I stopped and talked at the end of the parking lot since Renee ran into some people she knew. It was cool getting to know Randy, he is a down to earth guy and we share a similar philosophy on bicycles and riding.

Watching the guys circle Renee on their bikes made me feel like a biologist observing animals in their natural habitat. I found myself narrating the scenario in my head like a documentary on PPS. The following account should be read in a quiet, English accent, with long thoughtful pauses between paragraphs, to get the full effect.

Today we are observing the strange mating ritual of the male Homo sapiens, the only extant member of the Homo genus of bipedal primates in the great ape family.

Humans have a highly developed brain capable of abstract reasoning and problem solving. This mental capability, combined with an erect body carriage, has made it perfectly adapted for bicycle riding.

Like most higher primates, humans are social by nature. However, humans are uniquely adept at utilizing systems of communication for self-expression, the exchange of ideas, and organization. Humans create complex social structures composed of many cooperation and competing groups. Nowhere is this more evident than it the group ride.

Male Homo sapiens riding together in a group serves no obvious purpose other than to attract members of the opposite sex in a delicate and complex mating ritual. Notice how the alpha males parades around his 29er. He is clad in a matching kit and slowly circles the unsuspecting female, like a tom trying to woo a hen.

When there are no females, the alpha male leads the charge to the single track. The presences today of a female cause the alpha male to stay back, subtly looking for the existence of a lower back tattoo on the female. None is detected. This does not discourage the alpha male.

The alpha male tries to match wits with the female. In this case the female clearly is capable of thinking on a much higher plane. This does not discourage the alpha male.

The female Homo sapiens typically have much more acute social skills than the male. Here we see the female allowing the other males to engage her in conversation which greatly aggravates, but does not discourage, the alpha male.

This particular female has an impressive power to weight ratio. If you listen carefully you can actually hear her wheels squishing the alpha male's ego. This only slightly discourages the alpha male.

The alpha male points out an obvious observation. Riveting. The female’s clear indifference does not discourage him.

By the end of the ride, males are circling the female in a frenzy like sharks around a baby seal. She quickly loads her bike and leaves. The alpha male wonders out loud if she will be back next week. I’m guessing not racer-boy, I am guessing not.

34:28

2010-05-09T19:41:00.004-04:00

In between all the Mother's Day activities, I managed to sneak in an hour ride today. I did the Murray Lake Trail where I time myself every month, a sense check of sorts. This is also the trail that will be used for the Brighton cross country race next week. I did it in 34:28, which I believe is my quickest time on a single speed. I'm not sure what this means for the race next week but at least I'm not discouraged. I have been planning for this race since January.

Cindy and I met with a Realtor Saturday. He put a sign up before he left. We have been planning on selling the house for a while but it feels strange to see it finally happening.

That's the thing about even the best laid plans; it seems so different when it's for real.

2010 Race Schedule

2010-05-07T19:18:00.011-04:00

Normally I have my tentative race schedule hammered out by January. This year I paused to consider if I really want to put up with all the race nonsense. I do; however, at this point I am not willing to make the sacrifices necessary to race Expert. Dropping down to Sport Single Speed takes the pressure off racing but still, I'm making an effort to do well (short of actually training). I saved the titanium bars and post from my ghetto bike for my Inglis single speed. I even got a Chris King stainless steel cog just in case the extra 3 grams my stamped steel cog weighed was the thing preventing me from turning in solid lap times. Just so I don't appear to be obsessing over insignificant things, I should point out that this is 3 grams of rotating mass which is equivalent to 5 grams of static mass.

5/16 Brighton
5/29 Bloomer
6/27 Big M (tentative)
7/10 Boyne Marathon
8/21 Maybury
9/12 Addison Oaks
9/26 Pando
10/9 12 Hours of Addison Oaks (if I can talk some friends into this)
11/6 Iceman