I won the Sabino Canyon Wash Prime, then flatted 15-miles later from the lead break.
Finally, my third and final shot at the Tour de Tucson! I was stoked to be heading back down to AZ this time of year to hang out with all of Kian's grandparents, and Aunt, Uncle and Cousin on the Francis side of things, but also to get out of the rain and ride my bike again in shorts.
It was warmer than past years at 630am when I nestled into the crowd for the start but it was still pretty darn dark. The gun went off at 7am sharp and I was right at the front from the get-go and didn't have to try and fight my way up there this year: I was planning to pounce on anything that moved. But the first 10-miles were pretty easy going, probably because I was at the front, and even though the lead group that had formed of about 100-200 riders was stopped for several minutes for passing train, we were never caught by the subsequent groups.
The first wash is always scary because you hit it at 25+ mph and it goes from two paved lanes down to one of dirt. I bunny-hoped the curb and hit the dirt in the top 10 and like last year was one of the first out. I've seen pictures of a stampeding herd through this and just a few minutes from now I thought how it would be a walking pace only. As past years there was a large mariachi band positioned at the end of the 100-yard long wash, but because we were the very first riders past you could tell that they had JUST begun playing... my discerning ears could pick out the missed notes and inadvertent syncopation even from the peleton at 25 miles per hour.
The next 40 or so miles until the second and final wash is all about staying in position so that you don't have to panic when those final narrow streets come. I stayed in the top 5-50 riders and like in all races was often frustrated when you'd find yourself slipping back with nowhere to go and no way to get up there without another 15 minutes of struggle. If you've been in a competitive peleton before you understand, but if you haven't, its almost impossible to make it really clear. When we finally came to that first little dog-ear to the right that takes us off the main road and onto the narrow streets around Sabino Canyon, I was sitting a little further back than I wanted, maybe 20th, and I decided to attack up the inside to pick up some spots even though we were break-necking it at 30+ mph: it reminded me of racing in Colombia, out of hand! It was only a half-mile to the entrance of the wash and I hit it in no further back than 5th. I was "on your right"ing-it and on-your-left"ing-it a few times to avoid getting tangled up with those few riders in the deepening sand, but I rode the entire length of the wash, maybe 150-200 yards, save for the final 20 when it just got too deep, say 10", and when I jumped on the bike and heard that beautiful clicking sound of my shoes engauging the pedals, I was in first place.
Here's a video of the first grouppo through the wash. Pretty boring really, but its the proof I needed. I needed it because at the end of the race it was all I had. I think I finished... well, I'll leave you hanging til later....
I hit the pavement running and there were 3 or 4 guys on my wheel as I pushed it hard up through the community and then up over the first nasty little kicker of a climb. I knew that at the top of this climb those riders in the lead group would probably make up what would be the winning move. 14 of us formed and we didn't waste much time getting organized and extending the lead a bit, but then it wasn't that much longer either before the attacks started coming.
Of the 14, 4 were from the winning Mexican team from last year which included rider #2, last years winner, and there were 2 or 3 other teams present with 2 riders each. Everyone else was solo including a pro from BMC, a national teamer, Robbie Ventura (2 or 3 time former winner), Michael Grabinger (winner from 2 years ago) and the rest unknown to me but obviously pretty serious racers. I read in the paper the next day that Jonas Carey flatted out in the wash, and had I known this at the time I would have been pleased, but after the race I felt pretty damn sorry for him: lets just say I knew how he felt.
More later...
Wednesday, December 03, 2008
Monday, November 17, 2008
Knee Deep in New Jersey: USGP 3/4
It was brutal. 6 inches of the sloppiest muck you can imagine and the entire weekend became more of a running race than a cycling event. We were forced to run nearly a quarter of each lap, 800-1000 yards of running are the estimates that I heard. You need to see it to believe it, and once I get some moments to farm some pictures from the web I'll post them here.
I felt GREAT on the bike, finally! I took all of last week off after several weeks of poor results because I knew that I couldn't have lost that much fitness since September, and this weekend I felt as though I was almost back to my old self... on the bike, that is! But unfortunately the race came down to who could run the fastest with a shouldered bike for 200-300 yard intervals. And, which person had the best pit crew to clean the muck from the bike each lap. Feldman and ALL of those finishing ahead of me changed bikes twice a lap. With 4 laps they got 8 bike changes to my 0. I paid a heavy price for not traveling with my b-bike and along with packing a bike laden with 20-pounds of caked-on mud, my gears slipped in every gear for the final two laps. I gutted out a 9th place finish and have never been more frustrated after a bike race.
Sunday was more of the same slop, only sloppier, but I was loaned a spare bike that was 2-sizes too small which helped tremendously. Again, I led the race out and nearly half way through the first lap I had a lead, but once the long muddy marches started the long gaited runners past me and I struggled. With 2 to go I was battling for 4th place with the series leader jersey and my tubie rolled off the wheel. At the pit I'd lost a couple places that I quickly made back up but on my next time back into the pit my crew had not fixed my bike and I had to stand there in the pit for a good 2-minutes while my bike was retrieved and a nuetral wheel was put on it. In the meantime another 5 guys rode past and I only made up one of those, so I finished 10th, I think.
Thats Cross! Really fun weekend hanging out with KG and Drew, and the Human Zoom Team of Philly, and despite the results it was worth it. Special thanks to my champion David Mezera who bought me my roundtrip flight and made the weekend possible (or should I curse him?).
Thursday, November 06, 2008
PDX SSCX WC 08!
Portland Singlespeed Cyclocross World Championships, this weekend!
Although it may not be a true UCI-sanctioned World Championship race, the Golden Speedo is a grand prize that is nearly as coveted as the blue Rainbow Jersey. As usual in Portland, this race is more about attitude and "scene" than it is about the race itself. Its every cycling punks ambition to be there, so that means half of Portland should show up sporting their tatoos and pierced junk.
At the USGP race in Kentucky a couple weeks ago I heard a young enthusiastic cyclocrosser talk about how he was accosted by the reknowned, or should I say notorious, Seattle official who is the head chief at the USGP series. The official yelled at the kid who was wearing cut-off jeans and a flannel shirt over his cycling race kit, "This isn't a Portland race where you can make a mockery of the sport by wearing costumes and getting drunk. Take off that outfit and dress appropriately."
Official Blog!
More details to come later, and of course, plenty of pics!
Wednesday, November 05, 2008
Let the Healing Begin
I still feel as though I have a lot of pent up resentment and frustration regarding the circumstances and events of the past 8-years, but last nights Obama victory in the presidential election goes a long way to initiating the healing.
During the next three-months W. will be packing his bags as will many of his partners in crime on Capital Hill, and its important that he, we, and the world know how disappointing and destructive that this Administration was to all of us. Let us never forget it!
The lies, the fear tactics, the human rights violations against humanity and our own people, the attacks against our rights and Constitutional freedoms, and all the innocent people killed in their wars. Let us not forget!
I try to imagine how a fallen George W must feel occupying a lame duck White House knowing that he is on his way out considered quite possibly the worst President in U.S. history. Being a man who I believe is infinitely more concerned with his legacy than he ever was about doing anything noble, I am expecting him to be beside himself with grief due to the way the tides have turned against him. It makes me wonder if he is a tortured soul, as I'm sure probably are the brilliantly evil masterminds behind his legacy, the Cheney's, Wolfawitz's, Rumsfeld's, etc. The compassionate being within me is relieved knowing that Bush is like a puppy that knows that it's done something wrong, but it has no idea what that is. Then there is the vindictive side within me which wants everyone responsible for his Presidency to be held accountable: my former idea was that all those who voted for Bush in the former 2 elections should be ineligible to cast a vote in this election. Too late, not necessary.
America, the government is now heading into a transition: the transition of putting the government back into the hands of the people, less governed by Corporations and the filthy rich, and a self-serving special interest government. America, this truly is a time of hope (just as are all transitions of government -- I bet you felt a sense of hope 8-years ago) so lets hope and dream and act together. Many of us behind our new leadership would like nothing better than to turn our backs on any former Bush supporters -- WE TOLD YOU SO! -- but doing this would only do our mission and our country disservice.
It's time to take those chintzy American flags off of your lapels and tear off that bumber sticker from your car, and start thinking like an American: we are in this together. Those American flags only sought to tear this country apart separated not by who was patriotic or not, but by who supported the regime in the White House. Ironically, an American flag DIVIDED Americans as Americans instead of truly celebrating what this country is all about. Lose those symbols, for now, and lets unite as a diverse people who need each other in all our diversity.
Hopefully I'll take a few more moments of inspiration to banter against the on-the-outs Administration because during the past few years I have been remarkably silent and have been denying what is afforded me as a Right in this great Nation: the Right, and the duty, to speak out and so participate in Democracy.
During the next three-months W. will be packing his bags as will many of his partners in crime on Capital Hill, and its important that he, we, and the world know how disappointing and destructive that this Administration was to all of us. Let us never forget it!
The lies, the fear tactics, the human rights violations against humanity and our own people, the attacks against our rights and Constitutional freedoms, and all the innocent people killed in their wars. Let us not forget!
I try to imagine how a fallen George W must feel occupying a lame duck White House knowing that he is on his way out considered quite possibly the worst President in U.S. history. Being a man who I believe is infinitely more concerned with his legacy than he ever was about doing anything noble, I am expecting him to be beside himself with grief due to the way the tides have turned against him. It makes me wonder if he is a tortured soul, as I'm sure probably are the brilliantly evil masterminds behind his legacy, the Cheney's, Wolfawitz's, Rumsfeld's, etc. The compassionate being within me is relieved knowing that Bush is like a puppy that knows that it's done something wrong, but it has no idea what that is. Then there is the vindictive side within me which wants everyone responsible for his Presidency to be held accountable: my former idea was that all those who voted for Bush in the former 2 elections should be ineligible to cast a vote in this election. Too late, not necessary.
America, the government is now heading into a transition: the transition of putting the government back into the hands of the people, less governed by Corporations and the filthy rich, and a self-serving special interest government. America, this truly is a time of hope (just as are all transitions of government -- I bet you felt a sense of hope 8-years ago) so lets hope and dream and act together. Many of us behind our new leadership would like nothing better than to turn our backs on any former Bush supporters -- WE TOLD YOU SO! -- but doing this would only do our mission and our country disservice.
It's time to take those chintzy American flags off of your lapels and tear off that bumber sticker from your car, and start thinking like an American: we are in this together. Those American flags only sought to tear this country apart separated not by who was patriotic or not, but by who supported the regime in the White House. Ironically, an American flag DIVIDED Americans as Americans instead of truly celebrating what this country is all about. Lose those symbols, for now, and lets unite as a diverse people who need each other in all our diversity.
Hopefully I'll take a few more moments of inspiration to banter against the on-the-outs Administration because during the past few years I have been remarkably silent and have been denying what is afforded me as a Right in this great Nation: the Right, and the duty, to speak out and so participate in Democracy.
Tuesday, November 04, 2008
We Will Take to the Streets!
If Obama does not win tonight -- and I must say that I'm a little scared right now as I punch the clock to go home from work -- my prediction is that this country will burst at the seams and the righteous will take to the streets in order to wrestle back our nation from those cheating bastards. If not, I am afraid I might be packing my bags and giving up on this place.
Time to head home and start on those celebratory beers: Obama baby! Kick Georgie and the scoundrels out of Washington!
Time to head home and start on those celebratory beers: Obama baby! Kick Georgie and the scoundrels out of Washington!
Monday, November 03, 2008
Bummin in Seattle
I hate this place! Every year about this time I say that and the timing is right around the coming of the rains and the turning back of the clocks. Yuk. The light summer drizzle has turned to a cold steady rain and the leaves in the streets make it ungodly, and this is an ungodly place to ride a bike. There is no God. Or maybe God just forgets about us once we get terminally shrouded in clouds and the dark sets in.
The first cyclocross races of the season were dry and dusty, remember? A beautiful thing that was! But yesterday the course was uber-saturated with standing water and the mud that formed was not only all-pervasive and all-knowing, but thick and mucky. And deep too. At the call-up ceremony I realized that I'd forgot to register, d'uh! I'd been hanging out at the course all day long supporting riders and taking photos and getting ready to race, and there I go and forget to register. The officials radioed the booth and quick as that I was in. Started in the back row, and it turns out my most memorable move of the day was shooting up the inside into first place by the first run-up, that was pretty slick -- you gotta want it and you gottta go get it! You wouldn't know that was my motto by watching me in the rest of the race. So, slick as it was I went down in a mucky off-camber and landed on my bad shoulder which was the beginning of my slow downward spiral to doom. During my 3rd lap, in the Forest of Muckingdom I gave up... it was too thick, my back and shoulder was throbbing, and I had no power to give to the pedals, and so the best, no, ONLY option was to pull out and retreat to the RV for a beer. I endured some spectator jeering and my pride took a sting, but there are bigger fish to fry. USGP and Nats.
Seattle Cyclocross sucks! Its a not cyclocross, its junglecross, and racing here doesn't prepare you for racing with the big boys. This is slow, technical, run-uppy singletrack courses and so you don't develop the speed and recovery you need at a National event. But by saying this I am denying my own roots as I am made of Seattle mud. I've actually been called a "mudder", someone who excels in the stuff, and its true, I usually do pretty well in it, but the other equation here is that my heart just isn't in it because I'm thinking of these bigger races and the whole series feels trivial to me. And I feel guitly about this as I'm now a fair weather crosser, the worst kind of crosser, and one that doesn't last too long in the NW scene.
I need to take the cue from all my newbie cyclocross friends who are full of the spirit and excitement of cyclocross: they are a reminder of what cyclocross is all about which is the fun, the mud, the comaraderie, and digging deep, but not the results. And not some other ideal, or some other bigger race someplace else: be in the moment, be here now, be in the mud!
The first cyclocross races of the season were dry and dusty, remember? A beautiful thing that was! But yesterday the course was uber-saturated with standing water and the mud that formed was not only all-pervasive and all-knowing, but thick and mucky. And deep too. At the call-up ceremony I realized that I'd forgot to register, d'uh! I'd been hanging out at the course all day long supporting riders and taking photos and getting ready to race, and there I go and forget to register. The officials radioed the booth and quick as that I was in. Started in the back row, and it turns out my most memorable move of the day was shooting up the inside into first place by the first run-up, that was pretty slick -- you gotta want it and you gottta go get it! You wouldn't know that was my motto by watching me in the rest of the race. So, slick as it was I went down in a mucky off-camber and landed on my bad shoulder which was the beginning of my slow downward spiral to doom. During my 3rd lap, in the Forest of Muckingdom I gave up... it was too thick, my back and shoulder was throbbing, and I had no power to give to the pedals, and so the best, no, ONLY option was to pull out and retreat to the RV for a beer. I endured some spectator jeering and my pride took a sting, but there are bigger fish to fry. USGP and Nats.
Seattle Cyclocross sucks! Its a not cyclocross, its junglecross, and racing here doesn't prepare you for racing with the big boys. This is slow, technical, run-uppy singletrack courses and so you don't develop the speed and recovery you need at a National event. But by saying this I am denying my own roots as I am made of Seattle mud. I've actually been called a "mudder", someone who excels in the stuff, and its true, I usually do pretty well in it, but the other equation here is that my heart just isn't in it because I'm thinking of these bigger races and the whole series feels trivial to me. And I feel guitly about this as I'm now a fair weather crosser, the worst kind of crosser, and one that doesn't last too long in the NW scene.
I need to take the cue from all my newbie cyclocross friends who are full of the spirit and excitement of cyclocross: they are a reminder of what cyclocross is all about which is the fun, the mud, the comaraderie, and digging deep, but not the results. And not some other ideal, or some other bigger race someplace else: be in the moment, be here now, be in the mud!
Thursday, October 30, 2008
USGP 1 & 2: Derby Cup, Louisville, Kentucky
Day 1: A disappointing 6th place after a 1st lap crash into the course fencing that had me hung up a few seconds too long to bridge back to the leaders. I pulled away from the rest of the field but had to settle for listening to the exciting finish of the top 5 guys battling it out: I should have been up there!
Day 2: A hard fought 3rd place that I suffered hard for. Came down to a sprint for 2nd but I honestly didn't want it bad enough -- my fitness just isn't there yet but by the time of the next race I plan to be fully ready and to vie for the top spot and the series title.
Next USGP's is in Trenton, NJ, November 15-16.
Final USGP's in Portland, OR, December 6-7.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Hammies back Online, Shoulder Off!
Damn this sport. Damn that cyclocross single-track. Damn it, I hit a tree.
After a bad start I recovered by making a wholesale pass of like 15 dudes by the 3rd corner and moved all the way into 3rd place, but I'm wishing now that I'd just shot past J.S. right then too because as soon as we entered the forest he let R.S. open up a huge gap. I realized that I wasn't going to be able to get around him and I yelled "Go!", and then watched in frustration as the gap widened as I couldn't find a spot to pass. Finally I took a line into the weeds on the right, and unfortunately I had to chop JS down as I cut back onto the trail -- I heard him cussing me, but I gassed it anyway as I could see R up ahead. I sprinted on every straightaway to catch up and had to take some risks, but not sure how many corners later it happened but I was closing the gap fast ahead and opening up a gap behind me. I must have over-leaned into the counter-steer and my right shoulder clipped a tree which sent me spiraling into the shrubbery. I remember jumping up so completely disoriented that I couldn't find my bike until I saw a line of a dozen riders whip past and they clued me in to where my bike should still lay. My bars and shifters were twisted and by the time I could get back onto the bike another 5 or 6 riders had past. First run-up I felt a shot of pain in my shoulder as I hoisted the bike and then I set it down right on top of the stinger in my shoulder, ouch. Swapping bikes at the pits I lost another couple places, and although I was able to keep passing dudes my laps were numbered as the pain in my shoulder overtook my priorities and I just couldn't get serious about pushing the pace. I pulled out and grabbed a beer from the cooler and a brat from the grill before any of my teammates even noticed I'd quit. Quitter.
Mandie stopped by last night and after dinner and a couple beers she diagnosed my injury as a AC shoulder joint bruise, not good considering my race goals but certainly much better than it could have been. A few more centimeters of shoulder contact with that Fir would have surely spelled dislocation and/or breakage, a season ending injury. The prognosis isn't necessarily great for this weekend and frankly, I have been exploring the possibility of canceling my trip to Kentucky this weekend, but I'm now leaning towards going and coping. Worst case scenario I have a fun little vacation and get lots of 3D photos of a National level race.
This morning I'm wrecked. The IBU's and the beers had wore off and my whole body was racked with a deep feeling of sickness. It feels sorry for itself, the poor bastard. And now another week or two of shitty training, damn that tree.
After a bad start I recovered by making a wholesale pass of like 15 dudes by the 3rd corner and moved all the way into 3rd place, but I'm wishing now that I'd just shot past J.S. right then too because as soon as we entered the forest he let R.S. open up a huge gap. I realized that I wasn't going to be able to get around him and I yelled "Go!", and then watched in frustration as the gap widened as I couldn't find a spot to pass. Finally I took a line into the weeds on the right, and unfortunately I had to chop JS down as I cut back onto the trail -- I heard him cussing me, but I gassed it anyway as I could see R up ahead. I sprinted on every straightaway to catch up and had to take some risks, but not sure how many corners later it happened but I was closing the gap fast ahead and opening up a gap behind me. I must have over-leaned into the counter-steer and my right shoulder clipped a tree which sent me spiraling into the shrubbery. I remember jumping up so completely disoriented that I couldn't find my bike until I saw a line of a dozen riders whip past and they clued me in to where my bike should still lay. My bars and shifters were twisted and by the time I could get back onto the bike another 5 or 6 riders had past. First run-up I felt a shot of pain in my shoulder as I hoisted the bike and then I set it down right on top of the stinger in my shoulder, ouch. Swapping bikes at the pits I lost another couple places, and although I was able to keep passing dudes my laps were numbered as the pain in my shoulder overtook my priorities and I just couldn't get serious about pushing the pace. I pulled out and grabbed a beer from the cooler and a brat from the grill before any of my teammates even noticed I'd quit. Quitter.
Pushing my bike up the climb, the shoulder still a bit tender at this point.
Mandie stopped by last night and after dinner and a couple beers she diagnosed my injury as a AC shoulder joint bruise, not good considering my race goals but certainly much better than it could have been. A few more centimeters of shoulder contact with that Fir would have surely spelled dislocation and/or breakage, a season ending injury. The prognosis isn't necessarily great for this weekend and frankly, I have been exploring the possibility of canceling my trip to Kentucky this weekend, but I'm now leaning towards going and coping. Worst case scenario I have a fun little vacation and get lots of 3D photos of a National level race.
This morning I'm wrecked. The IBU's and the beers had wore off and my whole body was racked with a deep feeling of sickness. It feels sorry for itself, the poor bastard. And now another week or two of shitty training, damn that tree.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Bon Voyage Marchrist
Marlin and Christine are off in their usual, whirlwind style. They just got back, I'm so pissed. As I told them, they are selfish bastards for deserting me/us like this. And as usual our timing couldn't be worse because they return just as my NOAA contract is due to expire, and so about that time I could possibly be hitting the road.
They are starting off by traveling to up-state Turkey for a few months until the winter weather turns them away, and then not even they are sure where to next: I love it! This used to be termed Doin It Dougie-style, but I haven't been championing this movement in awhile now so its being referred to more and more these days as In Marlin Motion.
I'll be sure to post their link when they make one, although I'm guessing they might snub 21st Century technology again and skip the blog. Buen Viaje, mon amis!
They are starting off by traveling to up-state Turkey for a few months until the winter weather turns them away, and then not even they are sure where to next: I love it! This used to be termed Doin It Dougie-style, but I haven't been championing this movement in awhile now so its being referred to more and more these days as In Marlin Motion.
I'll be sure to post their link when they make one, although I'm guessing they might snub 21st Century technology again and skip the blog. Buen Viaje, mon amis!
Full Moons Over My Hammies
The Acupuncturist used every trick in her quiver to get at those stubborn knots in my hamstrings, and the most fun were the Chinese suction cups that left fist sized welts all over my legs and back. Pucker marks, deep red like a harvest moon.
In order to rid my hamstrings of their deep-rooted knots and ease my inability to pedal a bike or walk a flight of steeps, I took drastic measures. Shock and Awe, I call it. Last week alone I had one 90-minute massage, one P/T appointment, 2 chiropractic adjustments, and an acupuncture session with suction cup therapy and massage. The good thing is that my hamstrings and neck feel better, I can ride. The bad is that I'm not sure which helped.
Its true, chiropractors are a shifty breed and I'm betting that alongside their physiology and treatment courses that they study in equal depth marketing and shmoozing philosophies. I'm sure they automatically qualify for a dual degree in pyramid scheeming. Okay, I really like my chiro adjuster, she's cool and seems authentic, but she definitely works me over to keep making appointments. Two a week, no way, try two a month, baby cakes! But my P/T guy was hardly any different and when I left that appointment I didn't have the physical benefits of a good back cracking or a muscle rub-down, but rather, I felt like the recipient of a back-alley shakedown. In most cases a P/T is just a diagnostic, and I don't need someone to tell me what I gots: symptoms, shit, I know the symptoms!
I have good insurance these days but my limit is like 40 massage/acupuncture/chiropractic visits per year, and if you ask me now how I should allot those, I'm leaning towards massage being the most helpful and realigning my bod and maintaining my stellar, godlike physique. Oh yeah, I'm a cyclist: rather, my 12-year old prepubescent princess physique.
Its hard to justify 5-minutes on a chiropractic table the whole while wondering if your neck is going to get irreparably snapped versus 60+ minutes of sweet oil on bare-skin rubbing of sorely needed rubbed sore muscles. In a massage you are karmicly touched and loved; in a chiropractic adjustment you probably give up some good energy. Yuk!
In order to rid my hamstrings of their deep-rooted knots and ease my inability to pedal a bike or walk a flight of steeps, I took drastic measures. Shock and Awe, I call it. Last week alone I had one 90-minute massage, one P/T appointment, 2 chiropractic adjustments, and an acupuncture session with suction cup therapy and massage. The good thing is that my hamstrings and neck feel better, I can ride. The bad is that I'm not sure which helped.
Its true, chiropractors are a shifty breed and I'm betting that alongside their physiology and treatment courses that they study in equal depth marketing and shmoozing philosophies. I'm sure they automatically qualify for a dual degree in pyramid scheeming. Okay, I really like my chiro adjuster, she's cool and seems authentic, but she definitely works me over to keep making appointments. Two a week, no way, try two a month, baby cakes! But my P/T guy was hardly any different and when I left that appointment I didn't have the physical benefits of a good back cracking or a muscle rub-down, but rather, I felt like the recipient of a back-alley shakedown. In most cases a P/T is just a diagnostic, and I don't need someone to tell me what I gots: symptoms, shit, I know the symptoms!
I have good insurance these days but my limit is like 40 massage/acupuncture/chiropractic visits per year, and if you ask me now how I should allot those, I'm leaning towards massage being the most helpful and realigning my bod and maintaining my stellar, godlike physique. Oh yeah, I'm a cyclist: rather, my 12-year old prepubescent princess physique.
Its hard to justify 5-minutes on a chiropractic table the whole while wondering if your neck is going to get irreparably snapped versus 60+ minutes of sweet oil on bare-skin rubbing of sorely needed rubbed sore muscles. In a massage you are karmicly touched and loved; in a chiropractic adjustment you probably give up some good energy. Yuk!
Monday, October 06, 2008
Seized By Hammy
It may have been due to some run-ups that I did at lunch one day last week, but for whatever reason, my hamstrings have tightened up beyond belief and the huge knots not only hurt to the touch but I can hardly reach my toes they are so tight. This just isn't normal but its the second time in about 6-weeks that this has happened. Shitty, I could hardly ride this weekend for our annual Methowfest in Mazama. The hypochondriac in me wonders if maybe I'm not getting all the nutrients and/or electrolytes that I need, or maybe I overstretched? I wonder if I am now more prone to this sort of thing happening for now on? I'm calling Nancy today for a massage because I'm worried that its not going to get better by the weekend... its already been 5 or 6 days and that's not usual.
A few personal sponsorships for this years CX season are coming in. More details on that later, but so far just about everyone that I've solicited has come through, so maybe I need to do more asking! These are a couple picks from Rad GP that I found hanging out on the web:
Monday, September 29, 2008
Seattle CX Opener
I raced with the Elites and I went out strong. Okay, maybe too strong, but for two laps I was comfortably riding with the two leaders until my chain fell off, then blammo! I fell apart. I slipped to 4th, then spent the next 45-minutes dooking it out with an 18-year old upstart until the last lap when I had to let him go ahead so that I could finish the last lap at my own pace... kind of like a wild animal seeking death in solitude. Well, that didn't work so well because I had the rest of field chasing hard and I ended up pushing just as hard as if I'd have been racing at the front.
Here's the mass run-up on the first lap: I start in 3rd and get roughed up by some shouldered bikes and make it to the top in about 8th. Fortunately for me, CX is a cycling sport in which it helps to run, not the other way around.
My chain dropped 3 or 4 times during the race and I eventually swapped bikes, but this forced me to attack hard to get back to the front and it took too much out of me. My back went out on me by the third lap like nobodies business and the rest of the race was a slow demise. With the back, eventually also go the hamstrings, and without those babies you can forget it. It was agonizing and I suffered as hard as I've ever done. Pulled off a 6th and happy with anything inside the top 10, on such a day.
After the race I was pulled aside by an official who told me that I'd committed a pit violation by making an illegal exchange: instead of entering the pit and bypassing the barrier section, I handed my bike over the ribbon as I negotiated the barriers and grabbed my B-bike from JJ, standing ready for me in the pit. Lara even caught a partial video of this: I thought it was pretty smooth and I should have been awarded some extra style minutes.
I'm almost keeping up with the eventual winner on the run-up, that's not like me.
Wednesday, September 24, 2008
CX Nationals Callup
And I quoth, straight from UsaCycling:"Juniors 10-16, Junior Women 17-18, U23 Women, and Masters:
(1) The first rider called to the line will be the defending National Champion from the previous year if still in the same class.
(2) The next riders called to the line will be the previous year's second thru eighth finishing positions. If a previous year's champion from another age group moves to a different category, that rider will displace the eighth placed rider. If any of the aforementioned riders are not participating, those spots will be filled by order of registration.
(3) All other riders will be staged in the start grid by order of registration."
(1) The first rider called to the line will be the defending National Champion from the previous year if still in the same class.
(2) The next riders called to the line will be the previous year's second thru eighth finishing positions. If a previous year's champion from another age group moves to a different category, that rider will displace the eighth placed rider. If any of the aforementioned riders are not participating, those spots will be filled by order of registration.
(3) All other riders will be staged in the start grid by order of registration."
Wooohooo... there is hope! And a god! I hope.
Monday, September 22, 2008
I Did the Double!
The Star-Crossed Cyclocross race at Marymoor Park has been on my mind and my Google calendar for many months now and so to pull off the win is huge. Going in, I said that I'd be happy with a top-5 after seeing the start list, and so I'm lucky to have gone into this race "on form". A few shots from the race as well as the next day down near Tacoma.
Sunday @ the Rad Racing GP in Steilacoom. A great course but the thigh-busting run-up kills me every time. Not sure how I managed to stay with the long-gaited Feldman up that climb but it had to have been the key to my success. There was a stereo blasting old Van Halen at the run-up and it helped me every time.
Once again, Feldman was a no-show for the award ceremony, too bad. And the timing was bad for this shot: just missed the podium girls that had adorned me with kisses.
Sunday @ the Rad Racing GP in Steilacoom. A great course but the thigh-busting run-up kills me every time. Not sure how I managed to stay with the long-gaited Feldman up that climb but it had to have been the key to my success. There was a stereo blasting old Van Halen at the run-up and it helped me every time.
Once again, Feldman was a no-show for the award ceremony, too bad. And the timing was bad for this shot: just missed the podium girls that had adorned me with kisses.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Sabas with the Gang!
Tonight a bunch of us are meeting at Saba's Ethiopian Restaurant because its what Marlin and Christine wanted. If they dig it, I'll dig it. Marlin got me hooked on the Injeera and the veggie platter years ago but lately I've only been eating at my local joint just 2-blocks away that is good but clearly not of the highest quality.
Reservations for 13, not including the 2-toddlers, Kian and Oliver. Oliver is Roger and Malia's little dude who is just a few months older than young peck, and I look forward to seeing how much he's grown since I saw him over a month ago.
Reservations for 13, not including the 2-toddlers, Kian and Oliver. Oliver is Roger and Malia's little dude who is just a few months older than young peck, and I look forward to seeing how much he's grown since I saw him over a month ago.
Monday, September 15, 2008
First CX of the Season!
CopperCross kicked my butt! I just wasn't prepared and so its a good thing I tested the waters before my bigger race this coming weekend. My legs felt sluggish by the 2nd lap and I dropped my chain over half-a-dozen times or more, which further set me back. Out of 8-10 "elite" starters I pretty easily took 3rd, but the real sting to my pride was being caught by the winner of the masters division, Tom, a past and soon to be rival who I really respect.
Monday, August 25, 2008
Heartwrenching Result, Effort
I did it again. I pissed away another win.
It just doesn't feel like my fault and yet I can't help but beat myself up over this one. I'd say this is the hardest time I've ever had in dealing with a racing result. There are lots of "almosts" in bike racing, it happens all the time if you're up there slugging it out and competitive, but sometimes its you who squeaks out the win over someone better so in the end it all works out, but not this time. I wanted it bad, and I worked so damn hard to put myself in the situation to win. Usually thats not enough though; there are 50 others guys who are doing the same thing, but I was one of the best and most aggressive on this day and it should have worked out, damn it.
There was at least one current pro in the mix and at least several other former pro/semi-pro's, and there were at least 3-4 full teams out there mixing it up including the Hagens-Berman and Carter Subaru teams. It included most of Washington's best. As usual I didn't feel worthy at the start, but once the racing started to heat up I was right there in the folds and took my lumps at the front, and many efforts off the front. The format was 10, 4-5 mile laps on flat farm roads between Redmond and Carnation, and at lap 6 there was the first and only prime that placed 2-deep and paid out only in points. A mile to the prime line I decided to put myself into the fray and go for it, why not. Benaroya put their team at the front to lead it out for ex-Subway pro David Richter, and it was Russel Stevenson who took the first hard pull that strung out the peleton to 50-deep. I had myself in about 10th and because I was too far back I had to start my sprint early, and just as I hit the 4th or 5th spot Richter pulled out and I found his wheel but couldn't come around, but I managed to get second and a little dose of pride. I also tried to keep the little break going but the peleton kept rolling pretty good and devoured us within the mile.
The next few laps were uneventful for me because I was dismayed at the ability to get away and thought I'd play it smart and rest up. Had some nice conversations in the peleton and caught up with a few old friends. With 2 to go I moved up to the front and jumped on a few more flyers, and then I noticed a H-B rider attacking all alone, so I jumped on it. Looking back I had a Carter Subaru rider attached and knew this could be the one --a good team composition -- and so as soon as I caught the lone rider I took my pull and then gave the elbow flick. Davis pulled through and then I realized that the H-B rider was McClung when he calls out "Its a bunch of old guys!". We are all pushing the 40-year mark and Richard is still kicking ass at over 40. A former pro, I'm told. (Okay, time to fast forward...)
3-miles later we'd accumulated a lead of a minute-plus and with 6-miles left we had it. Two teams were slowing down the peletons' pace-making and we were laying it down with 28-32 mph pulls. We approached corner 2 and I had just taken over point, and I had been chomping at the bit to lay it down hard. I came into the corner pretty hot but no problem -- until my tire rolled off the carbon rim and I went sliding across the road on my hip. I took out Davis into a road sign and McClung was forced to slow, and so that was it -- race over! I hopped up but no go without a tire.
I thought that my glue had failed, but yesterday I was checking out the wheel and realized that it was the tire that failed! The tubular rolled right off the tire strip which was still firmly attached to the wheel.
It just doesn't feel like my fault and yet I can't help but beat myself up over this one. I'd say this is the hardest time I've ever had in dealing with a racing result. There are lots of "almosts" in bike racing, it happens all the time if you're up there slugging it out and competitive, but sometimes its you who squeaks out the win over someone better so in the end it all works out, but not this time. I wanted it bad, and I worked so damn hard to put myself in the situation to win. Usually thats not enough though; there are 50 others guys who are doing the same thing, but I was one of the best and most aggressive on this day and it should have worked out, damn it.
There was at least one current pro in the mix and at least several other former pro/semi-pro's, and there were at least 3-4 full teams out there mixing it up including the Hagens-Berman and Carter Subaru teams. It included most of Washington's best. As usual I didn't feel worthy at the start, but once the racing started to heat up I was right there in the folds and took my lumps at the front, and many efforts off the front. The format was 10, 4-5 mile laps on flat farm roads between Redmond and Carnation, and at lap 6 there was the first and only prime that placed 2-deep and paid out only in points. A mile to the prime line I decided to put myself into the fray and go for it, why not. Benaroya put their team at the front to lead it out for ex-Subway pro David Richter, and it was Russel Stevenson who took the first hard pull that strung out the peleton to 50-deep. I had myself in about 10th and because I was too far back I had to start my sprint early, and just as I hit the 4th or 5th spot Richter pulled out and I found his wheel but couldn't come around, but I managed to get second and a little dose of pride. I also tried to keep the little break going but the peleton kept rolling pretty good and devoured us within the mile.
The next few laps were uneventful for me because I was dismayed at the ability to get away and thought I'd play it smart and rest up. Had some nice conversations in the peleton and caught up with a few old friends. With 2 to go I moved up to the front and jumped on a few more flyers, and then I noticed a H-B rider attacking all alone, so I jumped on it. Looking back I had a Carter Subaru rider attached and knew this could be the one --a good team composition -- and so as soon as I caught the lone rider I took my pull and then gave the elbow flick. Davis pulled through and then I realized that the H-B rider was McClung when he calls out "Its a bunch of old guys!". We are all pushing the 40-year mark and Richard is still kicking ass at over 40. A former pro, I'm told. (Okay, time to fast forward...)
3-miles later we'd accumulated a lead of a minute-plus and with 6-miles left we had it. Two teams were slowing down the peletons' pace-making and we were laying it down with 28-32 mph pulls. We approached corner 2 and I had just taken over point, and I had been chomping at the bit to lay it down hard. I came into the corner pretty hot but no problem -- until my tire rolled off the carbon rim and I went sliding across the road on my hip. I took out Davis into a road sign and McClung was forced to slow, and so that was it -- race over! I hopped up but no go without a tire.
I thought that my glue had failed, but yesterday I was checking out the wheel and realized that it was the tire that failed! The tubular rolled right off the tire strip which was still firmly attached to the wheel.
Friday, August 22, 2008
A Season of Thursdays
Starting mid-summer I began racing at the Pacific Raceways International series when an Albuquerque friend came to town and drug me out there. I've never been a huge fan of that race but its primarily because its such a trek getting out there. I won that first race and as usual, once you get a few series points you can't help but start thinking of glory, and although making the weekly drive way the hell out there for a 1-hr race was the last thing I wanted, I got hooked.
A few weeks lapsed before I got back out there but I promptly won the next two races and the dream came alive. Actually, its a measly training race and so I find "glory" a hard attribute to give to it, but it was really more of an excuse to drag my ass out for the needed late season training as the baby was drawing more and more near.
I hit full-form in late June and felt unstoppable. I was commonly taking 32-34 mph pulls across the top of the raceway and was riding away from the peleton and dudes were just hanging on. During the first 4-5 races I nearly swept the top spot each time and on at least 2-3 occasions I rode away from the field and did the majority of the race solo and off-the-front. Then I started cramping. I used to never cramp but later in the season it starting happening more and more, little by little, no matter how much stretching I did, how much I warmed up, or how many bananas I ate. Was I chronically dehydrated? A couple times a Cat 1 stud or Pro turned up giving me a run for my money, and though no one ever rode away from me in one of these races I was duped for many of the primes and I only managed to garner a few points. I was nearly skunked on one occasion but eeked out a meager 1-point, and it was only then that I thought I might not be able to catch the series leaders who'd been doing this series since the beginning of the season.
As cyclists we often have to cultivate a unique sense of a race by mulling it over. And over. We have to delve into the intricacies of the race and our inner terrain in a very personal and in-depth way, by exploring our sensations during each "move" or attack, how we responded or were unable to respond, and if we were able to overcome or if we succumbed to a better racer. Its an important part of the race, just as the pre-trip preparations and anticipation are an important aspect of a vacation, and so I want to set down some of those musings from memorable races of this season while these scabs are still fresh and susceptible to infection.
A few weeks lapsed before I got back out there but I promptly won the next two races and the dream came alive. Actually, its a measly training race and so I find "glory" a hard attribute to give to it, but it was really more of an excuse to drag my ass out for the needed late season training as the baby was drawing more and more near.
I hit full-form in late June and felt unstoppable. I was commonly taking 32-34 mph pulls across the top of the raceway and was riding away from the peleton and dudes were just hanging on. During the first 4-5 races I nearly swept the top spot each time and on at least 2-3 occasions I rode away from the field and did the majority of the race solo and off-the-front. Then I started cramping. I used to never cramp but later in the season it starting happening more and more, little by little, no matter how much stretching I did, how much I warmed up, or how many bananas I ate. Was I chronically dehydrated? A couple times a Cat 1 stud or Pro turned up giving me a run for my money, and though no one ever rode away from me in one of these races I was duped for many of the primes and I only managed to garner a few points. I was nearly skunked on one occasion but eeked out a meager 1-point, and it was only then that I thought I might not be able to catch the series leaders who'd been doing this series since the beginning of the season.
As cyclists we often have to cultivate a unique sense of a race by mulling it over. And over. We have to delve into the intricacies of the race and our inner terrain in a very personal and in-depth way, by exploring our sensations during each "move" or attack, how we responded or were unable to respond, and if we were able to overcome or if we succumbed to a better racer. Its an important part of the race, just as the pre-trip preparations and anticipation are an important aspect of a vacation, and so I want to set down some of those musings from memorable races of this season while these scabs are still fresh and susceptible to infection.
Friday, June 27, 2008
Le Peleton
Its not about the race. Well, thats depending upon how well I do, or not, and last weekend at the Elkhorn Classic Stage Race I failed to meet expectations. Its not about the race.
I had nine Veloce Cycles teammates in attendance and almost all fields were full, including our Category 1/2 field which started over 100-riders including a couple of pros. The weather was hot, and we were well aware that the racing was set to be hot too. How hot we were unsure and this made me feel uneasy because my "new life" made it apparent that racing with the pros was fool hearty and that I should generally stick to racing with the Masters. This philosophy, unfortunately, was proven correct.
Let's make this quick and painless. There's no need to relive whats already done, right? But what about the spirit of the race report? Race reports are for winners.
The first stage opened under a cruel sun. It had to be in the 90's, and many of us succumbed to the heat, I did, but not until the final miles when the race started to blow wide open and it was react or die. As it turns out, I started things off on the second to last climb of the day about 20-miles from the finish. I attacked at the start of a long roller and 2-guys bridged up to me, and we kept it rolling for a few short minutes before a raging peleton caught us, jumped and trampled us, and spit us out along with the remaining shards of a shattering field. By the time I felt some semblance of strength returned to my legs it was too late to respond and I could only keep the power steady and start picking off other chumps. Its what I did. I caught and passed a few groups and rolled into the finish with a group of 8 within the top-25 a few minutes down.
Stage 2, Day 2 -- more of the same in the time trial. I was passed and dropped hard by my 30-second man who ended up setting the fastest time of the day near 2-1/2 minutes ahead of me. And I was running a rear disc wheel and 4-feel of time trial helmet that I borrowed from a teammate and so I had no excuses. Unless being a wuss is considered an excuse. I've no illusions: I need to dial in my new TT bike and spend some time on it if I ever hope to be competitive in the race of truth at this level.
Stage 3, canceled because of a light piss of rain. Sucks, I would have won!
Stage 4: let me set this up. Another hot day. 105-miles. 4 Cat 2-3 climbs. 1 Cat 1 climb that came in the final 8-miles of the race. It was a hill top finish. I thought that this suited me, and might have had I been racing at the front, but on the final "easy" climb about 30 miles from the finish my back would have no more, my hammies siezed and so did my will to suffer. Essentially I bailed. I bailed for about 20-seconds and that was enough to cost me the wheels of the peleton and so I had to settle for a 30-mile chase with the fat guys. Then, ironically, the final 8 miles I felt good and blazed the climb in just over 30-minutes and caught the tail end of the shattered main group. I could have had a great race. Core!
I had nine Veloce Cycles teammates in attendance and almost all fields were full, including our Category 1/2 field which started over 100-riders including a couple of pros. The weather was hot, and we were well aware that the racing was set to be hot too. How hot we were unsure and this made me feel uneasy because my "new life" made it apparent that racing with the pros was fool hearty and that I should generally stick to racing with the Masters. This philosophy, unfortunately, was proven correct.
Let's make this quick and painless. There's no need to relive whats already done, right? But what about the spirit of the race report? Race reports are for winners.
The first stage opened under a cruel sun. It had to be in the 90's, and many of us succumbed to the heat, I did, but not until the final miles when the race started to blow wide open and it was react or die. As it turns out, I started things off on the second to last climb of the day about 20-miles from the finish. I attacked at the start of a long roller and 2-guys bridged up to me, and we kept it rolling for a few short minutes before a raging peleton caught us, jumped and trampled us, and spit us out along with the remaining shards of a shattering field. By the time I felt some semblance of strength returned to my legs it was too late to respond and I could only keep the power steady and start picking off other chumps. Its what I did. I caught and passed a few groups and rolled into the finish with a group of 8 within the top-25 a few minutes down.
Stage 2, Day 2 -- more of the same in the time trial. I was passed and dropped hard by my 30-second man who ended up setting the fastest time of the day near 2-1/2 minutes ahead of me. And I was running a rear disc wheel and 4-feel of time trial helmet that I borrowed from a teammate and so I had no excuses. Unless being a wuss is considered an excuse. I've no illusions: I need to dial in my new TT bike and spend some time on it if I ever hope to be competitive in the race of truth at this level.
Stage 3, canceled because of a light piss of rain. Sucks, I would have won!
Stage 4: let me set this up. Another hot day. 105-miles. 4 Cat 2-3 climbs. 1 Cat 1 climb that came in the final 8-miles of the race. It was a hill top finish. I thought that this suited me, and might have had I been racing at the front, but on the final "easy" climb about 30 miles from the finish my back would have no more, my hammies siezed and so did my will to suffer. Essentially I bailed. I bailed for about 20-seconds and that was enough to cost me the wheels of the peleton and so I had to settle for a 30-mile chase with the fat guys. Then, ironically, the final 8 miles I felt good and blazed the climb in just over 30-minutes and caught the tail end of the shattered main group. I could have had a great race. Core!
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
Jon's Home Homebrew
I've always wanted to make a Tortugabrew but all that sloshing around wouldn't be too good for the primary and secondary fermentation stages, not to mention what might happen if I were pulled over while boiling the wart.
Jon and I, as well as Lara and Annie, are hoping to start a little ritualism that we hope might last through the winter. Our goal is that every other week we'll get together and work on a new beer, hopefully racking one while we kick off another batch, and all the while we'll be swilling beers from our growing beer cellar and eating gourmet food of the Betty Ford varietal.
A "Betty Ford" is a very Lara & Jon thing in that it is a refined method of what the rest of us all call grazing. Mrs Ford was a lush and liked her snacks, and being the First Lady she obviously grazed on only the finest of ingredients and so its from this tradition that we draw our inspiration. We lay out an entire meals' worth of good food while we swill whatever beverage of the moment suits our fancy, more often than not this winter it was wine but we are transitioning towards beers, sometimes g&t's and hopefully more margaritas.
Batch #1: "Bitterheart Porter": Its dark, its bitter, we hope it's as chewy as one of those new-fangled style granola bars.
Jon and I, as well as Lara and Annie, are hoping to start a little ritualism that we hope might last through the winter. Our goal is that every other week we'll get together and work on a new beer, hopefully racking one while we kick off another batch, and all the while we'll be swilling beers from our growing beer cellar and eating gourmet food of the Betty Ford varietal.
A "Betty Ford" is a very Lara & Jon thing in that it is a refined method of what the rest of us all call grazing. Mrs Ford was a lush and liked her snacks, and being the First Lady she obviously grazed on only the finest of ingredients and so its from this tradition that we draw our inspiration. We lay out an entire meals' worth of good food while we swill whatever beverage of the moment suits our fancy, more often than not this winter it was wine but we are transitioning towards beers, sometimes g&t's and hopefully more margaritas.
Batch #1: "Bitterheart Porter": Its dark, its bitter, we hope it's as chewy as one of those new-fangled style granola bars.
Friday, June 13, 2008
MOE: The Mutual of Enumclaw Stage Race
It had been over 6-weeks since I last touched my time trial bike and my results in the TT sure showed this: I was almost a minute behind the fastest Master A rider in a measly 6-mile race (but I beat Dan by 5-seconds!). The TT was Stage 1 in the morning, and Stage 2 was an afternoon Criterium on the streets of downtown Enumclaw. I was blanked for points in the TT phase of the Omnium with my dismal ride and I hoped to remedy this in the crit by taking the 2-point prime as well as having a great finish. My goal was to win the crit and I was pretty confident.
Dan was my sole teammate and he was great to have along out there, we worked well together all weekend. For support I had Ann manning the RV and she seemed to always be working up some pre or post race concoction for us, it was amazing! Rob and his girlfriend Kelly were both also racing and so Veloce had a pretty good contingent.
In the crit Dan and I were uber aggressive and both launched into short-lived breaks. The pack was hungry and nothing was away for more than a few laps. I went after 3 primes and took 2nd in each: my sprint felt so good but it was not good enough/my timing was bad. With 1/2 a lap to go I was cut-off and found myself back further than I wanted, 7-8th but I wanted to be in 1st-3rd, and in the final straights I was only able to get around a couple guys and could only manage to take 6th, Dan 8th or 9th. Not bad but bummed even though we were now on the board with a few points each. Even just a few points made us contenders for a top 5 if all went well in the Road Race on Sunday. Couldn't wait!
Thursday, May 29, 2008
The Ballard Suite
Here's a few pics of my Ballard digs and la famiglia: Jon and Lara are the home-owners and here is how they generally spend their days: yep, lazing around the yard with their pooches while I am their "lawn-boy" and do my best to keep it trimmed and watered but its hard when I'm constantly shaking up martinis for these two. Just kidding. They are the hardest working pair of architects that I currently know and their dogs the best behaved spaniels this side of 17th and that side of 19th (between 75th and about 81st).
It'll be sad when we have to go (for us, probably not them, although they claim to love us unconditionally) and we are currently on the hunt for a spacious 1-BR or 2-BR place to rent in the North-Central Seattle. Preferably there will be attached parking for the RV: our annex, extra storage, our guest room and daddy's peace-and-quiet getaway. Do you know of such a place, please let me know.
Monday, March 31, 2008
Thoughts on "Babel": A 5* Flick!
What a great film, heavy but amazing. I didn't realize that Babel was an Inaritu film or I would have made a point to see it sooner. I love this kind of thing, and my enjoyment of it supports what my Ballard friends say about me: I only like movies that are heavy and depressing. Yeah, so.
By many accounts I'm a movie snob, but really my selectivity comes from the belief, or feeling, rather, that I don't really need to be entertained. I'm entertaining enough to myself, I guess, and don't really enjoy being a spectator but a participant, and in a really good drama you are fully engaged and become a part of the story. Additionally, if I'm going to spend nearly two hours on a friggin couch or in a theater (dropping almost 10 bucks) I want to learn something. In dramas you hopefully learn something about the human condition, or even just a small glimpse into something new or different.
Not long into the film I new that it was an Inaritu film because it had such an Amores Perros feel to it, and it cast Gael Garcia Bernal.
Here's what it was about to me:
--showed the near hopelessness of situations: in all four of the storylines the characters find themselves in near hopeless situations, and you are generally led to feel that they are brought about by ridiculous circumstances.
--the ability of humanity to overcome such insurmountable problems. The resiliency of the human spirit. And a glimpse into a few insurmountable problems.
--in each of the storylines the characters had huge communication barriers to overcome, but ultimately they prevailed. Sort of.
--the interconnectedness of all persons regardless of their place or condition: the major settings are these: inner city Tokyo, the outback of Morocco, suburbs of LA and the remote border zone between US-Mexico.
Here's what some scholars have come up with of interest to me:
In the story of the Tower of Babel, as taken from the Book of Genesis, the people of the world are all united and speak a common language, and they begin to build a tower to reach the heavens and become godlike themselves. God, seeing this, decides to confuse the language of the people and destroy the tower. When the people could no longer understand each other they gave up work on the tower and spread out to different parts of the world. It also refers to the connections -or lack thereof- that come through the use of language. In each storyline the characters struggle with surviving and self-identification based on misunderstanding through a language barrier. This film ultimately looks at the fact that we are all intimately connected on a life-and-death level, yet the trivialities of language and misunderstandings break us apart. ---from The Internet Movie Database.
By many accounts I'm a movie snob, but really my selectivity comes from the belief, or feeling, rather, that I don't really need to be entertained. I'm entertaining enough to myself, I guess, and don't really enjoy being a spectator but a participant, and in a really good drama you are fully engaged and become a part of the story. Additionally, if I'm going to spend nearly two hours on a friggin couch or in a theater (dropping almost 10 bucks) I want to learn something. In dramas you hopefully learn something about the human condition, or even just a small glimpse into something new or different.
Not long into the film I new that it was an Inaritu film because it had such an Amores Perros feel to it, and it cast Gael Garcia Bernal.
Here's what it was about to me:
--showed the near hopelessness of situations: in all four of the storylines the characters find themselves in near hopeless situations, and you are generally led to feel that they are brought about by ridiculous circumstances.
--the ability of humanity to overcome such insurmountable problems. The resiliency of the human spirit. And a glimpse into a few insurmountable problems.
--in each of the storylines the characters had huge communication barriers to overcome, but ultimately they prevailed. Sort of.
--the interconnectedness of all persons regardless of their place or condition: the major settings are these: inner city Tokyo, the outback of Morocco, suburbs of LA and the remote border zone between US-Mexico.
Here's what some scholars have come up with of interest to me:
In the story of the Tower of Babel, as taken from the Book of Genesis, the people of the world are all united and speak a common language, and they begin to build a tower to reach the heavens and become godlike themselves. God, seeing this, decides to confuse the language of the people and destroy the tower. When the people could no longer understand each other they gave up work on the tower and spread out to different parts of the world. It also refers to the connections -or lack thereof- that come through the use of language. In each storyline the characters struggle with surviving and self-identification based on misunderstanding through a language barrier. This film ultimately looks at the fact that we are all intimately connected on a life-and-death level, yet the trivialities of language and misunderstandings break us apart. ---from The Internet Movie Database.
Tuesday, October 09, 2007
BA season over, what next?
That question mark is meant for me as much as it is for you. Yeah, whats next: I don't know what I'm doing from here on out but I've got some options, and thats a start. Sometimes options are good, other times bad, and I'll admit that this time its a bit of a mixed blessing: I am alive and well and in charge of my own destiny, but I still don't have my own ass figured out.
But why live in the future. Its better to live in the present, and more fun to revel in the past.
My summer is over, and in hindsight, it was a non-stop whirlwind of motion. I was perpetually moving: new mexico, back out to utah, the san juans, then out to do some glacier-banff-jasper's, back to utah and new mexico to finish. thats some coverage.
but thats nothing. its all that mileage and space in-between that really added up.
But why live in the future. Its better to live in the present, and more fun to revel in the past.
My summer is over, and in hindsight, it was a non-stop whirlwind of motion. I was perpetually moving: new mexico, back out to utah, the san juans, then out to do some glacier-banff-jasper's, back to utah and new mexico to finish. thats some coverage.
but thats nothing. its all that mileage and space in-between that really added up.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Bent in Bend
I came to Bend for XC Master Nationals and one last chance to race for the season but ended up doing way less racing than I bargained for. I almost pre-registered for all 3 days of racing but I decided to wait and pay-as-i-went. If I'd have prereg'ed I still would have skipped the classic race because I was just too beat after the skiathlon, but it might have lit a fire under me for the skate race. Yeah, I skipped it. Damn me.
Well, "es la vida" is what I'm telling myself now. I really think that I would have completely blown myself if I'd have raced yesterday and been worthless for a few days anyway even if I'd not gotten sick, which I suspect would have happened. So after a leisurely morning instead of driving up to Bachelor to race, I mounted the bike and got in a nice easy 4 1/2 hour ride. Sun came out, wind was always at my back... it was a perfect day. Then today I went up to Bachelor and tele skied the mountain and got in over 2 amazing hours on skate skis. It was nice and cold up there and so the tracks set up beautifully, unlike all last weekend during the racing. But yeah, I'm still feeling the regret right now but I think it will pass.
I'm digging this town this trip more than anytime since my rock climbing expeditions to Smithy back in the college days. I'm finally over the fact that its exploded and cute little Bend is no longer.
Well, "es la vida" is what I'm telling myself now. I really think that I would have completely blown myself if I'd have raced yesterday and been worthless for a few days anyway even if I'd not gotten sick, which I suspect would have happened. So after a leisurely morning instead of driving up to Bachelor to race, I mounted the bike and got in a nice easy 4 1/2 hour ride. Sun came out, wind was always at my back... it was a perfect day. Then today I went up to Bachelor and tele skied the mountain and got in over 2 amazing hours on skate skis. It was nice and cold up there and so the tracks set up beautifully, unlike all last weekend during the racing. But yeah, I'm still feeling the regret right now but I think it will pass.
I'm digging this town this trip more than anytime since my rock climbing expeditions to Smithy back in the college days. I'm finally over the fact that its exploded and cute little Bend is no longer.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
stay at home dood
that's what i tell myself: that i'm a stay at home dude who is independently wealthy and so is able to ski and ride and play at will. damn me, for i wish it were so but i actually have to work piddley-ass jobs as a cover... i mean, to pay the bills. there aren't many bills because i've made sacrifices: i own cars that are long paid for and i have a 90's style "pre-paid" cell phone so i don't get stuck on some plan. how the hell will i know where i'm going to be in 1-2 years?
i hate it when people say to me that i'm so lucky because i can "travel so much", or "afford to work such fun jobs", or can "ski and ride your bike so much". como? come again? two things in rebuttal:
do you think that this lifestyle comes to me so easily and that i haven't/that i am not now paying my dues? if you knew what it took for me to live this way you'd call me irresponsible, or worse, because i'm not earning or saving in my "prime working years" like the rest of you, i.e. i'm not saving or living for the future.
secondly, if its so great then why aren't you doing it? i'll tell you: because you don't have the balls! it takes guts and foresight that our society just doesn't teach us because it doesn't approve. it doesn't approve because we aren't working in our prime years. do you know how much i pay in taxes to our worthless president these years? little if anything... i should be getting money from the rich for living below the poverty line like i do. do you know how much i am contributing to the countries GNP? ask me if i care. actually, this is why i should be admired if for any reason. i am not choosing my path for any reason except that it is the path of my heart. can you honestly say that you have chosen yours?
yes, i'm very very lucky: i have an almost free place to stay in the wintertime (i love you mom and dad) and i live in my RV or "on tour" the rest of the time. its a good life... for now.
Saturday, February 03, 2007
A.S.S. by the Light of Moon
After my first bike ride in over 6-weeks (since my last cyclocross race on December 10th to be precise), I met Stephen, Jeff and Summer, and we drove up to Hyak at Snoqualmie Pass for an evening of skiing under the stars. Oh, and the moon!
Que bela luna!
Under monochrome light -- we didn't bother using our headlamps except in the deepest darkest section of woods on the screaming descents, -- we skied up the long and often uber steep trail leading to the summit nordic trails up above Ski Acres. White peaks lit up all around us and it was surreal, almost out of body, like being in a moonscape or having a Hunter S Thompson-esk desert experience. On the ride home, only minutes after having been out there I felt as though it had been a dream or that I was in a spaceship bound for planet Earth after having been transported to a far out place in outer space.
Yes, we all got some A.S.S. Off the groomed trails the snow had firmed up after weeks of freezing and thawing and so we could ski out-of-bounds at our leisure, out into meadows and around the treetops that stuck up through the depths of accumulated snow.
Da damn, it was amazing!
Check out Heffe's page for what will undoubtedly be additional rantings about this tremendous ski: http://.
Que bela luna!
Under monochrome light -- we didn't bother using our headlamps except in the deepest darkest section of woods on the screaming descents, -- we skied up the long and often uber steep trail leading to the summit nordic trails up above Ski Acres. White peaks lit up all around us and it was surreal, almost out of body, like being in a moonscape or having a Hunter S Thompson-esk desert experience. On the ride home, only minutes after having been out there I felt as though it had been a dream or that I was in a spaceship bound for planet Earth after having been transported to a far out place in outer space.
Yes, we all got some A.S.S. Off the groomed trails the snow had firmed up after weeks of freezing and thawing and so we could ski out-of-bounds at our leisure, out into meadows and around the treetops that stuck up through the depths of accumulated snow.
Da damn, it was amazing!
Check out Heffe's page for what will undoubtedly be additional rantings about this tremendous ski: http://.
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
A Very Nice Piece of A.S.S.
For those of you not in the know you may be sorely disappointed, as was Stephen, when you learn that by "ass" I mean that I had a great session of Adventure Skate Skiing. And you might be equally surprised to learn that getting some A.S.S. can be as fun and rewarding as getting some ass. Its kept me satisfied all winter! Check it out for yourself: Google it or just go to AdventureSkateSkiing.com!
I had finally extracted myself from the grip of that indoor inertia that sets in when I’ve got a ton of catching up to do and the steaming cups of coffee just keep pouring from my French press. My feet are like dogs and prefer being curled up in front of the heater vent all winter instead of going out into the weather and being stuffed into sweat-inducing Nordic boots. I’d been so busy this morning trying to check tasks off my list that I hadn’t noticed that the morning fog had burned off, and as I bounced down the snow-packed road towards the Snopark I shielded my eyes from the sun. I hoped it would be better skiing conditions today than my 18-mile ski around Meadow Loop on Monday, but why should it be any different? The sugary, overworked snow should be the same on all the trails out here where snowmobiles have been ripping it up for the past 3-weeks without any new snowpack. So I expected the worst knowing that the worst is still pretty damn amazing!
I pulled up to the gate and pumped my fist: only one other car was parked there and it was the Montero belonging to Rob, the owner of Plain Hardware, who I’d never skied with but who’d invited me to ski with him out here on Wednesdays. But as usual I’d gotten a late start and had forgotten to call him, so not only would I be skiing alone again but the place would probably be crawling with Snowmobiles. My expectations perked a bit when I observed the lack of trailer-toting 4X4’s.
I followed two fresh skate tracks past the first turn to “meadow” and “pole” routes and headed out the Chiwawa Valley on the insanely wide stretch of grooming wondering what the groomed route of the day would be. The guys that do the grooming have either gotten lazy or purposely quit leaving a grooming report on the Snopark bulletin board this year and so it has become even more of a crap-shoot than in the past. On this day I was hoping to find the fresh corduroy tracks continuing straight ahead towards Trinity instead of turning right and up, up, up to “faultline”, “alder” and “beaver”. The odds were against me and so I wasn’t surprised and took the turn to the right without stopping and then quickly began climbing. I’d planned to keep my heart-rate low and settled into an easy V-1, but as I focused my thoughts on my technique and began tweaking all those aspects of good skiing that give me trouble -- ankle flex and weight forward, pole swing and timing, hip thrust and weight transfer -- and before I knew it I was flying and my heartrate was soaring. And so it goes.
To shortern what could be an interminably long entry, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Trinity HAD been groomed last night after all, and even better, after the turn up Alder Creek it was entirely entouched by man. And so I went forth, bravely, like an explorer on an uncharted course. Yeah, it was tough... it was tough turning around and coming back! Had I the energy and enough daylight I would have skied all the way to Trinity, 22-miles each way, but I was satisfied with about 10-12 miles in each direction. For skate skiers, I'll leave you with this: groomed corduroy more than 20-feet across over moderately undulating terrain on clear, bluebird afternoon in mid-winter. A pic to prove it forthcoming.
I had finally extracted myself from the grip of that indoor inertia that sets in when I’ve got a ton of catching up to do and the steaming cups of coffee just keep pouring from my French press. My feet are like dogs and prefer being curled up in front of the heater vent all winter instead of going out into the weather and being stuffed into sweat-inducing Nordic boots. I’d been so busy this morning trying to check tasks off my list that I hadn’t noticed that the morning fog had burned off, and as I bounced down the snow-packed road towards the Snopark I shielded my eyes from the sun. I hoped it would be better skiing conditions today than my 18-mile ski around Meadow Loop on Monday, but why should it be any different? The sugary, overworked snow should be the same on all the trails out here where snowmobiles have been ripping it up for the past 3-weeks without any new snowpack. So I expected the worst knowing that the worst is still pretty damn amazing!
I pulled up to the gate and pumped my fist: only one other car was parked there and it was the Montero belonging to Rob, the owner of Plain Hardware, who I’d never skied with but who’d invited me to ski with him out here on Wednesdays. But as usual I’d gotten a late start and had forgotten to call him, so not only would I be skiing alone again but the place would probably be crawling with Snowmobiles. My expectations perked a bit when I observed the lack of trailer-toting 4X4’s.
I followed two fresh skate tracks past the first turn to “meadow” and “pole” routes and headed out the Chiwawa Valley on the insanely wide stretch of grooming wondering what the groomed route of the day would be. The guys that do the grooming have either gotten lazy or purposely quit leaving a grooming report on the Snopark bulletin board this year and so it has become even more of a crap-shoot than in the past. On this day I was hoping to find the fresh corduroy tracks continuing straight ahead towards Trinity instead of turning right and up, up, up to “faultline”, “alder” and “beaver”. The odds were against me and so I wasn’t surprised and took the turn to the right without stopping and then quickly began climbing. I’d planned to keep my heart-rate low and settled into an easy V-1, but as I focused my thoughts on my technique and began tweaking all those aspects of good skiing that give me trouble -- ankle flex and weight forward, pole swing and timing, hip thrust and weight transfer -- and before I knew it I was flying and my heartrate was soaring. And so it goes.
To shortern what could be an interminably long entry, I was pleasantly surprised to find that Trinity HAD been groomed last night after all, and even better, after the turn up Alder Creek it was entirely entouched by man. And so I went forth, bravely, like an explorer on an uncharted course. Yeah, it was tough... it was tough turning around and coming back! Had I the energy and enough daylight I would have skied all the way to Trinity, 22-miles each way, but I was satisfied with about 10-12 miles in each direction. For skate skiers, I'll leave you with this: groomed corduroy more than 20-feet across over moderately undulating terrain on clear, bluebird afternoon in mid-winter. A pic to prove it forthcoming.
Sunday, January 28, 2007
First Biathlon
i took the Biathlon training course a few weeks ago during a slow day at SPNC (the nordic center) and have carrying the gun certification card around in my wallet since, taking it out and wondering why i didn't have a rifle on hand to take advantage of my newfound freedom. freedom to carry a gun while skiing. yeah baby! this is America!
actually, its a very Euro sport thats just catching on here, and like Cyclocross, its an amazing combination of elements that seeks to up the limits of fun and pain. both are good, can't have one without the other. cycling and running/hurdling/slogging through mud ups the heart-rate and the sport transcends mere cycling to become something different. cross-country ski racing combined with rifle accuracy is like having sex while writing a letter to your mom.
and ironically there are way more gun issues and hurdles dealing with Biathlon here in the US where gun freedom is a basic right that is protected in our constitution, laws much more liberal than anywhere else in world, while in Canada and Europe Biathletes have less troubles skiing with and transporting their rifles. so i'm told. as per my own experiences, i think this has to do with levels of personal responsibility: while we will die to protect our right to maintain gun ownership, we remain wary of them and experience way more irresponsibility concerning them. anyway, i digress... i just want to race report!
i spent 10-hours driving on Friday -- Wintrop to Olympia via Seattle to drop off guests after a week ski-tour in the Methow, then after a couple hours of unload and reload, I drove to "Nordic" and crashed upstairs in the "apartment" -- so i was pretty whooped being cooped up so long and I wasn't even sure how excited I was going to be about racing on Saturday. but it was a perfect mid-winter morning in Mill Valley, crisp and clear, and the competive juices started flowing when the racers started rolling in. Or maybe it was my desire to ski with and shoot a gun, I'm not sure, but I was excited to give it a try. I was last to register and last to start which turned out to be a nice reward for my signup tardiness: my 30-second man was Dave, a seasoned Biathlete, a hell of a skier, and a good guage for me to set my sights on. No, not rifle sights, strickly skiing sights because I didn't have any illusions about shooting well at my first Biathlon on a borrowed rifle.
i skied well enough to take 2nd on the day despite only scoring 1 out of 10 shots. so today i went out 2nd in the pursuit portion of the event and i started 50-seconds behind Aaron and about 30-seconds before Sean who was starting in 3rd. Aaron's combination of marksmanship and fast skiing helped him to ski away from the rest of us, but the fun started after the second round of shooting when Sean pulled ahead of me as I went round-and-round in the penalty loops. thankfully the ski course was long enough to give me some place to make up for my bad shooting and i caught and passed him on the long Mainline section of the course. during the next two shoots i only scored 2 hits and so as i skied my penalties i watched Sean as he pulled into the penalty loop and hoped he didn't come out of it before me. turns out he shot a bit better than i, i think that he said he hit 6 or 7 out of 20 whereas i only hit two in the standing-position, and since he only finished 20-30 seconds behind me those two hits were vital for me to maintain my 2nd place.
more commentary on this later. what a cool sport!
actually, its a very Euro sport thats just catching on here, and like Cyclocross, its an amazing combination of elements that seeks to up the limits of fun and pain. both are good, can't have one without the other. cycling and running/hurdling/slogging through mud ups the heart-rate and the sport transcends mere cycling to become something different. cross-country ski racing combined with rifle accuracy is like having sex while writing a letter to your mom.
and ironically there are way more gun issues and hurdles dealing with Biathlon here in the US where gun freedom is a basic right that is protected in our constitution, laws much more liberal than anywhere else in world, while in Canada and Europe Biathletes have less troubles skiing with and transporting their rifles. so i'm told. as per my own experiences, i think this has to do with levels of personal responsibility: while we will die to protect our right to maintain gun ownership, we remain wary of them and experience way more irresponsibility concerning them. anyway, i digress... i just want to race report!
i spent 10-hours driving on Friday -- Wintrop to Olympia via Seattle to drop off guests after a week ski-tour in the Methow, then after a couple hours of unload and reload, I drove to "Nordic" and crashed upstairs in the "apartment" -- so i was pretty whooped being cooped up so long and I wasn't even sure how excited I was going to be about racing on Saturday. but it was a perfect mid-winter morning in Mill Valley, crisp and clear, and the competive juices started flowing when the racers started rolling in. Or maybe it was my desire to ski with and shoot a gun, I'm not sure, but I was excited to give it a try. I was last to register and last to start which turned out to be a nice reward for my signup tardiness: my 30-second man was Dave, a seasoned Biathlete, a hell of a skier, and a good guage for me to set my sights on. No, not rifle sights, strickly skiing sights because I didn't have any illusions about shooting well at my first Biathlon on a borrowed rifle.
i skied well enough to take 2nd on the day despite only scoring 1 out of 10 shots. so today i went out 2nd in the pursuit portion of the event and i started 50-seconds behind Aaron and about 30-seconds before Sean who was starting in 3rd. Aaron's combination of marksmanship and fast skiing helped him to ski away from the rest of us, but the fun started after the second round of shooting when Sean pulled ahead of me as I went round-and-round in the penalty loops. thankfully the ski course was long enough to give me some place to make up for my bad shooting and i caught and passed him on the long Mainline section of the course. during the next two shoots i only scored 2 hits and so as i skied my penalties i watched Sean as he pulled into the penalty loop and hoped he didn't come out of it before me. turns out he shot a bit better than i, i think that he said he hit 6 or 7 out of 20 whereas i only hit two in the standing-position, and since he only finished 20-30 seconds behind me those two hits were vital for me to maintain my 2nd place.
more commentary on this later. what a cool sport!
Tuesday, January 16, 2007
Pain I Am
i did my first Classic-style nordic ski race and suffered like i don't remember suffering before. yeah, i've said that before, especially after most cyclocross races, but classic skiing has a much deeper full-body effect.
i've done a fair bit of classic skiing this year and i've been focusing on technique. it takes years to bring all the technical elements together and i'm really doing this for the first year in earnest and i'm happy with how my "diagonal stride" is coming along. however, in this latest 30-km classic race i would be that not much more than 25% of the time i was striding. i would bet that 40-50% of the time that i was double-poling and the remaining percentage was spent herringboning up the steep climbs.
in the off-season (that is, cross-country off-season; in the summer i call winter the off-season) i'm a cyclist and we generally pride ourselves on our slight upper bodies. we are t-rex's, with chests the size of 12-year old girls being the benchmark for cycling success. so come winter there is not sufficient time to put on the strength necessary to double-pole for an hour at 95% of your maximum effort. 20-minutes into the Gunnar Hagen my back and triceps went out, and if prior to the race i had any muscles in my shoulders those went out too.
at 10-km, one lap and 1/3 of the way into the race i seriously thought about bailing. i just couldn't fathom 2 more laps of this pain. little by little we learn to measure out our doses under such pain, and thats just what i did. when i thought about the distance to the finish i felt the staggering weight of despair and would momentarily ease up until i brought my focus back to just the next hill, just the next section of the course. the thought of the guy just up ahead or the of another person catching me from behind fired up my competitive juices and also helped me to continue pouring forth my efforts despite the uncomfortable pains that i felt creeping in.
i've done a fair bit of classic skiing this year and i've been focusing on technique. it takes years to bring all the technical elements together and i'm really doing this for the first year in earnest and i'm happy with how my "diagonal stride" is coming along. however, in this latest 30-km classic race i would be that not much more than 25% of the time i was striding. i would bet that 40-50% of the time that i was double-poling and the remaining percentage was spent herringboning up the steep climbs.
in the off-season (that is, cross-country off-season; in the summer i call winter the off-season) i'm a cyclist and we generally pride ourselves on our slight upper bodies. we are t-rex's, with chests the size of 12-year old girls being the benchmark for cycling success. so come winter there is not sufficient time to put on the strength necessary to double-pole for an hour at 95% of your maximum effort. 20-minutes into the Gunnar Hagen my back and triceps went out, and if prior to the race i had any muscles in my shoulders those went out too.
at 10-km, one lap and 1/3 of the way into the race i seriously thought about bailing. i just couldn't fathom 2 more laps of this pain. little by little we learn to measure out our doses under such pain, and thats just what i did. when i thought about the distance to the finish i felt the staggering weight of despair and would momentarily ease up until i brought my focus back to just the next hill, just the next section of the course. the thought of the guy just up ahead or the of another person catching me from behind fired up my competitive juices and also helped me to continue pouring forth my efforts despite the uncomfortable pains that i felt creeping in.
Friday, January 12, 2007
some tele time
i Tortuga'd it last night at the nordic center, and even plugged-in it was damn cold. at 7am it was 3-degrees and the high today at nordic was 14-F. i taught a skate lesson at 2-pm and froze -- should have had my student doing more hill repeats.
finally, a new employee who it seems is here to stay. Ed says he's trained 8-people this year and as of yesterday it was just the two of us, and James, so we've had lots of flailers. sucks being short-handed because serving chili and passing out skis suck unless you have a few moments to shoot the shit with the guests and get out for a ski everyday, otherwise we might as well be working fast food or busy retail. Codi seems cool. she lives in Index, is a married home owner but young, a climber, tele and skate skier, and seems agro. should be fun to have another partner in crime around to get into trouble with once in awhile. hope that he hubbie is equally as fun.
James and Harlin were heading up to ski after work and i couldn't refuse to make some turns with a tele skier, and Harlen is good despite his claims of being out of shape with bad knees. the guy is pushing 50+ and is tough as nails, just like our man Ed. fun to hang out with too. not much pow left to hit, all tracked out, but found some soft junk on the edges and in the shadows that made for a fun night.
just decided to spend another night RVing on the mountain, a relief not having to drive back to Chiwawa, fire up the furnace and get everything back online. its so cold up here i don't look forward to the constant chore of keeping the place warm and pipes from popping.
got some pics to post... later!
finally, a new employee who it seems is here to stay. Ed says he's trained 8-people this year and as of yesterday it was just the two of us, and James, so we've had lots of flailers. sucks being short-handed because serving chili and passing out skis suck unless you have a few moments to shoot the shit with the guests and get out for a ski everyday, otherwise we might as well be working fast food or busy retail. Codi seems cool. she lives in Index, is a married home owner but young, a climber, tele and skate skier, and seems agro. should be fun to have another partner in crime around to get into trouble with once in awhile. hope that he hubbie is equally as fun.
James and Harlin were heading up to ski after work and i couldn't refuse to make some turns with a tele skier, and Harlen is good despite his claims of being out of shape with bad knees. the guy is pushing 50+ and is tough as nails, just like our man Ed. fun to hang out with too. not much pow left to hit, all tracked out, but found some soft junk on the edges and in the shadows that made for a fun night.
just decided to spend another night RVing on the mountain, a relief not having to drive back to Chiwawa, fire up the furnace and get everything back online. its so cold up here i don't look forward to the constant chore of keeping the place warm and pipes from popping.
got some pics to post... later!
Tuesday, January 09, 2007
Whooped in Winthrop
remember that scenario game? "the elevator stopped and he died, so what happened?" or "a car pulls up to a hotel and the driver instantly goes bankrupt, what happened?". well here's a new one for you: the power goes out and so a guy nordic skis his off for three days in paradise, explain?
i arrived home sunday night a bit weary from a long weekend at the nordic center, a bit tired from the skiing maybe too, and as i battle with the honda up the long drive through soft melting snow and step into the house i notice the lights don't work. shit, no power.... again! it took a few moments, maybe just fractions of moments, but the verdict is swift: you must leave, go somewhere else, snow... methow! i had lots to do. load the tortuga with all gear that potentially could be used. food had to be requisitioned. clothing dug from dryers and dirty clothes hampers to aid in the mission. but most importantly to ensure success, the Tortuga had to be extracted from 2 weeks of dumps and a long soft and slippery driveway on baldish tires. i had just a few doubts.
could have tried to halfass it first by doing some quick shoveling, but decided to go straight to the gimp: unleashed the snowblower and spent the 40-minutes to suck up very wet snow (or was it very thick rain, hard to tell) because i wanted it done right the first time. a stuck RV is a sunk RV. the moment of truth came after i'd warmed her up a bit, then gave her the first blast of gas to the cylindars... with a heave and a groan she broke free from her icy mooring, and dispite all cylindars firing it wasn't enough. the angle of the drive caused her to slide sideways and her hind quarters got hung up on the 3 foot bank of snow. gently i coaxed her backwards, forwards, backwards until her hips were clear of obstruction, then once free i gassed her again and the "duelie" rear tires gave the extra rubber-to-snow contact we needed, and once up to speed there was no stopping her... nor me, until we burst free of mush and onto the county maintained roadway. freedom!
and thats just the short of it!
now here i am in the methow with no talk of peril nor near disasters but rather perfection of nature and the human form, artistic genius of the physical kind. or at least thats how it felt, for skate skiing on perfect snow with perfect weather and a perfect kind of song in the air helps create perfection.
i skied 2 hours on waxable classics in the morning, then napped, fed and coffeed up before hitting another 2-hour session in the afternoon. wow! i could go into the beautiful details, but for those of you who haven't skied then you couldn't or wouldn't understand, and for those of you who do know, then your imaginations are just as good: the perfect day on skis is easy to imagine to those who have been there. yes, i shall elaborate. in due time, grasshopper, in time.
i arrived home sunday night a bit weary from a long weekend at the nordic center, a bit tired from the skiing maybe too, and as i battle with the honda up the long drive through soft melting snow and step into the house i notice the lights don't work. shit, no power.... again! it took a few moments, maybe just fractions of moments, but the verdict is swift: you must leave, go somewhere else, snow... methow! i had lots to do. load the tortuga with all gear that potentially could be used. food had to be requisitioned. clothing dug from dryers and dirty clothes hampers to aid in the mission. but most importantly to ensure success, the Tortuga had to be extracted from 2 weeks of dumps and a long soft and slippery driveway on baldish tires. i had just a few doubts.
could have tried to halfass it first by doing some quick shoveling, but decided to go straight to the gimp: unleashed the snowblower and spent the 40-minutes to suck up very wet snow (or was it very thick rain, hard to tell) because i wanted it done right the first time. a stuck RV is a sunk RV. the moment of truth came after i'd warmed her up a bit, then gave her the first blast of gas to the cylindars... with a heave and a groan she broke free from her icy mooring, and dispite all cylindars firing it wasn't enough. the angle of the drive caused her to slide sideways and her hind quarters got hung up on the 3 foot bank of snow. gently i coaxed her backwards, forwards, backwards until her hips were clear of obstruction, then once free i gassed her again and the "duelie" rear tires gave the extra rubber-to-snow contact we needed, and once up to speed there was no stopping her... nor me, until we burst free of mush and onto the county maintained roadway. freedom!
and thats just the short of it!
now here i am in the methow with no talk of peril nor near disasters but rather perfection of nature and the human form, artistic genius of the physical kind. or at least thats how it felt, for skate skiing on perfect snow with perfect weather and a perfect kind of song in the air helps create perfection.
i skied 2 hours on waxable classics in the morning, then napped, fed and coffeed up before hitting another 2-hour session in the afternoon. wow! i could go into the beautiful details, but for those of you who haven't skied then you couldn't or wouldn't understand, and for those of you who do know, then your imaginations are just as good: the perfect day on skis is easy to imagine to those who have been there. yes, i shall elaborate. in due time, grasshopper, in time.
Wednesday, January 03, 2007
Resolutions
I woke to the same wet weather this morning as yesterday, but after a New Years day on the couch and a reluctant stumping from a ski yesterday, not skiing today was not an option.
It was my plan to be on the snow early while the trails were still set-up because I expected another warming trend today, but when I hit the Chiwawa Sno-park at 11am I was stoked to find the tracks completely untouched -- I didn't expect this weather to keep the snowmobiles away! And I didn't expect there to be fresh groomers since the schedule calls for Wednesdays off and the warm weather is an excuse to give the "cat" a day off but for whatever reason I have been rewarded with perfect groomers!
Okay, it wasn't perfect. The warm and rain made the snow underneath the corduroy pretty lumpy and because you have to be on your game to ski with good technique, after a couple hours it wears on you: oh, the ankles.
I followed the groomer tracks past the junction to "Meadow" and "Pole" and continued over the Chiwawa River to where the groomer turned back into the hills: Trinity wasn't groomed. Faultline! For an hour I climbed but my technique was for shit. I hadn't warmed up, hadn't skied in days, and the soft snow all conspired, but with the elevation the snow just kept getting better and better and I finally dialed in the issues with my technique.
I stopped at every overlook! The clouds lifted the views into the mountains and out over the lakes was a treat. There were no snowmobiles out today and so even listening down into the valleys it was silence except for the snow sloughing off the trees and the pounding of my own heart.
The tally for today was 2:55-hours covering something over 20-miles and probably 2-3,000' of elevation gain -- I need to research this route: Snopark--Faultline--Beaver Creek--Deep Creek Campground--Snopark.
It was my plan to be on the snow early while the trails were still set-up because I expected another warming trend today, but when I hit the Chiwawa Sno-park at 11am I was stoked to find the tracks completely untouched -- I didn't expect this weather to keep the snowmobiles away! And I didn't expect there to be fresh groomers since the schedule calls for Wednesdays off and the warm weather is an excuse to give the "cat" a day off but for whatever reason I have been rewarded with perfect groomers!
Okay, it wasn't perfect. The warm and rain made the snow underneath the corduroy pretty lumpy and because you have to be on your game to ski with good technique, after a couple hours it wears on you: oh, the ankles.
I followed the groomer tracks past the junction to "Meadow" and "Pole" and continued over the Chiwawa River to where the groomer turned back into the hills: Trinity wasn't groomed. Faultline! For an hour I climbed but my technique was for shit. I hadn't warmed up, hadn't skied in days, and the soft snow all conspired, but with the elevation the snow just kept getting better and better and I finally dialed in the issues with my technique.
I stopped at every overlook! The clouds lifted the views into the mountains and out over the lakes was a treat. There were no snowmobiles out today and so even listening down into the valleys it was silence except for the snow sloughing off the trees and the pounding of my own heart.
The tally for today was 2:55-hours covering something over 20-miles and probably 2-3,000' of elevation gain -- I need to research this route: Snopark--Faultline--Beaver Creek--Deep Creek Campground--Snopark.
Monday, January 01, 2007
New Years Day should be a day to set the stage for the year, not one that you hope to forget and never repeat. Some of us my never learn. There's still hope, but there are at least two of us who didn't in 2007.
The night before was a blast! We danced and jiggled our thangs, some of us more than others, and we smoked stogies and drank dougnogs. One of us eat a Tequila worm. Two of us danced near to naked in the snow around the campfire. Several of us were prudent and didn't drink in excess... myself nor JA were among that group of inteligencia.
The next day I couldn't wish my friends out of the house quick enough so that I could simply vegetate on the couch on focus more completely on my sufferings. I really didn't drink that much, but clearly, too much. Some would say its age, but I'd argue that its my highly tuned fitness which just can't tolerate impurities. Yeah right. Although I did rip off 50k on skate skis just hours/moments before I started drinking my first beers of the evening.
If you missed the Boise State game, or just the final 5 minutes, you missed one hell of a game. It was pretty special after watching 4 back-to-back games throughout the day.
The night before was a blast! We danced and jiggled our thangs, some of us more than others, and we smoked stogies and drank dougnogs. One of us eat a Tequila worm. Two of us danced near to naked in the snow around the campfire. Several of us were prudent and didn't drink in excess... myself nor JA were among that group of inteligencia.
The next day I couldn't wish my friends out of the house quick enough so that I could simply vegetate on the couch on focus more completely on my sufferings. I really didn't drink that much, but clearly, too much. Some would say its age, but I'd argue that its my highly tuned fitness which just can't tolerate impurities. Yeah right. Although I did rip off 50k on skate skis just hours/moments before I started drinking my first beers of the evening.
If you missed the Boise State game, or just the final 5 minutes, you missed one hell of a game. It was pretty special after watching 4 back-to-back games throughout the day.
Tuesday, December 19, 2006
Winter's Here & How!
It's been months since I've posted... I've hardly posted on Dougnog, but since my good blog-run during my Colombia travels (vueltacolombia.blogspot.com) I've been meaning to do more. I can backlog: I've got the journals and the pictures, but do I have the time to start looking backwards too?
My summer and fall have been about the bike, but as of last week its been a swift transition to a life about the skis. Cyclocross season ended just over a week ago and I've hardly looked back. I'm stoked to finally put that behind me despite it being a highlight of my year and a successful run, but it takes so damn much out of you for only 1-hour a week. More on that later, or maybe, earlier!
Last Thursday I got in my first ski since Thanksgiving in Silverstar (B.C. Canada) and I'm back off the wagon -- I'm an addict! Yesterday I put in over 3-hours at Icicle/Hatchery, 48-kms, and today I skied about 2-1/2 hours, 40-kms by my estimation and at Ski Hill and the Golf Course. Yesterday was perfect bluebird and grooming, everyone skied like a hero.
I haven't had a chance to ski the Chiwawa-Fish Lake tracks yet this year, but here's a wonderful thing from last year.
My summer and fall have been about the bike, but as of last week its been a swift transition to a life about the skis. Cyclocross season ended just over a week ago and I've hardly looked back. I'm stoked to finally put that behind me despite it being a highlight of my year and a successful run, but it takes so damn much out of you for only 1-hour a week. More on that later, or maybe, earlier!
Last Thursday I got in my first ski since Thanksgiving in Silverstar (B.C. Canada) and I'm back off the wagon -- I'm an addict! Yesterday I put in over 3-hours at Icicle/Hatchery, 48-kms, and today I skied about 2-1/2 hours, 40-kms by my estimation and at Ski Hill and the Golf Course. Yesterday was perfect bluebird and grooming, everyone skied like a hero.
I haven't had a chance to ski the Chiwawa-Fish Lake tracks yet this year, but here's a wonderful thing from last year.
Thursday, August 17, 2006
Summer in Whitefish
It's Thursday evening before the start of another Glacier-Banff-Jasper trip, so quick, where am I? That's the running joke for the guides assigned to the GBJ trips because our weekly schedules are so precise and regular its comical. A GBJ trip is going on right now in our "parallel universe" and I know that at Thursday at 6:45pm Mountain Standard Time they are at The Crossing, The Saskatchewan Crossing, having wine & cheese in the gazebo or the bar, weather depending.
Kyle and I are taking a different approach to this trip than my last with Drew: we are procrastinating, an easy thing to slip into when you've only got 9-guests and 4 bikes to prep. He's snorring in the bed next to me and I decide if I should get proactive on my own by driving out to the warehouse to hook up and pick up our bikes to prep back here in town this evening before the NRMMF (N Rocky Mtn Music Festival) kicks off for another night at Flanagan's. Normally I don't object to procrastination, its generally a code that I live by, but in this case it could impact our evening plans and my chance at a big ride tomorrow. Rather not!
Going on my 3rd GBJ trip and still one more to follow, and so I drove out the Tortuga and I'm setting up shop in Whitefish as my center of a summer life in Montana. This week I've done nothing but ride:
--Sunday: dropped off the guests at Grouse Mtn Lodge then got cracking on unprepping after a quick pick-us-up at MCF (Montana Coffee Traders). We were off and riding by 5pm. Drew rode out to GML to rent a MTB and then I caught up with him and we rode Iron Horse to the Big Mountain Resort, then took the Summit Trail to the top. 3200' to about 6500', then back down on the rode. Ate at Mama Blanca's which has become my new favorite haunt in town for authentic style latino food (Cuban, Puerto Rican, Carribeanish).
--Monday: escorted Drew to the airport then headed straight out to the Bigfork side of things and did a great out-and-back ride to the Alpine Trail, 3500' to 6500' in about 12-miles each way not including all those wrong turns. Big Black Bear sighting 3-miles in, and so I was pretty sketched the rest of the ride. Yelling "Bear" 10,000 times in 31/2-hours can take a lot more out of you than you can sometimes afford on such a hard ride and the psychological stress can be overwhelming. Made it back uneaten.
--Tuesday: rode up to Big Mtn via Iron Horse and then did the semipro mountain bike race, 3-laps of 4.4-miles, and finished 5th overall out of 12 and 2nd in my old man division. A few free beers at the post-race shindig which set me off for the first night of the Rocky Mtn Music Fest.
--Wednesday: late start but went out to Hungry Horse and took a shitty hike-a-bike trail up to the Alpine Trail and back down the front side. 3-hours going up, 3,300' to 7300' at Mt Colombia summit then only 45-minutes back to ground level. Yeah, dropped off quick. At the Festival it was Eric McFadden Trio followed by Galactic. Sweet!
Time to start gittin er done!
Kyle and I are taking a different approach to this trip than my last with Drew: we are procrastinating, an easy thing to slip into when you've only got 9-guests and 4 bikes to prep. He's snorring in the bed next to me and I decide if I should get proactive on my own by driving out to the warehouse to hook up and pick up our bikes to prep back here in town this evening before the NRMMF (N Rocky Mtn Music Festival) kicks off for another night at Flanagan's. Normally I don't object to procrastination, its generally a code that I live by, but in this case it could impact our evening plans and my chance at a big ride tomorrow. Rather not!
Going on my 3rd GBJ trip and still one more to follow, and so I drove out the Tortuga and I'm setting up shop in Whitefish as my center of a summer life in Montana. This week I've done nothing but ride:
--Sunday: dropped off the guests at Grouse Mtn Lodge then got cracking on unprepping after a quick pick-us-up at MCF (Montana Coffee Traders). We were off and riding by 5pm. Drew rode out to GML to rent a MTB and then I caught up with him and we rode Iron Horse to the Big Mountain Resort, then took the Summit Trail to the top. 3200' to about 6500', then back down on the rode. Ate at Mama Blanca's which has become my new favorite haunt in town for authentic style latino food (Cuban, Puerto Rican, Carribeanish).
--Monday: escorted Drew to the airport then headed straight out to the Bigfork side of things and did a great out-and-back ride to the Alpine Trail, 3500' to 6500' in about 12-miles each way not including all those wrong turns. Big Black Bear sighting 3-miles in, and so I was pretty sketched the rest of the ride. Yelling "Bear" 10,000 times in 31/2-hours can take a lot more out of you than you can sometimes afford on such a hard ride and the psychological stress can be overwhelming. Made it back uneaten.
--Tuesday: rode up to Big Mtn via Iron Horse and then did the semipro mountain bike race, 3-laps of 4.4-miles, and finished 5th overall out of 12 and 2nd in my old man division. A few free beers at the post-race shindig which set me off for the first night of the Rocky Mtn Music Fest.
--Wednesday: late start but went out to Hungry Horse and took a shitty hike-a-bike trail up to the Alpine Trail and back down the front side. 3-hours going up, 3,300' to 7300' at Mt Colombia summit then only 45-minutes back to ground level. Yeah, dropped off quick. At the Festival it was Eric McFadden Trio followed by Galactic. Sweet!
Time to start gittin er done!
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
Back from Colombia, Back on Chiwawa
Been home for a week now and Colombia, a place which was such a part of me for 2-months, seems so far away and is slipping further. While I was there and traveling it seemed as though the experiences would become a part of me and shape my life to come, but now that I'm back it seems so distant and unimportant. This is travel. Why should it be any different, I wonder.
We set off on brave adventures often times in search of experiences that will transform us into something new, something different. Something better. Thats the hope, but it is not the mere travels that do the shaping, it's ourselves, and so it must work from the inside, out.
When I come back from a journey there always seems to be a period of confusion within me in which I try to balance my re-entry into my home life with recalling the events of my recent travels. Sometimes when someone asks me even the simplest of questions about my trip I have a tough time shaping my response. The most loaded question of all is "so, how was your trip?". "Uhhhh, uhhh..." Saying that "it was good" doesn't begin to do your travels justice but somehow it's the most appropriate response to such a question for the real answer should probably be saved for someone who wants to know how your trip really was.
Someone asked me the other day why I would spend two months in Colombia, and instead of telling them all about the marvels of world travel I responded weakly and then spent the next few days questioning why I even bothered. Afterall, what had two months in Colombia taught me?
I've learned that not all travels are character shaping and life altering, but that there is still some good to come from them. Its like my recent realization that its still okay to race bikes (and skis) even if you know you can't win the race because its the competition and personal effort that matter most; its not the results, but the physical and internal struggles you overcome that make racing interesting. All of my travels combined, all of those exotic and adventurous experiences, all those conversations and observations, all those landscapes and cityscapes have come together to reshape my mentality and my subconsciousness, and I know that I am a different person because of it.
Damn, this is heavy thinking for someone still in slippers. I get so sentimental about my travels when I finally afford the time to try and put it all in perspective. I really haven't thought much about these things since I got back almost 2-weeks ago (2-weeks!?) because I've been too busy getting on with it! And mornings, while I am still a bit dreamy but feeling so good with a blue sky above, a summer day before me and a steaming cup of coffee by my side, is the perfect time to get romantic about life before realities take over. Well, guess its time to get on with it!
We set off on brave adventures often times in search of experiences that will transform us into something new, something different. Something better. Thats the hope, but it is not the mere travels that do the shaping, it's ourselves, and so it must work from the inside, out.
When I come back from a journey there always seems to be a period of confusion within me in which I try to balance my re-entry into my home life with recalling the events of my recent travels. Sometimes when someone asks me even the simplest of questions about my trip I have a tough time shaping my response. The most loaded question of all is "so, how was your trip?". "Uhhhh, uhhh..." Saying that "it was good" doesn't begin to do your travels justice but somehow it's the most appropriate response to such a question for the real answer should probably be saved for someone who wants to know how your trip really was.
Someone asked me the other day why I would spend two months in Colombia, and instead of telling them all about the marvels of world travel I responded weakly and then spent the next few days questioning why I even bothered. Afterall, what had two months in Colombia taught me?
I've learned that not all travels are character shaping and life altering, but that there is still some good to come from them. Its like my recent realization that its still okay to race bikes (and skis) even if you know you can't win the race because its the competition and personal effort that matter most; its not the results, but the physical and internal struggles you overcome that make racing interesting. All of my travels combined, all of those exotic and adventurous experiences, all those conversations and observations, all those landscapes and cityscapes have come together to reshape my mentality and my subconsciousness, and I know that I am a different person because of it.
Damn, this is heavy thinking for someone still in slippers. I get so sentimental about my travels when I finally afford the time to try and put it all in perspective. I really haven't thought much about these things since I got back almost 2-weeks ago (2-weeks!?) because I've been too busy getting on with it! And mornings, while I am still a bit dreamy but feeling so good with a blue sky above, a summer day before me and a steaming cup of coffee by my side, is the perfect time to get romantic about life before realities take over. Well, guess its time to get on with it!
Monday, May 15, 2006
Everyone follows their destiny, he said
A Colombian cycling story of relevance to me.
http://www.latimes.com/travel/destinations/latinamerica/la-os-bikecolombiajul20,1,71664.story?page=2&coll=la-travel-latinamerica
http://www.latimes.com/travel/destinations/latinamerica/la-os-bikecolombiajul20,1,71664.story?page=2&coll=la-travel-latinamerica
Thursday, February 23, 2006
chiwawafest, winter edition
the gangsters all pulled together this weekend and made it out to hang on the chiwawa. mornings were a hazy affair: mounds of berry-laden pancakes, half a dozen pots of coffee, and several pounds of "ends and pieces" to help soak it all up. its a cure all!it wasn't so much about the skiing this year even though we all got in some good clicks: part of group got in some sunny yo-yo's in the backcountry and others skated the nordic center. but how i will choose to remember this weekend was the defining evening of revelry: the blender was worked pretty hard, and in an effort to decant undiscovered flavors that might make the Mr Ts drink book i got pretty daring and admittedly churned out some pretty sketchy concoctions: i learned that peanut butter does not go well with... i forget with what else. but i was duped by a simple but sweet vodka rocky road shake which turned out to be a hit. such simplistic, unsophisticated tastes. as usual we sledded until someone got hurt, but then we just kept right on sledding... sorry nate... and just about all of limped home in some form or another.
the players: mar and christ were there, alan and rach, shannon, david, jeff, stephen and mary, nate and jen, brent, and tj and tim made an appearance with myself and marina rounding things out. we all had beds and seats at the table, but many of the usuals were missed.
so many good memories instantly forgotten. arrivaderci amigos, thanks for the sendoff!
Wednesday, February 08, 2006
nirvana: another pole ridge skate
Today I skied too hard-- the snow conditions were tough and i struggled to make the 20-mile skate. My legs are still amazingly sapped from my race efforts on Saturday in the Methow (Rendevous Race) even though I shook them out this week with a 30K skate, an all day backcountry ski, a couple roller sessions on the bike, and todays floundering on the trails of the Chiwawa Valley. I had hopes of going big today in preparation for next weeks Chiwawa100 (we hope) and so I wanted to put down about 50-miles but my thermometer showed a frightening 45-degrees which didn't mix too well with the totally cut-up trails from all the snowmobiles.
But... at least I went out there and got myself some ASS today! Yeah, thats what I did. Its called Adventure Skate Skiing, or A.S.S., and the term was inspired by skiing on the very trails that inspired the Chiwawa100 so you can bet there's some funky chi thats flowin out there to inspire such zaney irrationality. And if you don't believe me, check it out:
http://www.adventureskateskiing.com. And the dood who founded it wants to "Do the 100!" Do you?
And so, my prognosis for the Big (lebow)Ski is that it MUST be cold enough throughout the day to keep things "set". If it doesn't happen by next week I'm personally renaming it the Leavenworth100 and I'll be a gerbil on a "hamstertrail" splitting laps between Icicle Creek and Ski Hill.
Pic du jour: from trail 4D (the Pole Ridge-Snowcone variation) looking West with Lake Wenatchee down there, Dirtyface peak, and a bit of the trail itself in the foreground.
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