Brent's 1000 Mile Count

I'm going to take up this challenge with Brent and append the mileages (if I remember) at the end of my posts. Brent started on May 14th and so will I. I spend a lot of time on the trainer, but those don't count. These are actual wheel-to-ground relative miles. On Thursday, I logged 21 miles and on Saturday I put in another 59 for a nice round 80 miles. 920 left to go.

Spoonful of Sugar

My little girls, like most little girls, love Mary Poppins. As a result, I've seen (or at least heard) that movie more times than I can count. As Mary is found of pointing out, a spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down in a most delightful way. I'm going to be taking my medicine in a couple of weeks, so I'd better start getting my sugar ready. Last week's training made clear that I'm slow. It's also made me think about what I've bought myself with all the LSD (long, slow distance). Every one is pretty sure than can go easy for several hours. Jared's little brother Butch's display on Saturday showed me that most people can go easy for several hours, they're just going to suffer while they do it. I have been going easy for several hours each weekend, which I'd hoped would help me at the Vikingman. I realized today that all that this LSD has earned me is the ability to go slow for a long time without suffering or to go slow for a really long time while suffering. Notice how none of that included going fast for any amount of time. So, I'm pretty sure Devin is going to hammer me at the Vikingman. So here's how I'm getting myself ready to take my medicine. I'm going to guess at my Vikingman times, omitting transition times since I have no idea how it's set up. The bad news is that these are my optimistic predictions. Swim - 0:40-0:45. This is a down river swim, with middle of the pack folk swimming in the low to mid thirties. It'll be faster than other swims, but not that much faster. Bike - 3:00-3:15. I'm guessing I'll do just slower than 18 m.p.h with all the corners and the setup of the course. It's flat, but that hasn't seemed to matter on my training rides. Run - 2:30-2:40. 11 min/mile average would put me at 2:23. I've been doing a 10:1 Jeff Galloway protocol and it puts me at about that 11 min pace. Heat and exhaustion will inevitably slow me down. That puts me at between 6:10 and 6:40 before transitions. The 6:10 is a pipe dream. The 6:40 is more realistic. I'd really, really love to be wrong about this, but so far my training hasn't born it out. I once read somewhere that your training pace is a good indication of your race pace, and I've been training at these paces. My only hope is that somehow my aero package gets me 3-4 m.p.h., but I'm not enough of a tri-geek to actually believe that the gear makes me any faster. I just buy it because it looks cool. So where's the medicine? Devin's self proclaimed love of the 'heat check' is going to have him going full-bore to beat me down. He won't be able to hide his glee in doing so, either. That beat down is the medicine. I just hope I can take my medicine like a man.

Bessy Resurgent

I've always had a close attachment to my Serotta mountain bike, Bessy. She made the transition to single speed a few years ago, but my fitness didn't have me wanting to ride her much in that condition. So she hung as a frame after I pilfered the rear SS hub for use on the Rig. Then, Zeus brought out his dork bike and Ben switched his IF to a 69er. Interesting enough, but that didn't get me that excited - Maggy has been the primary MTB, and we've got a good thing going. Then, I decided to send Maggy down to visit Jon for the summer. The plan has been, and still is, to ride Keono as a primary mountain bike. I reckon that'll work for rides under 2 hours or so. Well, with Jared back in town and Danilo expressing his interest in long ATB rides, I've got to have something geared. I'd also like Cindy to be able to ride with a geary bike as well, so I'll need two. I've got one in Hillary, who's now doing MTB duty, but I still need another. Enter Bessy. I've picked up parts here and there to put her back together as a 26er, and then it occurred to me: I could keep Bessy's angles as intended AND run her as a 29er if I ran her with a rigid 26er suspension corrected fork, disc brakes, and a 29er front. And so that's the plan for her. I'm actually pretty excited about trying it. I'm also excited about bringing Bessy back into the game.

Seriously?

I saw a bumper sticker this morning that made me shake my head in disbelief. I'm not very handy with pagemaking, so it's down at the bottom. See it? Okay. It was the sentiment or the point. It's the car it was on and what it was doing. A single passenger automobile, driving into work in down town SLC. That it's on a single-passenger commuter would be enough. But it was on a massive SUV. Either that lady was some kind of comic, or she's clueless about what her bumper sticker actually means.

User Conflict

The Provo River Trail is a favorite of many different groups, including runners and cyclists. With that many groups doing vastly different things, user conflicts are bound to emerge. The City of Provo in its wisdom has divided the trail into three lanes - one for runners, one for faster people going up (like cyclists) and one for faster people going down. They even have easy to understand signs for those challenged with illiteracy or inattentiveness. Apparently, a significant number of long boarders are completely devoid of the basic skills needed to understand the signs. Either that or they just suck. Before I completely let loose on this rant, you should know that I do know that there are responsible long boarders and that the statements I make below are gross over generalizations. Brent and his crew are fine. So, BH, don't be too offended by what's about to follow. So, with that out of the way, last weekend cemented my hatred for the Slacker Long Boarder. The slacker long boarder (SLB) spends most of his time in a marijuana and/or alcohol induced haze that seems to prevent him from finding pants that fit. His pants are either too skinny to fit over his butt or else too baggy to stay over his butt. That same haze makes it hard for him to attend to personal hygiene. As a result, he looks like he's in stage 1 of a homeless lifestyle, which is the stage where they start to look dirty. Just so you know, stage 2 begins with a powerful odor and stage 3 begins when the homeless person is carrying more than 10 plastic grocery bags, which act as a sort of portable chest of drawers. There are five basic types of SLBs. These include the solo upright hammer, the dream weaver, the sheep, the luger, and the skeleton. In addition to poorly fitting pants, each of these types share an utter disregard for any type of signage. And for basic decency. And for common sense. Maybe they share the feeling that they own the entire trail. Or maybe it's some combination of these. I just don't understand those people, but I can describe them. The solo upright hammer hasn't figured out how to turn very well, so he just points the board down hill and hopes the board around corners. He aims for the dead center of the trail and he's not going to move for anybody. If there's a pedestrian in the right lane and a cyclist in the middle, they damn well better work out between the two of them how they're going to make room, because that SLB ain't changing his line for nobody. The dream weaver has figured out how to turn, but he's still afraid of speed. He weaves back and forth across the path in a dream-like trance. I dream that he's awakened from his slumber by running wide, catching a wheel, and falling into the river. But I digress. Then there are the sheep. Or are they cattle. In either case, they move in a large, compressed group and break from the group only reluctantly. Like sheep, they spread out across the road and take their own sweet time while traffic stops to let them by. And like sheep, they're a bunch of dumb animals. At least sheep provide something useful. The luge SLB has decided that it's entirely too much work to just stand on a board. Yes, this guy has reached a level of laziness that he even lays down during outdoor recreation. At least he's smart enough to lead with his feet. The skeleton SLB is the biggest idiot of all. These guys head down hill, in an aero tuck, with no breaks, on a winding trail next to a river that is chock-a-block full of boy scouts, dogs, and little kids while leading with their head. What's more, like their upright cousins, these guys think they own the trail. It's only a question of time before one of those guys puts his brilliant head into some rocks either on the hill side or in the river. Anyway, I'm sick of all of them. Good thing I never bother anybody while I'm on the trail.

The Elusive Route/Impending Natural Selection

One of the things I liked most about my time in Provo was the bifurcation of the terrain: If you wanted something long and flat, it was easy to find. If you wanted something hilly and challenging, that was also just as easy to find. And you could do one without doing much, if any, of the other. There were great rides of all distances, from 20 miles on up. It's been a few years now since we moved to the north end of Happy Valley. Hilly terrain we have plenty of, especially with the Alpine Loop just up the road. Flat rides are available, but the routes have almost always included some combination of high-traffic, narrow or non-existent shoulders, or bad roads. I can take one of the three, but two or more and I'm out. What I've been looking for is a good short to medium flat, road ride. My initial explorations took me toward Eagle Mountain/Saratoga Springs. There are enough rednecks in compensation trucks out there that I've decided I'd rather ride the trainer than ride out there. In despair, I began riding down the Speedway that is Geneva road to get to my familiar grounds near Provo, even enduring the narrow shoulder and the garbage in the road. Last weekend Cindy and I ventured out and I found it. From the house we rode to the Timpanogos temple, turned south to the hospital, and then took 1oo E. to the AF Boat Harbor. We rode back toward the freeway and wound our back to the Lindon Boat Harbor and around the back side of Geneva road and into Vineyard. From Vineyard we crossed the freeway onto the frontage road that runs in front of UVSC and onto Sandhill road. Sandhill road led us to Grandview road and then down into Provo. A short stop at Racers and then up University Ave to the mouth of the Canyon. We took the Provo River Trail up to Vivian park and back and then took the back roads home. It was great. I've got a separate post about the River Trail. This is a happy post. The River Trail post is a rant.

Daniel Ray

To see Dan and I separately, you'd see few similarities apart from our balding heads. Dan's thin build reflect his fitness. I don't any think body has ever used the term 'thin' when talking about me. The disparities don't stop there - Dan's considerably more moderate (read liberal here in Utah) than I am. Yet Dan is one of my best friends. And it was cycling that brought us together.


Dan and I first met in a computer seminar during law school orientation. He had a screen saver with the profiles of the stages of the former race, currently a rolling disaster, known as the Tour. I struck up a conversation based on this. I found out that his carrel was near B's, and we've been hanging out since.


I have survived more epics with Dan than everybody else combined. I've tested his willingness to adhere to our riding motto of "dance with the one what brung ya" on nearly every occasion, and he's never let me down. Well, he did once, kind of, when he and either Bryan or Doug took off the front on a Timpanooke Loop. The two of them ended up riding a Tibble Fork loop while the rest of us waited at the car. For a long time, Dan and I rode together doing short to medium length rides. Each year we focused on making the most of the fall riding. Those were good times, that included Dan crashing on Tibble Fork and breaking a rib and the two of us giving a good wide berth to a big bull moose and his two cows during the rut on S. Fork.

And then we started getting our epic on. The first epic was the Trail of Tears part 1. It involved Dan, Doug (Larsen), Tom, and myself. It involved a late start, a forgotten map, tales of previous epics, dehydration, darkness, a long stumble, and salvation from a hunter on horseback named Beau Hunter. You can't make this stuff up.

We didn't learn our lesson and the next year started off on the Trail of Tears part 2. This time Yury came along and he should be credited with naming the ride. That ride involved an early start, the deepest bonk I've ever seen, peanut butter and jam burritos, a downhill hike-a-bike, and a well earned descent.

Next came my first RAWROD. Poor equipment selection was the order of the day. I brought a greased carbon seatpost, drop bars, and 42C tires to the party while Dan showed up with soft-soled shoes.

Neither Dan nor I wanted to do it the nextyear, but Aaron talked me into it last year. Dan rejoined the fray this year. Dan was done 35 miles in, but mushed on past four rest stops. His display of mental energy to keep pushing for nearly six hours of saddle time after he was tapped comes only second in my first hand experience to Nails' finish at the LT100 last year. The pic above is Dan and I riding DFL down Murphy's Hogback.

We've suffered a lot on the saddle, and regroup every year for Fall Perfection. Hopefully this year, we can get in some epic riding in the fall that doesn't involve a rescue. Here's to hoping.

My Own List of Cycling Pet Peeves

Right up front, I'll admit that I've been reading Bike Snob NYC's blog. I've made it through June and July of last year's posts. His universe of NYC and fixies might as well be a million miles away from our wide open spaces and accessible mountains. So, here are some of my pet peeves in the mountain biking realm: Skidders. If you don't know what a skidder is, you probably are one. A skidder is usually someone who hasn't figured out that the front brake provides a great deal of power and control. One type of skidder is a guy who's first and only helmet is full-faced and his bike is 'sick'. This particular type of skidder carries entirely too much speed into a corner. They don't actually have a sense of how fast they're going because their bikes are so squishy they can't feel the trail. This is the guy that comes in too hot and grabs a right-fistful of brakes. This is the guy who hasn't ridden long enough to know when he's over cooked it and yet doesn't seem to learn because he can skid through it and never feel it. Thanks for the wash boards. Learn how to brake next time. The Best Ambassadors. These are the guys who are so busy rippin' sick down hill that they forget that other people are on the trail and leave others diving for cover. The rules are that hard - yield to horses, hikers and up-hill riders. These guys often have skidding issues. The Ambush Specialists. I suspect these guys are equestrians, but I've never actually seen them doing it. These are the people that have had some contact with The Best Ambassadors and figure they'll take it out on all cyclists. Their favorite move is to drag trees over the trail or litter the trail with debris. Apparently, they feel justified in intentionally putting other people's lives at risk. Whenever I come on one of their traps, I start envisioning what it would be like to catch one of them in the act. If I dwell on the thought long enough, I get mad enough I start envision me hitting one of them with a water bottle or a pump, maybe even a rock in the trail. And then I remember that these people are almost guaranteed to packing a revolver (not a pistol), and the fantasy kind of falls apart for me. I don't feel like less of a man to admit that I'm scared of the Single Six. My biggest pet peeve, not getting out to ride. I'd better get back to it so I can do some pedalling this weekend and next.

Ambivalence

I've substantially changed my training approach this year in anticipation of IMAZ. In years past, I've over-focused on the first race of the season, which left me burned out and flagging for the rest of the year. IMAZ is at the end of November, so I've adopted a different approach for this year. And thus the ambivalence. On one hand, I've significantly reduced my overall weekly training volume. I've done that by reducing the number of workouts I do per week. At the same time, I've increased the length of my long days. As a result, my long weeks are down in the 9-10 hour range, instead of the 13-14 hour range of the past. At the same time, my long swim is up to about 2500m (done continuously) at a comfortable 2:10-2:15/100m pace, my long bike is hovering around the 4-5 hour range (with the notable exception of RAWROD) and my long runs are in the 2-2:30 hour range. So, on one hand, I feel confident that I'll be comfortable on each of the legs because I regularly do longer distances and do so comfortably. The problem is, none of it's fast and I've not been doing much brick work. The vast majority of my bike time has been on a mountain bike. I'm still 1o lbs. heavier than my goal at this point. The good news is, I'm fresh mentally. So, what will win out - extra big long workouts or skipping all the volume? I've been stuck at work all week, barely taking enough time to sleep, so this doesn't much matter now. I've got long workouts slated for Friday and Saturday. I sure hope I haven't lost too much, but I'm afraid I have.

RAWROD Reminiscence

These will widely be inside-jokes, so that's why I'm posting them separately. Raman at Acorn - I need to go back there to buy those wings so his daughter can go to college and Dan and Jon need to support me on this. Quick release devices are awesome. Horse Thief campground is not actually anywhere near Horse Thief Canyon and the road past Horse Thief Campground actually is the road to nowhere. Vice grips and a spatula make cooking dutch oven potatoes on a camp fire a lot easier than a burning rag and a cutting board. Sleeping on a cot under the stars is way better than sleeping in the car. Again. Great harvest bread with plenty of peanut butter and strawberry jam is almost divine for lunch during an epic. I can't believe how steep Murphy's and Hardscrabble are from this side. I thought they were bad from the other direction, but it's silly how steep they are from this side. Or else I was just cooked by the time I got to them, one of the two. I've got to remember the Spam Musubi next time. Brad, I promise the asado will make up for it. I get unreasonably grumpy when I'm dehydrated. The good news is that I know for a fact that I can come back from it. The Crank Brothers Acids were definitely my best bike equipment purchase ever for epic rides. I'm considering the Acids with carbon for future rides. Brad Keyes is in fact Zeus the Greek god transported to our day. He has chosen to manifest his divinity in the form of unbelievable riding abilities. Zeus's All Day is the real deal. It stayed tasty all day. I was right - the conversation in the car with Jon, Delena and Dan were the best part of the ride. Fatty always claims that his super power is to put down unreal amounts of food after an epic ride. I don't doubt that, but I also am sure that Nails should also be in the Justice League for his ability to eat pizza post ride. It was amazing.

RAWROD Reality

The entire trip can be summed up with "Everything took longer than I thought it would." Dan brought his already loaded car to my house in the morning and we journied into work. I had some things I needed to get done, and apparently so did he. We headed back promptly at 1:00 p.m. and things were looking good. I'd prepared most of the bike stuff already and had sent my lovely wife to the store to pick up the soft goods I'd need for the trip. I decided to prep the potatoes I was planning on cooking that evening and then we loaded the car. Add in a stop to pick up things at Racer's, picking up Jon and Delena, and a final stop at the gas station, and we were already getting behind. Then we took a wrong turn to the campsite. The constant wandering on the wrong road was too much for Delena, who became horribly carsick. When we rolled in, everyone had eaten and were headed to sleep. I made the potatoes anyway, and apart from Dan and I having a plate each before bed, the potatoes went uneaten. The next morning we got up early and managed to head out a little earlier than the main group. Hours 0-2 went fairly well. Mineral Bottom road between Horse Thief and the highway is long and straight. It also is a pretty constant climb tjhat ended up feeling like the road to nowhere. I was concerned that my legs were feeling tight the entire time we were on the road. Once we turned onto the highway, we climbed for a little bit and then the road turned down hill. The speed and some time actually spinning loosened up my legs and I started to feel pretty good. The descent down Shafer's was loose and nasty. Sandy rockfields are my least favorite type of terrain as I feel that at any second I'm likely to crash and break bones. After we picked our way down, we trudged on toward Mussleman. My primary goal for the ride was to have enough in the tank to climb out of Horse Thief, so I didn't push it on any of the climbs before lunch, finding the granny more than once. Hours 2-3.5 went pretty well, and Dan looked strong. Hours 3.5-5.5 were rough as we spent most of the time pedalling slightly uphill again, but this time the wind was blowing hard. The trail meanders, so its effects varied. The one thing it did do was cool me down, so I didn't drink as much as I should have. After lunch, we began the dreaded cycle of being near the rear. By the time we arrived, everyone else was rested and ready to leave. We could either rest and get further back, or move on without rest. We picked the middle line - rest for long enough to still get left, but not long enough to recover. After the walk of shame up Murphy's, my dehydration showed it's ugly face. At mile 65, I got really grumpy and my heart rate soared. I was ready to quit and climb in the truck. The good news was that I had underestimated my CFC and actually felt good until 6:15. The bad news was that suddenly I was completely out of mental reserves at the precise moment I needed to tap them. I realized I hadn't peed since we started and guessed that I was probably getting dehydrated. I slowed down and drank a liter and half or so of plain water. I continued cruising at an easy pace until mile 70, at which point I rebounded and felt good again. Unfortunately, this is were it all fell apart for Dan. He could barely pedal. The support vehicles caught us again, and Dan figured if I was going to soldier on, so would he. Which left us 15 miles to the next stop with absolutely no chance for aid. Dan continued to deteriorate until he could no longer swallow the peels from the apple he was trying to eat. I started to get really worried, but finally we limped into the last prearranged stop at mile 87. Chad and Margaret were rolling out as we rolled in. We refilled our bottles in earnest and made our way on. As we began the descent, Dan told me he had had enough and that I should try and bridge my way up to Chad and Margaret. Not wanting to try to finish alone, I pushed on and caught Margaret, who was by then riding alone. We pushed on together. My iPod and GPS both died before the bottom of the Horse Thief, which sucked a lot. We rode the last first 1/3 of the climb until Margaret's back told it was time to walk. We walked until the last switchback where Brad, Chad, DanN, Jon, and Delena were cheering us on. Or mocking us derisively. It felt like both at that point. I climbed back on to finish the last little stretch and Jon hooked me up with a Cock and Bull Ginger Beer hand-up for the finish. We packed up and headed into town for some pizza. Afterwards, Jon drove back as I drifted in and out of sleep. I finally arrived home at 2:45 a.m. and promptly collapsed. I woke up and had some breakfast, then slept until 1:00 p.m. The home teachers showed up and I tried to keep myself awake. After they left, I slept until 6:30, missing our rendevous with Jon and Dan to sort out our stuff. Sorry guys. I'm sore today. My legs hurt worse than I thought they would while my hands, feet, and back all hurt less than I thought they would. I sure hope we go the other way next time, as I suffered less going the other way despite having less fitness. My goal for next year is to get the same training time in and to not get dehydrated and see what that does for me. I also am hoping for no wind.

RAWROD Prediction '08

So it's about that time. It's time to get my brain wrapped around an entire day of suffering. Aaron once had a nice, tongue-in-cheek way of describing it: "We're going to get up really early and ride until dinner. No big deal, right?" Except for me, it kind of is. The first time I rode it, my fitness and weight were both sliding. Even then, I was only slighter heavier than my low point and reasonably fit. If I'd estimated my comfortable fitness capacity (CFC), I would have put it at about 6 hours. My CFC is how long I can go at a respectable cruising speed without having to dig into my mental reserves to overcome what my body doesn't want to do. I'd done a HIM a month earlier so was confident I had six hours. That's if everything had gone right. However, Mahana had decided to come along at the last minute. He didn't want to ride his mountain bike, so he took mine. Which left me on a cross bike. It was great for the first half, but the higher air pressure and not being able to brake from anywhere but the drops made for a long day. My back and butt were killing me. I swore I'd never do it again. The next year (last year) Aaron talked me into it. I was 10-15 lbs. heavier and my fitness had completely stagnated. In fact, my long ride was in the three hour range and that was on the road. I would have estimated my CFC to be in the four hour range. But this year, I brought my mountain bike. The first four hours went as planned - comfortable. The next four were rough. The last two were a nightmare. But it was better than the previous year and I was excited to go again. So, here we are. I'm about 5 pounds lighter than I was last year. I've got a new fork and my bike is running well. I've got some long, comfortable rides in with my nephew and I know what to expect. The direction we're riding also helps. I'm estimating my CFC at around five hours, which is actually pretty exciting. You'd think that one hour less of suffering wouldn't be that significant. For me, one hour is huge. I sure hope my estimate is close. Jonboy and Delena are joining Dan and I for the ride down. To tell you the truth, I'm more excited about hanging out with those guys both before and after the ride than I am the actual ride. Dan commented, most of it sure sounds like a good time, except for that part in the middle. As for food, I plan on Brad's All-Day (CarboRocket) for fluid and Spam Musubi for snacks. Lunch will include PB+J with milk as well as some chips and some chicken and stars. The last stop will include plenty of NSAIDs and some cupcakes to be shared with Dug.

Dogs

I am not a dog guy. This is despite the fact that I've got the best dog in the world, Jesse. Jesse's a Golden Lab that doesn't bark except to be let back in the house and is more likely to lick you to death than bite you. He doesn't even respond when Blossom, the over-eager juvenile orange tabby we have constantly nips at his ears, feet, and tail. This is the only kind of dog I could have. You see, dogs don't like me. Most dogs immediately give me the stink eye with many adding a growl for good measure. What's more, I've been attacked by a wide variety of dogs. Some people say dogs can smell fear, that they smell the fear in me, and that's what inspires their aggressive behavior. The thing is, I'm not really afraid of dogs. Don't get me wrong, an amped up dog makes me nervous. But not nervous enough to run away. I've only twice ever run from a charging dog. The first time I was six or seven and my lovely neighbor 'sicked' his pit bull on me from across the street. I set a new personal best time in climbing from the bottom of the catalpa tree in the front yard to the absolute highest branch in that tree that could hold my weight. As I got older, for some reason I just started standing my ground. The first time I remembered doing so was several years later when the same neighbor had Chows instead of pit bulls. Those Chows were mean. One jumped the fence and ran across the street to attack me as I walked back from retrieving the mail. I turned to face him and kicked his jaw as he turned his head to bite me. I was almost shocked I'd done so. So was he. We stood there facing each other for a few seconds in confusion until he growled and went home. Later, I'd be attacked by other dogs, including cougar hounds and large mutts. Every time one of those dogs would charge, I'd boil with rage afterwards. One particular instance involved a cougar hound that attack me on the street at his owner's command. After I fended off the attack, the owner expressed his frustration at me hurting his dog, which made me even angrier. The second time I ran was on my mission. When I was a greeny, a mangy dog chased me on my bicycle and I simply kept pedalling instead of kicking the dog - you know, for appearances' sake. That little bastard bit me, in full view of his owner. I jumped off my bike and he came in for a second go, this time getting my pants. I waited in vain for the owner to get involved, but instead he looked on in apathy. My companion intervened and kicked the dog to get him to leave. That ended the owner's apathy as he yelled at my companion for kicking the dog. While there, I was also attacked by a Collie (I hate Lassie now, by the way), several mutts of all sizes from Chihuahua size to Saint Bernard size, and a German Shepherd. Chad inspired me to write this with his post about being bitten. I'm amazed by several parts of his story. I'm amazed that he apparently didn't lose his temper at any point with either the owners or the dog. But then again, I've always known Chad to be the acme of self-control. Good work, man. Hopefully these setbacks won't keep you away from RAWROD. As a side note, I think you should let me punch you in the right arm as hard as I can. You're completely out of balance and a sore right arm should bring everything into back into alignment.

Reality Check

I came to some realizations last week when Dan, my nephew and I had headed out on a long ride in anticipation of RAWROD. And since I'm long-winded, it'll come at the end. Last Saturday, despite the windy, grey weather, Dan showed up and we rolled out. I switched my Hillary over to mountain duty. This included moving the suspension fork and front brake from the Rig and putting on some Paul Thumbies/Bar End shifters. We rode down the canal to 1600 N. in Orem and then turned and headed east behind the Orem Cemetery. On the way, the zipper on my saddle bag broke so I had to stuff everything into my camelback. We climbed until we reach the top of Lower Frank from the backside. It was there that my front brake completely lost power. Completely. I had two choices - walk down or ride as carefully as possible with one brake. So I rode it. It was nerve racking and slow. We got to the bottom and then headed for the Provo section of the shoreline to meet my niece. She showed up with two flat tires, which is all the delay Dan needed to head home to take his daughter shopping. The small hand pump was virtually useless at getting air into her Schraeder-valve tubes. The CO2 I brought was completely useless. So my nephew and I got our forearm workouts in pumping up her tires with the hand-pump. After a while, we called it good enough and moved on. After we got rolling, I picked up a whole patch of thorns with my front tire. Surprisingly enough it held air until we got down. The steep descents were scarier than I remembered, especially without a front brake. Luckily, there were always run outs below the steep stuff so I could just roll the steep stuff and stop at the top of the other side. Once we got down, I stopped by Dan's house to borrow his floor pump to change my tube. I pulled out the thorn-riddled tube and put in a fresh one. Once the tire seated on the rim, I started pumping to fill up the tube. That's when the fresh tube gave up. Apparently it had a bad seam. Alika had an extra one in his pack, so I put it in and this time it held. Alika and I started the ride home into a pretty stiff head wind. By the time we got back, we were both completely done. Most days, this combination of things would have driven me over the edge and I would have been unbearable. So what was different? For one, I was riding on dirt instead of pavement most of the time. I realized I like to ride my mountain bike. Second, Dan and Alika are perfect riding company. Neither were any hurry to get there and were perfectly content to hang out and chat while we cruised along. Third, BK's CarboRocket and Spam musubi are great for long rides. I tolerate both well and both tasted great after a couple of hours in the saddle. Fourth, I would definitely prefer a slightly heavier bike with simple, reliable components. I've decided to make the move to cable actuated discs and thumbies on Maggie as well. Hillary performed like a champ for Dan the entire time. I actually prefer the modulation of cable actuated discs and am now comfortable enough with myself to switch to those, even if they aren't as cool or as light. Perhaps the most important thing I realized is that I should start moving my Saturday morning rides to Saturday afternoon as soon as possible. This has several advantages. For one, I get to sleep in and catch up a little on my sleep deficit from the week. Second, it gives Cindy time to train since she's more of a morning person. And most important, it gives me some really good time with just the kids.

That Big Ol' Belt Buckle

I am referring to the big belt buckle you get when you finish the LT100 in under nine hours. Not me, obviously. After all, LT100 is code for "Something Fish Should Never Do . . . . Ever." Who am I to argue with that? I know my role in these occasions, and that role is support. Part of what I'm able to bring to this year's race is a geary rig for Jon to ride (without him having to build his own). This is where my obsession begins. I've got two on offer. The first is Maggy, my trusty IF dedicated mountain bike and the second is Hillary, my do it all cross/mountain bike. Each have their merits. Maggy was designed for a 100mm fork and has an XTR Hydraulic system with Rapid Rise shifting (high-normal). Hydraulic and rapid rise are the down side. Jon also wants a rigid fork. I picked up an 80mm suspension corrected Switchblade. 80mm suspension corrected when it was designed for 100mm may also be a down side. A big upside is that this bike has a top tube that is longer than Hillary's, and more in line with what I think Jon normally runs. Hillary is now setup with an 80mm Reba and was designed to be run as such. Hillary also has disc brakes, but they're cable actuated. I also have her set up with Paul Thumbies and traditional (high-normal) derailleurs. On the down side, her top tube is shorter. I sat on her last night with a 100mm stem and the cockpit felt too short. I've ordered a 120mm Salsa Stem to help alleviate the shortness and I hope that 120mm is the right balance of length without being too long. So, which should Jon ride on his quest for the big'un?

Worst . . Movie . . . .Ever

That's right, I've got a new standard for the worst movie ever. When I say that, I mean worst movie that I've seen. I'm sure there are plenty worse, but not that I've actually been talked into watching. In order for a movie to be this bad, it has to be so bad that it's not even fun to make fun of. Anaconda was a dog, but it was a riot to laught at. Each of the movies described below have no real plot to speak of, only a general premise that never developed. The first movie to definitively set that mark for me was Hope Floats. Hope Floats had an interesting premise, but was just excruciatingly painful to watch. Then, two hours into the movie five different plot lines have emerged. And then, in one non-sensical swoop, the movie ended. No resolution to the various plot lines, just a thinly veiled attempt to cover up the fact that they had run out of time, but not figured out how to end the movie cleanly. It's not that I hate romantic comedies. I loved Notting Hill. Love, Actually is (actually) one of the films in my top 10. Next came Happy Feet. What a fuster cluck that was. I envisioned the writing process beginning with a loose idea of penguins suffering from global warming. Then came a series of non sequitirs. It feels like after the initially session where everyone got an idea of a theme, each writer then moved into a cave and wrote their part in complete isolation. The ideas were then thrown together and animated. They figured animation would cover up all sins and Global Warming was popular enough of a cause that people would over look the fact that the movie was a steaming pile of terd because it was about global warming. It's not that I don't like animated films, Shrek (only the original) was great, as was Monsters, Inc. Then came along a little romantic comedy entitled "The Wedding Date." Apparently, a big time movie exec has a penchant for spoiling his young daughter. The Wedding Date feels like it was plotted by a fourth grader and her friends who were asked to think of the perfect 'chick flick.' What if a guy dumped a girl. And what if the guy that dumped her dumped her for her sister. Oh yeah, and what if she never found out. She could find out at a wedding. . . . It was all over the place. Not even the potentially humorous parts delivered. The acting and directing were atrocious. I dare you to watch this. For me, The Wedding Date is now the worst . . . movie . . . .ever.

Welcome, Keono!

We welcomed Keono to the family on Saturday morning, March 15 at about 10:00 in the morning. She's a beatiful Sabrosa with many wonderful features. The important statics include that she's a 29er, single speed mountain bike with a custom lugged steel frame, fork, and stem. She hit the ground running and had her first ride yesterday in St. George on the Green Valley Loop with many kindred spirits.

From the rear.



And the front.



What are you going to call it?



Custom stem and spacer.


No detail overlooked - check the sweet headbadge. This one was taken inside.


Kerry provided the grips. A very nice touch.

I had built myself some really, really high expectations for this bike. Expectations I could never actually expect to be reached. This bike blew them away. Not only does it look great, but it rides like a dream. The geometry is similar to my Indy, but tweake just a little to perfection. No detail was overlooked. I know I don't deserve a friend like Jon, but I consider myself privileged that he counts me as one. There's no way of thanking for someone for something like this. Without a doubt, this bike is as cool as the rest of my bikes combined. Cool enough that I'm confident in concluding that my bike is the coolest ever.

I Hate the False Spring

I hate this hot and cold weather. I wish the weather would pick a line. I don't care what anyone says, this winter has felt longer and harsher than previous winters. It feels like we've had more days of snow and a lot of those came consecutively. Too many days were in the teens or worse. This cheers me up, a little. Kuhio Bay - I like bradda IZ's rendition. 'Akahi ho'i a 'ike ku'u maka I ka nani a'o Waiakea 'A'ohe lua e like ai Me ka nani a me ka nani A'o Kuhio Bay Mahalo a'i au i ka nani a'o Hilo Me ka ua a'e ho'opulu nei 'Oni ana Mokuola au i ke kai 'O ua 'aina 'e Kaulana nei Wai anuenue a he wai kaulana Wai maka'ika'i a ka malihini Wai kamaha'o i ka'u 'ike E papahi e ho'ope nei I ka nahele

And All The Rest

The assorted and sundry bikes in the rest of the stable include those that I don't have a deep and abiding relationship - which is to say they are the bikes that are neither titanium nor custom. These include a pair of Felts - a 2007 B2 Tri bike and a 2008 F1X Cyclocross bike. Both are light, workman-like bikes that are good looking and well-suited to their disciplines. I also have a GF Rig that has served me well in that it's helped me feel the SS vibe. I have a Colnago as well as a LeMond each of which I hope to build up soon. We'll see which one makes it to the finish first. And finally, there's my towny - a GF Monona. When Brad Keyes talks about getting your dork on, the Monona is the bike I think about. It's cheap, it's replete with appearance-be-damned accessories (like a light and fenders) and cheap parts. It's also a boat-load of fun to ride. So, with the rest of the stable now described, we await the triumphant entry of the latest addition, The Sabrosa.

Hillary

Hillary is my Swiss-Army bike - the bike that can do it all reasonably well, but not exceptionally well. I can, and have, ridden Hillary on mountain bike rides on the Ridge and on long dirt/pavement rides along the canal and through town. She's also seen more than one 'cross race. She's built with almost a mountain frame with clearance for up to 2.1's with disc brakes and drop bars. She can also be readily converted to a mountain bike as she's designed to ride properly with a Reba 29er fork. In fact, her next mission is to be ridden as a dedicated mountain bike this coming season as Jonboy trains for and rides the LT 100 on her. A big wheel geary bike should be just the ticket for Jon to get that big'un belt buckle and I'm more than happy to oblige. So the drop bars are being replaced with a flat bar and the road shifters are going to give way to bar-end shifters mounted to thumbies. Later, Hillary will make her return as a cross bike.