If you're not against mini bikes, don't cross this line. If yes, do.

Every year at this time, the time of Bike Week in Daytona, I actually do miss the motorcycle biz. Bike Week is/was a lot of fun. Ryder & I went to Mer & Joey's last night to watch the Supercross. Turned out to be a good race. Sounds like the 200 was a different story. Leave it to the AMA to take a good idea, like running the 200 under the lights, and still managing to find a way to screw it up.

In my never-ending quest to get faster, I did a Southridge race yesterday. It went much better than last weekend. That's for sure. I'm still not ready to go full-throttle, but Sean Donovan and youngsters Trevor Downing, & Adam Snyder are (Fort Lewis' spring break is an early one apprently). They drilled it from the word go and I hung on to that train as long as I could before coming off. It's a work in progress. By the Nat'l at the end of this month, things should be better.

I saw Adam Spik at the race yesterday. I haven't seen him in years. He's a fire fighter now and has two kids. While on his sweet Phil Wood single-speed, he made a comment about still reading my blog when I actually update it. He's right, I suck at this blogging thing now. For example, all I have to say are single-sentence statements.

Friday night Ryder asked Denise & I if he could have a treat for finishing his bowl of ice cream.

I'm selling my TT bike and a bunch of other brand new bike parts so if you need anything email me.

Today I'm going out to ride Glendora Mountain Road in preparation for San Dimas Stage Race.

Since Joy and Monique are involved in the Southern California High School Mountain Bike League, I feel like I should get involved too.

I hope Joey remembered the time change last night since he's supposed to be in Long Beach today for a 7:15 AM crit.

Today is Jeannie and Christie's birthdays.

Poor Josh has to go to Disneyland with Jeannie, so I'm wondering what Christie is sticking Greg with today.

Johnson was hanging out with Ben Harper and Lance Armstrong last night.

Between a muscian and a 7-time TdF winner, I bet you can score some pretty good drugs.

Just kidding.

I still can't believe the federal gov't has banned the sale of mini bikes.

At least there is no ban on the sale of Steve Zissou artwork.

"If you're not against me, don't cross this line! If yes, do." - Steve Zissou

At least I got to see the intersection where Tupac was shot.

There are two things for certain. In the beginning of every of year, I always find myself doing business travel, no matter what line of business I’m in at the time. And, at the beginning of every year, it takes me 2, or more, MTB races to learn how to suffer again. It doesn’t matter how much training I’ve done or how many road races I’ve done prior, nothing mimics the real thing. The first few MTB races always hurt like hell. If you could ride a bike in the fetal position, that’s how I would have been riding last Sunday at round 1 of the Kenda Cup West, also known as Recession Series.

It didn’t help that only a few days before, I spent 3 days in Salt Lake City followed by 3 days in Vegas. Eating a lot, drinking a little, sitting a ton, standing too much, not sleeping at all, and exercising nil: the good old American sedentary lifestyle does not bode well for good bike racing results. I’m not making excuses. It is what it is.



This is the Vegas I know. It's not slot machines or card tables. It's conference halls and glad handing. Since it was the day before Fat Tuesday, the welcome dinner had a Mardi Gras theme. I got some beads for asking a question in one of the technical sessions.


Vegas was the second stop on our two-part conference tour of the American Southwest. The tarot cards told me I wasn't going to make it home alive.


Before leaving town we had to stop at the karaoke bar in Harrah's so Donny could do a chilling redenetion of Bon Jovi's Wanted Dead or Alive. I was glad he didn't do a Stevie Ray Vaughan song since Donny is from Texas. I hate Stevie Ray Vaughan's music.

Back at Mardi Gras, Donny and this incredibly bored girl paid to stand around and look Mardi Gra-esque posed for a picture.

To get a little exercise in SLC, I considered swimming a mile in the hotel pool, but then I thought, to hell with it. The thought of trying to count that high just made my head hurt even more.

Vegas didn't kill me, but the race on Sunday nearly did.

I was in Salt Lake City over the weekend

But I much rather would have been at the Party on Palomar.

The Facts Pour In: Redlands Triathlon linked to Parking Scandal

Some investigative journalism on behalf of the Redlands Daily Facts prior to posting random letters such as Ms. West’s would clarify that the Mentone resident was referring to the road closures due to the 10th Annual Redlands Triathlon/Duathlon, which took place on Sunday, February 8 at Redlands East Valley High School.

The incident was not due to a group of renegade cyclists as Ms. West's letter and the Redlands Daily Facts led the public to believe.

When reached for comment, a representative of the Redlands Daily Facts said, “Oh.”

The event, which was held in rainy conditions attracted hundreds of competitors and was won by Kyle Simmons of Redlands. The 17-year old finished the 3.1-mile run, 10-mile bike portion, and 100-yard swim in a time of 45:30. Winning the Female division was 38-year old Polly Crawford of Temecula with a time of 53:26.

Justin Ogan, a sophomore from Yorba Linda, who was using the event as a training race rated the course and overall venue as average. When asked if he’d compete in the event again next year, Ogan said, "Probably."

Just the Facts

Dear Ms. West,
I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt here and assume that the Redlands Daily Facts somehow managed to screw up your letter to the editor during the editing process, or didn’t live up to its title and check the facts before publishing your letter because your letter makes no sense whatsoever based on the following actual facts:

1. Colton Ave in Mentone is about as wide as the 10 Freeway. The umbrella carrying friend could have parked across the street from Ms. West’s house without interfering with traffic, instead of parking a quarter of a mile down the street. Parking is legal on the north and south sides of Colton Ave in Mentone except for one stretch of road on the south side just east of Crafton Ave; however there are no houses on the north side of the street unless Ms. West’s present address is a fenced-in power transformer.

2. A quarter mile is 1,320 feet. The average bicycle is 4 feet in length. If Ms. West’s friend had to park a quarter of a mile away, that means there must have been about 330 cyclists parked single-file west of Ms. West's home and 330 cyclists parked east of her home on Colton Ave. 660 cyclists is one hell of a lot of bicycles. Why don’t I know about this group ride of 660 apparent a-holes that aren’t willing to move for a car trying to park and why doesn't the friend have a functioning horn?

3. If Ms. West had to walk a quarter of a mile in the rain to her friend’s car, does that mean that these 660 cyclists were themselves sitting on the side of the road in the rain? The plot thickens.

I have a suggestion for Ms. West that could help her with some of her problems. Stop reading or relying on the Redlands Daily Facts for your source of news! Its title alone is false representation of a newspaper and a form of false advertising. I suggest she read VeloNews or Cyclingnews.com.

Good thing this Graham Watson photo taken at the ToC didn't occur outside of Ms. West's house...

Although it very well could happen because these scantily clad cavaliers happen to live in the Redlands/Mentone/Loma Linda area and that's a fact.

Vans, Bike Racing & Punk Rock. Oi!

The last page of the March VeloNews is a piece written by road racer Adam Myerson titled “Get in the Van.” After only reading the title, I’m already intrigued because, A; I love vans, and B; the illustration that accompanies the editorial is of a van with a Black Flag sticker on the rear window, and by now you know that I’m fascinated with the history of punk rock. In fact, I consider myself the Shelby Foote of punk rock, and when I say punk rock, I mean as in a lifestyle, not as in a form of music. Most music that gets that label, especially in the last 20 years is garbage. And let’s face it, most of the original stuff was trash too, but the way in which it was produced is significant.

In "Get in the Van", Myerson draws a parallel between the early do-it-yourself days of punk rock and the shoe-string-budget lifestyle of a bike racer. Both of these labors of love lifestyles are spent living day to day and enjoying every miserable minute of it. There are no team buses, no airplanes, and no big-money rider contracts. Just a van, a hotel room floor to sleep on, and a community pool of prize (or gig) money. It’s all about sacrifice, racing, and doing what it takes to get from one race to the next and with good enough form to make an impact. As a motivation message to his Mountain Khakis pro team teammates, veteran racer Myerson, pledges to rekindle the bike racing fire that originally started for him in 1987, and he asks them to do the same.

I am Adam Myerson. In fact, when Denise read his open letter to his teammates, she said it was if I wrote it myself. Starting first with motorcycle racing and now with bike racing, I have spent a good part of my life making the same sacrifices: sleeping in the back of trucks or on hotel floors; spending countless hours training or working on machinery instead of doing all the leisurely things that most people do; pining over parts, pieces, and components; fretting over food; living paycheck to paycheck so I could make it to one race after the next; sacrificing. Sure, there have been times when things have come easy, but those times are the result of all the sacrifice.

The old saying, "Misery loves company" applies well to this scenario. All of this suffering is much easier to cope with and more enjoyable if you have someone or a group of someones who can appreciate the lifestyle or lives it themselves. In this case, opposites don't attract. My best friends have been people just like me. These people aren’t always easy to come by and many aren’t always willing to stick around once they’ve gotten a real taste. They have to want to drink from the same bottle, and so does your family if they are going to support you. The reality of it is, if I’m sacrificing so much, then so are Denise and Ryder. You know what they say; addiction affects family and friends, which is why I don’t plan on doing this to them for too much longer.

A lot of times when I’m sitting around thinking, I think about how nice it will be to someday feel like I can actually sit around. Instead of it being bikes and racing, it will be rocking chairs, porches, patios, and beaches. It’s warm out, it’s clear, and The Clash’s "Straight to Hell" is playing in the background at a conversational volume. Unless of course, any of this rubs off on Ryder and then it will be bikes and racing and Richard Hell’s "Blank Generation" cranked up to 10 all over again.

I believe there are two kinds of people: Those who have great ambition, take chances, suffer a little bit, and experience youthful angst that soothes as they age; or those who experience great bitterness when they’re old because they sat around, developed a dormant existence, never got in the van, and let life pass them by. The latter is no way to live.

High score goes to the gallows

There are an alarming number of people in my office (three, so far) who never got the opportunity to see Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln at Disneyland before the final curtain fell on the awe-inspiring attraction in February of 2005. On that cold winter day, Honest Abe was impeached and then replaced by Disneyland: The First 50 Magical Years. Some of my fondest Disneyland memories are from sitting through Animatronic Abe’s speech, watching Mathew Brady’s Civil War paintings change in the background, and wondering what it would have been like to have bayoneted a Confederate in the face or have served under General Sherman’s army as it so gloriously burned Atlanta to the ground.

I have a love-hate relationship with the Disney. I love Disneyland, due mostly to nostalgia, but hate the Disney Corporation for their excessive commercialism. Upon exiting the Jungle Cruise, you can’t even buy a rubber snake anymore without mouse ears on it and you sure as hell aren’t going to find anything in the Pirates of the Caribbean gift shop without Jack Sparrow’s likeness shouting out at you. And now it’s been announced that they’ve “tastefully” placed Disney characters inside It’s A Small World, and even integrated music from Disney films with the original music from the ride. What’s next, replacing the life-like animals on the Jungle Cruise with characters like Dumbo & Tigger?

I have the feeling that Lincoln was removed from Disneyland because the attraction didn’t sell any merchandise. You never saw anyone walking around the park wearing a fake beard or a top hat that they’d purchased after watching electric Lincoln site the Gettysburg Address. Personally, I would have sported both, just as long as they didn’t come with mouse ears attached.

But don’t despair. We may be in luck. There are rumors that The First 50 Magic Years will soon suffer its own assassination and be replaced by The Walt Disney Story Featuring Great Moments with Mr. Lincoln. I wouldn’t be surprised if everyone who enters is handed a Buzz Lightyear Astro Blaster, ‘a la John Wilkes Booth.

So I rode my trainer for almost 2 hours instead

Every now and then I'm actually glad that racing my bike isn't my job. For example, on Saturday I went to the Boulevard Road Race (a.k.a. Tour of California Prologue).

About an hour before my race, it began to snow.

About 45 minutes before my race, it began snowing real hard. At that, I said, screw this. This isn't my job. Plus I'm allergic to snow, rain, and the cold in general. I went home instead.

Sooner or later, my season is actually going to start.

It’s supposed to rain tomorrow and through the weekend. What’s the deal with that? The last few days have been rad, but no such luck for the road race this weekend. Just when I had my bike all dialed and ready to go I’m going to have to swap out the cork brake pads and carbon wheels. Or I could just live dangerously…

Last Friday night I hem and hawed around about doing the crit down in Imperial or doing the road race up around Solvang on Saturday. As it turns out, I did neither. I figured why start racing so early when I don’t need to, but now I kind of wish I would have gone to Imperial. Between Norm, Craig, Miller, Padgett, & Manning, they came away with a couple of wins and a pair of seconds. Woulda been fun to contribute to that.

I still got two good days of training in. On Saturday, Joey, Jamie, & I rode up to Angelus Oaks where there are still patches of snow on the side of the road. Then we came down and shot across Yucaipa so we could do Wildwood. I put in some pretty big efforts on both climbs, so when I hit San Timoteo Canyon solo and there was a headwind, I was pretty much hating life.

I figured the Sunday ride would be super casual since most everyone went racing on Saturday, but that wasn’t the case at all. Fresh off of two race wins, Norm was riding angry so that splintered the group into just 6 of us. Between the weight lifting workouts and Saturday’s ride, Sunday did me in. It was only about a 3-hour affair, but I still limped back to Mentone. I just gotta keep reminding myself that I’m supposed to feel like hell right now if I want to feel good when the MTB season is in full swing.

Last night they had a fund raiser dinner for the Redlands Bicycle Classic at Mikan and it was a pretty good time. I was a little disappointed in the turn-out. I expected more. I had raw fish and Denise had a teriyaki New York steak that was one of the best I’ve tasted in a long time. How’s that for a restaurant plug? I also had 3 pints of the Hangar 24 Orange Wheat, which made it just that more difficult to get up at 5 AM this morning to meet Kelly from work to ride Crafton. It was worth it though. I don’t do that ride enough and every time I do, I rediscover how great an area it is.

I just remembered that yesterday Ryder told me I smelled like a dog.


The trend lately in blogging is to post photos of food or post food and drink recipes on your blog. Here's my contribution.

Eat, Drink & Be Merry because you can

Come eat raw fish next Tuesday night so the Redlands Bicycle Classic doesn't go belly up like Pool Gel went belly up.



Okay, let's talk about how lame this is. As part of their team camp, and I suppose as a team building exercise, the Kelly Benefits Strategies Medifast guys went skiing. IN THEIR TEAM JACKETS! Somewhere there's a PR hack that is hated by the entire Kelly Benefits team now because he or she made those guys pose for pictures half kitted up. Lucky for those gusy, their team camp wasn't somewhere south of the Equator. The PR photo would have been of them swimming, surfing, or snorkeling in their team bibs.

Back to reality. On a more serious note, I found out about this today - from the District 37 web site:

"It is with a great deal of sadness, that I report that we lost a fellow racer Sunday night. Jimmy Finerty, an Expert Open racer, did not survive surgery for a crushed lung and torn aorta. Jimmy had a high speed crash some where around check one of the Desert MC National Hare & Hound, and was hit by his bike. He was able to get up and ride back to camp, where his family took him to Rescue-3. Jimmy was transported by medivac to the hospital. He passed during the operation. Jimmy had taken the last year off from racing, and the DMC National was his return to racing. Previously, he had raced the National Hare and Hound Series for 6 years. He leaves behind a wife, Kacey, a son, and parents. All of DMC is very distraught over this unfortunate turn of events. Our heart felt condolences to the Finerty family, we all feel the loss. May Godspeed Jimmy."

Now, I'm not gonna go on and on about how precious life is, or about how he died doing what he enjoyed, or even about how although I didn't know this guy, I feel a strange connection because we shared the same love for desert racing. None of that is important because the real tragedy is that he left behind a young son.

On a daily basis, armed with a double-edged sword, I fight with myself over the topic of motorycle racing. I've seen way too many people killed and put in wheel chairs so most of the time I'm relieved to have put that life behind me. Yet, other times I struggle with the thought of Ryder not getting the opportunity to experience life growing up on a motorcycle. I don't know if it's because we've had rain recently, or if it's because it's the start of a new motorcycle racing season, or if it's because Ryder is getting closer to the age where he can ride, or if it's because I'm just getting old and tired of wrining myself out on the bicycle week after week, but dirt bikes have been on my mind a lot lately, and in a big way. And then I read something like above and I'm back to thinking that life for he and I could still be pretty good if we just stick to pedal bikes. Even though it still has its harzards that I'm well aware of, Denise & I could probably give Ryder a similar experience through a childhood of bicycle racing.

That said, I still miss things like riding a special test in Wickenburg, chasing ribbon through Cougar Buttes, leap-frogging from pit to pit on Hwy 95 in Nevada, overlooking the Mojave at sunset, and the smell of creosote bushes after a good rain. But I know missing all of that stuff is much better than missing a family member. I feel very bad for Jimmy Finerty's wife and young son.

Social networking or social regression?

Your immature, naïve, inexperienced, pimply-faced adolescent past confirmed you as a friend on Facebook.

Now I’ll never have to attend a high school reunion. Brilliant.

This pretty much sums it up

What happens from 9:50 AM until you're back safe at home is a completely different chart and somewhat of your own problem.


The calm before the storm...

This painting has nothing to do with anything I have to say. I just figured it’s been far too long since I’ve posted any fine art. Plus, I don’t actually have much to say anyway. It’s a painting depicting a scene from one of my favorite movies.

I’ve been watching the half-hour updates on the Tour Down Under every night and it’s just making me wish it were summer. It’s been in 90s down there each day. I’m over winter. Last weekend that fickle bitch Mother Nature teased us with summer-like weather. Even down in Laguna Beach where Denise & I stayed and rode, it was up to the 80s by mid-morning. You can’t ask for better beach weather any time of the year. This weekend it’s going to feel like we live in dreary old England. It will probably warm up for Super Bowl weekend and then be cold as hell for the weekend of Boulevard Road Race. That’s usually her M.O.

Speaking of football what’s the deal with Tim Tebow and some of these other dudes deciding to stick around and play another year of amateur football? What a bunch of freaking idiots. That’s like having a winning lottery ticket, but not cashing it in. I never thought I’d commend anything USC, but at least Mark Sanchez isn’t afraid to move out of the amateur ranks. Or maybe no one wants to go into the 2009 NFL draft because they’re likely to get picked up by Detroit. That’s kind of like amateur football too I suppose.

What else do I have to rant about? I know. How about all the time I’ve wasted recently on Facebook, or Spacebook, or My Face, whatever it’s called. I think after staying up until 11 pm last night, I’m finally over it. At least I hope so. It seems super cool once you start, but on mornings like this when you wake up with a Facebook hangover, you regret every minute of it. Somehow I still managed to get up and get myself on the trainer this morning, but it wasn’t easy. Speaking of Facebook and trainers, Adam Hart posted a 20 second video of himself riding the trainer. There’s only one thing less exciting than riding the trainer and that’s watching someone else rider the trainer. Sorry Adam. I’m just saying.

What else? Gran Torino got zero Oscar nominations. Are you kidding me? If you ask me, members of the Academy are just asking for Clint to walk into the Kodak Theatre guns a’ blazing. Instead of Clint, they’re either going to give the best actor award to a guy who played a dead guy (Sean Penn or Frank Langella), a guy whose character is heading in the opposite direction of dying (Brad Pitt), or a guy who I thought was already dead, but actually isn’t (Mickey Rourke). I should sell that joke to Letterman.

I’m not the only one in the family who’s funny.

Denise: When are you going to start dressing yourself?
Ryder: When I’m 10.

And finally, I’m selling my TT bike. It’s a 56cm aluminum Trek Equinox 9 with Dura Ace brakes, Ultegra derailleurs, Bontrager RaceXLite cranks, handlebar, and saddle, and carbon fiber Profile Designs sticks and brake levers. The Mavic wheels aren’t anything special which is why I’m willing to part ways with this red rocket ship for the low price of one thousand U.S. dollars. I probably have less than 10 hours on the thing because I hate time trials and time trials hate me, but don’t let that stop you from becoming the next Fabian Cancellera or even Kristen Armstrong.

I guess I did have plenty to say...

I’d rather be full of myself than full of excuses

These long base mile days are getting harder and harder the older I get. Yesterday it took every ounce of energy and willpower in my body to turn the pedals over for a complete 5 hours. And even then, the last hour was futile.

Actually, all 5 hours were futile. I knew I was in trouble in the first hour as I climbed to the base of Oak Glen from home and my legs just wouldn’t respond. I thought they’d eventually get into the groove, but it never happened. Maybe that’s what sets us apart from everyone else. Even on those days when riding our bike is the last thing we feel like doing, we do it anyway. And we do it for 5 hours, in the wind.

If it’s hard for you to understand just how bad it was yesterday and how hard it was to overcome the boredom and discomfort, here’s an example: My legs were as full of aches and pains yesterday as I am full of myself today. Now you get it.

How do you like them apples?

Yesterday I went into Stater’s on Brookside & Alabama to buy some apples and because I have a weak bladder I had to step up to the urinal before stepping into the produce section. I’m just standing there doing my deal when a Stater Bros employee exits a stall, passes the sink, and goes straight out the bathroom door with filth on his hands. I hope he works in the bakery and not the produce section.

BTW, I just decided that's the story I'd tell Alex after the first commercial break if I ever make it to Jeopardy.

On second thought, prohibition trumps them all

I’m not one to brag, but I’ve got dual flat screen monitors on my desk at work. It’s a pretty sweet setup and one that’s hard to live without when I’m trying to work on a single monitor anywhere else. Yesterday the dual monitors weren’t such the hot ticket however. On my right monitor I was trying to book a flight to Salt Lake City and on my left monitor I was reading CNN’s web site coverage of Flight 1549 crashing into the Hudson Bay.

I hate flying with a passion. I hate it so much that I’d rather drive for days before flying for hours. Well, that may be a bit of an exaggeration. There are a few exceptions based on the route. Certain drives tend to suck the life out of you. Driving up the 5 to anywhere is monotonous and the 15 to SLC is almost as hellish.

Once, James Williams and I left for Deer Valley on a Wednesday afternoon and got so bored with the drive by nightfall that we decided to stop at a road side rest and people-watch the other weary travelers for a few hours. When we finally arrived in SLC the next morning we had a few hours to kill before picking up Sean Donovan at the airport. Our mission then became coffee. You know how hard it is to find a good cup of coffee in the Mormon state? Don’t get me wrong, Utah is in my fave five of states, but we combed old town SLC on foot for more than an hour before discovering real coffee. It was being served in an indie bookstore and once we were sitting with cups and books in hand, I got this weird feeling that we were breaking Utah state law. It felt more like we were in a 1920s Chicago speakeasy than in a bookstore/coffee house and at any moment we'd be victims of a gold old fashion police raid.

Anyway, so I guess the only thing worse than a monotonous drive and commercial airline flight would be working with a single computer monitor and bad coffee, or no coffee at all.

Well excuse me for asking

"You don't worry about me! You just worry about yourself!"
- 3 1/2 year-old Ryder Freeman to me (his dad), when asked how he was doing this morning.

The key word being "Food"

Trevor & I met Gardner in the O.C. to do the Food Park ride on Saturday. I’ll have to do that one a few more times before I learn the route. I spent some time on the front early on, but there are so many intersections (and traffic circles too) that I figured I better hang back a little to feel things out. Every time I looked up the road Gardner was either on the front or only a few wheels back. He loves Food Park. There had to have been close to 100 riders. It looked pretty cool as we snaked down Laguna Canyon toward PCH. The ride basically ends at the top of Newport Coast Drive, but only about half the group, if that, makes the climb. The other half stays North on PCH. Freddy Fresh Legs, who jumped in just before Laguna Canyon climbed away from us all on the ascent. I have a feeling that’s his M.O. every Saturday. I towed the front group after him, but with a little less than a K to go Gardner put in a big digger and only one other dude was able to go with him. I was cooked.

We put in a little over 4 hours total, riding up to the Huntington Peer and back though the hills to Culver & the 5 Fwy where Gardner treated us to Super Mex. It was a pretty good day and nice to ride some unfamiliar roads, but the wind was hellish and we were ready for it to be over. That night Denise made chicken enchiladas for dinner and by Sunday at lunch time I had eaten 9 of them.

Yesterday I didn’t get out on the bike until after noon. I cruised into Loma Linda on the MTB with Johnson and when I got to Hulda Crooks, Joy, Shelli, Adam, & Krista Park were there giving the Redlands Adventist Academy Mountain Bike Team a clinic. They looked like they had it handled so I took off and rode on my own for a couple hours. Hulda Crooks is in pretty good shape right now except someone built a bridge jump on one of the Jedi’s side trails. It looks cool, but it’s that kind of stuff that gets riding areas shut down. It’s only a matter of time before someone falls off of it, get’s jacked up, and sues the city. There were also a bunch of poser dirt bikers out there tearing up the trails. I was watching them and I think I could descend faster than most of them on my hardtail. The last hour of my ride was spent in the wind riding from Loma Linda to Rialto where we had a birthday dinner for my aunt and uncle at my parent’s house. I ate a lot over there too.

Let’s see, what else?

Jack asked his girlfriend, Mary, to marry him. She said yes.

The Dart won the South African Mountain Bike Championship by more than 7 minutes. I can’t get enough stories about the Dart.

Denise wants to do one of those organized century rides. Any suggestions? And don’t say Palm Springs.

I spent all weekend riding with just a jersey and shorts. Rad.

On second thought...

From: mike_badger_coach@msn.com
To: mattfreemanrace@yahoo.com
Subject: Program

Matt, here you go. Lots of focus to strengthen and stabilize your hip area. Please start sending me your power files again. Need to start tracking your power, etc. OR WE WILL HAVE TO PUT YOU ON THE COMPUTRAINER!
-Mike

From: mattfreemanrace@yahoo.com
To: mike_badger_coach@msn.com
Subject: Re: Program

You can't scare me with that Computrainer.

From: mike_badger_coach@msn.com
To: mattfreemanrace@yahoo.com
Subject: Re: Program

No, but I could make you want to puke.
-Mike

Since I have absolutely nothing to say these days, here’s what I heard other people say while I was attending a conference a few months ago:

“Your politics and your religious beliefs are like your underwear. I hope they’re comfortable for you, but that doesn’t mean I need to see them.”

“I live so far back in the sticks that even the Presbyterians are handling snakes.”

"I’m too busy working to make any money”.

“I went to the vending machine and it was $3.50 for a Coke! That better come with rum.”

Meanwhile...