What a commitment this blogging thing has become. If I fail to post for more than 2 days I feel guilty. If I leave the house sans digital camera I feel guilty. Does life not already pose enough responsibilities? Must I be tied to my PC outside of my daily duties at work? When will it end? Who will help me break these chains? How long will the keyboard have this hold on my fingers? It’s a sickness that lacks a vaccination. I have a fever & the only cure is more blogging. Or is it cow bell? Anyway, the mistress that is my blog is calling & I’m once again adhering to her requests like a cheap middle-aged DJ at a junior high dance. It could be worse. My time could be spent risking life & limb hopping from the Lakers bandwagon onto the Clippers bandwagon.

The Chronicles of Base Miles
Why not ride to work on a rainy Friday morning? It was actually refreshing. The roads were wet, the cloud cover kept the temperature reasonable & I didn’t feel a sprinkle from the sky until I was within a mile from the office. The ride home was a greater effort. It always is. As the day matures, my backpack expands, my legs grow heavier & my sheer will to leave in the black of the winter night is feeble. The last two miles from the U of R to my front door are country miles.

Why not wake up at the crack O’ dawn on a cold Saturday morning, go hammer out the Rain Cross ride & then tack on an extra 40 miles? Trevor & Riverside Josh made going long on Saturday a lot easier than doing it solo. When it was all said & done, I recorded about 5.5 hours & 105 miles & change. No nap after the ride made me worthless the rest of the day.

Why not wake up at the crack O’ dawn (again) on a cold Sunday morning, drive up to Angeles Oaks with Johnson, Templeman & Trevor to ride 3 hours of the Santa Ana River Trail? It was cold, I was getting a cold & Johnson was riding the downhill sections like a man possessed. I think he was trying to kill me. I eventually threw it away on a blanket of acorns & nearly lost my bike over the side of an infamous SART cliff. Imagine, if you will, all in one fair swoop, me flying over the handlebar (singular) & simultaneously trying to prevent my bike from disappearing into an abyss. Meanwhile, visions of Trevor running me over danced through my head. I succeeded & Trevor failed. I only suffered a dent in my right shin. I was due for a crash. And not long after I (get ready Aaron…) faded like a cheap t-shirt from the Colton Auction. I counted my losses & spent the rest of the ride in my comfort zone & haven’t thrown a leg over a bike since, which is probably why said cold didn’t take. Today (Wednesday), I feel pretty good.

Dinner Debate
I don’t know if it were the miles I did on Saturday or if Macaroni Grill always cooks up a tasty plate, but our dinner with Joshua of the Great Northwest & Jeannie was worth the 45-minute wait for a table. Ryder was a champ the entire night. He passed the time flirting with the girls sitting behind us. I had grilled salmon, rice & spinach, while Denise opted for some sort of marinated chicken & pasta. Of course I consumed my entire dinner, a ton of bread & a quarter of Denise’s plate too. Did I mention the house chianti.

Here’s where the great debate comes in. Dinner conversation took an interesting turn when it went the way of attractive female celebs. Josh favors one newly separated Jessica Simpson, while Jeannie wants to adopt home wrecker Angelina Jolie. For a long time now, Denise has been bound to Gina Gershon & I feel the heat from Ashley Judd. You decide.

Wednesday Night Ride
We were 9 strong last night as we rolled from the parking lot of Hulda Crooks. Templeman, Josh, Robert Bender, Al, Si, Trevor, Johnson, TB & I headed into the canyon, road up Jedi & then took the ridge in a southwestern direction. From there we dropped back down into the canyon to Four Corners & up to Beaumont Ridge. At the top, near the power poles, everyone stopped to take in the view so I decided to punch it & initiate a chase across the ridge. That’s when Johnson tried to kill me (the second time in less than a week). I was almost to the end when out of the corner of my right eye, an unidentified crazy man comes flying by into one of the last corners of the route. He caught me off guard so I lost my line & started unintentionally pushing him out. At that point, I thought to myself, “I’m not sure who in the hell this is, but he’s not going to make this corner. He’s going off the cliff & he’s probably going to die. Good thing we’re close to one of the nation’s best hospitals & Montecito Cemetery.” Seeing that he was nearing his demise, this unknown rider knifed his handlebar hard to the left, saving the plunge off the cliff, but throwing himself into an uncontrollable tumble across my path. It was then that I realized it was Johnson, on a brand new Trek EX9. I was fairly sure that I was going to either run him or his bike over & was preparing myself for the impact when some sort of higher being accelerated Johnson’s roll & put him well out of my way. It was a Christmas miracle!

The aftermath. The EX9 held stury, but Johnson's helmet light didn't fair as well.

Templeman, Trevor & Johnson get ready to ride. Notice Johnson's helmet light started the night as straight as an arrow.

Warning From the Health Department: Joy broke some big news this week that all you Redlands Townies should be aware of. Turns out the Dirty Martinis that The Vault serves are really really dirty. "How can a Martini establishment get a B?," she asks. I wonder the same thing.