"Drive fast, take chances, and pass on the right." - Bill Crites, 1940-2008

Happy New Year anyway

So, I just got done reading in National Geographic Adventure about how after ascending Mount Everest, Sir Edmund Hillary dedicated much of his life to building schools and hospitals in Nepal. Now it’s got me thinking; maybe tomorrow I’ll go climb Oak Glen and afterward dedicate most of my life to building schools and hospitals in Yucaipa and Beaumont. Oh, wait, that’s impossible. There’s no undeveloped land left in Yucaipa and Beaumont.

I miss the good old days.

You'll have to excuse me.

I used to be my own biggest fan

I realize that my dedication to this bike racing bag may seem ridiculous to most, especially since I’m not making a living at it. Those not in the know will probably never know or understand why I, or those in the know, do it. Sometimes I don’t even know or understand. It’s just what I do. The first time I took the starting line for any kind of event was in 1985 and not a year has gone by that I haven’t taken the starting line a number of times on either a motorcycle or bicycle.

The last time I paid attention to how many races I started in a year was back in the mid 90s, and that was because in District 37 motorcycle races, they determine your ranking by your best 20 races (that's a sh*t ton of tires, BTW). But last night at a Team Redlands meeting Scott Manning asked how many races I did this year and I couldn’t answer.

This morning I started counting and I came up with 37. Unless I missed any, that’s about a day short of two grand tours. Only a couple of those 37 include “sitting in” and that doesn’t take into account the Saturday, Tuesday, and Thursday rides that are sometimes as hard as, or even harder than an actual race. Based on how I’ve felt in the last month or so, I guess it’s safe to say that I have less than 37 matches to burn in my match book.

There were road races...

short track and super-d races...

cyclocross races...


cross country races...


single-speed races...


and a lot time in the garage.

And even though winning a Single-speed National, finishing on the podium at a Super-D National, and racing against Olympians, World Champions and a 7-time TdF winner were all highlights, none of them compared to the races where Ryder was on the sideline yelling at the top of his little lungs, "Go Daddy!" Those were some of the races where I posted horrible results, but his cheers still made me feel like a winner.

What's a guy gotta do around here to get some results?

A couple of Februarys ago I sat in the feed zone after getting shot out the back of the Boulevard Road Race with two laps to go. Because Boulevard happened a week prior to the Tour of California, the 90 mile race turned out to be the last day of training camp for many of the major domestic teams who had set up shop for a week in the mild climate of the San Diego area. Despite the firepower, I should have been able to just hang in there and fake it, but I didn't.

There were many DNFs that day so at least I wasn’t alone. On one side of me sat Kayle Leogrande. He had the same bewildered look on his face as me; the look that says both, “What the hell went wrong?” and “What the hell could I have done different?” Kayle and I, who had done a fair amount of riding together that winter, discussed those very same questions with one another before parting ways.

Eventually, on the silent drive home with Denise and Ryder, I chalked it up to “just one of those days” and convinced myself that I’d find my fitness as the year progressed. Kayle must have chalked his bad day up to something else and convinced himself that it would take more than just riding his bike to get the results he desired. As you will see from the saga that later unfolded, today’s news comes as no surprise…

http://www.velonews.com/article/85515/leogrande-suspended

http://www.cyclingnews.com/news.php?id=news/2008/dec08/dec02news2

I guess there’s only one thing left to do and that’s to make light of the situation courtesy of another dirty doper, Riccardo Ricco. Click here for a good time.

Meanwhile, I'm out busting my ass in the snow...

It gets deeper.

It's called Thanksgiving you idiots

Leave it to dumb Americans to take the concept of a perfectly good holiday and screw up its purpose and meaning by renaming it Turkey Day. I've said it many times and I'll say it once more: You've disgraced yourselves once again.

Only 28 days left until Present Day...

Meanwhile, while parked across the street from Jersey's, Joey & Jamie's bikes were stolen from the back of the LCI truck on Tuesday night. Be on the lookout for an orange Gary Fisher Caliber and hardtail K2. I'm willing to bet some white over-priviledged south-side Redlands kids took them because that's the kind of thing some white over-priviledged south-side Redlands kids would do. That and celebrate "Turkey Day". I weep for the future.

Here's what Joey's bike looks like just in case you were wondering.

I'm perfectly aware that the recent tone of this blog has been negative. Don't fret. It's just a phase. Nevertheless, it's my blog. I do what I want.

Then again, what I want to do and what I'm actually capable of are two different things. For example, I want to finish out the cyclocross season, but my mind and body don't seem to be capable of doing so, and because of that, I'm pulling the plug on the final 4 or 5 races. Few things in life are worse than being an Also Ran. Pride is a bitch, isn't it?

It's time to go to Plan C: Base Miles. With the exception of the numb fingers and toes, it's one of my favorite times of the year.

'Twas a month before Christmas

Because staying home to watch The Biggest Loser makes you the biggest loser.

Tuesday Night Ride

• Rolls @ 6:30 PM from the corner of Cypress & Cajon.
• Bring your mountain bike or cross bike, lights, AND A SPARE TUBE (it's a damn shame I even need to say that).
• 60-90 minute ride on pavement and dirt roads.
  

Come out and ride or you may end up on Dancing with The Stars doing the tango with obesity as your partner.

Now if only reality TV had my artistic standards

How many of you out there are actually aware of how much hard work it requires to maintain an interesting blog? Yes, there are many a blogger who will throw up just about anything to keep their blog from going without a post every couple of days. I say nay. Nay to that.

Painstaking thought and brainstorming, a lengthy outlining process, and frequent edits are just three of the dozen steps I take to finalize an intriguing narrative, anecdote, parable, and even the occasional fable. I even sometimes check spelling and grammar before lighting the fuse. And forget about it if there’s not at least one quality image to accompany my chronicle. It better be one helluva yarn to go live without an Associated Press quality photo.

Only after all the required steps are met do you, the reader, get to lay eyes on my e-memoir. So, I could sit and write all about how Trevor, Christie, Steve and I went for a night ride on Thursday, and how Ryder and I kick out the jams while we’re in the car, and how I locked myself out of the house the other morning, and how me and Johnson saw the Pleiss’ at Panera Bread during lunch, and how I’m dangerously addicted to Ohana self-serve Fro-Yo, or even how the Great Southern California Shakeout turned into an actual disaster when only one person on my floor at work participated in the drill. But I say nay.

Instead of a daily account of my mundane life as a bike racer (and in turn a pipe dreamer), an emotionally unhealthy admirer of Shane MacGowan, T. Duggins, and Bob Dylan, and a hopeless romantic that yearns for of all things yesteryear (including the indoor shopping mall), I present to you this:

The greatest Etch-A-Sketch of all time.

Now that's punk rock.

Listen for the bell Ryder. It tolls for thee.

The similarities are eery, yet not surprising, for it is his destiny.

Meanwhile, down in Costa Rica, Manny finished the first day of LaRuta strong. Better yet, he finished ahead of a notorious doper, who is said to have cracked on the third big climb of the day.

Elite men

1. Federico Ramírez (CRC) BCR-Pizza Hut 5.54.4


2. Paolo Montoya (CRC) Economy Rent a Car-Seven Capital 10.14


3. Enrique Artavia (CRC) Súper Pro-Economy Rent a Car 23.27


4. Manuel Prado (CRC) Sho Air-Rock and Road Cyclery 25.18


5. Roberto Heras (ESP) Giant España 25.21

How funny is that? The guy wins grand tours, but as soon as he has to race clean, he's 25 minutes from the front of the bike race. What a thieving dirt bag. I hope Manny and the other leaders twist the knife in the remaining stages.

Okay, no blog post should be complete without a photo (or two) of me carrying a bike.

I know the question you're asking yourself and the answer is; No, I did not trip over this barrier.

I can't think of a good caption for this one, so I'll just type a quote that will make the whole thing seem more meaningful and classy than it really is: "You climb for the hell of it." - Sir Edmund Hillary.

What comes around goes around.

Being sick sucks. Just when I thought I was well, I get a few laps into a cross race and realize that my lungs are full of fluid rather than air. So, I did what most phlegmy folks would do and I quit. I returned to the parking lot to find Ryder staring down the barrel of a well-soiled porta-potty. He too quit - at his attempt to use the over-flowing outhouse, stating that there was, “too much poop down there.” Instead he headed for some nearby bushes with the help of my dad, who is well-versed at using a bush as a urinal since he’s spent the better part of his life riding motorcycles in the desert. Meanwhile, I spent the rest of the afternoon coughing up junk, eating birthday cake & drinking a couple of beers with my dad, Ryder, Longo & Matt Breyer, compliments of the sisterhood of the traveling skinsuit. Or is it the sisterhood of the traveling chamois? I always forget. Anyway, the carrot cake and cold ones helped me forget that I’m not a very good CX racer even without a virus. Don’t let the recent photo of me and my cross bike in Velo News fool you. I was simply at the right place at the right time, which is pretty much what life is all about.

History has taught me that the few days after my birthday have been plagued by catastrophe: concussions, car accidents & other incidents too traumatic to mention. This year I even considered staying barricaded in my house to avoid all chance of disaster, but then I started thinking about carbon monoxide poisoning, earth quakes, and hurricanes and reasoned that really, nowhere is safe. With that in mind, I threw caution to the wind and faced my fears head on by going for a morning ride on wet roads. Amazingly I made it back home unscathed. More amazingly, so did my riding partners, Joey & Jamie. We have lived to ride another day.

As you can probably tell from the two preceding lack-luster paragraphs, few things inspire me lately other than Ryder. I’m even uninspired to ride my bike. In an effort to gain at least a little enthusiasm about something, I’ve been listening to a lot of music and reading a lot old punk rock books, but still no epiphany or trace of revolution. Coincidentally and somewhat puzzling, is that Ryder’s favorite Tosser’s song at the moment is Everything’s Bad. When we’re in the car he demands to hear Everything’s Bad. If I don’t play it, he demands to hear song number 17, which is, well, Everything’s Bad.

The cold ground was my bed last night,
With a breeze so hard it could kill
With friends like these, who needs to die?
So I stay here for the thrill
My last five pounds to get me home
Well, get me some bacon and whiskey
I'll meet her there in all my stinkin' glory
Drunk or Sober
I went down by the roses
Cause me hope, she did call
She said she had to see me soon
It was sadness on her mind
And I took with me my fiddle
And the worst, the best of my wine
And I met her there in sadness
Drunk or Sober
She sat under the tree,
And she smiled at me
And we watched the river roll
So I broke out with my fiddle
And I began to fiddle a reel
And she said no matter how funny
It hurts so bad I can't feel
I feel nothin'
I feel nothin'
Drunk or Sober
And I began to play my reel
For I did not know what to say
You worry me so, I hate this
I will not stand to see you this way
and sometimes it's just too much
How everything turns out so sad
Oh, Danny don't you ever stop playin' for me
Oh, Danny don't you ever stop playin' for me
You always make me happy while whenever you play
Oh, Danny don't you ever stop playin' for me
And i began to play me reel
For I did not know what to say

So, that’s what he makes me listen to over and over and over again. The kid’s only 3 and a half! I guess that’s what I get for making my parents listen to The Smiths for all those years. I’ve seen this happen in other people’s lives and now it’s happening in mine.

Don't hate the player, hate the enterprise

Last Wednesday Mer, Mom, & I took Ryder & Destry to the house of the mouse. Between Disneyland & California Adventure, they have a few new and cool rides.

They're mainly cool because you get to shoot stuff.

Don't stare into Minnie's eyes for too long. You'll suddenly find yourself with an annual pass.

By the time the day was over, I had a nasty head cold that I'm still trying to get rid of. Being sick makes it even harder than it already is to do this:

http://kennedyphotoworks.smugmug.com/gallery/6457693_ck8Eu#411156743_Hh7Li

And somehow, I managed to keep my mouth shut during most of it until now.

Good, bad, or indifferent, thank Allah it's over. Now we can get back to {insert what really matters to you here} instead of listening to, or reading about exaggerated experience, appalling accusations and empty promises. I can't even read a bike blog anymore without stumbling over someone's rant about electing the candidate of their choice. That's annoying. That's not bicycling. More than ever, this campaign seemed like a plague. Yet, how easily we forget that we've heard it all before; 4 years ago and the 4 years prior to that. And guess what? We'll hear it all again in another 4 years.

So is it the man (or woman) you believe in or do you just believe what they're feeding you? I believe that talk is cheap (unlike the sickening price tag put on this election). But I also believe that neither candidate knows how to do my job any better than I (or you) know how to do theirs, and because of that belief, I'm confident in both men and in the men and women they appoint.

Some have accused me of being apathetic, but that's just them running their own negative campaign against me. The reality is, I was apathetic about it all, mostly because things and those close to me have, and will have a greater impact on my life than the next president. My relationships with people are far more important than any political arguments or quarrels. I'm not suggesting that you don't stand up or vote for what you believe in. I just find it amusing how politically-aware everyone seems to get when any other time, they're more concerned with their American Idol vote than what's going on in their local government.

Yesterday most of us fulfilled our civic responsibility by voting, but we failed miserably in the department of moral responsibility. By passing Measure 8, the California majority has a moral compass pointed in the direction of selfishness and bigotry, not unlike the moral compass of Nazi Germany.

Let’s say for example, a law was passed preventing green eyed people from buying a home, which meant they could only rent and not buy. Like Nazi Germany, that makes no sense to me either.

It also doesn't make sense to me how people who don't go to church, don't read the bible, haven't read the bible in its entirety, and choose to "sin" when it's convenient for them, have suddenly decided to reference the bible when arguing that gays should not be allowed to marry. There's a specific word for people like that.

hypocrite: a person who pretends to have virtues, moral or religious beliefs, principles, etc., that he or she does not actually possess, esp. a person whose actions belie stated beliefs.

You have disgraced yourselves once again.

At one time in this country women and African Americans weren't allowed to vote. Now they have a vote deciding whether or not two people can legally be married. That's ironic. What's more ironic is that in this election there was a black dude and a chick on the ballot. Maybe in a few decades we'll elect a legally married black gay woman. That would be super.

Did I mention my non-gay cousin got married a couple weeks ago?

Steven & Sarah, the bride and groom dance.

Ryder and Destry will dance with anyone.

Meredith and Destry say, "Cheese is bad."

Joey and Ryder have been watching too much Dancing with the Stars.

At times the whole thing looked more like daycare than a wedding, but then later on in the night there was a fight and someone went to jail so it went back to feeling like a good old fashion IE wedding.

And to think I actually wanted one of these

It's October 31 and I have no disguise - not that I need one or got invited to any Halloween parties. Still, I did a little research and here's what I discovered: However neato I once thought these plastic costumes to be, as it turns out, they're actually embarrassingly horrible.

For when an old bed sheet just won't do.


Thumbs down. Very uncool.


The worst costume of all time? I didn't realize Cassius was a Vulcan.

Gay.

The real Grizzly Adams couldn't snort coke through nostrils this small.

Extra lame.

What's that Lassie? Timmy fell down the well because he was laughing so hard at your costume.

Would you believe I was named after this guy?

I pitty the fool who has to wear this.

Mapping & Tracking Hunger

A lot of people I know have Garmin GPS units that they use for training purposes while riding and running. That's all well and good, but due to the recent heightened political awareness of those (and when I say those, I mean everyone) around me, I thought I better get on the bandwagon and put my Garmin to better use rather than just utilizing it as a personal training tool. I'm not up on politics like I used to be, but it seems that I haven't heard much from either candidate about the issue of world hunger (unless you consider Sarah Palin's aerial wolf hunting as a solution for starvation instead of just sport). So, anyway, without further ado, I used my Forerunner 305 to map and track hunger in the Loma Linda/Redlands area.



Visualized in the map above, the hunger study took place over an approximate 90 minute period on Tuesday, October 14 between the hours of 6:00 and 7:30 PM. At an average moving speed of 14.7 mph, and an average heart rate of 120 bpm, I rode my bike from Loma Linda to Redlands and back, gaining 2,548 feet of elevation in just over 16 miles. Although the ride was not long or strenuous by any means, I was hungry the entire duration. Concluding the ride, at approximately 7:45 PM, I ate some ice cream and I was no longer hungry.

Next time you're hungry, I vote you eat some ice cream. No matter what the flavor, I doubt you'll be disappointed and you'll help put a dent in world hunger.

Ups For Daisy

So there’s this chick in the Bay Area named Daisy and she has a blog called Oopsie Daisy. I can’t remember whose blog I was reading and how it led me to her blog, but since my first visit, Oopsie Daisy was added to my favorites. I don’t read it a lot (and for the record I don’t even know what she looks like). Every couple of weeks I check it out and every time I do, I’m not disappointed. She possesses a sharp tongue, quick wit, and a rare sense of reality AND she puts my blog and most everyone else’s to shame. Not only that, she’s brilliant. Probably drinks too much, but still – brilliant. Cases in point; here are a few excerpts

"I was exhausted, starving, and in desperate need of a hug. Of course, you all know by now that when I say "a hug," clearly I mean "a beer."

"Ah, to be living proof that you can send your kid to the most expensive private schools in the city... Only to have to turn around and spend even MORE money on a Mormon reform school with alarms on the doors and solitary confinement rooms the size of a mattress."

"And to be honest though I do love bringing seemingly innocuous conversations to a screeching halt."

"She did give me a $6 credit for the inconvenience though. Which I am obviously going to use on a pie cookbook so that if and when she does show up at my building to investigate why it's full of curmudgeons who don't share, I have something to throw in her face."

"Which of course, the train immediately lurched, throwing me off balance. And how exactly did I steady myself? By reaching my hand out and grabbing a lesbian's ass. Hard. I excused myself with some lame joke about how no one should have to be felt up before 8:20 a.m., but to be honest; I will be extremely disappointed if she doesn't "missed connection" me later on Craigslist. I mean, if I can do anything well, ass-grabbing is it."

Anyway, I think you get the idea. I remember when I once had that youthful, intriguing, and uproarious literary zest.


Now back to my crappy blog about bikes

Here's me suffering at the cross race last weekend.


Here's me hating life at the cross race last weekend.


Here's (left to right) me, Ryder, & my dad after the cross race last weekend.

Aside from all the pain, suffering, sand, salt water, & me sucking at the cross race last weekend, it was really cool to have Ryder and my parents there. Every time I galloped over the barriers (no tripping this time) and hoofed it up the run-up, I could hear the ringing of Ryder's cowbell and accompanied by his joyous screams of, "Go daddy! Go daddy!" There's nothing crappy about that.

Dot owes me a new drivetrain & cables

I'd rather trip over 100 barriers than race the Celo Pacific Storm the Beach CX race again. Salt water? Beach sand? Bikes? Really? Dumb. Never again.

I've gone viral

Yep, that's me. Off the back and on the ground. Make sure you watch it with the sound turned up.



This pretty much sums things up lately.

My original Friday night plan was to go see The Tossers at the Las Vegas Renaissance Fair, but when reality set in, I opted for the SoCal Fair at the Lake Perris Fairgrounds. It's hard to pass up an event that's dubbed, "Cool Hogs & Hot Dogs." Plus, Joey got free tickets.

"Nevermind the massive bump on my forehead. Take me and Ryder to the fair!" demands Destry.


In some places they cockfight. In Perris, they race pigs* instead. Who doesn't love a pig race?


Joey and Destry rock out on the fake Dumbo ride.


I was sheepish to ride the high-speed bullet train, but Ryder was A-O-K with it.


Speaking of sheepish, this poor guy was a bit out of step. That's what I liked about him.*


Who doesn't love a fun house?


"Am I tall enough for the fun house?" asks Ryder.


"Yeah, I'm tall enough! I'm tall enough! Psst. Destry, you might want to stand on your tippy-toes"


Although slow for a kid who has already ridden Thunder Mountain and the Matterhorn, Ryder found great joy in the spinning platform. Joey**, on the other hand, managed to sprain his ankle stepping from platform to platform.


He sprained it so bad that Destry and Ryder had to help him down the stairs of the fun house. This time Meredith was along for the ride, so I didn't have to call her to explain the ankle injury. While we're on the subject of Big Hair, apparently she didn't get the memo when she dressed Destry in a navy blue sweatshirt.

The Inevitable Mention of Bikes, Bike Races, The Tossers, and/or Shane MacGowan

On Sunday there was a cross race in Palos Verdes so I drove alone to the race instead of car-pooling with Christie, Steve, and/or John Rubic. I don’t really hate the earth. I just needed some alone time. Sorry earth.

As it turns out, I needed some alone time on the way home too because I got freaking pummeled in the race. As I was getting pummeled I also managed to weave my rear derailleur into my spokes compliments of some sticks. Sheer brute force, anger, and some instruction from two spectators helped me bend the mangled component back so I was able to at least finish. Did I mention on the first lap I clipped an edge of a barrier and went down hard enough to twist my front brake hood around? It reminded me of Daffy Duck’s bill after catching shot gun pellets compliments of Elmer Fudd . I actually thought about that in the middle of the race.

There is a silver-lining in this story however. The Palos Verdes CX course is rough and rocky and suites a mountain bike well. Because of the terrain I learned that you can actually ride the piss out of a cyclocross bike as if it were a mountain bike. Turns out, those things can take quite a beating, so I guess I should ride it like a mountain bike and quit pussy-footing around. Better fitness wouldn’t hurt either.

*No sheep or pigs were harmed in the making of this blog.

**No Joeys were harmed in the making of this blog.