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...