Random Thoughts

Things that occur to me while riding:

If I am a heterosexual and "straight" why aren't homosexuals "curved"?

Isn't ironic that they put tiny yellow "LiveStrong" bracelets on lobsters?

Spin On

Long Weakend

Hasn't happened in a long while but my mind was so fried I just had to leave work. My brain felt like a giant bowl of Quaker Instant Oats (brown sugar). I knew I hit my mental wall when I couldn't type an email to a co-worker.

So, I packed it in a little early (after a 16 hour day previously) and went home to flagellate myself with a nice vodka rocks. It was that odd sensation where I had physical energy but my brain couldn't handle the most mundane task. Fried, burnt and extra crispy. Things did look up when El Heffe called to say "nice job" on an assignment. Don't hear that often so it puts some wind in the sails when I do get a nod.

So what to do with three potential days off? Riding, spin and more riding hopefully. Plus a trip the to the Trek store. Of course, I can assume that a day in the office will be interjected as well.

Hope you all have a great Labor Day and best of luck to my race weekend Blog Buddies!

Spin On

An Open Letter To Nanny Chèvre

A while back my sister, we’ll call her Nanny, emailed after reading my blog and had several of questions; What is Chèvre and where did it come from? Why Nifi? Isn’t Petite female? And why do I take on the insanity of riding distances of 100 miles? I would like to attempt to answer her burning questions and hopefully let her know I am not crazy.

Let’s start with the meaning of Chèvre. In French it means “goat.” You are correct, recalling your high-school French that Fromage is “cheese.” The bigger question, why goat. Goat’s seem to play a prevalent role is cycling -- I have no clue why. I know of one “Solo Goat” rider. Then there are “Goat Heads” what we typically call sand-spurs in this neck of the woods, because we have more sand than goats, no doubt. Goats can be linked to voodoo or satanic rituals and I happen to think cycling is one hell of a sport. I have included the image from my profile in the blog content. Seems some of the viewers out there get a picture of a rose or kitten which is not image I wanted to portray! One look at the correct image would have answered your initial question immediately. There, cleared the air on “goat.”

I needed a moniker when I was training for last year’s Mountain Mama. While that is in the mountains and I have only flats to ride on, I chose Little Goat over Flat Goat. Seemed to have a better ring to it and sounded less like road kill. The change to French was a pedal stroke of genius or the result of watching too much Tour de France. I would like to claim the former as it is more inspirational. Most things sound better in a romance language anyway. And here I must thank you for your catch on gender.

You pointed out that “Petite” refers to the female in French while “Petit” is the male. You will note it has changed on the blog. Thank you for the catch! I do not want to be known on the World Wide Web as a Little Girl Goat -- just among my golfing buddies. I have never been blessed with strong grammar skills. You see when I was going to take grammar in junior high school the teacher had a nervous breakdown over the summer. They replaced her with the science teacher, one Mr. Leon Holland. I’m sure you remember him, Nanny, he was probably eighty whey YOU had him for science. A smallish man with shock white hair and a hunched back. He always wore (maybe still does) black pants, white sort sleeved shirt with a thin black tie. I think it was a throw back to his days working on The Manhattan Project. He had a droll, monotone way of speaking and emphasized his points by vigorously wrapping his knuckles on the soapstone science lab counters. I was much more into dissecting his mannerisms than paying attention to his English lessons -- as a result I paid dearly for in my three years of German -- both times. The end result is that I paid too little attention to matters like “male versus female” genders. I can tell you the atomic weight of a verb however. πR2R.

Next up, Nifi. There is a trend toward anonymity on the Web, blogs in particular. While I am sure I don’t need to worry about my wife having a stalker, why take the chance by putting her information out there publicly? Nifi, or more correctly in Greek -- Nuephe -- means “wife.” There are some “brides,” a few “wifey’s” so I chose something a bit more exotic and landed on the Americanized Nifi (pronounced Nee-fie, just made that up too).

Finally the insanity issue. I chose cycling as sport years ago because I was not a team sorts guy. I sucked at hockey, football found me down more than up and the hand-eye coordination of baseball put me out in no-man’s land. Fortunately I discovered all this by the time I was eight. Now I am by no-means a competitive cyclist, but I do enjoy the camaraderie of riding with friends. But for some reason I train alone -- must make the “team” rides even better. I guess to supplement the challenge of not going too fast, I like to go further, where it is hotter and going up a hill becomes a respiratory event. Too, as I explain to Nifi, that training might keep us from spending time together, but I will be healthier so we can live longer. And spend more time apart. The honest answer is I need a challenge apart from working. Cycling is a great lifetime sport that has a core group who “gets it.” It is satisfying. The distance? Well I suppose that feeds on itself, bigger challenge (within reason) and I use Lab Rescue fund-raising as the motivator. For cycling, labs, Nifi and you, it all comes down to love.

Spin On

Tears In My Eyes, Blood In My Stool

No -- that is not true, I haven't cried... yet. And, it might have been the fresh beets. Quite yummy. I won't go further.

If I'm not riding, I'm not writing and work has been a real a** kicker, hence the above comment due to all the stress. Eleven+ hour days, all deadlines plus weekends. Jack is a dull boy and you could open a Coke bottle with his (my a**).

I hope to begin training again, and soon.

Spin On

Sinew Sisters of Spin

Last night was Spin class with "Ginger Snap" a woman about 5'2, minus 3% body fat and sinew. She has a passion for "jumps" mostly of the one second up and down variety. Being one of the only guys in the class my anatomy does not cotton to such, shall we say, abrupt movements. After four minutes I swear my chamois was scorched from the friction!

I had done weights the night before. Silly, the first time back in over a week and I tried to increase weight. That left my legs feeling a little deprived of strength for Spin. Today I was tired -- the good kind, the one that leaves you feeling satisfied that you worked out.

Fond memories of Italy and visiting David, got this from a travel companion who accurately shows what the ideal form looks like after two years living off the Land of Opportunity:



Spin On

Sunday Cometh

Today is the final day of my self imposed rest period. I took a week off the bike to help out Nifi, focus on work and rest. None of that really has happened (as I sit at work typing away). My rests period became a "Blue Period" instead. The past few days have been full of rain and clouds with a mood to match. Believe me, this is not to complain about work, I am thankful in this time of economic strife to have a great job, it has just been pressure filled lately and it will continue. So onward I go.

A quick congratulations to the nation of China for their spectacular Olympic Opening Ceremony. In a word "Wow!" Amazing that it was all so precise and human powered. The underlying message: Don't f**k with us. Message received.

Spin On

Peaks & Valley's: Mountain Mama '08

Trip Report for the '08 Mountain Mama Challenge ("it's a challenge not a race") goes something like this:

Got to the airport, bike and bags carefully organized. Two bags -- one for cycling and a quick change for a ride if time allowed and one for clothes and liquids. I was immediately notified that the bike bag would not fit in the overhead as planned.


So, a rapid bit of reconfiguring and I was headed to the gate. Oops, liquids in the carry-on, back to the ticket counter, swap out toiletries. Off again. Oops, bottle of wine in the carry-on. Back to the now obviously frustrated Delta agent. But I cannot complain too much, it only cost me $25 to get the bag and bike on board.

After arriving in NC, Spengahli collected me and we visited Mock Orange a seriously cool bike shop with great stuff and retro, college town vibe. Then it was off to Cycles d'Oro to pick up swag and tweaked bikes for the ride. Dale and the crew have a wonderful shop with surprises at every turn. From the great lines to the d'Oro jersey I couldn't resist.

The rest of the day was spent shopping for food, only stopping long enough to eat before shopping for more food and Belgian ale.

Friday morning we prepped and awaited the arrival of our newest Team R2R member James "Heavy D". This Scottish lad is a Clydesdale rider (over 201) who is revitalizing his excersize program to train for marathons and just got back into riding a few weeks ago. Here is his baby picture:



Sorry, couldn't resist the cheap shot -- last one, promise.

We headed out to Monterey, VA anticipating a valley ride. I had insisted to Spengahli that I could not do the 27+ valley ride on Friday, then get up and do the 70 Saturday. Last year the altitude, running around and sherpaing gear toasted my legs. I also know full well that my adopted brother in cycling would talk me into it at some point. So, we found a quiet parking lot in Monterey, changed into our gear ready to head out. HDs bike needed air so we filled it up, pulling the valve stem out in the process. Quick tire change (sort of -- it looked like two monkeys trying to f**k a football). Off we went. A mile in HD was out of site. Spengahli and I doubled back to find him at the side of the road trying to remove his rear wheel. Another flat! Henceforth he was dubbed "Flat Bastard". One last tube, the only CO2 cartridge and we said a little prayer to the Bike Gods and headed out again. As can happen with a new bike, FBs cables need adjusting and on an initial climb, his chain came off and lodged in his deraileur. We got it cured and the below picture is a shot of some great territory:



We came back to the van to see the side door wide open! WTF...? I think that is the point my HR hit my max of 208. We sprinted to the van and amazingly nothing was missing, wallets, money, keys, watches, cameras...beer! Testament to a small town.

We made it to Bear Mountain in the dark, off-loaded and settled in for a 6:00 a.m. wake-up call. The night was terrible for me. Couldn't fall asleep thinking about the planned extra distance -- Valley Ride, plus the three climbs including Hoover -- a 19% grade. Then huge storms rolled in. Thunder, rain, wind. Ironically, Nifi's one concern was the errant smoke alarm battery test going off while I was gone. As it had been happening lately I made sure all ours at home were checked. Not so here. At some point a beep started, about every two minutes. Turns out it was FBs phone charger. We got that solved. Then Spehgali started talking in his sleep! One nature call later I netted about 3 hours of sleep off and on!

6:00 a.m. came too soon. It was soon followed by a monsoon-like storm. Driving and riding in that weather did not sit well with any of us. So, we opted to be sane and hunker down:



We awoke later to the sun and sound of wood being chopped (not sawed). We kitted up and headed out. It was decided to do the 27+ again. If we wanted to do the climbs we would have no sag support. Better judgement called to decline wet, rural roads and steep descents.

Today was much better -- especially for Flat Bastard who had no mechanicals. We rode strong and relatively swiftly, representing the team colors well:



Spengahli and I did the largest climb twice:



before taking a break:



Back to Bear Mountain to consume grilled tuna steaks, wine and Belgian Ale:



And spend time with new and old friends:



Another group that stayed out at Bear Mountain was a group of seven who did the 100 mile ride. That is a BRUTAL trek with over 14,000 vertical feet of climbing (compared to about 3,200 for the Valley). As they slugged ale, one rider sipped on a Dads root beer wearing thick round glasses, a tie-dyed shirt, looking very "earthy". Lest we judge, his name -- Sparkey Ion. He rode the 100 in just over six hours on a 30 year old 3-speed Raleigh/Phillips iron frame bike! More amazing was that he has not missed a day running in over 10 years, including that morning (in the storm, before the Century!)

Return trip was uneventful aside from the $175 fee for my bike on Delta. Apparently I "slipped one past the goalie" on the way up. I was to be charged both ways. That means it cost $50 more for my bike than my body. Golf bags under 50 pounds are free. I counted eight on the tarmac waiting to leave. Think $25 is fair? Think of the number of golf bags versus bikes and the money they would make! Eeergh...

All in all it was a great trip. I have a tinge of disappointment not riding the 70 as planned, but I did ride 60. I spent time with great friends in a wonderful part of the country. I relaxed. I ate well -- maybe too well. Now it is time to take a week off from riding and focus on work and family. Looking forward to a ride in October with the Team:)

Spin On