'Tis good to be the King, Speed King that is...

Friday morning while I was at the shop picking up my centerlock adapter, MOAB Mark mentioned he'd be camping and getting an evening ride in at Chickasaw. He had to be there early to set up his MOAB trailer and with the long drive, it was the easiest option for him. Saturday came and rain was predicted, though it didn't rain in Franklin until I was 20 minutes into the drive to the course. I couldn't let Mark camp all by his lonely, so I told 8-ball Mike and he couldn't let me and Mark camp alone, and it rolled down the line. The rain didn't let up, lightening started, and the course and parking lots were flooded. We settled in, set up awnings outside the MOAB trailer and cracked some brew and dug into Mark's spicy cheese&sausage tray. Sharpie came out with a keg of Sly Rye Porter from the sponsor and pop corn. H. came out for a bit to hang out and brought us pizza. Around 11PM the skies cleared up a bit and the rain let off.

Morning came and I considered changing from 34x17 to 34x18 to better gear for the muddy and slick conditions, but that sounded like too much effort. Besides I hate to mess with perfection and the bike was feeling dialed Friday. If I touched it now I'd only be plagued with mechanicals, so I left it and just mentally prepared for the fruits of my stupid decision. We moved camp to the top of the start line and Sharp cooked up eggs. We helped set up the Swiftwick booth and got about our rituals. I picked out the weapons of choice: one red and one white OTC compression sock, I am truly a fashion icon. Then Mike, OldGreg, and I went for a spin. We rode a few miles down the road to try to wake the legs up, ended up over heating, removed several layers, and then went to hang out before the race.

Going into the race I had my money on Meanjoe (aka Adam). He has amazing handling skills and is starting to get some speed and confidence. He and Jeff have partaken in the J5 Training Plan this year. Race all 3 snakes, grind gravel, drink beer. I must say they are star pupils. Pump Track Jim is also always a darkhorse on fast lap races, great handling skill, speed, and lactic endurance built up from his pump track training. A pro from Texas was toeing the line, which had several people all jacked up about it. I found it funny. Why would someone drive from so far to race a bunch of local yocals that don't really care about anything except having fun? Expert class, well they care, SS class, we're mostly out for shenanigans.

Given the conditions I was prepared to eat a lot of mud, be half blind from splatter, and hug a few trees. SS has 26 racers, one of the biggest classes turning out for the muddy wet day. The horn goes and we all go splashing our way down the lane. I'd started in the 2nd of 3 rows as I'm never one to blow off the line, I prefer to warm up slowly. We take off, I'm mid pack, down the gravel road, sharp left turn, then back up the pavement before the dropping into the chute. I made my way up past all the drafting boys, giving my teammates little pushes now and then to get them going. I came up to Adam D. and gave him a nudge, he asked if I wanted the chute first, I say nah, and gave him some room. I look to my left and see Gary Collins (a HAMMER) rolling up with the notorious stans leak sound "sssfwft, sssfwt, sssfwt" I let him in, give him plenty of room fearing his front would roll off on the steep mucky downhill, then plunged in. I had Adam D. some CCC kid (Cory), a full sup, locked out gearie Wood-N-Waver, and Gary the Hammer in front of me and a pack of hungry wolves behind me. Gary's wheel finally went out and he slid down in front of me, I called out to make sure he was ok and he hollered back "I'm good go go!" I made chase to catch Adam D. I had the gearie dude inbetween us, up the slick techy rock climb he fell, I made a move up and to the right, then he fell in my path trying to stand up in the slick muddy rocks, I dismounted and ran it like cross, hopped onto Adam's wheel and we made chase to catch the CCC dude. Adam D. got around the CCC kid and I was on their wheel as we made our way around the slick, slimy river trail. Adam D. offered to let us pass, but I yelled up to just pick it up a notch to hold back the swarming pack until the field where it would be safer (given the conditions) to pass. Once there I opened it up and didn't look back. CCC Corey came with me and I tried to gap him every hill. Eventually he popped in the Trail of Tears and I had a comfortable gap. The race wheels and the Speed King tires were hooking up like crazy in the conditions, shedding mud like dog fur and I hammered on.

Starting the second lap I had about a 2 minute gap on the pack and I was starting to get nervous. I had no gauge of speed. Am I slowing down? Am I going to hard? Dammit I hate being the rabbit!! Lap two had completely changed the course. It was still really muddy, but it was a bit drier mud and it wasn't shedding near as well. The tires weren't hooking up as nicely as they were before and I had some near calls. I tried to just stay steady and keep it upright. Then I caught site of Meanjoe. He was coming. He'd been trapped in the pack and I'd really hoped he'd stay there but the little bastard made it through on his 29" Monkey. I held him off for the next 4 miles but he was closing the gap. He finally caught me at the base of Rick Harmon's trail. I'd kick it on every hill to try to regap and wear him down, but he'd yo-yo back up. I crossed a small wooden plank bridge and had the bike come out from underneath me and I hit the deck hard. I got up and back on with Meanjoe on my heals asking if I was ok. I decided to just ride steady and finish and told MJ to pass if he wanted, he was content to ride with me as he said he really didn't have anything left after working so hard to catch me (he closed down a 2 minute gap!) and we rode together chatting the last mile and a half agreeing to just sprint it out. Out of the woods and up the hill and I took off with all I had, MJ hot on my heals. I expected him to come flying around any second, but I was able to hold him off. Yazoo Brew Racing took 1 & 2.



Congrats to all of the crew. Not everyone had a great race, but I think everyone had a great time. I tend to excel in the adverse conditions (mostly because I find them to be the most fun) and regularly get my butt handed to me in perfect conditions. Guess you could say I'm a mudder (Some might say I'm a mudder fu**er). So Mikey and JasonG, don't sweat the small stuff. OldGreg, PTJim, Jeff thanks for coming out and playing in the mud. MJ - dude you are killing it, hopefully now you'll have a bit more confidence in yourself and you'll attack sooner. Oh, and I won't use my Jedi powers to give you leg cramps anymore. Sharpie, you F-N-rock! Thanks for coming out to support us and cooking for us and bringing the beer. Yazoo ladies, thank you for all the cheering, photos, and fun. Derf, though I never saw you on the hill I heard you each time, thanks for the cheers. Hennessey - thanks for not tackling me on the start of lap 2. Mark it was a blast too hang out but what the exactly are you doing in this photo?


Adam D and I have been racing in the same class now for about 3 years. We typically have a standing bet on each race we do, the first time was for a dollar bill in his spokes (he barely nipped me at the finish that year), the next was for a butterfly spokey dokey at a cross race (I got that one) and this one was the loser had to give their number plate with a special hand written note on the back to a victor.



I'm really proud of MJ and I really think he should have won it, but he says he had nothing left. Either way it was a great race that was fun from start to finish, but I'm most proud of the fact that I got the fastest lap time of the entire 2 lap classes. To that I credit my Hodge wheels, the speed kings.

Some more photos from the race:

SS start, Adam D. flying off the front

SS Start, me and Mikey

Preparing to drop the chute, Adam D in lead

8-ball down the shoot

Pump Track Jim
Jeffy

Mark "pushing" Jeff :-)

Old Greg finishing up

The Crew pre-awards

Awards
Lovely Ladies

Magic Mud Defying Socks Rock

Is it 4.20 or 4.2D

I got the last piece to one of my new puzzles today so I can let Dicky in on the phear fjear shall fear. Hodge built me up a set of supa-pimp race wheels. "meh" is what I can hear Dicky saying, but he's not really paying attention yet what with all his limited brain power going towards fashionable fanny packs. The wheels have centerlock hubs so I've been waiting on an adapter to hold my 6-bolt rotor onto the front. I tested the rear out Tuesday. It's way light, stiff like I like it, and held up to my beatings in the rocks with nary a whimper. With the old heavy front wheel still employed, I felt like I was riding a loaded wheel barrel all night just from the extreme weight differences in wheels. To use one of Ben's phrases, I was "mule kicking" every hop. The front gets finished up and installed tonight. Expect some hilarity at the race Sunday as I'm sure I'll be catching way more air than I'm used to. Oh, and AMAZING acceleration too. Yup, I have just been enabled to get in the way EVEN faster, watch out for the "Hodge turn" at the start.

I've been a devout stout wheel believer since bending my first light weight rim on it's first ride out in Tsali, where there isn't anything to hit that should even bend a rim. Not taco, not fold, but bent the side down. I fixed it with some pliers and rode it for another year and a half, but the braking surface was hosed and any big bump would re-bend the rim. I ride a 27lbs rigid SS. I am at the furthest end you can be on from a weight weenie like Senior Dickster. I make Ivory build me heavy duty bomb-proof wheels for all my rides. But now, thanks to Hodge, I have a set of super light, super stiff, super strong, hand built race wheels. I've lost 4lbs off the bike in that single swap. 4lbs of rotational weight. Oh yeah, baby, I'll be going nowhere even faster now!

1800 grams. I don't even know what that means but that's what I got in wheel weight now. That's the scary part, the curmudgeonly anti-weight weenie me has been told things like "gram" this and "less rotational" that for so long without me batting an eye, but now I'm starting to get it. I felt so spun out in the flats and while climbing on 34x17 Tuesday that I'm tempted to toss a 16t cog on the rear for Sunday's race. I can feel it now, the weight weenie force is strong. I was even looking at a titanium SS frame this morning, thinking maybe throw a carbon fork on there, carbon bar, carbon Noir crank, some ti pedals, get it down under 19lbs... hmmm.... Yeah don't just fear the massive increase in my speed, fear my potential to fall into weight weenieness. Phear charts of weights and measures, power outputs, gain ratios, calculations, and advanced calculus with some diffEQ thrown in for good measure overtaking the blog. Yep, don't just fear the speed.

Continuing going against the grain of my fabric, I splurged and got a second set of rubber and some used brakes so all I have to do is swap wheels and not mess with changing rotors and tires between rims. Just so you kids don't forget the wheels will remind you, there's a new Speed King baby (with protection of course).

Stay tuned for updates, if I can't break these wheels then they will be guaranteed to last someone with real skills many seasons. Call Hodge at the shop and order up a set for someone you love or show up to SSUSA/DSG and try to win yourself a pair. All I know is after lugging my old wheels around the course last Saturday I'll be glad to be rocking weight weenie style at the race.

Wankers

The free WakeNBake bib when registering for DSG/SSUSA supplies have run out (kinda like their beer supply) but fear not you still have time to register and word is a Fish fry has been added.

A little birdie told me that a member of the Wake Crew called and said to tell the Yazoo crew that "they were gonna bring it to DSG". I'm not sure what the "it" is that they are going to bring, but you can bet it won't be beer. We're almost 4 months into the '08 racing year and I've not seen sight of a free beer from that crew yet. I have seen many of their crew hanging around the Yazoo beer coolers though.

I suppose they are meaning "their A game" when they said "it", but there will be plenty of fast people there, what we need is fast people with lots of beer (we're bringing Yazoo Kegs people!) that can "bring it" as well as "drink it" and "kick it". The wankers will be in their tents sleeping by 10PM, where as we'll be up till 10AM then throwing down on the race. True beer team style. Lucky for them they have Rebecca on their team to represent. Word is she's racing in only the team bib too. Meow!

*Disclaimer: Too all those out there that actually believe there is a rift between beer teams, relax, the crews are tight. We are just starting the smack season. DSG and SSUSA are going to rock and you'll have two of the best local breweries supplying brew, Yazoo and Terrapin, Yazoo will just have more beer and a bigger party. (Heh heh, love ya Mikey!)

Restricted Area

Well I was hoping to release some information today that I've been withholding from the masses for a while now, but I'm going to have to delay their revealing until a few more loose ends get tied up. Wouldn't want to jinx anything now would I? But let me just say that fjear equates to eye holes cut into a sheet that is worn over ones head to scare little kids, whereas what I have to reveal is akin to that temperature dropping, swirling mist, Electronic Voice Phenomena creating, ghastly apparition that has driven so many completely mad with fear. When I told a portion of this classified information to a local shop owner he was visibly shaken to his core, and no, not with laughter, with phear. The phear that fjear will fear.

The legs haven't been feeling it this week. Not sure if it's just a down week, a bug working through my system, or some how I've just lost what little ability I had to ride a bike. Maybe it's all the road riding I've had to do due to all the rain lately that my brain and body are shutting down for lack of inspiration. I did, however, finally manage to eek out some time on dirt. gRant, Old Greg and I headed down to Fayetteville Saturday to pre-ride the DSG and SSUSA home course the Cotton Mill Preserve. Either direction they run SSUSA is going to be a fun fit inducing romp. The trail doesn't give you a chance to really rest, it's all go. It is a full body SS course. There are ear to ear grin making descents, with rocks,roots, fish rocks and the dreaded Hennessey Gulch. Yeah it's going to be a fun time in the hills fo' sho!

150 Years

Mail day yesterday. My package of PC-58's and new old stock Pearl Izumi M4's were in, but I also had a notice slip for a second package. Second package? I didn't order anything else. Turns out it I got a surprise from dad.

Appointed 6-1-1971, Dad has been a firefighter my entire life. He's currently a Battalion Chief on Third Shift. I have many memories of the fire halls, fires, the smell of smoke on his clothes, playing on the fire trucks, Pluggie the fire hydrant shaped robot, the big Dalmatian dog suited mascot, water bucket hose fights, Christmas at the fire house, the late night phone ringing and hearing dad head out for 3 alarm fires, and many others. Like dad locking me in the holding cell or escorting me out of 5th hour history class in high school reading me my rights. It got me out of school early and made me the talk of the class for a while.

Back before I had my own car I had a $500 1982 Honda CM250 motorcycle and would get home from work to hear the scanner go off and I'd drive it over to the fire scene to hang out and watch dad work. Sometimes my step mom would ride over with me. One time she got stuck on the back when she about severed her pinky finger with a serrated bread knife and she wouldn't believe me that she needed stitches*. I had to take her to the fire station for dad to tell her. At the fires I'd usually end up sitting and watching Scotty run the pumper while dad disappeared into the smoke and flame filled house with the hose crew. He's been blown out of windows and once got into a wreck when his rescue truck was heading lights on to a fire through a 4-way stop with a cop going cross direction without his lights. Dad and his driver were injured but still managed to get the jaws of life out and save the policeman. He's a calm under pressure, trained to keep emotions at bay, a smart ass, usually good for a $20, did I mention smart ass?, and a hero to me. Though I think the reputation of his mustache precedes him.

Check out the 'stache on this young punk from the 70's. I even have memories of that car. Pretty cherry huh?

Since this is a bike blog, here's a photo of firefighters and bikes:

I think every bike I had up until my Sears Free Spirit 12 Speed** was built and hidden in the fire house until Christmas morning or my birthday. Big wheels, my green machine, my Sears Free Spirit BMX "dirt" bike, my Schwinn Stingray (red and white like the fire trucks) all put together in the fire house. Dad bought me the 12 speed when I was 13 or so on a Friday night after our regular routine of Happy Joe's Pizza then Sandburg Mall outing for caramel corn and a Sears visit. Purchased at Sears for $99, if I remember the hang tag accurately. Blue and fast and dad had me ride it home (that was the deal for me to be able to get it.) I still have that bike, thanks to Dad keeping it safe in the garage attic after college. Hopefully someday it'll be brought back to life as my daily SS commuter once I work my way down the need list.

So, congrats on the milestone Papa Ted. Here's to 37 years of basement saving and firehouse spaghetti.

* As a child I had so many stitches I was on first name basis with the ER crew. Once, while sitting in the back of dad's car at a gas station, I was messing with my skateboard and a swiss army knife and I sliced my thumb wide open. In the ER the nurse asked why I had my hand up. I explained to her that it was pulsing blood out so I was applying pressure and raised it over my heart to help stop the bleeding. I think I was 13, so I was a bit of a "stitch" expert. Could even take them out myself.

** Sears Free Spirit 12-speed. It is lugged steel, still fully functional, weighs 45lbs, and is the last bike my parents purchased for me. Though I wouldn't be opposed to them getting me one of these so I can build it up with 700c disc wheels, fenders, and a flat bar for commuting.

Canary Sings Mockingbird Tunes

Watched the evening news last night (I watch it for the weather) and the lead story was diesel prices. Remember, you heard it here first folks.

"The national average for a gallon of diesel is about $4. In January, it was $3.30. New England has the most expensive diesel at $4.11 a gallon.

Experts said consumers will ultimately pay the price for high price at the pump for truckers."

5 years ago $20 more than filled the tank. Each year the average tank has increased by $30. Four years ago when I got my car $18 filled it, now it's $38-ish. See a trend? It's kind of like taxes, once they raise them, they never lower them.

I'm not preaching doomsday (it doesn't need my help). On the contrary, I'm preaching it's time to wake up and say no to higher prices. How do you say no? Like any consumer issue, stop buying. Not that one day crap. We live in a car society and we rely on our cars, until people's habits change, that is going to be our reality. But you don't need to drive the mile or two to the store, walk or bike there. Make it a family outing and get the kids outside and away from the TV/video games. My dad used to take us out for a bike ride around the neighborhood after dinner. He'd stop and talk to neighbors out taking care of their yards or walking. I still have fond memories of those times, how will your kids remember you?

Another "say no" tip is to group errands into sections of town and try to do them all the same day, cutting down on multiple driving trips. Walk or maybe even take a bike so you can park close, then use the bike to hit the other nearby stores.

If you have to drive to work, try walking to lunch instead of driving there. Those short trips with stop and go traffic just eat your gas and your money.

The dollar is weak and prices are going to be higher than yesteryear, but that doesn't mean we need to be sheeple and keep dumping our hard earned pennies (which seems to be what the dollar is worth nowadays) into Big Oil's (Mr. Record High Profits in the BILLIONS!!!!) fat pockets.

Like Marley said "Get up, stand up: don't give up the fight!"

(ok, that's about it for my anti-oil price tirade. Back to the regularly scheduled smack talk and bike gibberish. I can't change oil, but we can. Even if these tips don't bring prices down, they will help you save at the pump. People Get Ready. )

All the news with Gary Gnu

Friday's post was from the heart and the way I see it, but I'd like to share some news and views on things.

Suppose a tank of fuel cost you $150 to travel ~350 miles, how would that change your driving habits? Would you take public transit more, continue to drive, carpool, or pick up a bike? What if it were $150 to fill up a tank now with predictions of the price going up even higher within the next couple weeks? I already ride as much as I can and try not to drive, mostly for exercise and more efficient commuting, but also to save fuel costs and vehicle wear and tear. Well Friday night the "suppose" became "does". That's right diesel has hit $3.99 in Nashville. Some areas such as Brentwood it's over $4 a gallon. I got to drive the car Saturday into town to attend a certification course and the gas light was on so I stopped and put the $20 I had with me in the tank and it filled it halfway, halfway!! The truck $20 wouldn't even fill a 1/4 tank. Diesel is the life blood of goods and services. It's also supposed to take less to refine and be a more efficient, cheaper burning fuel. Diesel prices haven't come down since gas prices started crawling up a few years ago. Not because oil is $100 a barrel, but because the dollar isn't worth anything any more. If the dollar weren't so diluted, the price of oil would be 50-55 dollars a gallon. Remember that when gas prices creep up, it's not purely oil's fault it's also the dollars. Expect products to skyrocket unless the come out with battery operated Semi trucks. Trickle down economics at work. Maybe this'll hit home: That $400 rebate from the federal government is 2 tanks of fuel*.

Last week I became an official Swiftwick sponsored rider. I'm not really sure what that means yet as my team of high priced lawyers and managers are currently scouring and debating the epic length contract to make sure my typical 12.5 Million dollar salary is being properly satiated. While they** debate***, I'll sit back and be assured of one thing. That I will still be buying and sending Swiftwick socks out to friends and loved ones (speaking of loved ones, X-Mater what size is that sweaty hoof-foot of yourn?) because I believe in the product. I've been wearing them since '05 and have been hooked ever since. I love and believe in the product and this recent sponsorship isn't going to change that. I'm honored they think enough of my piddly little self to even offer it up, whatever it turns out to be.

It's kinda like Walz Caps. I have no affiliation with them other than being turned on to their product from a friend then purchasing several hats after the fact. A post on my blog about my ill-shaped corn kernel melon and my flappy cappy led to Jen from Walz sending me a new and larger designed hat, probably under the guise of customer service, but really she's just good people. It matters not that I am threatened with "Disciplinary Action" if I'm caught on film without a Walz Cap (only 3 people will get that, 2 of whom read this blog and one who has to have it read to him but I'm told he likes the pictures). She and her mom are the company and they do great work and are super, super people. People and products like that are rare, so I try to spread the love by telling all 6 of you about their great products. Jen will still catch me trying to pay full retail for a cap or two and probably send me an extra hat, but I try to pass that love on to fellow cyclists. Like Jen once said: "Just like a nice cold beer, Walz Caps are best when shared with friends."

To be honest, both Swiftwick and Walz Caps are best when shared with friends, but I still prefer them worn on my parts. Yup, I said parts. Now where did I put that riding crop...

*: Before you all line up and tell me to sell it and get a more efficient car, bare in mind no Prius can haul 15,000 lbs. The truck serves an important function and purpose. It's not like I'm driving an SUV to haul 2 kids to soccer practice because I can't drive and need a huge rigid framed death ram to protect myself (and kill/mame others in safety crinkle cars). I own a fuel efficient small car, it's currently getting driven a ton by someone who would otherwise be in the poor house trying to keep the diesel running with work and school in 2 different cities. Just think of me as the canary and it's getting very hard to breath.

**they: They as in them. Yup. Them.

*** debate: uh, there's no lawyers or contract or millions. Pretty much I'll just get to live in a room full of wool socks. Kinda like Scrooge McDuck's money pool, only mine will be full of wool goodies. I'll swim around and take photos to post up and aggrivate Dicky who will only be able to get a cotton sock sponsor and who wants to swim in cotton (despite what the softer side of Sears has to say).

All Tempa-Cheer

Let's talk magic. It is typically said of Tennessee weather that if you don't like it wait ten minutes and it'll change. Saturday we had 3-8" of snow across the area with low temps of 24 and highs of 30. Sunday was sunny and a high of 45. Yesterday's brewery ride saw sunny skies and 70 degree temps on the way into downtown. We went from freezing our grapes off to nearly roasting them. Of course the roll home last night wasn't freezing, but still had a nip in the air. These are the days that frustrate me as a bike commuter. What is too much to wear? How much should I carry? Long sleeves with a base layer or short sleeves with a wind vest? Do I need insulated gloves and a cap*? Sounds trivial, but when temps drop 30+ degrees over the course of your commutes, it's something that unfortunately needs to be considered.

Luckily I never waste time thinking about my feet. Sure some of you will be quick to say "that's because you wear wool socks", but that's not the whole story. Last year I got rid of every pair of socks I had and replaced them with 10 pairs of Swiftwick socks. 5 Woolo (wool), 3 Willo, and 2 JutCut (both synpro blend). I actually bought a whole lot more than that, but I sent them off to folks around the country and back home. My dad is a fireman, on his feet all day and out in cold & wet climates fighting fires, I couldn't think of a better sock. Many friends are Nurses, 12 hour shifts heavy on the feet, what better than a sock that stays up and keeps your feet feeling fresh? Equestrians, the OTC Compression sock rules underneath the tall boots, no more blisters. No toe seams to rub and irritate your toes raw while running, cycling, walking, working. No scrunching down and constantly having to tug them up. You put them on and forget about them until right before bed, and when camping, sometimes morning.

I used to be a wool snob and wear the woolo socks and only go to the others when I hadn't done laundry. After several wet and cold commutes testing out the synpros, I've since changed my habits, now I just grab a pair of Swiftwicks from the laundry bin and go. I can't tell a difference when they are on my feet. Both keep the temperature perfectly regulated to where I forget I have socks on and I'm normally a feet free kinda guy. When is the last time you rode through 5 ice cold creek crossings without blinking, and not only have your feet stay warm, but leave the socks on for hours after the ride was over? That, my friends, is what makes a sock magic and why my feet were toasty all the way home last night despite me having to stop twice to re-configure my top attire to keep warm.

Can't find Swiftwicks? Drop by Harpeth Bicycles, MOAB, or sign up for the party at DSG and SSUSA as Swiftwick will be there with swag and product sponsoring the shenanigans (along with a HUGE list of others). I hear Big Swifty himself will be on hand to entertain the kids**. Oh, and just so you Georgia kids don't think we Tennesseans don't love ya (Hey Yazoo brought beer to share unlike some beer teams), I hear Addictive Cycles might be carrying them soon, so go pester Hodge.


*Caps: To cap or not to cap, that is the question. Yes you should always don a Walz cap. Keeping an extra in your bag for emergencies is highly recommended.

**Kids in this instance referring to legal drinking aged redhead, blonds, brunettes. Big Swifty is a trademark of Big Swifty Enterprises and not legal tender. Stock #7707. Dealer retains rebates. Not valid in Alaska or Hawaii (he was asked to leave).

*** I'm not a paid celebrity endorser nor am I a paid non-celebrity endorser. This is the text version (with photos added for your benefit) of the narrative that ran through my head on the hour long ride home from pizza last night. Everything was cold except for my feet. If you are unhappy about your current sock based foot pleasure, give'em a try.

How am I feeling?

KA-CHOW!

Boys night out last night. Some local mexican food, some cervesa, casino, dominoes, PBR from a pint glass, 3 losing Lottery tickets, and enjoying a warm night ride home does wonders for the soul. Brewery ride tonight, I'm on the Ferrari. Who's in?

Back to the Music

For the last 5 months I've been able to sleep without noise. It's been fantastic. My brain had stopped spinning and stressing while my body tried to do the "recovery" thing. The last few nights have been restless, unable to turn off my brain. Typically I have music on all hours of the day, it runs to drone out the noise and to keep my mood in check. I'd started leaving it on while I slept as a means to give my mind something to focus on and hopefully quiet the chatter. Music does wonders to recenter. The music came back on last night. Not a completely restful sleep but better. Ironically, my last two commutes have been in silence. I'd left my shuffle on my desk at work yesterday. Instead I rode home to the glows of the setting sun and in soaking up the warming morning sunshine. My mind raced as my legs spun out my low gearing. Advocacy issues and past histories rearing their ugly heads have my mind on overdrive. People keep towing along this huge weight of past history that needs to be cut loose to allow forward progress. Egos and closed minds keep shutting doors before we can even get to the stoop to knock.

I'll not forget my music tonight.

(photo credit: OldGreg from last Thursdays Brewery ride)

Check out the socks!

A lot going down under the advocacy hat, as well as at work so no time to chat, sorry folks. In the meantime check out this UK gem:

http://www.dothetest.co.uk/

Emu have rights too

Normally any snow warnings in TN are pretty much a joke. Growing up in the Northwestern part of Illinois, an 8-12 inch snow fall barely registered as a reason not to continue life as normal. Several months of snow would finally lead to the marshy yard melting of Spring. We're lucky to get a day with a good solid snow down here. Generally snow only happens to screw up a commute home and is gone almost instantly. Friday the snow came and came fast, so fast it was being called "ThunderSnow" by the weather people. We had over 3 inches at the farm, other areas had upwards of 8 inches!! Luckily I had a gallon of milk and a new loaf of bread so I felt confident we could survive this "ThunderSnow". I still for the life of me can't figure out why Tennesseans flock to the grocery for milk and bread every time the forecast mentions the possibility of snow. And I don't mean a few people, but check-out lines reminiscent of gas lines of the late 70's. Insanity.

Saturday morning we'd planned a gravel grinder but that was pretty much called off by 7:30 AM. There were several inches of snow and ice all over the roads. The interstates were a mess and the secondary roads (not too mention the barely traveled back roads we'd be on) were waiting to catch the cars in their deep ditches. After Mike bailed, I called around to make sure no one was going to attempt to drive out into the boonies. Once assured no one would end up on a ditch trying to make a ride I'd planned, I took the pups out to play in the snow. There were drifts close to 3 feet deep. Dish took off running after I pelted him with a snow ball, and thought he was on solid ground, only to fall deep into the snow disappearing momentarily then emerging in a giant explosion of fur and snow.

After breakfast (farm fresh eggs rule) I suited up for a spin out in the snow covered Brentwood alps with Scott the Monster. The high for the day was to barely reach 31, so it was wool, wool, with wool Swiftwicks (OTC Compression socks natch!). Since the 80 miler was on hold till Sunday, I threw on the Harpeth test saddle for the 3 hour ride. Fred sent a message that Harpeth was having a 40% off of all winter clothing sale so we rode over early into the ride to check it out. Swobo Merino wool long sleeve jerseys 40% off. Damn, great price but my need list is more important at the moment than my want list unfortunately. During our ride we saw family after family out sledding and enjoying the snow while we ground up every hill in the alps trying to stay warm. Despite being below freezing, all the snow had melted by the time we were wrapping up our ride. Another quick stop by the shop for some free espresso and for Scott to pick up some needed warmth on sale. After 3.5 hours of saddle time Saturday and close to 6 hours on Sunday's gravel grinder, I think I've found a replacement saddle.


23 hour Sunday was sunny with a projected high of 48 which turned out to be closer to 58. Tennessee weather - crazy as it's shoppers.

ErnestoLube Update: I applied the lube Tuesday Feb. 26th and have put hundreds of miles on the chain, including several gritty gravel grinders and deep creak crossings. Last night before I cleaned the sand and clay from the mucky grinder ride Sunday, the chain was still clean and quiet. No build up on the chain ring or on the cog. Wiped the chain off with a towel and application #2 went on. So far longer lasting and less mess than T-9. Diggin' it. Mike, you might wanna try some on that loud-assed chain-o-yours, you are starting to drown out gRant's rattle can.

Friendly Neighborhood Bike Bar

Apparently all of those little Tron motorcycles I saved for Dicky were little tiny Viking Tron big clown wheeled motorcycles. They decided to pillage and plunder and wreak havoc on my peaceful and efficient normal wheeled Tron motorcycles. My CPU pegged all day and things that should have taken moments were taking minutes, minutes turned to hours, and hours got wasted and I hate that. Talk about aggravation. Then stupid network pushing of updates pegged the CPU more and well I just got fed up. Feeling frustrated, the warm rays of the setting sun reflected on my bike and I decided the day was a wash and I was going to unwind and get a nice ride in before dark.

iPod Shuffle on and out the door. Weaving around the cars and buildings to make it across the always way to traffic laden Cool Springs Blvd, I soon found a groove and was enjoying the tune filled freedom. After crossing Franklin Road and zipping down Mack Hatcher, I saw a mass of debris all over the shoulder (Mack Hatcher is 4 lanes of 55-65 mph non-attentive drivers), I tried to hop and swoop and not become a road pizza, but soon heard the familiar hissing of air. I decided to ride it out, maybe I could make it off the busy road, but it wasn't to be. I had picked up 7 large metal staples, the kind they shoot on roofs to hold down the tar paper. I pulled them out and started hoofing it. I had CO2 and tubes with me, but Harpeth Bicycles was just a half mile away and I knew they had a compressor. I also know they'd let me use the stand and work on my bike. I'd have people to hang with and chat with and make the bad situation a better one. I also secretly hoped they'd have beer.


I hopped the fence (which is a double row fence now for some odd reason) separating the shopping center from Mack Hatcher and made my way into Harpeth. Freddy and Chris were there and immediately welcoming as always. I asked if I could borrow their pump to air up my tire after I changed it. Before I knew it my bike was in the stand and a cold beer in my hand. Now that is service. I made quick work of the fix while they tended to customers, then chilled out there while they closed up shop. Mood immediately brightened and still time to get in a few miles.

Back in the day the bartender used to serve the stereotypical role of listener, friend, therapist, but in my life it's the bike shops that replace that role. Sadly most Nashie shops don't offer the friendly "come hang out" atmosphere. It's all about buying or getting out of the way. MOAB has been a long standout in customer comfort, with stools and a bar to hang and chat with the mechanics, magazines to read, shit to shoot, but they are way over in the 'boro and not on my way home. Harpeth Bicycles sits exactly halfway between home and work and has long been a fantastic source of quick bike aid and a welcoming pit stop on the way home. Chairs, cycling movies, and good conversation. Plus the extra bonus of getting my swiss cheesed tube put to good use, yes they recycle the tubes by teaming up with Alchemy Goods. I even got hooked up with a Selle Italia test saddle (I'm in desperate need of a saddle for TransIowa and DirtyKanza) as they have a fleet of Selle Italia test saddles. Stop in, check them out, hang out, buy some Swiftwicks or a sweet custom steel or ti ride.

So a big (very belated) thanks out to the Harpeth Bicycles crew for always being there and turning my day around. (Check the sidebar Freddy).

Momentary Pause for Reflection

Unbelievably I still have news to share from the past weekend, but it's going to have to wait. I would like to take a moment for silent reflectivity upon the short life and times of the Meatplow. Reading Dicky this morning my heart sank. I know the feeling of cracked Titanium of a beloved bike all too well. Here's hoping for a short hospital stay for the 'plow and a speedy recovery. I've grown to expect a titanium bike to crack (luckily they can be fixed @ $800 a tube!!!) but X-mater still has me freaked out with his snapped Surly. Those things are supposed to be the cockroaches of the bike world, you know the last things standing when it all comes to an end.

A photo for Dicky (my condolences):



Yesterday my phone decided to send me a text notification of a new photo sent to me. There were 4, all from October of last year!!! Instant messaging my arse! Anyway I found this on there. This is me on my way to taking overall in CX4/SS and first in SS (why they don't run us with the CX3's I don't understand) in last years Nashcross where my parents got to finally see me race. Apparently this clip is of me imitating Babe Ruth racing cross. Enjoy.

The Snake and Magic Socks

If Socks Were Performance Enhancing Drugs, Swiftwick's Compression Sock would be the EPO of the sock world. I normally am a several days before the event packer. I generally pack, unpack, and re-pack until I have everything in it's place. Warm clothes for the night time and early morning preparations. Rain gear for the unpredicted monsoons. Cycling gear, tools, and spare parts. Dog supplies. Flask topped off. What have you. Last week though I had many obligations and time was tight. I didn't get the luxury of a 3 day packing party and to top it all off, it was pouring down rain up until the final packing of the truck. I was pretty sure I had everything. Aside from a plastic knife to spread the strawberry creme cheese on the bagels (thanks for the spork gRant) and a spoon to eat my yogurt (thanks for constructing the cardboard spoon Sexpot Jeanie) everything seem to be covered. That is until I went to change into my cycling super hero apparel. It was then that I realized I'd forgotten not only my super hero tall socks, but all of my socks aside from the Willo 4" cuff ones I'd worn the day before. Well damn.

We (gRant, OldGreg, Mike N. is HOT!, Sexpot Jeanie, Tommy Toughpants, Riley Prancypants, Dish, Po, H., Hennessey, and I all rolled into the gravel start lot for the pre-party festivities of the final Snake Creek Time Trial of '08. Hodge, Phillip, Tim C., and others were all milling about the fire pit. Quickly to setup camp in the muddy swamp (thanks for bringing the plastic OldGreg) and over to the fires with frothy libations from Yazoo for all. Around Midnight people started looking at watches and eyeing tents. Hodge said something about "here's where we really see who's here to race and who's here to have fun". You can't say that and not be drankin', so I pulled out the flask of Templeton only to immediately be one upped by Phillip and his mason jar of clear shine. Bottles passed, swigs swugged, warm fuzzy goodness. The party went on till around 2-2:30am. I blame Hodge's Miller for dousing the party. That tastes like sh*t, especially after drinking killer craft brew all night before hand. It also is what I blame my early race queasiness on. I wasn't hung over, I was sick from bad beer. Friends shouldn't let friends buy and hand you bad beer. Uck.

So, back to the socks. After loading up 6 men, one Fraulein, and two dogs into Jeanie's big orange box, we made our way to the actual starting line. Still queasy from Hodge's poor taste in cheap beer, we readied in line. X-mater showed up and hopped into our line up. Shortly thereafter I spied Harlan Price looking like a lost puppy wondering if he can jump ahead in line. I hollered "gee he looks skinny and fast, you should go up there if you wanna race" and pointed to the front. He looked back and asked if it was fine, most of us in line who were paying attention said sure and waved him on up front. As soon as he started forward we all started yelling "Look at the a$$hole cutting in line" "look at me I'm sponsored". He stopped, kinda turned a blushed red and started to return to the back. We all waved him back up front saying we were only kidding, but as he turned round to line up at the front we laid into him again. Ah, heckling the big boys is always fun.

Hodge, Hennessey, Me, some dude with a beard, X-mater, Mike N. is HOT!, and maybe one or two others lined up to leave. As soon as go was called, Hodge busts a huge 90 degree right turn and cuts us all off. He'd said he was going to do it while riding over in the box, but none of us believed him. We all had a huge laugh sans beard guy who had no idea he was amongst such hilarious joshters. We rolled out, me offering a friendly push to the mater on the gentle rolling hills of the starting fire road. Then a deep creek crossing later I was chasing he and Hennessey up the long peanut buttery muddy fire road climb. I always just settle in there as I'm a slow stoker. Takes me a bit to warm up and if I keep it even steven on that first climb I'm primed and ready to punch it on the single track at the top, where if you get stuck behind granny spinners, you'll burn a lot of energy and waste a lot of time. I was only 3 bike lengths behind the X-mat entering the singletrack, but as soon as I got there he was gone. I looked up the trail to see him extending the lead with Hennessey being long gone. I worked my way up and around and soon passed him on a short but very steep and super slick climb. Oh, and note to self, never put a Vapor tire on the rear. It sucks worse than it does on the front. It was squirely handling on the front, but on the rear it sucks ass in mud; just cakes up and spins.

Once passed the X-mat I started getting into my groove. The section of ridge line trail from where the rocks stop to where the rocky road downhill start (where Phillip stands) is one of my favorite sections. It just flows along the edge of the ridge and you can just motor. I catch Hennessey pushing his bike exactly where he had given me shit last time when I had to dab there. So I made sure to yell out a friendly "What are you doing?" at him as I rode by. Ah, sweet irony! Though he once again ripped passed me on the gravel decent, as he does every time. No worries as there is still a long way to go and I'm about to enter favorite part number 2. Up the piney needle climb then rip down the steep rocky descent to the short water bar section whoops. Cross the road, narrowly avoid falling into the swamp puddle filled with evergreen clippings, and motor up the windy climb until I get to the old fire road section. I LOVE this section. Turn the power on and start flying, almost over burn the same sharper than you remember right hand turn, then down the shoot. Pump track heaven until the final downhill mega fun section leading to the halfway point. I had gotten around Hennessey somewhere before the downhill, but knew he'd be back like a bad penny as soon as the trail pointed down. He caught me in the final descent and hung behind me complimenting me on my recently improved downhill skills. We rolled into the halfway point to roaring cheers from the support crew. Sharpie, Jut, Jamie, H., Jeanie, Tommy & Riley were all hanging out and cheering for us. I stopped to refill my only clean bottle (thanks grunge guard, no more giardia for me). Sharpie was quick to grab it and hooked me up with the precision of a NASCAR pit crew. I bitched about forgetting my socks and muttered something about my legs not feeling like usual and Sharpie pulled out a set of Swiftwick compression socks. Word! Hennessey took off, I stopped to re-sock. Who cares if I'm wasting time, these socks are magic. MAGIC I say! After a few photos taken of me swapping socks mid-race, I high tailed it off and up the grueling climb that starts the last 17 miles. Immediately the legs felt better. Endless climbing legs, that's the feeling the compression sock gives. No dead leg feeling, just power. I catch back up to Hennessey who'd paused after snapping something in his quad. I tell him to turn around if it's bad since the crew was there and it not being worth worsening an injury. He said he'd ride it out to the top and see how it felt. We motored on together for the rest of the race. Me pace setting, him getting out ahead, me catching back, pretty much talking trash, riding killer trail, and having a grand time.


Enter the last 8 miles. Up the gravel road climb from the forest road section is a grade that just sucks for me. I liken it to a false flat with a massive headwind. Too tall to just sit and grind, unless you're one of those power riders (Dicky, we're not) but not steep enough to not be spun out while standing. You get into this annoying rut of sit, stand, sit, stand and grind your way up it. Hennessey being a power rider motored on ahead, I just settled. Suddenly I feel a boost of power and a hand on my back. Bruce motoring by offering a push. A little chit chat and he was gone, soon to repeat the move to Hennessey. I got reports back from many troops who got the Bruce burst. As I crested the top of the climb and made the left hand turn onto the last 8 miles of rocky hell, I heard someone yell for me to just keep going. I yelled thanks thinking it was a volunteer cheering me on, but it turned out to be Hennessey. He was filling water bottles. He was soon back on the train and we motored through the rocks. This section is where it is really nice to have someone with you for pacing and for pushing. You can lose so much time picking away at lines at this section, but with someone to chat with I just motored on. Last time at this point my kidneys and surrounding muscles where aching with pain. Like every bump was a Mike Tyson rabbit punch. This time after 2 months of "training changes" I had no pain and was really enjoying the rocks. Giggling most of the way to the last 3 miles. That's where fatigue set in and I got the front tire bounced around a bit too much. I only had one fall and that was when pushing the bike, damn pedal got hooked on a rock and the bike pulled me over, I tried to catch myself but planted my foot on the edge of a rock and ended up on my ass as Hennessey came up around the turn. Nice timing. Hennessey had been really digging deep and working hard to beat 4 hours. I was working hard too but really only out to finish stronger than last time, that meant no shoulder pain, no back pain, no kidney pain. I was hoping to beat 4 hours again, but it wasn't my goal. Injury free was the goal for me, but at the same time I love a good battle for the finish.

Somewhere in the last 1.5 miles of trail, Hennessey was watch looking and got a burst of angst/adrenalin and blew past me. I hollered up for him to keep his head and not wreck. We were entering the most technical section and with the fatigue factor and calorie bonks eminent, it is very easy to lose a lot of time in this section. Pinch flats, side wall tears, endos, cliff diving are all real possibilities. He roared past and was out of sight (the trail turned right after it crested a short rise). I made the turn only to see him off to the right and him tossing his bike off to the left, narrowly missing eating it. I secretly thought about hitting it and putting a gap on him as I'd have a good chance of making a break if he was flustered, but I didn't have the gas and wanted to help him break 4 hours. As I passed he threw his hands up and said something about "that's it, I'm back on your wheel". I retorted that he had it in the bag if he would just keep his head. He had my wheel to follow and the final 2 miles are all down hill. He can drop me faster than a fancy china plate on loose gravel downhills, so as long as he didn't flat, bust a bone, or panic, he was golden. We motored on trying to regain lost time and eek in under the 4 hour umbrella.

He started to get down about being over time, I told him it wasn't far now, he said something about another ridge still, but I pointed up and low and behold was the rock wall. I stepped over and told him to get it. Short climb out, all down hill. I hit it as fast as I could without sliding all over the loose gravel turns, and spun my way down. He nipped me by about a minute gained in the downhill. Well deserved and hard fought. I was proud. I was also extremely happy with my bike. Three runnings of the snake and not a single flat, mechanical, or dropped chain, or mysterious creaking. When I crossed the finish line, I was greeted by H. and the yowling-for-papa wupples. I nabbed my top cap and headed over to clean up and celebrate with the rest of the racers and our old and new friends (old friends like Hodge, he's old). Dennis and his fast friend, Sam Koerber, had camped next to us and I let them place some beer and food into my cooler, being from Pisgah needing ice is a new thing for them. I get back and asked if he got his beer and he told me he "traded me" because "mine was better". Gotta love it. I had purchased close to a $100 worth of Yazoo for the race and I ended up out of Yazoo but with a cooler full of swill beers and cast offs. Luckily the X-mater brought me a nice sampler 12 pack of Highland ales, though those somehow got swiped as well. Thank goodness the ABC Red Brick was stashed in the truck, at least I came home with something worth drinking.



Special note to Terrapin's Team Wake-n-Bake, when are y'all gonna pitch in and help us support the racers with post race brew?
Yazoo: 3 Wake-n-Bake:0
Better step it up Wild Bill and Mr. Stanley