I love this bar...

The Cateye returns. 2 Trans Iowa's and 2 Kanza's so far.

We've got whiners, we've got losers, double doses of Canardians, and boozers...

Caught a little flak for stating I didn't have dreams of the podium. It's not that I am giving up, I'm not. Just being a realist with a dash of pessimism thrown in for good measure. To me the glass isn't half empty or half full, it has been drunk from and probably rife with germs. That's just the kinda guy I am.

I'm going with no expectations other than fun. If I my legs feel good, I'll let them run loose. If I'm not feeling it, I'll try to rally and finish.

One item not lost with the car as it was still on the bike from PMBAR.

Rain moved in and put a damper on the gravel grinder plans. Not that I mind riding in rain, I just didn't want to have to repeat a Cohutta style bearing cleaning from wet, sandy grit build up in my wheels, headset, bb, and chain. Time this week will be hard to come by and a full rebuild just wasn't a wise use of the limited time. So I opted for a local road ride to shake out the final bike preparations and some nutritional tests.

35x15 replaces my standard 42x18. Same gear inch (60.666), less swapping of chain rings.

Gear flip.

Micro drives wear faster, flipped for better performance and bite.

Then I got a short trail ride in with the pups with a stop at the pond (sorry, "lake") to let them cool down and play in the water. Three days of swimming in a row. You'd think they'd get bored with it, but these hounds love the water almost as much as they do running the trails.


Regarding the double dosing of Canardians:

I wore my Misfit Psycles jersey on todays ride as a salute to Last Place Peter who's stuck babysitting Dicky up at the Transylvania 6-5000.

Peter had put out a request for a video from CyclingDirt, so I went there to see if it could be found, but then I saw this:

My car as seen in the CyclingDirt video interview.

Max Plaxton may have won the Mellow Johnny's Classic and have a cool Ice Vest, but I think he stole my car! Canardians!!!!! Somebody call the airport, I know the TSA knows how handle pesky Canards.

Feeling Flint-chy

Been watching this video some today. Motivation is high despite the fitness level being lower than last year. With no more podium dream, this one is all about the shared adventure with friends (mostly comprised of the road trip). I love this event. I hate this event. It's hard. It's fun. It's lonely. It's full of new friends and old.

It also marks the end of my main races/events until fall. After Kanza, summer is basically in full swing for me and rides shift from goal focused to fun based. I'm hoping to get more riding in than I've managed so far this year, but with more recreation thrown in. Less rush, more meander. More swimming holes. Work is entering the insanely busy block (June-August) and my psyche will require the solitude of unplugging into nature. I'll still pick up a few of the local XC races for some competitive shenanigans, but mostly weekends will be about camping in the mountains, exploring more of LBL, maybe even make it out to South Fork and some Smith County Mafia rides.

Come for the challenge.
Come back for the memories.

Sounds about right. You sure you're retired Jeffy?

No Longer Amazing

Proper building supplies sold separately.

Last night H., the pups, and I headed out to Wal-Mart to pick up a birthday present for Hagan's 4th birthday. Lincoln logs (the real wooden ones with horses and cowboys included) were the initial selection but soon a Spiderman Scooter was in its place. Active play being more desirable. Not just any Spiderman scooter would suffice though. Amazing Spiderman is so passe, what we needed was a Spectacular Spiderman Scooter.

No longer just Amazing, now Spectacular Spiderman.

We'd forgotten the little tyke's birthday was Thursday, so we were behind in the gift planning. I wish I'd had time to get over to a bike shop in East Nash to pick up a skute or kick bike of some sort, but the scooter would do. After picking up a few more items needed for the weekend, we headed back home to build up the scooter.


Waiting to checkout at 10 PM in a super walmart, the only store or place to hang out in Springfield after dark, is an exercise in patience and perseverance. Of the 6 boxes to choose from, each one had some damage and I took a gamble as to which scooter to get. Opening the box I found the plastic axel spacer damaged and the tube slightly bent from impact damage. Not wanting to head back to Wal-mart or the death march checkout line, I asked myself what Grampa Spence would do? He'd fix it, that's what.


So I dug around my old tool bin of bike parts. Surely I had some sort of plastic thingamicjig that would suffice? Nope. Then I did find some plastic piece that just might have worked if I drilled out the center hole a notch. But the axle rides through two cheesy plastic spacers, if they both broke the axle would flop around in the large metal tube. I didn't feel safe enough letting my nephew risk knee skin to shotty design.


If only there was a way I could extend the axle guides so that they wouldn't break and would hold the axle securely. Hmmm.... Luckily I happened to have a few 13/16th sockets from myriad socket sets gathered across the years. They fit in the tube perfectly, held the axel securely, and they were in abundance. Axle shored up, the Spectacular Spiderman Scooter now properly supported more than the recommended 44lbs max weight.

It's Spidey Time!

I think Grampa Spence would have been proud. The scooter is now safe for Hagan to take off some sweet jumps and able to hold an easily entertained Uncle Thad in the driveway.

Hagan caught a fish. Hal helps with the release part of catch.

Today was the annual Memorial Day family lunch out at Uncle Chris' 100 year farm. The farm is amazing. Fishing, cabins, trails, ponds, old barns, rivers, creeks, cows, horses, and hammocks. A(n adult) child's (and canine's) dream.

The first round of fishing got interrupted by invading mud puppies.

JD awaiting another stick toss.

Mud Puppies.

Alien skull uncovered in the pond. Circa 1947?

Nap time.

Lunch was ready after the pup swim and I resisted nothing. Everything was sampled, even all deserts. Farm cooking is the best. After stuffing myself it was time to find a nice quiet spot in the shade to enjoy the slight breeze and country fresh air while letting the food digest. The newly replaced hammock would do perfectly. A quick power nap in the quiet solitude of the country would be the perfect cap to a great lunch.

Attacked!

Just as the cool breeze and gentle rocking of the hammock was lulling me to sleepy town I heart the rush of tiny footsteps followed by sudden shaking of the hammock. I was under attack!

Uncle Thad Invaded.

Soon a slobbery tongue joined in the fray.

It was a team attack. Hagan from the left, JD from the right. No sleeping! It is play time. Back to the pond for more swimming and playing. Why waste a perfectly good day at the farm sleeping? I really enjoy days like these. I'm glad the pups and wifey do too. Spectacular days are good for the soul.

JD and Dish meet the cows. The cows seemed intrigued. The dogs less so.

3 Day Saturday

Meds, wipes, spoke wrench, sew up kit, and patches go in one small container.

With the 12DoH ending early Friday, I made sure to squeeze last weekend's missed activities into today. I actually started last night getting the bike room cleaned and tents packed up from the post DSG rain deluge dry-out fest. Getting everything put away and organized for use as a functional bike room again to the tunes of late 80's heart-on-sleeve punk (Husker Du, The Replacements) that bled into some Church, Smiths, Cure's Disintegration album, the Clash, Fishbone, Ministry, Mother Love Bone, Fugazi, and finished with some good ol' Sonic Youth's Sister and Daydream Nation albums setting the tone for the weekend.

Emergency blanket (sun shelter), lighter, and zip ties in another.

After a late (9am) morning layin' and barn chores, I started packing Kanza gear while enjoying coffee. iTunes continued the late 80's onslaught of old school "alternative" (remember when it was just called "college radio"?). I'm digging my semi-forced minimalistic pack. Due to less space than previous attempts, I'm forced to trim down and I think it's going to make the adventure that more fun.

Multi multi-tool, chain links, tire boots, mini pump, and tire lever make up the last bits.

I'm having a small ethical dilemma though. Due to the organizers allowing crews at the check points (no more drop bag options), the ability to have spare wheels, tires, parts, clothes, etc... waiting for you makes having to carry what you might need less of a concern. To me though it begins to alter the meaning of self sufficiency. Sure last year had I packed a spare tire for use in my halfway drop bag I could have kept on keeping on, then again I might have suffered the slice after the halfway check point too and still been S.O.L..

Everything tucked in with room for food and light battery. Bag packed.

I think though that I am going to carry all that I plan on needing with me the entire race. Self sufficient is self sufficient and I think I'd feel better about completing the race if I didn't depend on a support crew for spare parts. It'll already be different than years past having people at the halfway point to cheer you on. Talk about motivation. That'll be better than any Honey Badger Pep talk. I might throw a spare tire in and possibly some more tubes, but those would have been drop bag items anyway and as long as I've raced Kanza halfway drop bags have been options for all. Which is mostly my ill feelings about having support crews, not everyone will have that option due to the complexity of the event. But we'll see.

Bling provided by the Assman.

After lunch I took to preparing the Rigor for some ride time. I threw my new Boone 18t titanium cog onto the back to better suit the Monkey Pit terrain and geared up to get some laps in with the anxiously awaiting someone to play with him Monkey dog, JD while H. rode her pony in the front field. This was the first time JD and I have been to the Monkey Pit to ride since the car accident.

Hawkstand says Hell Yeah!

JD's first day back in the Monkey Pit.

JD taking a water stop in the creek.

JD in hot pursuit.

Temps and humidity were high.

So frequent stops to cool off in the lake were required during our Pit time.

Swamp thing emerges.

Targeting his next (stick) victim.

Leaping into the water.

Attack!

Dish the barn dog.

After a few hours, JD and I headed back up to the barn to check in. H. was still in the front field just finishing her ride when the pups and I found her, so we rode around a bit on the way back to the barn. Ian even had a bit of fun chasing after me and the dogs.

Ian gets a shower.

JD re-hydrates.

Secret loop road ride with H.

While H. finished up at the barn, I headed up to prep her road bike for an afternoon road ride. It's probably her second secret loop of the year if I recall correctly. I rode the Rigor for a chance to shake out position and tire selection. T-storms were predicted for the afternoon and we could see storm clouds brewing in the distance, but a small sun shower is all we received which was welcome during the long climbs on the hot pavement.

Who needs stage races, I already got mine.

Jeff "The Duke" Scott joked earlier this year that it only took me 4 rides to get back into shape. I hope there's a tinge of truth in that as I just finished my 4th ride since DSG with less than a week till Kanza (two rides last weekend and two today). Not a lot of time left for fitness gains. Tomorrow will be time well spent with family and Monday is looking to be a gravel shake out ride.

Two rides, some lake time with the pup, bike maintenance, gear packing, room organizing, house cleaning, a power nap, and a trip to the only store in the closest small town to acquire a gift for tomorrow (which will receive it's own posting later) with a late morning start is a hell of a lot to squeeze into a single day. So stoked I still have two more remaining. This weekend rocks!

Awesome Road Load

8Ball runs his low slung like me.

I'd forgotten what day is was by the time I read the text received somewhere along my drive home. Just sitting down to eat dinner when I realized I had a message. It was 8ball asking if I was still up for a ride. What day is it? Damn it's Wednesday already, isn't it? No wait, it's Tuesday. Such is the time blur of the 12DoH. Tuesday is 8ball's Saturday.

I'd forgotten I ran into him on my commute home from work Sunday. As I made my way along the trickling sounds of Sycamore Creek - just past the steep descent and the happily trotting along with me yellow lab mix puppy - I saw a cyclist approaching. Holy Crap! I never see a cyclist around here. The approaching cyclist also had a look of shock and awe on his face and we slowed and circled back to chat. Turns out it was 8ball on a short ride before work. We caught up on things, made plans to try to get a ride in this week , then went about our separate ways.

Was it really Tuesday already? I pushed the start time back to 8ish and settled in to dinner and a few chores before gearing up to ride.


The weather was a perfect temperature. Not too hot, not too cold. A nearly full moon and clear night sky illuminated most of the back country roads for us. The bright moon casting shadows on the tree covered lanes. Downhills were met with the sensation of making the jump to light speed as bugs streamed past our faces illuminated by our headlamps. Often outrunning the safety of our lights. Despite being late night on a Tuesday in podunk, traffic was heavy on a few of the roads. Last time I let 8ball pick the route.

We happened upon a few abandoned kittens alongside the creek on Smiley Hollow. Calicoes. Would have made nice barn cats, but I could only catch one and he didn't care for the idea of pocket riding for another 10ish miles. Plus his litter mates were hidden in the brush crying out for him. Reuniting the kittens, we headed back out along the dark spooky road.

8Ball asked "What was the name of that movie with the scary truck that follows them?"
me: "Jeepers Creepers?"
8Ball: "Yeah, that's it."

A few miles later as we climbed Edgar Dillard's monster hill from the pitch black behind 8ball we heard a rumbling. A deep "blub blub blub blub" sound resonated behind bright lights approaching us with increasing speed.

"Jeepers Creepers back!"

Good times. Night rides rule. Well except when you almost lose an eye to a June bug at speed.

What, me worry?

No worries with lots of puppy love.

Worries.
("Do these shants make my butt look non metric?")
("I'm so top heavy my bars are sagging")

I apologize if yesterday's post came across as too whiny. It wasn't meant to be whiny as to just put into words my worry and recent acceptance of fate. I've spent hours, miles, and months tuning and fine tuning long distance setups. Effort spent in the search for efficiency, reliability, functionality, and trust. I find something that performs its job without fail, tack it up as "go-to", then let my mind move onto the next item to worry over.

My setup had been whittled down to nearly ideal. My components and gear eased my mind so all I had to focus on was my fitness. My equipment would be there and that wasn't to be a concern. It was resolved. It was fingered out. It was done. Comfort within my possessions, both physical and mental.

Phenomenally fast fist bump of doom pre TT.

Losing everything, while adding a little uncertainty and doubt, has thrown in a bit of chaos. Taking a pretty routine setup/preparation and race expectations and turning them into something different. Adding a touch of new to an old (third time) event. I'm not whining, I'm worried but with renewed excitement.

The game time flip. Walz caps are 35% faster when worn backwards sans helmet.

Yes I've not gotten as much saddle time as I would like this year, but I've accumulated fitness for a while now. I may not be as fast or strong as previous years but my base is still pretty solid. I can make 200 miles. The question is how well will I feel while doing it.

Ready to roll.

2010 has forcibly shown me that time is my most precious commodity. I was born with a finite amount of it. Possibly predetermined, possibly ruled by fate. Who knows. I do know I can't get any of it back. Once it has past, it has past. Therefore saddle time has been cut in order to allow time for more important things like family and friends.


My life/work/play balance I've been striving to achieve since '06 has vastly swayed to too much work as of late. Not so much the workload as the work hours. Too many hours have been required by the powers that be limiting available time for non-work things. Since I'm salaried, no overtime compensation. So I'm losing time at a cost of my per hour pay. In essence the harder I work, the less I get paid and the less non-work time I have. That is my biggest gripe. I don't mind the work or the hours, but I do mind the loss of, and the non compensation for, my time. Time I can't get back. Time that could be better spent elsewhere. Should be spent. Isn't.

Watch the hay Scuba!

The flip side is that despite the loss of free time, my job has afforded me opportunities to inquire and learn about things affecting the recent play portion of life. In particular my recent battles with electrolyte imbalances. PMBAR's was caused by too much cold water absorption diluting the salt concentration in my blood plasma. When that happens your stomach shuts down. Anything consumed sits in the soon to be tantrum throwing stomach until it gets thrown out. Or up as the case may be.

S-A-F-E-T-Y, safety dance. RfR's Mathew races the TT.

I suffered similar issues at DSG, only I didn't consume too much water. I just lost more salt through sweating and exertion than I was bringing in, despite taking electrolytes via pills and drink mixes. My stomach shut down and no nutrition was able to be brought on board. I rode until I ran out of calories and couldn't hold back the heaves.

Demented TT. Mark shifted the bars into TT mode.

The past 8 days at work have been spent with several very educated and experienced medical professionals. Last Tuesday was a full 10 hours of lectures on electrolyte imbalances and treatments. I'd learned a lot and asked specific questions but I didn't get anything that allayed my fears of ending up in the middle of no cell service or farm house Kansas doubled over retching and convulsing from hyponatremia. Until this morning.

Shine a little light. Dejay illuminates.

I've got a secret weapon. Not drugs. Information. I found out my attempt to right the wrong at DSG was on track. Lap 5 I had stopped trying to drink. I rode most of the lap without food and water only pausing at the top of the powerline climb to take 4 enduralytes with a few small sips of water. I had started the lap feeling horrid and by the top of the climb I was feeling much better and figured it was a good time to up the salt intake. A mile after taking the pills I was feeling worse than when I started the lap. I had undone the done thinking I was doing the right. Wrong.

Turns out I was close, but my implementation was lacking. I now know how to undo the done before it gets to the point of iv saline and hypodermic needles. At least in theory. It is so obvious I can't believe I didn't see it myself. Learning that I was on the right track and not foolishly causing myself more harm is reassuring. Learning what to do next is confidence inspiring (bacon and whisky).

So Kanza, to you I say bring it. I might not be as well prepared, fit, or have my trusty gear, but I am ready.

A wise-ass old man once said:

"FINALLY. you now have a winners attitude. limited resources, partial preparation and uber low expectations...excellent!"
- Peter Keiller

all photos swiped from Graham Gerdeman