Light Through Clouds

The Mountain in the background, site of one of our first adventures.

Have you ever had, or do you have, one of those friends that you have a good time with every time you're with them, but you just don't get to see them very often? Life, work, and responsibilities keep both of your schedules from lining up to allow a lot of hang out time. Only to have those same responsibilities/family obligations have you both hanging out at the same places unplanned from time to time?

I have such a friend. The few times we've managed to sync worlds and get away for some fun have been a few of my favorite memories. I can still remember them vividly today, despite most going back 5 or 6 years. At the end of the trips we'd always make the comment that we should try to do this more often, then head back to our separate busy lives.

During the times when life happens us together, we remenice about how much fun we had and make other comments about how we should get together and do it again only to allow life to circumvent those plans. But those accidental happenstances burgeon even more happy memories, usually brokered with confections of coney dogs and Fritos chilli nachos.

I'm losing this friend. He's in a battle for his life that we're not sure he's going to win and the chances for our hanging out again plans are dwindling. The last time I saw him was earlier this year in another synchonistic chance meeting. He'd survived one round of treatment and had resumed life only to be awaiting the results of a second biopsy and whatever course it would need to take. We talked about the what if's and what not's, the fears and the worries, but mostly kept it on the bright side, not dwelling on the dark.

Aside from just trying to be there for someone, being honest in your compassion, how do you approach someone in such a predicament without showing the sorrow or regret on your face for not trying harder to be a better friend?

That kind of comes across as though I'm feeling sorry for myself and that is not the case. There's no poor me in this. The question is, how do you re-connect to this friend without the reconnection coming across as a "just wanted to see ya before you die" connection? He's got enough going on without needing the additional weight of seeing more sorry, worry, sadness, or pity. And coming in acting all chipper and high on life can be a slap in the face. I prefer the House approach of harsh reality and honesty vs the veiled guise of compassion/empathy, but that's from the experience of the sorrys, the you poor things, essentially the "I'm glad it's not me and I don't know what to say" retorts. Not that I blame them. I've just vowed to never do that to someone, but it's hard and I'm coming up empty at the moment.

To be honest, I'm hoping for another chance connection this weekend, but I'm not sure he'll be able to rally enough strength make the trek. In that case, I'd like to go see him, but aside from the "hey I was in the neighborhood and figured I'd pop in and see ya, I hear you're having a rough go" honesty of the situation, I'm worried my visit might usher more despair than hope. Course everything always seems worse in your head than the reality.

I need to take a note from Nike and my new no plate theory and just do it.

Magical Mountain Monday

Still trying to etch out a balance of work, love, and life I sacrificed a full weekend day for a few hours of being a better husband. H. works a lot. A lot. Mostly weekends (every other plus a night or two of the other every other) which tends to prevent her from being able to do a lot of the things she enjoys doing outside of work and home.

She had a wedding shower for a friend's daughter (the daughter is also a friend) on the Mountain Sunday and managed to swap working Sunday for Monday thanks to a friendly co-worker. Her plan was to attend the shower and sneak in a riding lesson on Monday morning. The protagonist for her was time. She worked Saturday night and has to work Monday night. This meant having to stay awake after 2 nights of 12 hour shifts and drive the big rig 2+ hours to the mountain, stay awake all day, sleep one night, get up early to ride, then drive home and get ready for work. Doable, but exactly fun.

Enter Mr. Nice Guy who has a live in "schemer". Taking a page out of Madame Schemer's playbook, I started concocting a plan Weds at work to try to alleviate the burden some for H.. The plan found me working solo Friday so as to be covered on Monday, since both of us at work have 2 weekends of time owed to us. This allowed me to drive the big rig down Sunday morning so H. could cat nap (the girl can sleep in a car, it's almost instant, I still don't know how she makes it to and from work, but I digress...) and since Monday was covered, I would be able to hang around Monday so as not to cut her 'weekend' short by having to leave Sunday night.

Talk about a sacrifice. I could have been out training, or in Canardia, or Pisgah, but I gave up my time for her. Selfless. Amazing. Yeah, not so fast. Remember the "schemer" playbook? Yup, in my guise of being a good hubband, I had booked time with the father of the bride (men were banned from the shower) and his motos. Four hours of motorized off-road fun were to be my payment for the sacrifice. Suh-a-weet.

Now this is a dual sus gearie I could get into.

We headed out moments after parking the trailer. Tens of thousands of acres of mountain forest terrain open to play. It was a blast ripping down double track I've ridden dozens of times under my own power before with a powered squishy rig. The power line atv runs were my favorite and where I felt the most comfortable hanging it out. The loose gravel roads felt really squirmy at speed with the knobbies but the leaf covered slick double track felt solid. I'm not sure I could swap my bike for a motorcyle, as I found myself wishing I was on my bike several times, but I can say mud is way more fun on the motorcycle! Hell yeah!

Taking a break at one of the overlooks at FSF.

One of the many waterfalls in the area.

Just before dusk: Time to head out, the hunters were getting thick.

Back at the house we cleaned up and hung out waiting for the women folk to return and feed us. Or not. So homemade salsa & cheese, chips, and Raman noodles were the man-made man's meal for the night. Perfect. It allowed us to continue watching Dust to Glory, a documentary about the 2005 Baja 1000, while eating without such distractions as conversation. It's a really entertaining movie, definitely worth a viewing and very similar to the Race Across the Sky documentary in that there are the million dollar pros and the common man all racing to finish and the challenges they all have to face.

Find the dog.

After a perfectly clear, crisp, and star filled night for sleeping out doors the pups and I were up early with the Sun. Then back asleep again for a short snooze. When H. woke up we unhitched the truck and headed into town for some local breakfast from the Blue Chair. I had the Sewanee Classic Breakfast and it was damn good. Bacon, two eggs over easy, massive wheat toast, and some sort of potato tot things called Baby Bakers or something. Washed it all down with o.j. and coffee and it was almost nap time driving back with the warm sun beaming in through the windshield. Everything was cooked to perfection. The pups got the tater's as I couldn't stuff 'em down.

After breakfast it was barn chores thirty and we lent a hand while our food settled. Then the pups and I headed out to Franklin State Forest for some Moots powered singletrack time, leaving the girls to horse around.

River of time: Where it all began.

This ride wasn't about fitness, fastness, or long miles/hours. It was about having fun with the pups. I picked the North Rim trail to start out on. This trail is one of the first I started riding back when I started riding and Franklin State Forest is where I first started bringing the dogs along. Dish actually helped lead a lost and losing daylight T.roy and I on our first ever visit to FSF. He popped us out about 50' from the truck, despite T.roy thinking Dish was going to just lead us further into the unknown. To T.roy's benefit though, Dish had been running amok most of the time we were out there so it wasn't totally outside the realm of possibility.


Dish and I would ride 25-40 miles out here almost every weekend when he had 4 legs. He often would outlast me. Having him around also gave a sense of security too as there have been plenty of run-ins with unfriendly types at FSF before. A very protective 85lbs Catahoula is a good trail partner. Having two now adds to the safety of the pack. As soon as I can convince H. that we need 3 I should be really well protected.

The North Rim offers plenty of creek crossing for cooling down and a quick drink.

JD is quickly falling into Dish's shoes. Just a few weeks past 4 months, he's running 8 miles without missing a beat. Stays right behind my rear wheel, and doesn't stray off the trail. A trait he shares with Dish is his affinity for pooping in tall weeds, keeping the trail clean of dog poo mines. Being on a tight time schedule, we only got in about 9 miles before having to head back to the farm, but they were quality miles.


Back at the farm we were able to catch the last few minutes of H.'s lesson before packing up the trailer for the return trip. JD had a bevvy of farm dogs to play with, Winston was his favorite but Emma the Mastiff wanted to play too. JD wasn't to sure what to think about playing with a Mastiff. No bites, but much slobber later, he still wasn't sure.

The Gov'na at work, preparing for next weekends competition.

Guard Dog Duty: Watching the bike.

Guard Dog Duty: Watching Mom ride.

Guard Dog Duty sure is tiring.

Despite the sacrifice, I had a wonderful weekend. I'm happy H. was able to finally get to enjoy life the way it ought to be enjoyed. She's now off to work and I've got a lot of chores to get done or caught up on. The Monkey is snoring on the couch next to me and Dish has take over my chair. Life is good today.

P.S. - Congratulations goes out to Papa Ted. It's been a long run old man. Time to enjoy the golden years!

The Natural

Drink time

Missing out on the Destalk Antirace and the hush hush ride, despite having the e-vites for both (or bolth as Lillian would say) due to limited time free, I also opted out of attending another hush hush ride (this one gravel based) in favor of getting some time in the woods with the pups. One day free really limits the options pretty quickly, so I made the most with what I had available and headed down to Chickasaw to kill a few birds with a single stone.

Watching & learning from his big brother

Dish has been pathetically pouting. He lazes around and pretty much just gives you the face. JD has been growing more and more bored with his habitat and lazy yet incredibly grumpy older brother. I've not ridden in the woods in over 6 weeks and with the onset of regular time lost the ability to take the pups to the greenway after work for fun and games, seeing as they close at dark.

And quickly showing him up...

Since losing his leg, Dish the 40mile+ wonder dog has a limit of about 6 miles before crippling himself in his current state. With fall/winter being here for at least another month or two, the weather will favor his getting to run with me and he'll work back up to a 12-14 mile wonder tripod. This was the impetus for picking another Catahoula. I have hopes of JD following in Dish's footsteps of being a 40+mile wonder dog.

At 4 months and 2 weeks of age, I figured he could at least go as long as currently out of shape Dish, so we did a 5 mile river side loop to keep water close at hand and the truck hobble distance away. Dish was so stoked and took off like a shot for the trail. JD followed in hot pursuit, then settled in on my wheel. Perfect.

Leaping from rock to rock. Top that 3 legs!

After 5 miles, we stopped and played in the water to cool down and rehydrate. Then since Dish was still up for more hit another 2 miles of trail before he tuckered down and headed back to the truck. Some treats, a tie-out, and bowl of water for Dish, JD and I headed back out on the trail. JD made another 4 miles before I decided to head him back to the truck not wanting to over do it his first time out. Plus I've been through plenty of torn pads with pups doing too much too soon. He barely broke a pant. He jogged behind me without straying off the trail. The only time he'd make any noise was on the downhills where I'd pull away, he'd start whining while running until he was back on my wheel. Pretty cute.

Headed back out for more trail!

So Dish is in a happy state (not Illinois). JD got some trail education time in and some energy burned off. I got to spend some quality time with the pups, my bike, and the woods. Probably not as painfully fun as the hush hush, nor as fun and drunk filled as the anti-race, nor as fitness improving as the hush hush gravel ride, but satisfying in it's own right. Well not so much in entertaining blog fodder end. Perhaps tomorrow's moto-cross adventure will lend better tales.

Interesting factoid about the anti-race. I've mentioned before I've always wanted to go to Nova Scotia. Not sure exactly why but it started in 6th grade. Peter offered to pick me up in Buffalo (which isn't in Nova Scotia) if I could make the anti-race (which is in Canardia not Nova Scotia), but work and obligations have me time strapped this weekend. My stats showed a visitor from Nova Scotia, which turned out to be The Original Big Thing. Despite his soul being controlled by the Empire, it does add the offer of a couch/floor space and possibly a personal tour guide and rubdown man. So really there isn't any interesting factoid about the anti-race, but the Nashville Predators are playing the Canardians tonight (or so I heard on the radio) and thinking of both while driving had me daydreaming about visiting Nova Scotia.

At work I was joking around with a co-worker about how soon cell phones will soon be little robot pets that follow you around and do your bidding. He then showed me the Pomegranate Phone parody. The serendipitous irony is explained here. Time to start planning my Nova Scotia '010 campaign.

13th is the 12th

Not the only tired pup in the house.

Fitting how the 12 days of hell have ended on Friday the 13th. Working 12 days straight when the weekend was one of the best we've had in a while is tough on the soul. It's not all bad though, despite not having time for anything but the work, eat, sleep cycle, it is nice to be earning a paycheck again. Especially hearing that over 16,000 people showed up for a chance at 1500 jobs available at a recent Nashville job fair. The market and business pockets might be turning a corner, but the workforce is still sadly sinking in recession.

But enough about the economy, it sucks, let's move on. The past 12 days have felt like a blur, one day bleeding into the next. I even woke up the other morning thinking my alarm was an apnic and high bp monitor alarms going off and the docs couldn't figure out the patient was suffering a cardiac tamponade and I couldn't shut it off until they did. Yeah, you've been working too much when...

Always a good time at Richard's Cafe

I was able to get on the bike and rode in on Saturday then rode home to Richard's and met H. and the wupples for some Saturday night Cajun fun. Giving a bit of a weekend feel to the workend. Monday I was able to sneak out on a night ride with krs-1. I'd forgotten how much fun it is to ride at night when traffic is low and the temps are too. Weds saw a small 45 minute window of opportunity where I sneak, snack, snucked out for another ride.

Week Old Dried Goat Muck

The only other bike time I was able to get was scattered between Sunday and Tuesday nights. The rigor sat coated in goat farm residue due to the work schedule. It was nearly an archeological dig to excavate the bike and shoes from the goat farm mud coating. Remind me again why I love racing in the mud again?

Misfit Cross Coggles

Clean and Draining

Other excitement was finding a bacon bourbon truffle in the fridge, a smoke beer, the jaw dropping bill for new tires, oil change, balance and alignment for the car and coming home to a chewed up Moots bottle, gloves, bike bags, and Oakley's on the floor. The lack of constructive attention has had JD looking for entertainment where he shouldn't be searching. We'll see how much energy he has left for trouble after some mountain biking Saturday. We've not been since he was a few weeks old and unable to go very far and I'm looking forward to getting the pups out for some exercise.

Slumlord Joe's kindness is showing...

Smoke beer from Slumlord Joe was enjoyed while bike cleaning. Yeah, he rocks.

Here's to a good weekend and life becoming more normal for the next few weeks. The next 12 days of hell follow the 12 days of Christmas, coincidentally fitting?

Maxine the Mullet

Max preparing his Mad Mullet Maxine routine for his evental upgrade to CX womens.

Sunday's races had slightly warmer temps with sunny skies and peanut buttery, strength sapping, murky mud. The soil was drying on much of the grassy bits, but the deep mud was just curing slowly like concrete making for some serious sludgery. Sunday was also a points race and the mood of many racers was all business. Glad they weren't there Saturday with their somberness (and inherent rudeness), talk about a bunch of Debbie Downers. Luckily there was a keg and candy to help ease the tension brought in by the downers.

Max brought his A game to the CX4's and despite not even being old enough to drive, nor able to enter the booby bungalow, he whooped up on the older kids and nabbed 3rd place (out of 17 racers). He found Taylor's left over mullet and has been actively trying to cat up to womens since they can actually ride (ahem, Eric).

After suffering in the deep mud Saturday, I swapped from my 61 gear inches down to 56 hoping I'd be able to turn the pedals over better. The lower gear had me chasing hard from the get go in the 18 deep CX old not old guys field (although I was able to still nab the finish line sprint off the start line for the photo op). Despite my best efforts, I couldn't repeat the "W" from Saturday and struggled to nab 3rd (Third, no $hit?!). The course was sloggy, but starting to show signs of faster laps as the day wore on.

The SS race had 8 this time and I apparently had left my legs somewhere out on the course earlier. I found them a lap and a half later and managed to claw my way up to 3rd, with a 'doadiedorfer clearly in my sights. The course was much drier than it had been earlier and I had been able to better close the gap but the last stretch of mud was still too energy sapping and I couldn't slog through it before he reached the gravel. c'est la vie, but at least this time he was looking back and seeing me in the same time zone.

My cross machine (This shot's for you JonC)

So far I'm leading the series in the CX Masters 35+ class by a 23pt margin and am sitting in 2nd 15pts behind #1 'doadiedorfer in the Singlespeed class. There are 6 more races left in the series. I have to work the weekend of races 7 & 8 and there's another conflict for races 5 & 6 so I'm not sure how I feel about this. I'd like to try to go for the series win, but the problem with series wins is that you need to be at most of the races in order to win. These are the good problems to have and also a sign of the addiction.

Valerie, even sans Yum Yums, is still the better part of 'doadiedorfer.

See, promoters are a cunning sort. They know most of us just want to come out and have some fun, race a few races, talk some smack, and hang out with like minded folk. We enroll into a few races, just a few. For fun, eh.

No matter which way you look.

The promoter, being cun, plays on this mindset by creating this "series". So you show up and race a few, now you've garnered some points and boom, you are in the running for something much bigger than just a race, you're leading the "series". A "series" winner. A champion.

'doadiedorfer admiring the sweet ride of 26" wheeled ti.

You can't fool me Brian. I'm onto you. I'm strong. I'm not falling for your ruse. You're Jedi mind tricks don't work on me. I just came out for some fun. I only had plans to race the Springfield races, then 8Ball said he was interested in racing last weekend (apparently there's only one day in a weekend, eh 8ball?) and a few other friends mentioned heading over. Then you lured us with promises of beer, haunted barns, and good times. It turned out H had to work all weekend and I my next weekend would be lost to work. So I figured, meh I'll do another set for fun.

Not quite as muddy as Saturday's race.

Then you turn to the 'doadiedorfer to feed me messages about points series standings. Well it's not going to work. It's done. Over. Time to move on.

Riding Homegrown: Andy on the attack.

Andy through the final mud section before the gravel.

Crossing the finish line.

Definitely less mud than Saturday, just thicker, more like vicar.

Opening up that big ol' can-o-quit. Quickly replaced by the big ol' can-o-whoop-ass in the SS race.

Man, I can't wait till the December races. Doh!

Ride Homegrown

Here are a few more shots highlighting our hometown homegrown cross fiend's lugged steel cross racing frames. Nashville TN built cross bikes by Andy B of Homegrown Bicycles.

Think they look good now? Wait till you see 'em dirty. The line's starting to get long, call now if you're looking for something locally produced to throw yer leg over.

A word from my Pimp

The cross tales can wait till tomorrow, I've got to be a good man whore and support my Awesome pimp's every whim. And his whimsy this time targets Peter.

"I gadgered at his blog today and wanted to send a shout out for Peter's appreciation and resourcefulness of the Awesome strap. Thank you..seriously and gravitas to Peter for "Still Believing" in the Awesome Power!"

- Backcountry Research