Refried Form

Cat 1 37-mile point to point had 3 ss'ers amongst the geared.

Since Western medicine came up with a big fat zilch in finding a cause to my stomach issues of late, I turned to see what the East had to offer. Impressed (more accurately floored) by Lyle's uncanny ability to diagnose my issues from a few pulse readings, I gave in to a round of needle therapy. Lying still for 25 minutes was the most painful part of the ordeal.

Having had only a single session, I figured it warranted testing. What better test than a 37 mile beat down point to point race to the canal? Having not trained at intensity due to stomach issues all summer and most fall long, I thought if this hippie mumbo jumbo is going to work it should work instantly just like a good ol' Western medicine pill popped prescription. Right?

3rd Place SS'er GrassMootster KRS1 (he even raced with his MootoX YBB locked out)

I was more than a little nervous going in. I'd not been able to eat nor drink any sort of energy food/mix since June's puke-tastic puke-a-thon. Nor had I invested or investigated into workable alternatives. The day before the race I was chatting with racers whose opinions I trust into what they recommended. Standing in front of a wall of product, one was recommended above all others. One which didn't have many calories, a light flavor, and was mostly electrolytes. Which bode well since most likely my stomach would shut down and pounding more calories into it via drink would only make matters worse. Besides the point to point had no aid stations, not water drops, or support outside emergency crews. Two water bottles would be all I'd have. Best not to waste one to some calorie laden goop.

KRS1 also received an award for his 181 hours of volunteer work clearing the LBL trails. 

The race started and I sat back in the line of dust making redliners. I had a hard 37 miles ahead of me and I wasn't going to blow it all in the first 2 miles. I sat behind Smith County Mafia Member Russell and made my best witty banter just as he blew off the trail. His hybrid (aka 29'er) wheels bouncing off a root hidden by all the dust. I made sure all was well and we took off again and soon caught back up to the tail end of the group just as a singlespeeder endoed into a ravine next to a bridge. He apparently thought the bridge was out and made for crossing the ravine only to find the deep leaves hiding hybrid (again 29'er) wheel eating nastiness in its depths. We made sure he was alive and well and the three of us made chase back to the group as best we could. 

Badass GrassMootster MJ. Fastest overall race time for 37 miles and on a SS to boot!

My legs were feeling a little like lead, so I told them (my legs) to shut-up and continued to just ride my own pace, knowing it'd take me 7 or so miles to warm up. Also, it is a long race despite only being 37 miles. The N/S trail is a cruel mistress and has taken down many a good man just when he thought he was at the top of his game.

1st place Cat 1 speedster MJ.

6.56 miles in I had caught back up to the endo ss'er as he was cresting a gravel forest service road. I spun past him seated and just starting to feel good when he told me he had just blown up on that hill. I cautioned him to pace himself as we still had 30 miles to go and that the real climbing hadn't even started yet. He hung on my wheel for the next few yards, but I lost him as soon as we picked the trail back up and never saw him again.

MJ taking celebratory shots of gatorade at the awards.

I was starting to feel really good on the bike. I wasn't setting any speed records but I was capably maintaining 13.5 miles per hour (having a computer is fun when you're alone) and feeling the smoothest I've ever felt in the twisty, downhilly goodness that is the N/S trail. The bike and I were one and I was enjoying the hell out of racing ghosts in the woods. Best part was I was drinking. Not only drinking, but actually wanting to drink and opting to drink my mix over the regular water. A rarity indeed even before the stomach issues.

KRS1, Oscar, Jeffy, and Eric B. chat while Andrew sits astride his son Reed's first place winning steed and holds the trophy whilst Reed was busy signing autographs. 

For the first time since DK200, H. was able to spectate a race. It was also the first time she was able to join me on a camping trip since DSG. Full moon, perfect temps, and fire cooked campfire cherry cobbler made the trip even better. We'd given her a map and a few points where the trail crossed access roads for her to hang out and cheer if she wanted too. About every 12 miles I'd pop out onto a road crossing and see her and JD cheering me on. It was a great motivator. Especially since I'd not seen anyone in miles and miles. I'd worked my way into 5th or 6th position but was far behind the lead crew in no mans land, but I was having a blast, feeling good, and drinking every few miles. Life was going good.

Motorman Tim Baker. Dude is smoking fast. 

Occasionally I'd catch a glimpse of red up ahead of me on some of the climbs and I'd punch it up a notch in hopes of catching Gib. But every time I'd get to the down side I'd no longer see any sign of him. It was just enough to keep me pushing, but what truly had me riding scared was that Stanley was behind me somewhere and probably closing in fast. There were 3 things I'd hoped for this race:

1. To be able to eat/drink and not puke.
2. To finish under 3 hours 30 minutes with a wishful goal of 3:15.
3. Not to be caught by Stanley.

Tired pups slumber away while the Moots gets a bath from Ma Nature.

With around 5 miles to go I smelled blood. Up ahead grinding up the final brutal hills of the Kentucky Lake side, I saw Gib. He was beginning to feel the wrath of cramps and slowing down. The gap between us yo-yo-ed for a bit until I was finally able to put on a pass up a climb that stuck. Gib said he was hurting and I passed on some words of encouragement and told him I knew he'd be right back up with me before long. Soon he was back on my wheel. I've raced Gib for years and I know he doesn't give up. He's a strong fighter and I was glad because after riding alone for so long I was losing interest in keeping the pedals ticking over. Now as I was tiring and hoping to be finished, I had a fight on my hands and the race was interesting again. 30 miles of solitary riding was going to most likely boil down into a knock down drag out sprint finish for 4th place. Awesome!

I didn't even have to wash it. Take note DSG Squirrels!

Armed with the knowledge that cramps were eminent for Gib, I punched it up every climb hoping to distance myself just that much more as his full-sup, geared, hybrid (29'er, y'all caught on with that yet?) gave him the edge on the rough downs and flats. Luckily those were diminishing and the ups were increasing. Soon I had a gap big enough to not see him and I gave it all I had hoping to hang on to the finish. I popped out onto the finish road and H. was there with the pups. She let JD go and he raced with me to the finish line. 3:16 by my computer, 3:18 official time. That'll do pig, that'll do.

Back home after a successful, fun-filled, whirlwind of a weekend and I got to wake up to spend the morning before work with two beautiful girls: H. and Clairebear. Mischief managed.

Rest Day

Fall brings not only changes in the weather and colors of leaves, but also shorter days. Shorter days that are chock full as of late. Fortunately they aren't full of pain in the butt things that you don't want to do, but rather fulfillingly full. Family, work, play, sleep, and down time are stuffed into almost every available moment each day of the work week. Weekends no longer exist as they existed before for me with Friday and Sunday being my off days. This has allowed me to stuff more in the work days and leave my off days open for recreating, although it has cut into the weekend away adventuring. Adventuring that can be resolved with a little creative planning, such as this coming Saturday night/Sunday.

Since starting the new gig 4 weeks ago I've regularly been able to get out for a ride twice during the work week and every day off thus far. Life with a regular schedule has made me a very happy person to be around. A scary thought to some, pleasant to others. This week I even made it out on a night road ride with long-time-not-ridden with 8ball. It was a self-made sufferfest and damn fun. The cooler night temps combined with the steep descents and fluctuating hot/cold pockets of air in the hill country make for some 20 degree variances deserving of breaking out the wool a bit early. Love that magic material.

The following shots were captured with the assistance of a 30sec interval shot setting and the Backcountry Research Camerbo. 

Today my body told me that it needed some rest, and rest I did. Then I rested some more. The pup was finally able to convince me it was time to get up and start the day around 1pm. After lunch and pre-packing preparations for this "weekend's" adventure, I suited up, grabbed the Backcountry Research Camerbro and headed out for a ride with the pup.

The plans for the day were simple: sleep in, enjoy the day off, not touch a car, and get an off-road ride in with the pup. I have successfully accomplished all of the items on that list and am halfway through the few remaining items on my list: gathering the camping gear, finishing the laundry, and cleaning/prepping the Rigor for Sunday, along with some simple barn chores to help out the girls. As Harry would say "Mischief managed."

Of course no ride in the woods would be complete without a little time spent playing in the water. The lake has cooled off some but hasn't yet reached the "no fun" temperatures yet. The golden hour of sunlight was just peaking over the last ridge before disappearing for the night which enabled me to get a few good shots of JD leaping for sticks in the water.

Not too shabby for a $79 –dropped 30+ times and sometimes requires shaking to get it to focus– snapshot camera shooting left handed while throwing sticks with the right. A sign that my ambidexterity, multitasking skills, OCD, and ADHD are finally paying off.

Seriously, We Were Promised Flying Cars!!

F. Me...

Thursday had a sour note ring out a mile from the exit to home. The last mile of a 3 mile uphill. In a stick shift. At 8pm after a long work day with no dinner. Hungry and tired with a frozen pizza and beer waiting at home a mere unattainable 6 miles away. 45 minutes idling before I could even begin to travel that one mile. Uphill. In a stick shift. Inch by clutch filled inch. So close. So stationary. Why THP/Metro NEVER directs traffic when an accident takes a lane is beyond me (this instance was just a rolled over tow behind camper off the side of the road). They could have routed these 3 lanes of traffic off onto our exit, across 431 and back onto the interstate completely bypassing the area affected by the tow truck and tdot activity. Nary a cop to be seen except for the 1 that just turned around through the grassy median. This along with the Tennessee turn (where a driver turns left suddenly from the farthest right lane possible or vice versa) are the two most common traffic annoyances I run across on a near daily basis.

Where the hell are the flying cars of the future promised to us by all those Warner Bros., MGM, and Hanna-Barbera cartoons from the 50's, 60's, and 70's? If we can't get flying cars can we at least get jet-pack equipped flying traffic cops that can un-congest the congested?

Once the flood gates opened it was mere minutes before the smell of cooking pizza wafted through the air and the cold Yuengling helped turn my frown upside down. JD had shredded the bedding in Tommy and Riley's crate so a brief stop at PetSmart after work to pick up a new bed for their crate was in order. I grabbed some busy bones of appropriate size for each of the 4 pups awaiting me at home, guaranteeing me a beg free pizza dinner as they whittled their bones down. Life was looking up.

The forecast for Friday entailed a high of 70 and bluebird skies, meaning for the second Friday in a row it was going to be an awesome day in the woods for me and the pup. After running several errands and enjoying a late morning sleep, JD and I headed off for some much anticipated laps out at Monkey Bell.

White and Blue are prime right now.

We actually got a few days rain in this week which kept the dust levels low, the leaf levels high, and the creeks actually contain some water. JD took advantage of each creek's offering of fresh cold water. We stuck to Blue, White, and Red for most of the ride. Blue and White are less traveled, leaf covered, hilly, and twisty tight requiring a bit more work than the highly traveled Red/Yellow loops. Perfect trails allowing me to really work while not forcing the pup into the red zone trying to keep up on the downhills more common to the Red/Yellow loops.

After our laps we headed back home. I still felt the need for a bit more trail and the guests were in need of some exercise, so we all headed out back for a few laps of the home trail. This was my first off-leash trail experience with Tommy and Riley. Surprisingly, for little spastic tiny dogs, they did great. Riley was really good at sticking to my wheel. Tommy was good for the most part, but any scent, sighting, hint or hope of horse/coyote/deer excrement and he was off to the buffet. It took a little shoe-to-butt encouragement before he got over his scat infatuation and stuck with us on the trail. By the last 2 laps all 3 dogs were tagging right along behind me.

 Tommy Toughpants Terrier-izing

We stopped for a little swim before heading back to the house. Riley and JD retrieved sticks (Riley trying to always steal the stick from JD) while Tommy stuck to terrier-izing the bank inhabitants.

All in all a perfect day off. One more day to go and then we get to do it all over again.

Life is good.

Keeping Up With The Dillen's, or Going Big...ger

Trying to surf the front of the wave for a change, I had to move fast. Team Dicklesworth Dillen threw out a curve ball effectively ending the rigid 29'er singlespeed hardtail fad and completely bypassing the 29'er geared hardtail front squishy phenomena. He shot straight from full stiff to full squish. Now how in the hell is the common 26" holdout supposed to top that maneuver? Surely not with anything Canardian. The simple American solution seemed to just go bigger. So rather than just follow like a lemming and purchase a tallboy,  I opted for the even taller boy.

 hut, hut, hike!

 I completely understand what they mean by feeling "in the bike" now. 

I think I got a nose bleed. 

A few circles spun in the alley and a couple dumpsters ridden over and this thing just feels like home. Albeit a much taller, tippy toe pedaled home high up in a tree, but a home none the less. Perhaps more accurately a precarious perch or crow's nest of some sort. Either way it should be good for a nice roll down Wilson's. Literally roll.

Pullin' The Crank

There's been a slight looseness to my drivetrain for the past few weeks. Cursory checks of the drive train showed nothing out of the ordinary and for all intents and porpoises (purposes for Dicky) there's been nothing "wrong" with any of it. Just an odd "did I feel a click?" click on occasion. No noise, just a feel.

KRS and perhaps Jeffy told me horror stories of their bottom brackets being devoid of lubrication. Scary thought when dealing with aluminum cups and titanium. Naturally then I've had a nagging voice in my head telling me that I should pull the cranks and check out the bottom bracket. My other voice told me not to bother since I'd neglected it too long and the cups were probably seized in. Thus far I'd listened to that voice, generally it's spot on. Unable to let my bike stay so filthy I opted to try my luck tonight.

This time however it was wrong. I was practically able to pull the drive side cup out by hand. It had loosened over the past 2 years of riding the bike. Just a bit loose, nothing major, but enough to cause the frequent click I was feeling. The NDS was still in tightly and all the threads were nice and clean. Since I was cleaning the cranks and bb I decided to go ahead and strip the frame down and clean, re-lube, and re-torque everything along with a nice washing and protective pledge coating for the frame. Standard level 1 Cooperization.

We've not had any rain of consequence in weeks. The last drenching rain we had was the 20 minutes before the Grinder short track and the trails are showing the lack of moisture. Everything is dusty and powdery. Riding mid pack of the group ride last Sunday was like participating in a reenactment of the dust bowl of the dirty thirties. Friday's ride wasn't much better. Today's dust at least stuck to the tires, rims, and chain. Literally.

It not only made some of the corners a crap shoot, finding water for the dogs to cool off in along the trail was pretty futile. Luckily about every 4 miles we'd find a spot of standing water for them, but nothing like normal. Most of the surrounding creeks are all but dried up making the 20 miles in 85 degree heat a bit harder on the pups. JD never really slowed down and was more than willing to go more, so it wasn't all bad. I'll gladly take 20 miles a little slower with the pup than 20 miles faster solo any day.

You'd think 2 days and 35 miles of trail riding would have worn the pup down a bit, but seeing me work on the bike has him thinking we're heading back out.

Dish, on the other hand, seems to have other things on his mind than the goings on in the bike room.

Not Slain by the Vagrant

Much has happened since I last updated the blog. The schedule has been a little hectic of late and my priorities have been living vs. recording so the blog has suffered some and will probably continue to suffer for another week while adjustments are being made. Bare with us, at least we're not posting our Empire's spiral of insanity in the textual equivalent of blender-izing a dictionary. Thoroughly amusing though it is.

The weekend was spent entertaining a newly discovered friend with the wonders of Nashville, as well as offering food, shelter, laundry services, and several beers. A night on the town punctuated by a nearly in tune rendition of "Crackling Rose" led off the weekend, which was then capped with a fun filled ride in the woods. Mountain biking offered a much needed freedom of bike and person that the loaded touring road couldn't. "Crackling Rose" offered the completion of a boys dream to sing in Nashville and be discovered. Singing is done, discovery is debatable. Another dream of being a genius was quickly and aptly doused by a craftier than thou coffee maker. At least he had fun on the mountain bike.

In other great and wonderful news, H. and I got a bit of Christmas shopping out of the way early. We picked up a "straight drive" for the little nephew. I think we're going to give it to him early so he can enjoy it in these wonderful fall days we're having now as opposed to the cold grip of old man winter. I'm pretty stoked as I still recall the excitement all my bikes gave (and continue to give) to me. Saturday can't come soon enough!

In more cool bike related news, I finally got to see some Kung Fu tubing in person. As well as check out the slick new alternator dropout design taking the teenybopper world by storm (not really). It is a pretty trick design and the Ala Carte frame and fork is pretty bomber.  It didn't take long to get built up by it's owner who is pretty impressed with the ride.

When asked why he chose this bike over a few other cheaper alternatives he was caught saying "I don't enjoy riding cheap bikes." Amen brother, a-men!

Hey Billy...

Look what the cat dragged in.

Josh posing with Josh

MOAB Mark hooked him up with some tubes, Pei Wei lunch, and a wheel repair to help him along with his adventure. Taking him to see the sights in Nashie tonight as well as offering a place to crash, shower, and catch up on some laundry. Transfer complete. We'll be sending him back your way a little richer in rhinestones in a day or too. Tag, you're it.