Ice-mageddon Monday

Sunday's rain storms turned into an ice-mageddon Monday. We had a second demo day planned for the shop in Franklin. I got up early and headed out to feed the horses and noticed everything was covered in thick sheets of ice. Even the gravel drive was frozen and slick. When I got back to the house I turned on the news just to see how the roads were. I65 apparently hadn't moved in over an hour and 24+ wrecks on I24 were still awaiting first responders. In a word, traffic was a mess.

It smells like campfire.

The mayor requested all non-essential staff/workers stay home from work. Phone calls and texts went back and forth between the powers that be at work and we ended up shutting the stores for the day. So the demo was canceled, but there were still 2 bikes at the shop we needed to get in the van, one to be boxed up and shipped, and a whole slew of dirty demo bikes needing to be cleaned. After lazing about watching Despicable Me and eating yet more pizza, we headed out and braved the roads in the Moots van.

All in all the roads were in pretty good shape. Travel was in the sub 40 mph zone and there were many cars off the roads and stuck in ditches. Despite it all we were able to make it to downtown Franklin unscathed and had a little bit of time to indulge in some locally roasted coffee and pastries. Corey loves a good pastry.

Then it was off to the shop to polish up the dirty demo fleet and get the van organized, loaded, and ready for the next leg of the trip. It took the better part of the afternoon to get it all done. Kinda ironic that the boys had to come so far South just to get snowed/iced out.

We headed back towards the 'boro, got some dinner, then said our goodbyes to Corey and Matty. Our portion of the trip had come to and end. Hopefully we'll be seeing them again soon this fall. Colorado has been calling me and it's time I answer.

The Arrival of Little Smells Like Campfire Sunshine Boy

Matty and Corey got back to the farm late Saturday night after spending the entire day at the Snake Creek Gap Time Trials. Matty got to race, Corey manned the booth and demos. Before Matty had left the Mother Ship with the van, Corey had asked me if there was anything I needed packed. I told him to pack sunshine and dry weather for Sunday's Demo. Saturday I got a text from him stating the weather outlook didn't look so good. I reminded him that he was supposed to have packed it in the van. He responded "I thought sunshine was your new nickname for me". Either way, he left them both out of the van.

I got to the farm after them and greeted Corey with a hug and said "you smell like campfire", to which Matty started belly laughing. Apparently, Corey was surrounded by campfires all day and bemoaned the odor all the way back in the van. Funny stuff.

Since Corey missed out on riding Saturday, he and I sneaked out Sunday morning before the planned demo to get a quick ride in. It was 59 when we woke up and the sun appeared to be threatening to peak out from behind the clouds. I took him around one of my favorite local loops. A scenic taste of what middle TN has to offer: gravel, narrow country lanes, winding roads, rollers, and a few hills that Corey referred to as landfills.

We got back just in time to get the tents and bikes set up before the demo riders began to trickle in. The partly cloudy 60 degree day lasted about 20 minutes into the demo before a massive cold front started to blow in that took the temps down 23 degrees in minutes. It started to drizzle a bit by the time the group ride went off at 2pm, but luckily it held out for the 40ish mile ride. Just wind and cold.

JD, dressed in his Moots best, greeted each rider and kept watch over the demo fleet. 

Lo and Brian piloting some Moots for the group ride. Lo's riding the new Vamoots Disc Road NAHBS show bike.

Mr. Campfire Sunshine Boy 

After the ride it was time for a campfire, pizza, and beverages while all the riders hung out admiring the bikes, chatting with Matty and Corey, and enjoying a Sunday out at the farm. Once the rain storms rolled in for good the party moved into the barn. All in all not a bad way to spend a Sunday in March.

A Visit from MattyP

Moot's Cycles' MattyP!

Note: Computer time has been a rarity for me as of late. I apologize to Steven for not updating regularly and messing up his morning routine. I've got a few updates queued up, so fear not Steven.

A little over two weeks ago we had a visitor roll through town on his way to the Snake Creek Time Trials in Dalton, GA. MattyP from Moots somehow got the clearance to drive the van for the first leg of the Southeast Demo tour. I was told to expect him Friday, so naturally I delayed doing most of the house cleaning chores until Thursday night. He arrived Thursday around 4PM. Meh, the house is really more for the dogs anyway. They spend more time here than I do.

Always love seeing the van parked in the driveway.

He hung out at the shop until we closed then we headed out for some food. Being a leaf-eater, my normal "go-to-with-out-of-towners" restaurants wouldn't really cut it. So we took advice from co-worker Andy and headed out to a new-ish Indian restaurant. I had no idea what I ordered or what questions I was answering from the waiter, I just nodded in the affirmative or the negative. Whatever I ordered and agreed was delicious though. Just enough spiciness, just enough unknown, and very filling. We caught up with the statuses of each others' lives as we ate. Hard to believe it's been two years since I've seen Matty.

We headed back to the farm so he could see the dogs and get some sleep after his marathon drive. After driving straight through and him losing an hour due to the time change, I was a good friend and woke him up extra early so he could meet me and the rest of the work crew for an early mountain bike ride before work on Friday. Despite the recent warm temps (mid 60's) Friday morning was in the upper 20's which made for a perfect hero dirt trail bed.

Matty had just gone from couch to racing solo singlespeed at the 24 Hours of Old Pueblo race. So from couch, to 24 hours of ss'ing, to marathon driving. Needless to say it was good for Matty to get out and stretch his legs. Matty took me out on a trail ride the last day of our Steamboat trip and it was one of the best trails I'd ridden. Chickasaw is one of my favorite local trails, but I wish we'd been able to get him out to the mountain. I think he'd have really loved that trail. I still owe him.

Afterwards I headed to work and Matty headed out to Chattanooga to pick up Corey for the Snake Creek TT. Moots was sponsoring the event and giving a frame away to a random winner. Matty was also able to race the Snake,  in which he got to experience it the way it should be experienced the first time: via the sketchy bus ride of doom! I believe he even sat near Steven on the bus ride too, so there is a bit of serendipity to bookend this post.

It's a real shame the dogs and Matty don't get along.

Triple Dose of Love Potion #40

Sunday was the IMBA/SORBA Gravel Love Potion #40 fundraising event. I had been on the fence about going due to myriad reasons, but decided on Friday that I was definitely going. I'd missed the online sign up, so that meant getting there early enough to register before roll out. Pumptrack Jim, one of my Hickman County explorers, and I were going to meet up early at the school and ride to the start to get a little extra ride time in. As I rolled out 840, plans changed to just meet at the start lot, which gave me ample opportunity to register and socialize. I knew a lot of people who were going, but the surprises came when people I knew but haven't seen in years showed up.

James and Brenda were there when I started my cycling addiction. Brenda was on the very first M'boro bike club ride I showed up to, an ice ride. I have many, many, many memories of adventures with these two wack jobs. My favorite Brenda memory is when James and I stopped by her work on our way to a ride. She was in the break room with her co-workers when we walked in. She didn't recognize me at first, then, in her booming Cajun voice, exclaimed "Thad, is that you? I didn't recognize you with your clothes on." To which sparked many a snicker and gasps from her co-workers. Hilarious.

James and I have shared many a mile, but probably my favorite time was sitting outside an old mom and pop country store eating a fried bologna sandwich in the sweet stank of chicken farms all around. That is until Sunday. I was heading out for a short spin with my cross Czech friend Z when I saw them in line for registration. They'd brought their triple and were going for the full monty ride. I had been torn between hanging with the hammerheads up front or bouncing between groups of friends riding and being social. Once I found out James and Brenda were in, the decision was easy. The tandem crew offered too much fun to pass up. I'm not sure which muscles were more sore at the end: my legs, my abs, or my cheeks. Damn they are a hoot!

Along the way we ran across other friends who hooked up with our party barge. Chandler and Jason were out riding together. Jason on his brand new adventure bike and Chandler on his chain skipping, what the F is going on with my bike bike. I rode next to him and diagnosed the issue and we stopped at the top of the Turkey Farm Road climb and fixed it. No more skipping chain, which was good as we still had Ben Fly to come and the last thing you need up Ben Fly is fear of your chain skipping out on you. Jason and Chandler were a welcomed addition to our crew and helped keep the remaining miles entertaining.

We also hooked up with the man, the myth, the legend, the monster Scott McConnell at the aid station. It turns out that the third rider on the triple is a friend and co-worker of his. It's crazy when your worlds collide. Here were some of my oldest cycling friends riding with one of my best cycling friend's friend. Small, small world.

Scott adds his own unique fun to every ride. Our fun ride became a more friendly competitive funner ride with his company. Mailbox sprints, hill sprints, negative points, point totals we had to google to see which made up number was larger than the other made up number, and more blocks than a lego super store.

Anyway, if you made it out, congrats on a great time at a great event. If you missed out, fear not, you'll have another opportunity in the fall. To all my friends who made it out and made the day so fun and special, thank you. Cheers to Jimmy Simms, The Godfather Stanley Wills, Stephen and Ruthie Myers, Scott Grissom, Eric Schroeder, Cody Goodman, Ryan Smith, Cooper, Matty Portell, Chandler, Jason, James and Brenda and Janet, Monster, Z, Chris White, Johnny Crow, Kendall, Darryl, Scott Deshon and Eastside Cycles, Marshall and Seth, Garrett, Pete Young, Roger and Jamie, and about a hundred other people I'm blanking out on (I blame the 3 Spring Blondes that I just devoured). It was great shredding gravel with you all. Let's do it again soon.

Sunday was so much fun, I decided to keep the party rolling on Tuesday's ride. I rode about an hour recovery ride with H. who actually hopped on a bike due to the warm sunny weather, then headed off for another hour and change. Naturally I had to hit up the local gravel. It was wet, muddy, and slick. Perfect.

Moots will be coming to town the weekend of March 1st. We will be doing demos Sunday and Monday. If miracles happen, we will hopefully have one at a trail head, but seeing as how much rain we've had and how much is still coming, we might just have to forgo the trail demos and stick to the road. Sunday's will most likely be from the farm with demos going most of the day and a group ride of my Dwars Door Rockvlaanderen course. Mostly road with several pave/gravel sections thrown in for ultimate Boonen-ism. Monday will have demos from the shop unless we are able to setup in Percy for road and trail demos. So, mostly TBD but probably the farm. Love spring event planning in the Southeast. Hope to see you all there.

shadow boCXer

Today was one of those rare winter days that remind you it's not all that bad of a season. The sun has finally come out from underneath its seemingly weeks long cloudy blanket and brought some bright blue to the overwhelming greyness. Despite still being 21 degrees,  the solar radiation beaming down at least made it a balmy 21. The warmth of the sunlight against the crisp cold air was welcomed. So many night rides this season, it really was nice to get out and enjoy the daylight.

I needed this ride more than I realized and everything just sort of fell together. From picking the right direction where the route offered the greatest views to the wind, despite being a pest, was still fairly favorable. Even my iPod seemed to be having a good time tossing out random songs that fit perfectly to what was happening around me. Such as by playing "Don't Come Around Here No More" by Tom Petty as I rounded a bend to see a couple of meth chefs triple locking their decrepit gate and climbing into their creeper van. To the Replacements "Die Within Your Reach" as I raced down a gravel road to dismount and jump a cow gate like a cross barrier in time to avoid another volley of beer bottles from said creeper van meth chefs (better a bottle than a bullet or a bumper). To the Femmes "Country Death Song" as I doubled back and wound my way out of Methville. And finally cresting the highest point in Rutherford county as Sonic Youth's "Wish Fulfillment" popped on with a miles wide view to soak in on the rippin' descent. Like I said, pretty perfect.

Two and a half glorious hours on the bike after a morning of chores. Not bad for a Tuesday in February. The bad news is I saw my shadow. Looks like another 6 weeks of cross biking before I toss some 25c tires and big boy rings back on the bike.

Next Sunday is the Gravel Love Potion ride being put on by SorbaMidTN. If you've ever wanted to check out some of the gravel adventures to be had out in Hickman County or if you love riding the new trails out at Percy Warner and Cane Ridge, then sign up and join the ride. The money is going towards replacing the trail building and tooling account SorbaMidTN used to recently purchase the trail machine that built the trails out at Percy Warner. It's win-win. You can't lose, I promise. Though you can get lost. My advice, bring a buddy. Moo!

Sweeney Thüd, Demon Biker of Threet Street

I'm not sure if it's seasonal affective disorder or if I lost a bet with myself that I'm not aware of, but it's time for another embarrassing story about myself. Back in all the bullshit of late 2008 thru mid 2009 I had become a very angry and bitter person inside. I didn't like myself but I wasn't quite able to deal with it as well as I'd thought. On the outside I managed to mime normal, but occasionally I'd be unable to control the monster. Thankfully my friend Keith was around. His wife was stationed over in Afghanistan and his job at the time offered up a decent amount of free time where he could come over and ride. Those few hours a week kept me afloat, but I still needed to come up with a way to control all the darkness and hate in my head.

I've always been a visual person. If I see it, I can remember it. Recreate it. I can meet 10 people face to face and 3 days later I could police sketch each one of them, but probably wouldn't remember their names unless I saw it on a name tag. Then I can recall the tag and read the name. Same with maps. If I can see the map and the course, I can recall it by memory and navigate around. Turn by turn directions? Can't do it. I pretty much just lose my shit. 

So in order to begin controlling the bad thoughts, playing all those psych games of changing negative words to good words or trying to say something in a more positive manner didn't work for me. Words didn't help at all. I needed to "see" the thoughts leaving so just about the time I had almost sent my relationships past their last straw, I devised a method to eliminate the negative thoughts. 

Having no tv and no job at the time I had started to read more and I began with the Harry Potter series. In it there is this thing called a Pensieve in which one could pull memories out and view them. I loved that concept, so I borrowed it. When a negative thought, dark thought, or doubt would pop up and try to overtake my mind, I would reach up to my temple and pull it out. 

Then, because I am Ironman, I would blast it with my plasma thruster and poof! Obliterated. Annihilated. Gone. Mentally "seeing" the thought destroyed actually allowed me to move past it. Baby steps at first but soon giant leaps. I still employ this tactic to this day. If you watch closely, you might catch me miming it throughout the day. 

Over the past few days a few of those doubts and thoughts started beat me up again and the plasma thruster wasn't cutting it. Luckily there are plenty of back country roads to get lost in. They are now out there, alone. Unable to hang on. Lost in no country for old thoughts. 

Boxer or the Bag

Over the New Year trip home, H. and I stopped by one of my favorite stores, Farm King, to search out some new jeans. My current selection having been torn past decency due to chores and riding or ill fitting* and tight around my thighs (ill fitting in my eyes, proper fitting in most others). I dislike tight or form fitting clothing. The irony of which isn't lost on me, seeing how much time I spend in tight, form fitting cycling clothing. And because of all that time spent in cycling clothes, my daily wardrobe suffers due to being cheap and budgeting most of the clothing budget to cycling gear over new jeans. But there comes a time when one must shop. 

While trying to find jeans that felt as comfortable and soft as $80 jeans in the $25 jean section, my mind flashed back to an old friend I met in college. His name is John and we were in many of the same communications and film courses together. Like myself, John was the first in his family to go off to college. Rural Illinois is full of small towns with low wages and John's family worked hard to scrape by and help put him through school. As such, he didn't have much. I remember giving him some of my 3/4 video tapes and left over film to help him with course requirements. I had a job on campus that allowed me access to such items at a discount. I even hired him for a few voice overs for CD-roms I was producing as he had the epitome of a broadcast voice, but I digress. 

What stuck out to me, aside from his never ending smile and exuberance for each new day, was that his dorm room could be packed into a single backpack. His entire wardrobe consisted of two base outfits. A pair of blue jeans and a white t-shirt and a pair of black jeans and a black t-shirt. He had an additional wool sweater, a jacket, and a winter coat, but the base outfits were what stood out most. In a word, spartan.

I never felt sorry for him. In fact, quite the opposite, I admired him. He was genuine and gentle, quiet and polite. I still can well up with rage remembering the day in the cafeteria when a dorm floor friend turned to John and started ridiculing him for his clothes. I was embarrassed, disgusted, ashamed and sat passive way longer than I should have. Tom was from Chicago, son of a cop, quick to temper, quicker to fight, and way into being a tough guy. It didn't matter, you can make fun of me but not my friends (that's my job), so I snapped back with some witty retort that verbally castrated Tom at the table and about got my ass kicked in. Luckily others at the table were just as appalled (or perhaps just embarrassed) at Tom's behavior to prevent fisticuffs (though apparently not enough to have spoken up in defense of John). Tom did wander back to the dorm one night drunk and landed a few blows, the bruises and humiliation well worth sticking up for John. 

I bring up this story for a reason, small gestures and acknowledgments can carry great weight. They can lift people or destroy them. Often times when we don't even realize it. I've had a few recently that opened my eyes.

The flip side to that is wishing I'd done something differently back when. Whether it's taking a moment to just tell someone I appreciated them, been a better friend, invited them out for dinner or movie, or just taken the time to call. Life is funny. So many pressures and no real user guide. Walking the line of finding friends, being friends all while trying to find out what path you are destined to walk to provide a life for yourself all while attempting to maintain a job and balancing responsibilities and dreams. Daunting. My mind drowns in these thoughts daily.

Years and years ago a friend and I were kicking around an old musty smelling downtown smallville antique mall over winter break. We were looking at shelves and shelves of old photos of people mostly long gone when she said "It's not that I want to be remembered, I just don't want to be forgotten." Poignant and it has stuck with me ever since. Also a driver for why I've always been such a shutterbug. To not forget.

I ride to escape myself. The cloud of thoughts that collect, gather, and swarm my brain begin to blow off and stretch out behind like streams of steam behind an engine. Clarity sometimes. Focus other times. Things seem simple again like having two sets of clothes, black and white. My mind quiets and I can reflect back and remember. 

Oh, and back to the jeans. I ended up getting two pair and H. also got two pair. We washed them when we got back to TN and one morning while getting ready for work I dug out a new pair to wear. I pulled them on and they felt tighter than before. H., did you dry these on high heat? Dammit, my new jeans, wasted. I almost lost it, but went to grab my other pair to see if they'd shrunk too. It was then, and only then that  I realized I was wearing H.'s pants. D'oh! Story of my life.