tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-66602769299563573662024-03-13T04:38:38.560-07:00the zen of cyclingA graphic representation of how Riding and Racing delays my descent into MADNESS
(NHTMF)zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.comBlogger285125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-12576498799554237932013-11-11T04:22:00.000-08:002013-11-11T04:22:11.629-08:00Psychlocross 101 - The Skofield Portage MethodThe BOB Racing Team constantly strives to develop innovative new training and racing techniques.<br />
Here, our own indomitable Duane Skofield shows off his 'Thrust and Parry" portage method:<br />
<br />
After the dismount, keep the handlebars back toward the hips. As you hit the run up, bring<br />
the bars around in a sweeping arc, so that the outside arm is above your head.<br />
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<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n3d_HckzyOo/UoDJ_TjT8-I/AAAAAAAABmw/DiXYgUH2QMA/s1600/image1M4.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="287" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-n3d_HckzyOo/UoDJ_TjT8-I/AAAAAAAABmw/DiXYgUH2QMA/s400/image1M4.JPG" width="400" /></a></div>
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<br />
Note the rider in front of our Duane-o using the old shoulder portage method. Just ignore the fact that he's wearing the star-and-stripes of the national champion, he clearly would benefit from Duane's technique.<br />
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As you near the top of the run up, the bike should bear near vertical. If the run up is very steep, you may need to employ some added body English to get the bike fully vertical. Here, Duane is forcing his thigh under the back of the seat to get full height out of the bike.<br />
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By thrusting the bike as high as possible, you can use the momentum of the bike to carry it over the top. Once you hit the top, complete the wide sweeping arc by thrusting the handlebars downward. The momentum of the rear of the bike will carry the frame up over the top. This is similar to the "table-top" technique used by BMX and motoX stunt riders. Note the clearance Duane achieves below. There<br />
is more than enough room to allow for any barriers that may be placed at the top of the run up.<br />
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That's all, n-stuff.zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-36139528887943818742013-03-06T15:23:00.001-08:002013-03-06T15:32:30.138-08:00When Quitting Is Not An Option<div style="text-align: center;">
Wow....seven months since my last post.....getting lazy, I guess</div>
<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My Certain Super Special Someone and I connected with a co-worker of mine who has a vacation home in southern Vermont, close to Mt. Stratton and Mt. Snow this past weekend. It was for all intents and purposes free, and my co-workers brother (works at the Mt. Snow summit lodge) offered 1/2 price lift passes. Kind of a tough deal to pass up.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We left early on friday, and got to the house at around 7. We turned off the main road onto the road the house is on, and were immediately met with a wall of mud. He neglected to mention that the road to the vacation house was a 1/3 mile dirt road with an average grade of 10%. It's winter, the road was plowed, but had ice, snow, and mud. My 4WD made it NP with some slipping, It just would have been nice to know.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So The GPS tells us we arrived, and I turned into the drive way. It was pretty much dark, but the house looked like the pictures. I got out, tried the key, didn't work. No cell service. A bit perplexed, I toured around the house to see if there was another door. Of course, it's dark in the foothills of the green mountains, there is very little light pollution, and the house is built into a hillside with a few feet of snow. After a few minutes I happened to shine the light on the house number - it wasn't the right house. While rooting around the outside of the house, I happened to see a neighbor who had just gotten in, shoveling his walkway. The houses are about 100 feet apart or more. So I got back into the car and drove over to him and asked for the address. He pointed us to the right house, which was on the other side of his house from where we were, and added the comment "you can't trust GPS out here".<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Finally, got into the house, got settled, cooked, and then proceeded to attempt to defile as many rooms as possible. After my 50 year-old libido cried uncle, we headed for a hot shower before crashing. No water. We searched the house and turned on every valve we could find, no luck. Try to call the owner, still no cell service. Tried the house phone to call the owner - house phone blocks outgoing calls.<br />
Panicking slightly.<br />
Owner must have received some notification I tried to call and he called back. Turns out we needed to turn on breakers for the pump and water heater. That info was in the email that had the info about the dirt road, I'm sure.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>Next day, we went to the ski area to pick up the passes left by owner of house for us. They had no passes for us, and had never heard of the owner. Since we had cell service, I checked his emails - For some reason, I had gotten it into my mind that he works at Mt. Stratton. My first clue was when I told the ticket agent the my friend worked at the summit lodge, and she replied, "we don't have a summit lodge".<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>So, off to Mt Snow we went. No Biggie, it's only about ten miles. At Mt. Snow, they had the passes for me and I also talked with the guy about purchasing a snow board rental. He gives me the total and I hand him my debit card.<br />
<br />
hand him my debit card.<br />
<br />
hand him my debit card.<br />
<br />
hand him my......WHERE'S MY FUCKING DEBIT CARD?!?!?!?<br />
<br />
I hand him my credit card, then head back to the car and dig for the debit card. No luck...<br />
<br />
"where did you use it last?"<br />
"the ATM back home when I pulled out some cash"<br />
"did you leave it in the machine?"<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
"yes"<br />
<br />
I proceed to get angry with myself, calling myself names I generally reserve for fox news channel personalities. My Certain Super Special Someone got a bit agitated and told me to stop being so mean to myself.<br />
<br />
"This is the third time since I've known you that I've lost my ATM card"<br />
"So what? It's no big deal"<br />
"OK, how many times have you _ever_ lost your ATM card?"<br />
.<br />
.<br />
.<br />
"never"<br />
"OK?? let me be pissed at myself..."<br />
<br />
I collect myself, realizing there is nothing I can do about it now. We go skiing.<br />
<br />
<div style="text-align: center;">
Now, I've never downhill ski'd before. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
I've never snowboarded before. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
This should work out juuuuuust fine. </div>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My Certain Super Special Someone is a snow bunny from way back. I could see her getting cold and bored watching me entertain the other adults and children on the beginner slope, so I suggest she go ski. In the meantime, I practice, eventually taking the 100 yard long lift to the top of the learning section.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>My Certain Super Special Someone eventually came back, just as I was making it down the slope without falling for the first time. I give that a couple more runs, then we decide I should graduate to a green trail. If you've never snow boarded before, the big problem is speed. You have no control if you have no speed. So I ask her if one of the green trails was long enough that I could get going for a little while.<br />
<br />
"There's a green trail that starts at the top of the mountain and goes all the way down."<br />
"the top, huh?"<br />
"yeah, if you're not ready..."<br />
"and it's green?"<br />
"yeah, but really, if you're not ready..."<br />
"let's go".<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>I'm probably one of the few people that day that took longer to get _down_ the mountain than I took getting up, including standing in the lift line. I fell quite a few times, and spent most of the ride going sideways to keep my speed down. But, I made it. My Certain Super Special Someone has video and pictures somewhere. I’m sure there will be a FB post eventually. My first day with a snow board - or _ever_ on a mountain for skiing - and I made it down from the top with little more than a bit of soreness from muscles I generally don't use. We indulged in a celebratory beer before we headed back to the house.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>In an effort to be horribly and pathetically romantic, I made surprise dinner reservations at the best restaurant I could find in the area. All I told My Certain Super Special Someone was that she needed to dress for dinner. Leaving the house, I realize I left my car keys inside somewhere. I decided to use the hide-a-key rather than rummage around the house since we were already running a bit late (blatant foreshadowing).<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>The dinner was great, though the server could use some people-skills training. We got the distinct impression she wouldn't handle it too well if I reversed the positions of the forks. My Certain Super Special Someone had frogs legs - yes, real frogs legs. I had duck. She wanted to make a facebook post that said "I have frog in my teeth", but again, no cell service.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>We got home from dinner at around 11. I couldn't find the key holder in the dark, we were tired, and had split a bottle of wine between us, so I just left the key on the dash board. I inadvertently locked the car door by habit when I got out. We go to the house, and I realized I left the house key in the car.<br />
<br />
House key locked in the car.<br />
<br />
Car key locked in the house.<br />
<br />
<span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space: pre;"> </span>It's 11:30PM, during the winter in vermont. My Certain Super Special Someone is wearing a dress. We have no cell service. I try every accessible window and door from the ground level with no luck. My Certain Super Special Someone starts to understandably get very anxious and stressed. She asks if I think I get up to the deck.<br />
<br />
Hell, why not.<br />
<br />
I start scaling the building to get to the deck. This is after a day of snowboarding and a full dinner with a couple glasses of wine, and wearing dress clothes. I fall off the deck on the first attempt, earning a bloody shin scrape in the process. I make it on the second try and find an unlocked window. We're in.<br />
<br />
The rest of the weekend was rather uneventful, thankfully.<br />
<br />
Yes, she's still My Certain Super Special Someone. Now, even more so.<br />
<div>
<br /></div>
zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-90699811819112619312012-07-19T13:51:00.005-07:002012-07-19T13:59:38.027-07:00Tete a Chrono - FNFHead to time…race against the clock….the race of truth….the pain cave<br /><br />I’ve been time trialing a lot lately. The Good Folks at Speed Merchant Aerodynamics Research and Testing (SMART) set me up on a cheap knock-off of a carbon Pinarello TT bike. I used it ‘in anger’ for the first time at the Rye-By-The-Sea duathlon this past june. It was pathetic. Partially due to my inherent lack of TT skills, and partially due to the weather - a cold windy rain coming off the ocean for almost ½ the course made my legs tight. My toes actually got cold, and I found myself going into the small chainring for the rather inconsequential hill at the end of the bike leg.<br /><br />I then participated in a TT that was part of the Maine TT series. A 13ish mile very flat course. I maintained a 24.4 mph average speed, which I didn’t consider to be too terrible considering I didn’t even predrive the course.<br /><br />But then I did the old standard – the Concord-Carlise TT – aka the Charlie Baker Time Trial. This TT has been around in several iterations for about 40 years. It’s the same basic course, but the start and finish points have changed over time. I set my previous PR about 20 years ago. Back then the start and finish were at the same point for a loop distance of 10.8 miles. It wasn’t a particularly fast time, but it was good for me. I finished in 24:55, at an average speed of a hair over 26 mph.<br /><br />Last week, 20 years later, they have the finish about a mile sooner than the start. I ripped it up in 23:09, for an average of 25.4 mph.<br /><br />True, that isn’t going to win me any medals, but there are two points:<br /><br />A) It’s the fastest I’ve ridden the course since they changed the start finish point (maybe 5 years ago?)<br />2) I rode it .6 mph slower than I did 20 years ago.<br /><br />I’ll take it.<br /><br />And you can take this, your F.N.F….<br /><br /><br /><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; width: 570px; height: 329px; text-align: center; display: block; cursor: pointer;" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5766986544716629602" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-tSBPeCVjdoA/UAhztSZKxmI/AAAAAAAABlU/-_BKPMsADfA/s400/tumblr_lv6icjooiN1qgzqano1_1280.jpg" />zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-65953929738211589792012-07-03T07:41:00.004-07:002012-07-03T08:01:31.227-07:00Someone I Don't KnowThe Tour is here. As Bob Roll used to say during the old Outdoor Life promos,<br /><br />"It's the TOUR, Baby!"<br /><br />When the tour is on, I tend to be distracted. I surf the web too much, watch TV too much, and generally let things go that shouldn't be let go.<br /><br />Today, while I was supposed to be working, the distraction led me to Velonews, where I saw a link called "Ernie Gagnon - The Bike"<br /><br />I thought "Ernie Gagnon, that's the local dude who shows up at all the cyclocross races, and weighs like 400 pounds".<br /><br />Seriously, I'm not exaggerating at all. He's tall, and he's big. He rides a custom Seven with tandem wheels.<br /><br />The Velonews article is <a href="http://velonews.competitor.com/2012/06/news/a-bicycle-and-a-few-friends-lead-a-big-man-into-an-even-bigger-world_226368">here</a>.<br /><br />Of course, I followed the link. Turns out the guy was living in a self-imposed exile because he weighed 570 pounds. His doctor gave him the choice of surgery or death. He chose a bike instead.<br /><br />Talk about thinking outside the box.<br /><br />It's a good article. Inspiring. Poignant. It embarrassed me.<br /><br />Not because of Ernie, but because of how I perceived and judged him. I haven't really met him, we passed casually at races. I remember he gave me a head nod. I remember because it isn't common to see a person that size at a bike race. I gave one back because it's the polite thing to do. What I didn't do was have an open mind. What I didn't do was consider the demons he was up against, and how he's taken them head on, and beating them. I didn't consider the emotional risk he was taking, essentially in surrounding himself with a bunch of skinny arrogant little bastards, like me. The irony here is that he was a target for bullies growing up because of his size, as was I (albeit the other end of the spectrum). Cycling helped me build self-confidence, due in no small part to the strength of the community. Cycling respected me for my efforts, my willingness to learn, and my contributions. Cycling didn’t dismiss me because I didn’t win races. Cycling rewarded me for becoming part of cycling. Now, cycling is doing the same for Ernie.<br /><br />I'm proud that I'm a member of a community that accepts him, supports him, and gives him the most precious thing a person can have - friends that look beyond these carcasses we're all wrapped in. I'm embarrassed that I was so wrapped up in my own selfish little world, deluded that my problems are/were so grandiose, that I wasn't ready or willing to consider the bravery and strength of character Ernie is exemplifying. I'm embarrassed that I didn't remember those lessons I learned over 25 years ago.<br /><br />I don't know what goals in particular Ernie has, but I hope he's willing to keep setting them higher as he meets them. I hope, instead of simply beating down the demons, he completely vanquishes them.<br /><br />Ride well, Ernie.zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-23552194799716029132012-05-09T12:38:00.000-07:002012-05-09T12:38:03.538-07:00<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Never let it be said we here at Zencycle are so aloof and
self-absorbed that we don’t recognize tales of inspiration from those out of
the hard-core competitive arena. I’ve been fortunate in recent months to become
well acquainted with an individual who gives me reason to reflect on my own
goals and the inspirations behind them. Mind you, this isn’t a stirring tale of
overcoming life/livelihood challenges that prove the absolute resolve of the
human spirit. Rather, this is a simple reminder, that average every day people
set average every day goals, and sometimes we’re successful, while other times
we aren’t. To be fair, this story is a merely part of a much greater, and quite
impressive accomplishment, and something the author is justifiably proud of. Also, to be fair, I consider this person to be _<i>far</i>_
from ordinary in the greater context of life, but in the small scope of this
story I think it’s a relevant reminder of how some of us in the bike racing scene take
the short term accomplishments...... <o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">just a little......<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;">
<span style="font-family: Calibri;">too......<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">seriously…….<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">As I noted in my entry from <strong><em><a href="http://thezenofcycling.blogspot.com/2011/12/ill-rise-above-it-im-professional.html">December 30, 2011</a></em></strong>; these endeavors
we undertake at our level of the sport are little things. I seriously hope my
legacy won’t be my inconsequential sporting accomplishments. If that’s all I
have to show for when I’m dead, my life will have been a serious waste of
energy. In actuality, it’s all relative. What seems like a simple matter of a
minor benchmark for some may be a significant, life-affirming achievement for
others. As I noted, this short story isn’t the making of a Lifetime network
movie (perhaps the greater achievement, of which this is a small part, could
be), but it does illustrate how the spark of accomplishment and a little
tenacity can go a long way. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Calibri;">Enjoy.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br /><em><b><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">The Dairy Queen Story,
by Xena</span></b></em><span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
<br />
Once upon a time, there was a 30-something chickadee, mother of 2, freshly
divorced, who was taking karate and training to get her black belt. Girl, she
looked *hot*! True, she wasn't svelte or back down to less than 150, but she
was a strong mofo and kicked ass in sparring. Plus she could do real pushups!<br />
<br />
Anyhoo, this lovely, confident chickadee was in her Black Belt Phase, which
lasted 14 weeks, no more, no less. In this time, she had to attend extra Black
Belt Phase classes and write essays and do community service and other
character-building type stuff. These things were no problem for Ms. Xena, who
happened to be especially good at attending extra classes and writing essays
and doing community service. However, and this wouldn't be a very exciting
Story if there wasn't a "However", she also had to run 3 miles in 30
minutes, no more but less was even better. Ms. Xena was not very good at the
running of the miles in 10-minute increments, and her shin splints certainly
did not enjoy this either.<br />
<br />
Fortunately, our heroine had the choice to bike 15 miles in 64 minutes (also no
more but less was even better). You may say "pshaw, that's nuttin'!".
Perhaps not for you, triathlete goddess that you are. For me, I mean for Xena,
this was a challenge. The course had a massive hill and several
not-so-massive-but-almost-as-challenging hills, and it went by the river, which
had a secret wish to slow cyclists down by constantly sending wind off its
banks no matter which direction you were going. Not to mention crazy northeast
drivers.<br />
<br />
Xena was not going to let this stop her, though, nosirreebob! She bought a
magnetic trainer to train indoors since it was January, and she actually got on
the device a couple times a week. Her ischial tuberosities even got used to
being crushed on the hard bicycle seat. She enjoyed listening to the Police
(editors note: Next To You is a great interval training song!!!) and sweating
and making progress.<br />
<br />
Before she knew it, it was March and time for the first Ride. If she made her
time on this first Ride, she would be set for the next 14 weeks. Of course, she
would still have to do the ride anyway, but at least the pressure would be off.<br />
<br />
I wish I could say this was part of the storytelling, to make it tense and
interesting and have the reader on the edge of their seat to tell them that Ms.
Xena did not in fact make her time on the first ride. I wish I could say that
I'm making it up when I tell you that Ms. Xena did not in fact check her tires
for proper pressure after taking the bike off the trainer. It would also not be
fabrication or embellishment to tell you that Ms. Xena could not in fact go
very fast at ALL with such low pressure in her bicycle tires, and that Ms. Xena
was in tears less than 2 miles into the Ride as she saw all her friends pulling
far far far ahead of her because they in fact *did* check on the pressure in
their tires before attempting to ride 15 miles and she was NEVER going to make
her time or get her black belt, and how she must be fat and out of shape if she
couldn't do such a simple thing as ride her bicycle up a hill. *sniff* Are you
crying yet, dear reader? If not, then you are truly heartless and should watch <em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Scrooged</span></em> or <em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Cars </span></em>before continuing on with my
story.<br />
<br />
Still with me? Yes, it wasn't a pretty sight. Some nice
already-got-their-Black-Belts, just-there-for-encouragement dudes helped Ms. Xena
realize that her problem was not her big badonkadonk, but her lack of air
pressure, and that she would make the time next weekend, when we get to do the
same thing all over again at seven a.m. on a Sunday morning. Ms. Xena was very
skeptical but didn't have much of a choice, if she truly wanted her black belt
more than anything else in the world, except maybe dinner with John Cusack
(before she found out that he hated <em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Better
Off Dead</span></em>. WTF?!).<br />
<br />
So, our wise heroine filled her tires with the proper pressure and bought one
of those air compressor do-hickeys that plugs into one's car cigarette lighter,
when one isn't lighting up cigarettes, that is, so that she could always have
proper tire pressure no matter what. The next Sunday morning at seven a.m., our
fearless warrior set off once again to conquer man and nature, and several
potholes, because this *was* post-winter in New England, after all. Can you
guess what happened on that Sunday? If you guessed that Ms. Xena made her time,
you would be horribly wrong and much too optimistic.<br />
<br />
In fact, Ms. Xena did not make her time that Sunday, nor the next one. It's
been several years now, so the author may not *exactly* remember just how many
sundays this went on for, but it was a lot. At this point, many other Black
Belt Phase candidates had made their time and therefore joined in the fun of
helping their comrades do the same. Oh, joy.<br />
<br />
One sunny spring Sunday seven a.m. Ride, Ms. Xena was joined by one of the
Black Belt Phase candidates parents. I would just like to say up front that
this man was trying very hard to be very supportive and doing a very fine job
at it, and Ms. Xena certainly appreciated this man's support and encouragement.
She made the halfway point in record time (at least it was a record for her!),
and was very positive about this being The Sunday that she made her time.<br />
<br />
Along this route, there is a Dairy Queen, which we in New England call DQ for
short, 'cause we are all that. This DQ is less than a mile from the end of the
route, and after the DQ there is a little hill up to a set of lights, and then
a bunch of parked cars to avoid for the final stretch. Mr. BB parent was with
me, we're pushing hard. He looks at his watch as we have the DQ in our
sights....uh oh, only 4 minutes to make it. Ms. Xena, huffin' and puffin' and
feeling a little nauseous: "I don't think I can make it". Mr. BBP:
"I'm not sure if you're going to make it either." Well, that's all
our little heroine needed to hear to give up. She immediately slowed way the
hell down as she passed the DQ, and certainly did not make her time that day.<br />
<br />
I am sad to report that if Ms. Xena had *not* given up, had pushed it just a
tinge more that last less-than-a-mile stretch, she surely would have made her
time that day, because she still rang in a hair under 2 minutes. BIG SIGH. She
was very unhappy with herself. She surely realized that she should not have given
up, and maybe she should go back and watch <em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">Rudy</span></em>
one more time. Or <em><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi;">When
Harry Met Sally</span></em>. After sufficiently beating herself up and crying a
few pitiful tears, she went home to wait for the next Sunday seven a.m. Ride.<br />
<br />
And now it would be appropriate to share with you, mostly because our story has
dragged on long enough and has fulfilled the angst quota, that our weary Ms.
Xena did in fact make her time that spring, and went on to achieve her Black
Belt, which continues to be one of the greatest accomplishments in her life.
She was proud to receive her Black Belt along with her daughter, who had made
her own running time (1.5 miles in 15 minutes) much earlier that spring; this
elevates the story to the Proud Momma level, y'know. </span><br />
<br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">(<em><span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">Zen - just an FYI, Xena's daughter was like 8 years old at the time</span></em>)</span><br />
<span lang="EN" style="color: #333333; font-family: "Trebuchet MS","sans-serif"; font-size: 11.5pt; mso-ansi-language: EN; mso-bidi-font-family: "Times New Roman"; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-bidi-theme-font: minor-bidi; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;"><br />
That fall, when she had to do it all over again (oh, did I not mention that the
spring phase was for Conditional Black Belt???), she in fact made her time the
very first Ride of the year, and in fact made it in less than sixty, count
them, six-tee whole minutes!!! She still believes the river winds were sleeping
that warm fall morning.<br />
<br />
Ever since then, she has used the Dairy Queen Story as a moral in her life, for
the times when it seems like nothing is going to succeed and it's practically
too late anyway so why don't you throw in the towel and call it a day already?
Those truly are the times to push harder, as cliché as that may sound. I guess clichés
are still around for a reason, eh?</span>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-28153773407975150972012-04-06T07:40:00.012-07:002012-04-06T13:00:05.783-07:00F.N.F. - To Whom It May Concern<div style="text-align: center;">Damn....It's been a long time. Issue specific post here.....</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><iframe width="420" height="315" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/b7AVC1YCcO0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: left;">OK, Maybe the driver of the car _was_ driving like an idiot, or maybe this was in fact a legitimate accident. The footage isn't clear on that regard, but what _is_ clear is the the driver tried to flee the scene. Kudos to a heads-up bus driver and the dirver of the car that blocked the dumbass in. </div><br />However, there is one point I would like to make:<br />I started commuting by bicyle in 1986, from Chelmsford to Lexington, through the traffic mess in Bedford center. I commuted for a short time to MEEI/MGH in the early 90's, and I've commuted through Haverhill, Lawrence, and Nashua. I currently take a route though downtown Nashua at rush hour both mornings and evenings. In 25 years of commuting, I've been hit exactly one time, by a car cutting across traffic.<br /><br />I made that point because I see something horribly wrong with how the cyclist was riding. Before the cyclist gets hit, he's pretty much riding in the _middle_ of the lane. In one shot he's even drifted to the the left side of the lane. There are very few occasions when - in my experience - it's reasonable to take the lane. Those are pretty much excluded to: when your speed closely matches the speed of the traffic, and when you're preparing to make a turn across traffic. I take the lane frequently, but I wouldn't have done it in the conditions I see there. Even giving the benefit of the doubt that he was taking the lane to prepare for a left turn, in the subsequent shot you can see he's barely half-way across the bridge. Looking at his speed, it doesn't seem to me that he was riding anywhere near the flow of traffic, which would also justify taking the lane imo.<br /><br />I'm not saying that he deserved to get hit, of course he didn't. What I _am_ saying is that he wasn't riding safely or with consideration of the traffic around him. Yes, he was legally in the right, but that shouldn't be a reason to ride like that. I'm not sure what the laws are in bethlehem PA, but if it wasn't illegal for him to ride on the sidewalk, he should have. He wasn't going fast enough to justify riding in the traffic lane on a road with no shoulder, and there wasn't enough foot traffic on the sidewalk to cause a safety issue.Even if riding in the pedestrian way _is_ illegal, I wouldn't have been riding in the middle of the lane. I'm saying, if he had been more respectful of the traffic and stayed as far to the right as was possible and safe, the accident might not have happened.<br /><br />Let me reiterate: Clearly, the driver of the car is at fault, but I have to question the judgment of the cyclist here as well. I used to help out with safety clinics when I was with NEBC. One point I always made - especially to the younger riders - was that even though they legally had the right-of-way, that didn't give them license to ride without consideration of the traffic. I called it "dead right". Sure, If you get hit you're probably legally right, but you may also end up dead.<br /><br />Now, anyone who has ever read my blog or facebook postings knows I do stupid shit on bicycles. I weave through stopped traffic and I won't hesitate to hop in a truck draft at 40 mph though city streets. That said, I know what risks I'm taking there, and those actions aren't an inconvenience or disrespectful of other drivers. However, taking the lane while traveling 20-30 mph slower than traffic is, imo, both disrespectful and dangerous.<div><br />I don't want anyone reading this to think I'm siding with the driver, or making some justification for cyclist getting hit. If you take that away from this post, you're clearly an idiot, and the public would be better off if you stayed home playing World Of Warcraft and collected some social safety net stipend. I don't mind my tax dollars being spent to keep you off the streets.</div><div><br /></div><div>UPDATE: Apparently, the city of Bethlehem had passed a by-law that stipulated the full-lane access for cyclists on that bridge. It seems the signage had not been put into place yet. That doesn't change my position on this. Simply that a cyclist is _allowed_ to use the full lane, imo, doesn't mean they should. It means that a cyclist can't be cited for obstructing traffic in case they do, and motorists _must_ yield the right-of-way. What the driver did would have been illegal regardless of the by law or not. That said, I still think it fool-hardy to take the lane as the rider in the video did.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">The message here is; Ride smart, ride safe, and most of all, ride.</div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;">Here it is, your F.N.F </div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y84B4TzCYcQ/T38BKksFlKI/AAAAAAAABlI/BjD5TRh60Ic/s1600/tumblr_l6fdt5e5Bj1qbrgi3o1_500.jpg" style="font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y84B4TzCYcQ/T38BKksFlKI/AAAAAAAABlI/BjD5TRh60Ic/s1600/tumblr_l6fdt5e5Bj1qbrgi3o1_500.jpg" style="font-size: 100%; "><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 305px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Y84B4TzCYcQ/T38BKksFlKI/AAAAAAAABlI/BjD5TRh60Ic/s400/tumblr_l6fdt5e5Bj1qbrgi3o1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728298532197471394" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k4bP5MQVPI4/T38BKXRRZKI/AAAAAAAABk8/TfHXYXsy8WY/s1600/tumblr_l2sslbG3vg1qayuwbo1_500.jpg" style="text-align: right; "><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k4bP5MQVPI4/T38BKXRRZKI/AAAAAAAABk8/TfHXYXsy8WY/s400/tumblr_l2sslbG3vg1qayuwbo1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5728298528595338402" style="cursor: pointer; width: 357px; height: 400px; " /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;font-family: Georgia, serif; font-size: 100%; font-style: normal; font-variant: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: normal; "></div></div>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-54499388482715290722011-12-30T10:21:00.000-08:002011-12-30T11:19:33.611-08:00I’ll Rise Above It, I’m A Professional - FNF<div><div style="text-align: center; ">Has this ever happened to you?</div><div style="text-align: center; "><br /></div><b><div style="text-align: center; "><b><i><a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ardysVzHwSA">Little Sandwiches</a></i></b></div><div style="text-align: center; "><b><br /></b></div></b><div style="text-align: center; ">(You can click by the ad in a few seconds)</div><br />No, I don’t mean having a meltdown over the condiments backstage, I mean making the decision to not sweat the small stuff (oh, and just for the record, it’s _<i>not</i>_ all small stuff, <b><i><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Richard_Carlson_(author)">Dr. Carlson</a></i></b>(with apologies to his family)).<br /><br />Most of it is, however. Certainly an olive lacking a pimento stuffing is small stuff, as is snapping the derailleur, bending a spoke, and twisting the chain off my MTB last weekend when a stick jammed in the rear wheel. Missing parts for an auto repair could be big, if it results in not being able to get to work and losing your job. However, in <b><i><a href="http://www.gewilli.com/2011/12/millennium-falcon-is-still-sidelined.html">GeWillie’s</a></i></b> case, we know it’s not.<br /><br />I’m lucky. Very lucky. I’ve had some major incidents occur this year, but nothing that could qualify as ‘big stuff’, IOW – nothing that resulted in a serious disruption. Nothing that we weren’t able to ‘absorb’.<br /><br />Many others are/were not so fortunate over the past year. I’m not going to go into a long list of the good and bad over this past year, there’s plenty of that about, but I will talk about my new years’ resolution.<br /><br />It’s mundane, in the grand scheme of things, to say the least. In fact, it’s not as much of a resolution as it is putting a long-term plan into action. A plan I’ve been harboring for a few years now, waiting to unleash on an un-suspecting public.<br /><br />In 2012 I will turn 50 years old (no, that isn’t my resolution, dipshit). Can you remember the first time you were cognizant of a 50-year-old being 50 years old? 30 years ago, there was old, and there wasn’t. I didn’t know too many 50-year-olds, and the ones I did know weren’t very tolerant of me (with good reason, I might add). Well, now I’m that age, and I think I’m more tolerant of impetuous youth than most of the people I knew who are a generation ahead of me. That isn’t to say though, that If I were to meet a 20-year-old me I wouldn’t feel like giving me/him a bitch slap.<br /><br />No, It’s not a point of me being 50, it’s a point of goals. I don’t know of anyone in my demographic who has any goals of note, but that’s understandable. When you get to the half-century mark, unless your life has serious problems, your goals are generally “lose weight”, “eat healthy”, “spend less money on porn”, etc…..not me.<br /><br />I’ve been planning something _<i>big</i>_.....for me anyways. Ready?<br /><br />When I’m 50 years old, I want to run a 5 minute mile. Just one. I already know I can run a 440 in 1:10 with a reasonable amount of training, but it was painful, and I wouldn't be able to do it twice within a few days. A couple of years ago I ran 4 – 440’s at 1:15, but that was interval training, and I needed significant recovery in between. At that time, I could break a 6 minute mile and did so in quite a few running races – that would be for like, the first mile.<br /><br />Now, I know it’s a tall order. According to the <b><i><a href="http://www.usatf.org/events/2011/USAMastersOutdoorTFChampionships/results/F585.asp">USATF 2011 masters outdoor track national championships results</a></i></b>, very few 50-55 men can run that pace, and none of the 50-55 women can. Granted, those are for a 1500 meter event, but the math is easy. A five minute mile translates into about a 4:40 1500. If I could run 5 minute mile, that would put me in the top ten nationally. So, yeah…tall order. I live next to our local high school, and their track is open to the public for all intents and purposes. It’s a good track, one of those rubberized jobs designed to drain water. As an ancillary goal, I’d also like to run a sub-30 minute 5 mile road race. That’s going to be orders of magnitude easier, since I was able to get two races in the past few years at a 6:10 pace. Trimming that to a 6:00 pace shouldn't be too hard.<br /><br />I’m giving myself until September 10, 2013 to reach this goal. That’s my 51<sup style="line-height: 15px; ">st</sup> birthday. I’ll train this year – lots of short intervals, and see where I am on September 10. Then I’ll hire a coach to get me the rest of the way. I don’t know who yet, but I’ll find someone by then.<br /><br />Back to the point of this entry - sweating small stuff – Even if I don’t run a 5 minute mile by my 51<sup style="line-height: 15px; ">st </sup>birthday, I won’t view it as a massive failure. Who knows, I may be physically unable to run a 5 minute mile. I may _<i>never</i>_ have been able to run a 5 minute mile. I’ll never know until I try. If I do, great. If not, it won’t be because I didn't give it an honest effort.<br /><br />In the end, in the grand scheme of things, no one will really care but me. My obituary won’t read “ran a 4:59 mile on September 9, 2013”. Even if it did, I would hope people would see it as something admirable, but not something that defined me, and not the sole notable accomplishment of my life. Because it really _<i>is</i>_ a little thing.<br /><br />But, I know you didn’t come here to read some narcissistic blather about me and my goals. You know what you came here for, and here she is… </div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><div><br /></div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-irpE7_6DFak/Tv4NgNbgEoI/AAAAAAAABkw/Op7Kjt25AWg/s1600/Pintusevich-Block%252CZhanna%2B02.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 288px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-irpE7_6DFak/Tv4NgNbgEoI/AAAAAAAABkw/Op7Kjt25AWg/s400/Pintusevich-Block%252CZhanna%2B02.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692001826054869634" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R4kyNQAB_90/Tv4Nf3jDF9I/AAAAAAAABkg/q4Z0GC1S3_4/s1600/tumblr_lrt6rwKWJ11qenssho1_500.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 297px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-R4kyNQAB_90/Tv4Nf3jDF9I/AAAAAAAABkg/q4Z0GC1S3_4/s400/tumblr_lrt6rwKWJ11qenssho1_500.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692001820180944850" /></a><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CG41F3TK5Zk/Tv4NfzOdqII/AAAAAAAABkY/MgnsdkcEdb4/s1600/2388937331_1ab0bec127.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 363px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-CG41F3TK5Zk/Tv4NfzOdqII/AAAAAAAABkY/MgnsdkcEdb4/s400/2388937331_1ab0bec127.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5692001819020863618" /></a>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-77339560614121040012011-12-23T12:30:00.000-08:002011-12-23T12:34:21.682-08:00The Greatest Story Ever ToldSorry my perverted peeps, no FNF today. Instead, I leave you with a link to a blogger/author with possibly the finest wit on the web.<br /><br />Behold....<strong><em><a href="http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-kenny-loggins-ruined-christmas.html">The Year Kenny Loggins Ruined Christmas</a></em></strong><br /><strong><em></em></strong><br />Totally safe for work and family, provided you don't take immaculate conception too seriouslyzencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-53627217058018080272011-12-08T13:57:00.000-08:002011-12-09T05:21:17.771-08:00FNF - An Homage To Steve Jobs<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LTSQovdSjEg/TuFhvdVvV9I/AAAAAAAABjo/08bB1IoHKqA/s1600/steve-jobs.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683931672675833810" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-LTSQovdSjEg/TuFhvdVvV9I/AAAAAAAABjo/08bB1IoHKqA/s400/steve-jobs.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div>There's probably nothing in the following blog entry that you either don't already know, will change any opinions you have about the late mogul, or possibly even care about. However, in a diversion from the usual pabulum the readers of this blog usually endure, I felt a compulsion to regurgitate an entirely different flavor of pabulum. I know there are at least a few of you who will appreciate this blog entry, and it's for you that I publish such nonsense.<br />Love him or hate him, Steve Jobs was an enigma who in no small part helped shape society as we've come to know it. While I'm sure he _imagined_ the ubiquity of his "I" devices, it's probably not possible he could have predicted how <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">smartphones</span> and personal audio devices have be ascribed the generic labels of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">Iphone</span> and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">Ipod</span>, or how the "I" prefix would be been <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">co-opted</span> by just about every two bit marketing douche trying to sell some useless and unusable low-cost gadget. I'm sure he was satisfied how <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">Pixar</span> animation studios created an entirely new genre of movies that redefined what the world has come to expect in animation, while lamenting how The windows operating system '<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">adopted' the</span> apple 'point and click' graphic user interface to become the worlds predominant computer operating system.<br />But, I'm sure even the visionary Jobs couldn't have predicted what is arguably one of the most appreciated results of his drive, ingenuity, and tenacity (by those of my ilk). Of course, I refer to the "<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">sext</span> message". Certainly, sending spontaneous sexually explicit text messages and pictures predated the introduction of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Iphone</span> by several years, but it took the integration of sexy hip applications into a sexy hip package sold by a sexy hip marketing plan - all created and driven by Steve Jobs - to bring us the delightful cornucopia of media by sexy hip <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">hotties</span> that people of my age could only imagine when we were young and single enough to actually consider doing any more than <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">reposting</span> them in a lame blog entry. </div><br /><div align="center"><br />I leave you with a special <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">FNF</span> treat, an <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">Iphone</span> photo essay. </div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SosdX8jWBXE/TuE0DigH7RI/AAAAAAAABjQ/Zmn8GE6f09U/s1600/iphone24.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 267px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881440124071186" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SosdX8jWBXE/TuE0DigH7RI/AAAAAAAABjQ/Zmn8GE6f09U/s400/iphone24.jpg" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uwhAzu_S3Bg/TuE0C4aF47I/AAAAAAAABjE/1sOyFG-Tr-g/s1600/iphone23.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881428824482738" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-uwhAzu_S3Bg/TuE0C4aF47I/AAAAAAAABjE/1sOyFG-Tr-g/s400/iphone23.jpg" /></a></div><br /><br /><div align="center"><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-elMdsU2tTro/TuE0Ck6tHdI/AAAAAAAABi0/5vBJDgxjr8Y/s1600/iphone22.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 281px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881423592562130" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-elMdsU2tTro/TuE0Ck6tHdI/AAAAAAAABi0/5vBJDgxjr8Y/s400/iphone22.jpg" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hl4uud9jDkU/TuEzC96oi9I/AAAAAAAABe4/mD71Tds-mF4/s1600/iphone01.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 273px; HEIGHT: 378px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880330791521234" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-hl4uud9jDkU/TuEzC96oi9I/AAAAAAAABe4/mD71Tds-mF4/s400/iphone01.jpg" /></a></div><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V96o29yqbOI/TuEz0uTqc4I/AAAAAAAABik/L8LBQFDNnhQ/s1600/iphone20.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 297px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881185594995586" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-V96o29yqbOI/TuEz0uTqc4I/AAAAAAAABik/L8LBQFDNnhQ/s400/iphone20.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vY5rMuBrSIY/TuEz0g5jgpI/AAAAAAAABiQ/Bqpoc3WZh8A/s1600/iphone19.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 204px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881181995827858" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-vY5rMuBrSIY/TuEz0g5jgpI/AAAAAAAABiQ/Bqpoc3WZh8A/s400/iphone19.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HRoRdyA_ABw/TuEz0Jezq7I/AAAAAAAABiI/3IHj3JQ2CQc/s1600/iphone18.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881175709625266" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HRoRdyA_ABw/TuEz0Jezq7I/AAAAAAAABiI/3IHj3JQ2CQc/s400/iphone18.jpg" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IILYf1IrIDs/TuEzz27BXxI/AAAAAAAABh4/3-J2XD4MtdM/s1600/iphone17.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 279px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881170727690002" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-IILYf1IrIDs/TuEzz27BXxI/AAAAAAAABh4/3-J2XD4MtdM/s400/iphone17.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6ZxXgyMGOLc/TuEzz290tfI/AAAAAAAABhw/8toVOhVIofk/s1600/iphone16.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881170739443186" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-6ZxXgyMGOLc/TuEzz290tfI/AAAAAAAABhw/8toVOhVIofk/s400/iphone16.jpg" /></a><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BakBOv66hHQ/TuEzkTiWmHI/AAAAAAAABhk/HRcQwayT3W4/s1600/iphone15.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 279px; HEIGHT: 350px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880903530944626" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-BakBOv66hHQ/TuEzkTiWmHI/AAAAAAAABhk/HRcQwayT3W4/s400/iphone15.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PZv7aoUJ7Ns/TuEzkFwiVsI/AAAAAAAABhY/4AmBmMGmIOo/s1600/iphone14.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880899832338114" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PZv7aoUJ7Ns/TuEzkFwiVsI/AAAAAAAABhY/4AmBmMGmIOo/s400/iphone14.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KQ9_SFtROIs/TuEzjaWwy4I/AAAAAAAABhQ/zsMU5OAOxqU/s1600/iphone13.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 275px; HEIGHT: 379px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880888181508994" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-KQ9_SFtROIs/TuEzjaWwy4I/AAAAAAAABhQ/zsMU5OAOxqU/s400/iphone13.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjqkFQV5Eqg/TuEzjP7PrYI/AAAAAAAABg8/ekuMhAzMe08/s1600/iphone12.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 282px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880885381737858" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-wjqkFQV5Eqg/TuEzjP7PrYI/AAAAAAAABg8/ekuMhAzMe08/s400/iphone12.jpg" /></a><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HEHjs49AyIQ/TuEziwAJ3KI/AAAAAAAABg0/KGv0T_pcpN4/s1600/iphone11.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 285px; HEIGHT: 385px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880876812393634" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-HEHjs49AyIQ/TuEziwAJ3KI/AAAAAAAABg0/KGv0T_pcpN4/s400/iphone11.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iG2HZWmSRLM/TuEzWJZYzfI/AAAAAAAABgo/vVGcjwVfiQ4/s1600/iphone10.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880660290817522" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iG2HZWmSRLM/TuEzWJZYzfI/AAAAAAAABgo/vVGcjwVfiQ4/s400/iphone10.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTDnfu6a6YM/TuEzVztS3kI/AAAAAAAABgc/8XlvH2CZs1Q/s1600/iphone09.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 267px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880654468734530" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-aTDnfu6a6YM/TuEzVztS3kI/AAAAAAAABgc/8XlvH2CZs1Q/s400/iphone09.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9MZGYOUYaXs/TuEzVDRmKII/AAAAAAAABgQ/ot7oDsBnpkw/s1600/iphone08.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 299px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880641467656322" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9MZGYOUYaXs/TuEzVDRmKII/AAAAAAAABgQ/ot7oDsBnpkw/s400/iphone08.jpg" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fvphvxdeyw4/TuEzUzf7QeI/AAAAAAAABgA/aGMgiOKpr90/s1600/iphone07.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 255px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880637232792034" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fvphvxdeyw4/TuEzUzf7QeI/AAAAAAAABgA/aGMgiOKpr90/s400/iphone07.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DasJ7CKGhSk/TuEzU74xSxI/AAAAAAAABf4/gX8DBso0avw/s1600/iphone06.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880639484480274" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-DasJ7CKGhSk/TuEzU74xSxI/AAAAAAAABf4/gX8DBso0avw/s400/iphone06.jpg" /></a><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GQOVqb8Yh3U/TuEzEV3p7TI/AAAAAAAABfo/nuAozmTKSjU/s1600/iphone05.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 257px; HEIGHT: 357px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880354401348914" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-GQOVqb8Yh3U/TuEzEV3p7TI/AAAAAAAABfo/nuAozmTKSjU/s400/iphone05.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTnQuDZuqpQ/TuEzDj7aTJI/AAAAAAAABfg/bF_Adx9FGNc/s1600/iphone04.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 294px; HEIGHT: 384px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880340995329170" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-bTnQuDZuqpQ/TuEzDj7aTJI/AAAAAAAABfg/bF_Adx9FGNc/s400/iphone04.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5xmt7o-O-GE/TuEzDWN4gHI/AAAAAAAABfM/z4ONSLCWmy8/s1600/iphone03.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 268px; HEIGHT: 368px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880337314709618" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5xmt7o-O-GE/TuEzDWN4gHI/AAAAAAAABfM/z4ONSLCWmy8/s400/iphone03.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-33DKKrt0dvc/TuEzDMcn-GI/AAAAAAAABfA/s5YH9aCH94I/s1600/iphone02.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 286px; HEIGHT: 388px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683880334692186210" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-33DKKrt0dvc/TuEzDMcn-GI/AAAAAAAABfA/s5YH9aCH94I/s400/iphone02.jpg" /></a><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rj-RGFoeoE0/TuE0ClTHMxI/AAAAAAAABis/uTfokOCl-OA/s1600/iphone21.jpg" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="WIDTH: 296px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5683881423694934802" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-rj-RGFoeoE0/TuE0ClTHMxI/AAAAAAAABis/uTfokOCl-OA/s400/iphone21.jpg" /></a>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-17685410148047364612011-11-30T17:24:00.000-08:002011-12-02T05:31:42.566-08:00FNF - If I was any less motivated my heart would stop and I would dieJust fucking die. Yes, it's that end of the season doldrums. I have no more racing scheduled, and don't want to. I _should_ be attempting to motivate for my weight training phase...ok, got one set in monday...but when I got home tonight...<br /><br />nothing...<br /><br />nada.....<br /><br />zzzzzzz.....<br /><br />I had full intentions of riding on the road at work today (I'm actually writing this wednesday night), but had a dr's appt in the afternoon so I couldn't afford the long 'lunch'. Got to the Dr's office and it was closed. Checked my phone for a message....found it was off....turned it on....there was the message.....recorded at 9:30 this morning.<br /><br />If I had the thing on I would have got the message before lunch and gone on the ride....<br /><br />Get the message?<br /><br />So now I'm doing one of my default uber-boredom pastimes: web surfing for my two favorite things in the world - bikes and lesbians. So here it is, written wednesday and thursday for a FNF post - Bikes and Lesbians (in special consideration for my friend-from-down-under)<br /><br />Enjoy.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SXQBn0d1jk0/TtjSVwSS16I/AAAAAAAABek/pCIdXBxUZSQ/s1600/lesbikeg.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681522201108600738" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-SXQBn0d1jk0/TtjSVwSS16I/AAAAAAAABek/pCIdXBxUZSQ/s400/lesbikeg.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyNNR1gT_Ak/TtjSVilUc3I/AAAAAAAABec/BWg17aMq2kM/s1600/lesbikee.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 290px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681522197430301554" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-RyNNR1gT_Ak/TtjSVilUc3I/AAAAAAAABec/BWg17aMq2kM/s400/lesbikee.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fZ9LKuRvE24/TtjSU9qDm5I/AAAAAAAABeU/Y3U5wA18T2Q/s1600/lesbiked.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 267px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681522187518057362" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-fZ9LKuRvE24/TtjSU9qDm5I/AAAAAAAABeU/Y3U5wA18T2Q/s400/lesbiked.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MGnJ2susvGA/TtjSUzI5DfI/AAAAAAAABeA/hH3MJFehKx8/s1600/lesbikec.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 312px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681522184694599154" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-MGnJ2susvGA/TtjSUzI5DfI/AAAAAAAABeA/hH3MJFehKx8/s400/lesbikec.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ye4NcxXTke4/TtjSUhaKvYI/AAAAAAAABd4/8aI_dD_LDmw/s1600/lesbikeb.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 300px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5681522179935223170" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ye4NcxXTke4/TtjSUhaKvYI/AAAAAAAABd4/8aI_dD_LDmw/s400/lesbikeb.jpg" /></a><br /></div></div></div></div><br /><br />Peace Out, Mother Fuckerszencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-52859407357928644012011-11-21T13:46:00.000-08:002014-10-23T12:59:42.202-07:00Paradise(<a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J6ZWlDks0nQ"><strong><em>Right Click here</em></strong> </a> and open a new window/tab for the soundtrack to this blog entry, turn it up)<br /><br />I've been thinking about death lately. I can't say there's been any specific reason. I don't recall any specific trigger such as the death of anyone I know that started it, but it occurred to me that death has been on my mind for some time now. Sporadically, though often enough that I've begun to think not only about death but I've also to think about thinking about death.<br /><br />A couple of weeks ago I saw the old Italian film by Vittorio De Sica " Bicycle Thieves " on the TCM network. I can't say it was particularly compelling. It seemed strained....contrived. Probably that it was filmed in 1948 and was subtitled didn't help. Probably that it was intended for a post-war Italian audience didn't help.<br /><br />One thing it definitely was - nihilistic.<br /><br />I'm not nihilistic, but these thoughts I've been having regarding the nature and implications of death from both personal and influential perspectives certainly seem to be. Bicycle Thieves makes no bones about nihilism. De Sica might just have well ended the film with a graphic that said "what's the fucking point" instead of "Fine" (that's pronounced "feen-ay" for you English-only types).<br /><br />From time to time, I look at my life and everyone else’s on the planet in the context of the implications of the consequences of our actions 100's of millennia from now. Realistically, it won't fucking matter. It won't matter to anyone (if anyone is still alive) 10,000 years from now if I'm rich or poor, altruistic or greedy, industrious or lazy. It doesn't make any difference to me now if Oog drew a woolly mammoth on his cave wall in <strong><em><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lascaux">Lascaux</a></em></strong> 20,000 years ago, and it won't matter 20,000 years from now if I publish this blog post or not.<br /><br /><strong><em>(spoiler alert!)</em></strong><br /><br />In Bicycle Thieves, Antonio Ricci is scrambling for a job to support his family in post-war Rome. He gets one as a bill poster, but it requires a bicycle to get to the job locations. His bicycle is broken, and in order to pay for the repair he is forced to sell his wedding linens. The first day on the job his bicycle is stolen and the rest of the movie is spent on the recovery effort. His relationship with his young son is pushed as he tries to maintain a sense of morality for his sons benefit in the midst of the sinking depression that he knows he might not be able to feed him tomorrow. In the end, in order to keep his job he attempts to steal a bike, but is caught immediately. He is surrounded by friends of the owner of the bike, ready to beat him to a bloody pulp at the word of the victim. The victim orders them to let him go, as he can do no more harm. I got the impression that De Sica was trying to evoke the sentiment that Antonio was already dead inside, and the owner of the bike knew that. Antonio started the movie living as an inconsequential member of the nameless masses, and that's how he ended it, if you can call that living.<br /><br />I'm not dead inside. I realized that when I watched the movie. I have a sense of purpose, regardless of whether that sense has any long term implications or not.<br /><br />Now, I suppose the argument could be made that Oogs cave drawings did indeed have a bearing on humanity 20,000 years hence. One could argue that Oogs drawings were created with a sense of purpose, much like the sense of purpose this blog is written with. One could argue: as <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anatomically_modern_humans"><strong><em>Homo sapiens sapiens</em></strong> </a>evolved, the expression of daily life in cave drawings evolved into art as it is known today. One could argue that Bicycle Thieves <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bicycle_Thieves#Awards"><strong><em>had a critical influence</em></strong> </a>on modern cinema. These things may be true. This is why I’m not a nihilist, still, I’m hardly an optimist.<br /><br />One day this drifting mass of rock mostly covered with water and suffering from an infection known as the human race will be reduced to its constituent elements as our sun transforms into a red giant and engulfs all the planets in the inner solar system. We'll be long gone by then, and any mark that any one of us is arrogant enough to consider to have been relevant will cease to be. At that instance, the shit I left in my toilet this morning will be roughly equivalent in importance to the entire works of Shakespeare and Mozart, and Oog combined.<br /><br />But I have a sense of purpose. To be honest, I have no idea what it is. I know it’s what gets me up in the morning. I know it’s what makes me want to <strong><em><a href="http://thezenofcycling.blogspot.com/2011/08/fnf-drafting-revisited.html">draft trucks at 46 MPH (NSFW)</a></em></strong>, or <strong><em><a href="http://thezenofcycling.blogspot.com/2010/02/poitin-massacre-of-2003.html">drink the occasional toxic distillate</a></em></strong>. It's what makes me know I'll be an emotional wreck when the day comes that I'll have to put my dog into her final sleep. I am alive inside.<br /><br />I may be cynical and pessimistic, and I may not get the point of it all, but I’m not a nihilist. I’m not dead inside…….yet....but one day I hope to find paradise, be it here or in any possible existence after.zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-64171136283225338562011-08-11T18:27:00.000-07:002011-08-11T18:46:42.434-07:00FNF - Drafting Revisited<div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dK8XfisehXA/TkSC4zaAwSI/AAAAAAAABdM/LtyFm7RJIYQ/s1600/tumblr_lguqq9DIeM1qcg6m0o1_400.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 255px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639776545758298402" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-dK8XfisehXA/TkSC4zaAwSI/AAAAAAAABdM/LtyFm7RJIYQ/s400/tumblr_lguqq9DIeM1qcg6m0o1_400.jpg" /></a></div><div>You kind of expect to hear that bad 70's porn music right about now - bow <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">chicka</span> wow wow...</div><div>
<br /></div><div>Anyways....</div><div>
<br />Generally speaking I don't find that new <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">hampshire</span> has much to offer a socialist liberal atheist like myself. However, they do two things very well - they maintain the national forest land, and they keep their roads in great shape. One of the sections of road I have to travel to get to my job now is a 4 mile stretch of route 111 where it crosses route 3 and heads west ( yes, in new <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">hampshire</span>, just in case you aren't aware). I actually take route 111 from Windham near the route 93 interchange to quite near the Mass border for my commute, but for the purposes of this blog entry, we'll stick with the western terminus.
<br />
<br /><div>This section of road is - much like the rest of route 111 all the way to the seacoast - in great shape. Smooth, wide shoulders, very few patches or any other non-asphalt items to break up the tarmac. Add to that very gentle sweeping corners, very flat terrain, no stop signs or stop lights, and nothing but residential side roads, and you have a good road for driving and riding...and drafting. </div>
<br /><div>Wednesday morning I crossed the highway and saw a large box truck waiting at the last stop light for the next 4 miles. It popped it into the big ring, passed a few cars and tucked in behind the truck. I had no idea how far he was going. He could very well have pulled off at the next side road. </div>
<br /><div>But he didn't. </div>
<br />He kept going...and going....and going.
<br />
<br />He kept a smooth steady pace of about 40 for most of it, but as he crossed the town line from <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error">nashua</span> to <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">hollis</span>, he pushed the speed up to about 45. My computer registered a maximum speed of 46.8. That's a drafting record for me, my previous some years ago being 46.
<br />
<br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fWPSRGj0Wtk/TkSFJHA_0vI/AAAAAAAABdc/rnHqazacCR4/s1600/commute03.bmp" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 200px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-fWPSRGj0Wtk/TkSFJHA_0vI/AAAAAAAABdc/rnHqazacCR4/s400/commute03.bmp" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639779024923251442" /></a>
<br />Now, I know what <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">you're</span> thinking...."47 mph on flat ground? something is wrong with your computer".
<br />
<br />Well, no. You can see from the downloaded data above my cadence was in the high 120s.
<br />
<br />Do the math.
<br />
<br />A 700c wheel with a 23C tire has a circumference of 6.67 feet. I have a 53x11 on this bike which is a ratio of 4.81, so one turn of the cranks moves the bike 32 feet (4.81*6.67 = 32.13).
<br />
<br />47 mph is 4136 feet per minute. Therefore, if you divide the speed by the distance for each pedal revolution, you get you cadence in revolutions per minute. 4136/32.13 = 128.7 rpm. Check the max cadence in the data above, you get...128 RPM.
<br />
<br />You can also see from the data I wasn't working very hard. My heart rate actually dropped as my speed increased. Aside from the initial effort to catch the draft (peaked at 650 watts), it was pretty easy going.
<br />
<br />But, I know you didn't come here today for a math lesson, so here is what you _did_ come for, Fully Naked Friday, Gotta luv a woman that can accessorize.......
<br />
<br /><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h1xFWYECqDw/TkSC45gQ7mI/AAAAAAAABdU/6Dr7UR6oiFI/s1600/tumblr_l3gk1oIZn61qzsm0zo1_500.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 294px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5639776547395137122" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-h1xFWYECqDw/TkSC45gQ7mI/AAAAAAAABdU/6Dr7UR6oiFI/s400/tumblr_l3gk1oIZn61qzsm0zo1_500.jpg" /></a>
<br /><div style="text-align: center;">Enjoy</div></div></div></div>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-66193065822560963762011-08-04T19:12:00.000-07:002011-08-04T19:34:18.831-07:00FnF - on the precipice of a cataclysmSometimes the irony of life really makes you stop and wonder. Regular readers of this blog probably know that I do rather stupid things on a regular basis, generally involving going very fast on bicycles behind large vehicles on public roadways. You need to have a bike you can trust for that, as well as be very trusting of the the condition of the road and the driver of the vehicle you're drafting.<br /><br />Some of you may remember last winters' project - the Quasi-Kellog built up as fixed-gear (39x14). I rode the bike to a cookout last weekend, 22+ miles, relatively flat with a few short steep hills that require getting out of the saddle in the drops and muscling the bike over the pitch. Less than a mile from my destination, I hopped into a truck draft while it cruised through danvers at 30 mph.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5kbgn_L93gI/TjtUJk3RpjI/AAAAAAAABcs/dYsxOEIQJ5w/s1600/fixed.bmp"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 145px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637191882075383346" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-5kbgn_L93gI/TjtUJk3RpjI/AAAAAAAABcs/dYsxOEIQJ5w/s400/fixed.bmp" /></a><br /><br />It only lasted about a 1/4 mile, but spinning a 39x14 at 30 mph in 95 degree heat takes a bit out of you (that's a cadence of about 140 for you non-math majors)<br /><br />So I get to the event, ride up to the hosts and my wife (she drove down) to let them know I'm there. We chat for a minute, and I get my car keys to go load my bike in the car and get my clothes. I step back into the pedals, and with the first stroke I hear this sickening slow crack. The handle bar snapped.<br /><br />The initial crack.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oNxdTlibjAA/TjtVIx12y1I/AAAAAAAABc0/w010bz-7SyQ/s1600/DSCN0981.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637192967890848594" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-oNxdTlibjAA/TjtVIx12y1I/AAAAAAAABc0/w010bz-7SyQ/s400/DSCN0981.JPG" /></a><br /><br />This is after I ripped it apart.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9rnlYfbFt8E/TjtV44UZEMI/AAAAAAAABc8/-VJT2x-9hwQ/s1600/DSCN0982.JPG"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 300px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637193794263257282" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-9rnlYfbFt8E/TjtV44UZEMI/AAAAAAAABc8/-VJT2x-9hwQ/s400/DSCN0982.JPG" /></a><br /><br />Less than a mile earlier, I was drafting a truck at 30 mph.<br /><br />Gotta luv the irony of life.<br /><br />Here it is, Your Fully Naked Friday<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YdKfhn7xG3Y/TjtWMnslIbI/AAAAAAAABdE/sJWflvN8YnY/s1600/tumblr_lk4f5pqlKq1qa1y8mo1_500.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 266px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5637194133398692274" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-YdKfhn7xG3Y/TjtWMnslIbI/AAAAAAAABdE/sJWflvN8YnY/s400/tumblr_lk4f5pqlKq1qa1y8mo1_500.jpg" /></a>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-75481634320141921792011-07-28T18:47:00.000-07:002011-07-28T19:57:56.265-07:00FnF - The World Turned Upside Downyes, it's been a while.<br /><br />I've started a new job, one where - not only do I actually have to work - but one where the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> activity is seriously monitored. So, my <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error">websurfing</span> activities have taken a major hit.<br /><br />A significant aspect of my life, and indeed, my public persona, has changed. I don't like wasting time on the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error">internet</span> at home, I have other things I'd rather do. For example, right now I _should_ be replacing the tire I was commuting on today when I took a roofing nail <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected">through</span> the tire and out the side wall. But, like other things recently, my world has turned upside down.<br /><br />I'll get to the tire, but I also wanted to take this opportunity to comment on the 2011 Tour <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error">de</span> France. Won by <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-error">Cadel</span> Evans, from the 'bottom of the world'. Not only the first <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_6" class="blsp-spelling-error">australian</span> to win the tour, but the first man from the southern hemisphere to win the tour. Evans deserved the win. I didn't pick him to win (though I did get both of <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_7" class="blsp-spelling-error">Hushovds</span> wins right), but <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_8" class="blsp-spelling-error">schleck</span> was not fit - glaringly obviously - and <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_9" class="blsp-spelling-error">contador</span> won the Giro, and probably didn't think he would be able to ride the tour in the face of the <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_10" class="blsp-spelling-error">CAS</span> hearing. Evans attacked for once in his career, and put on an <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_11" class="blsp-spelling-error">armstrong</span>-<span id="SPELLING_ERROR_12" class="blsp-spelling-error">esque</span> tour <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_13" class="blsp-spelling-error">de</span> force in the final time trial. The Man from the land where toilets flush backwards (not really) turned the tour on its head.<br /><br />I know this isn't exactly <span id="SPELLING_ERROR_14" class="blsp-spelling-error">friday</span> as of the posting stamp, but I'm sure by the time you read this, it will be. That said, this is what you really came here for: Fully Naked Friday - the Upside Down version.<br /><br />Enjoy:<br /><br /><p align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LwcXiVHZx_w/TjIfu_3lXZI/AAAAAAAABck/xxjwrbvpBKQ/s1600/hanging-upside-down-in-bondage-Candy-Manson-12532-0.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 267px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634600976072924562" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-LwcXiVHZx_w/TjIfu_3lXZI/AAAAAAAABck/xxjwrbvpBKQ/s400/hanging-upside-down-in-bondage-Candy-Manson-12532-0.jpg" /></a> <a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9tn5fR_9KEY/TjIfuriiqgI/AAAAAAAABcc/Zp8ReXTLgo0/s1600/335913bb23a67e42df719393010b116fe73dbadc.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 276px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5634600970615958018" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9tn5fR_9KEY/TjIfuriiqgI/AAAAAAAABcc/Zp8ReXTLgo0/s400/335913bb23a67e42df719393010b116fe73dbadc.jpg" /></a></p>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-18318343435823012172011-06-17T17:18:00.000-07:002011-06-17T18:21:31.395-07:00FNF<div style="text-align: left;">To those in the know, FnF is an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/initialism">initialism</a></span></span>* (as opposed to an <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wiktionary.org/wiki/acronym">acronym</a></span></span> - get it straight) for a nickname ascribed to a certain <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://solobreak.blogspot.com/">power blogger and local bike racer</a></span></span>. <br /></div><div><br /></div><div>So, in a loose homage to FnF, in addition to a stated appreciation of the female form by another blogger of note, I've decided to institute what I hope will be a somewhat-regular feature of The Zen Of Cycling in lieu of <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=HNT">H.N.T</a></span></span>. - <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">F</span>ully <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">N</span>aked <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;">F</span>riday:</div><div><br /></div><div>During one of my regularly scheduled <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.google.com/search?hl=en&source=hp&q=%22bike+porn%22&aq=f&aqi=&aql=&oq=">Bike Porn meta-searches</a></span></span> (whether I need it or not) I happened upon a photo series of fully naked women in an off-road cycling....er...'competition'. I'm guessing this would be some sort of "cyclocross porn". Actually, I only included the term "cyclocross porn" in an attempt to see how many search engine hits I get for "cyclocross porn". Of course, I realize that repeating "cyclocross porn" in this post won't get me any more hits than if I simply typed "cyclocross porn" once, but since "cyclocross porn" isn't a term in common usage even in cycling circles (as opposed to "bike porn"), then I think typing "cyclocross porn" repeatedly wouldn't constitute making "cyclocross porn" cliche.</div><div><br /></div><div>This cyclocross porn photo series was published originally in <span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Escort_(magazine)">Escort magazine</a></span></span>, the british print media version, circa ~1985.</div><div><br /></div><div>Enjoy (click to enlarge)....</div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e7v50g1BF2o/Tfv7wLkXgDI/AAAAAAAABb0/A6oWoM_4KJk/s1600/90827_Nude_Cycling_01_123_860lo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-e7v50g1BF2o/Tfv7wLkXgDI/AAAAAAAABb0/A6oWoM_4KJk/s400/90827_Nude_Cycling_01_123_860lo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619361765232443442" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 280px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ty92-TI41hk/Tfv7wSpyW1I/AAAAAAAABb8/KM6_qMLC2Qo/s1600/90833_Nude_Cycling_02_123_186lo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-ty92-TI41hk/Tfv7wSpyW1I/AAAAAAAABb8/KM6_qMLC2Qo/s400/90833_Nude_Cycling_02_123_186lo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619361767134223186" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 282px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div><div><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JP88ew_xsL4/Tfv7w6BtNEI/AAAAAAAABcE/N4f5zlYPhqQ/s1600/90835_Nude_Cycling_03_123_893lo.JPG" onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JP88ew_xsL4/Tfv7w6BtNEI/AAAAAAAABcE/N4f5zlYPhqQ/s400/90835_Nude_Cycling_03_123_893lo.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5619361777703531586" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 283px; " /></a></div><div><br /></div>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-75305385848946460142011-06-15T10:13:00.000-07:002011-06-15T11:50:01.841-07:00The Last Ride(Right click <a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DyLOkbW9yCI"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">here</span></a> and open in a new window, then come back and read this with the music as a soundtrack)<br /><br />I took my last ride to work this morning. I'm starting a new job next week, and tomorrow is my last day at this one. I'll need to drive to work tomorrow to carry out my personal effects, so riding isn't really practical.<br /><br />I'm going to miss this aspect of my old job, the commute, that is. I live 10 miles from work, and my daily commute takes me through the bucolic idyll of Boxford and North Andover, as well as the frenetic schizophrenia of downtown haverhill. I can even put together a 50 mile ride that zigzags through north andover, boxford, georgetown, groveland, and haverhill.<br /><br />I will be able to ride to work at my new job, though with a distance of 28 miles doing the full commute every day would rapidly invoke the law of diminishing returns. The hiring manager is actually the same engineer that hired me into the last company I worked at before where I am now, and did so with full knowledge of my _need_ to ride. He said "I know the commute by bike would be difficult, but you could do the park-n-ride thing like you did before". When I worked with him before, I would drive to a commuter lot, then ride the rest of the way. He was one of the few people that appreciated that and even encouraged it at my last job.<br /><br />My new boss called me out of the blue a few weeks ago, and asked me if I was interested in a change of scenery. I replied "sure, when do you want to set up an interview?". His response was "We don't need an interview, you're the person I want. If you want the job, you can start when you're ready". He and I got along very well when we worked together, both personally and professionally. He's been putting together an engineering team for his department with people he knows and trusts. There will be four other people in his new group that I've already worked with.<br /><br />With the new commute I'll have the thrill of commuting through the heart of Nashua, as well as the rural towns of hudson, pelham, and windham. When I _do_ ride the whole 28 miles It will involve Salem and the rural section of haverhill as well. As of now, a full week of commuting miles (and no other riding) is 100 miles. With the new job that will be around 250, if I can manage three full commutes during the week. Typically though, it will be around 150. I've tried riding a full commute week at that distance before. That's tough. No, riding 30 miles each way isn't hard, but couple that with a week of trying to actually work 8 hours in between, and by the time thursday afternoon rolls around, swinging a leg over the toptube is a chore. It is for me, at least. I know guys that do it now, and the have my admiration.<br /><br />Notice how I haven't really written about the job? I won't miss it. I'll miss the commute and the convenience more than anything. Truthfully, this job has been a forgettable experience. There is little camaraderie here (never has been), the technology is boring, and with the recent acquisition of the company by an international conglomerate the morale is low (yes, "the writing is on the wall", as they say). It says a lot about your job when the thing you'll miss most is the short commute. The new job has a much broader scope of responsibility, with more interesting technology.<br /><br />Don't get me wrong. There are quite a few people here I like, and a few I'll genuinely miss. Generally speaking, my co-workers are nice and friendly people. However, by and large, I can't really say I'm more than a friendly acquaintance to more than a few people, and even the closest relationships have never progressed to the point where people have their co-workers over for cookouts, or even go out for drinks after work. In the past 5 years, I've stopped by the local watering holes on a friday after work, and only once have I seen a group of co-workers - they were senior managers from a different department. Not exactly the type of people that would have me as a drinkin' buddy. Nonetheless, There are no doubt people here that will utter Good Riddance upon the knowledge of my departure.<br /><br />So I rode in slowly this morning. It was a nice morning - a bit cooler than I like, a bit more wind than I like - but still pleasant. I've often taken a slower ride just to appreciate the ride either to or from work though, so it isn't like I didn't already appreciate it, just that today held the melancholy of finality as well.<br /><br />So this afternoon will be my last commute from this job. It's a nice day, I think I'll take the long way home.<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1uQap5DURl4" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="560"></iframe><br /><br />(you didn't seriously think I'd let you go out with fucking violins, did you?)zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-1444865780511283112011-06-03T08:17:00.000-07:002011-06-03T09:03:16.596-07:00You're Not In Kansas Anymore, DorothyThose of you who don't live local to me may or may not have heard about a tornado that touched down in Massachusetts this week.<br /><br />I don't live in fucking kansas. I don't want to live in fucking kansas. I don't like the climate, the terrain, or the political atmosphere. We have our blizzards and the occasional hurricane, and they have their tornadoes. I like it like that.<br /><br />My bike team is based in the areas where the tornado hit. I actually live about 100 miles away, and we pretty much just got a few winds gusts and some spits of rain. However, I know several of my teammates live in the swath of the tempest. I was concerned for their safety, but had the common sense not to call or email them during the event. Instead, I waited until the next morning and sent out an email to the club list asking if anyone had any info. I didn't anticipate anyone who actually was exposed to the fury would reply. This is what I got back (names changed to initials):<br /><br />*****<br /><br />From: zen<br />Subject: You're not in kansas anymore, Dorothy<br /><br />Did everyone make it through the storms ok last night?<br /><br />JR wrote:<br />everyone is ok...but (JP's) neighborhood is trashed, still no power. (MN) escaped unscathed, but still no power. his town, monson, apparently got hit really hard. (DM) has no power. i was only a few miles from the initial tornado, but somehow no damage or problems in our town.<br /><br />MS wrote:<br />(my wife's) school which is that neighborhood is probably done for the year. I guess it missing huge sections of roof. Also heard that Cathedral school is done. Probably a rumor but its structurally unsound and may need to be razed and rebuilt.<br /><br />GP wrote:<br />I'm in the same neighborhood as (JP). Trees and power lines down everywhere. I don't expect power for 3-4 days. A tree came down in my back yard and a branch went through the roof into the dining room. The Nat'l guard is here. The noise was just incredible. I could hear it approaching, then wham and trees were going over. Just 3-4 minutes, then it was gone. Then there was torrential rain. No one hurt in our area, fortunately.<br /><br />(MN) wrote:<br />what a wild ride last night was. first the hail (damage the cars), then the tornado, then another tornado jump right over us. then the lighting. 5 to 6 straights at a time. not your normal lighting. after all said and done. no power. lots of damage in Monson. talk to some people about their dealing. 1 lady was sucked out of her house. She ended up with lots of cut to her face and body. one house was lifted and thrown over to the next lot upside down leaving only the basement. The pastor went to their basement just in time to see the house collapsed around him and he had to hang on while the storm try to suck him out feet first.<br /><br />MD wrote:<br />No power in this thing.......just a little wind, nothing major. NOT!<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/tj5uvC9cLO4" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="349" width="560"></iframe><br /><br />Hope everyone got through safe.<br /><br />(ed. note - I embedded the video from the link in the email)<br /><br />MN wrote:<br />I had a front seat view of the whole thing. my cars only have hail damage. the tornado pass within 200 yards from my house. Very loud.<br /><br />*****<br /><br />Now, this was no<a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2011/05/28/national/main20067073.shtml"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> Joplin</span></a>, but in terms of what we're used to, it was significant and substantial. It helps to put things in perspective, like the loss of lives and property in the Joplin storms, and how much more powerful that was that what we were hit with. Tornadoes rarely touchdown in new england, so when we had not only a sighting, but a sustained tornado 'event' that caused appreciable damage, it was an event worthy of the local news stations preempting the entire evening of regularly scheduled programming with almost 18 hours of regurgitated video footage and phone conversations with locals who really had nothing to say (opening them up for the inevitable <a href="http://boston.barstoolsports.com/m/featured/wbz-gets-punkd-by-fake-tornado-watcher/"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Howard Stern prank call</span></a>). I'm not minimizing the significance or seriousness of the event, just that the irony of a television newscaster telling people who had probably lost all venues of communication media that they should take cover and leave their TVs on for up-to-date information seemed somewhat lost on the television newscasters.<br /><br />Hey, at least they had the sense to realize it was more important than going on about <a href="http://www.washingtonpost.com/lifestyle/style/listen-up-fellas-naked-man-parts-not-so-sexy/2011/06/01/AGMKSgGH_story.html"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Weiner's weiner.</span></a>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-61382235154757720212011-05-24T09:33:00.000-07:002011-05-24T10:08:39.469-07:00Demanding PerfectionIs it wrong of me to consider The Butthole Surfers to be gods amoung men? This really has nothing to do with this blog post but I was just listening to The Annoying Song (arguably my favorite BHS tune) and couldn't resist. Check it out for yourself:<br /><br /><iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/iI9D4q8pLuw" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe><br /><br />(crap video, keep reading after you press play)<br /><br />Anyways,<br /><br />I'm not normally one to bitch about the weather, so I won't do it here. Last week though - just to much cold/wet for me. 40's I'm okay with. Rain I'm ok with. 40's and rain......fuck it. As a result I managed to ride to work one day last week, on friday, national bike to work day. My company (A <a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" href="http://www.schneider-electric.com/site/home/index.cfm/ww/">Major International Industrial Construction Conglomerate</a>) had a nation wide 'bike to work challenge day' last thursday. One of the software department heads here bitched to the corporate HR rep that it wasn't realistic to expect people to brave 40 degree rain in the northeast while the southwest had temps in the 60's and sunny. They acquiesced, and decided to hold an alternate day this coming friday.<br /><br />Not that it would matter to me, I ride in anyways. I've been commuting since about mid march and have probably 500 _commuting_ miles in this year. The weather has put a (ahem) 'damper' on it though.<br /><br />Looking at the forecast for this week, we have warm(er) temps, with the chance of rain all week. Still, with the funky weather pattern, yesterday I wore tights and a base layer under the kit, with arm warmers, light weight booties, and full finger gloves, to and from work. Low 50's and sprinkles both trips. Today, just the kit. I left the house with arm warmers, and as soon as I stepped out I turned around and left them warmers inside. It was 65 with a drizzle when I left the house, and the forecast is for mid 80's on the ride home.<br /><br />I've decided, this _will_ be a '<a href="http://thezenofcycling.blogspot.com/2008/06/another-perfect-week.html"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Perfect Week</span></a>'. I got a 4 day week in a few weeks ago, which could have been 5 if I didn't have a dr's appointment, but there's no real reason I can't ride in every day this week. It might rain, but hey, if getting a little wet during my commute is the worst thing that happens to me this week, I'm doing pretty good.zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-58007097068786286692011-05-15T11:04:00.000-07:002011-05-15T16:39:23.400-07:00On This Spot In 2011, Nothing HappenedI finally got some racing under my legs this weekend, and lets just say it didn't exactly go as well as I had hoped.....or as well as anyone hoped, for that matter.<div><br /></div><div>The Wayne Elliot Memorial Circuit Race is run in the sleepy little bedroom/rural community of <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Merrimac,_Massachusetts"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;">Merrimac Massachusetts</span></span></a>.....ten miles from my house. Since it's a short 6+ mile circuit and the promoter only has the roads for half the day, they limited the fields - only one masters field, a 50+, so I had to go play with the senior 2/3 for 7 laps.</div><div><br /></div><div>The weather forecast was completely wrong. Instead of a partly cloudy day with temps reaching the mid 60's, it stayed cloudy and cool, actually never getting out of the 50's. The temperature was only 52 by the time the race was over.</div><div><br /></div><div>I love the roads in this area, and I train on them often. Winding, narrow, light traffic, bucolic forests and farmland sprinkled with newer developments here and there. Merrimac is far enough from boston to dissuade large scale sub-urban sprawl. However, between the rough winter and the poor financial state of the town, the roads are in rough shape. Fine for training on, or even small group rides, but not good for an 80+ rider field. </div><div><br /></div><div>As such, the pack was squirrly from people trying to avoid wheel-eating potholes and broken pavement. The host club (<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-weight: bold;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-style: italic;"><a href="http://www.bobcycling.com/">BOB cycling</a></span></span>) did as well as they could with coldpatching and marking. The marshaling was excellent, with plenty of communications and traffic control, but the size of the field and the road conditions made it nearly impossible for the riders to not consistently ride over the center line as well as make sudden line changes. </div><div><br /></div><div>And, as such, I was taken out by a crash 5 miles into the race. </div><div><br /></div><div>It could have been worse. I went down as part of an unavoidable chain reaction. A rider did a sudden swerve, and hooked the rider in front of me. He went down, and I managed to avoid him by swerving to the right and off the road, into a hedge in some ones front yard. I went over the bars but the landing was soft.</div><div><br /></div><div>I was riding near the front, and managed to get back on the bike before the rest of the pack went by, but the front wheel had skewed, the bars were twisted, and the right shifter was pointing at the left shifter. By the time I got everything re-oriented, the pack was long gone. I figured, what the hell, they'll be around again in about 20 minutes, I'll just wait for them and hop back in - it isn't like I was riding well enough to affect the race anyways.</div><div><br /></div><div>The rider that went down in front of me is one of the better known and respected riders in new england. He had slammed the pavement pretty hard on his left hip. He was writhing in pain on the group as the EMTs tended to him. By the time the pack came around again, he was being placed on a back board. I hopped back into the field to finish the race.</div><div><br /></div><div>Now, I know what you're thinking. "hey, you can't jump back in the race like that, you'll get disqualified".</div><div><br /></div><div>You would be right. </div><div><br /></div><div>As it turned out, I did three more laps, and dropped out. When I bailed the average speed was 24.5 mph. I was having trouble accelerating out of one of the corners that drops you onto the base of one of the hills on the course. It's a pure fitness issue. I called it quits at the top of that climb, looked behind me and saw riders in ones and twos all the way down. </div><div><br /></div><div>Back at the finish, I was informed that the officials had actually stopped the race at one point and warned the entire field that they would be DQd if the yellow line violations continued. I watched them come by with one to go then, and they weren't exactly hammering. It's one of those cases where, if I had just stayed in on that lap I bailed (I was actually in the pack when I decided to quit), it would have slowed down and I could have finished with the field, most likely. The early fast pace though had taken it's toll. Spectators were commenting that easily half the field had dropped.</div><div><br /></div><div>The finish was good, it's a 40+ mph downhill that flattens out about 1/4 mile from the finish. A 53x11 is handy. The riders came across the line holding that speed, and was the winner was some dude covered in tattoos. I don't know his name.</div><div><br /></div><div>Oh, wait, I _do_ know who won.</div><div><br /></div><div>No one.</div><div><br /></div><div>That's right, there was no winner.</div><div><br /></div><div>It turns out, the field didn't quite get the message when the officials forced the riders to stop and scolded them. Evidently, they started taking over the whole road again on the last lap. In the beginning of the race, I could see why we were all over the road. I did my best to stay on the right side if the road, but even I ended up getting beeped at my the moto official. </div><div><br /></div><div>What I don't get was why they kept doing it on the last lap. The field had been whittled down to around 40 riders. After 7 laps they should have become familiar enough with the rough spots on the course so that there was no need to spread out. I'm not surprised they DQd the whole field, and I don't blame them. So, unfortunately for the guy that crossed the line first, he won a race that wasn't.</div>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-38191689267880193002011-05-03T12:52:00.000-07:002011-05-03T13:59:15.944-07:00look what the cat dragged in.....So I've been working on this post for over 2 months. Seriously, I started the 'project' in mid february.<br /><br />You see, I have a ton of bike shit in my basement, and I'm looking to clear some of it out, including a frame I generally don't ride - until now.<br /><br /><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J10cuTDuKWU/TcBm2IZLvCI/AAAAAAAABa4/SidGTi_AASg/s1600/ross1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-J10cuTDuKWU/TcBm2IZLvCI/AAAAAAAABa4/SidGTi_AASg/s400/ross1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602591016600976418" border="0" /></a>I bought it somewhere around 2005 from Aries Sports in Newburyport (now a different bike shop, different owner, don't know the dude). I was told it was a frame built by THE <a href="http://spectrum-cycles.com/26.htm"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Tom Kellogg </span></a>for the 1984 Olympics. A few years ago, I emailed him and sent him a picture, and he basically just said yes, it was one of his, but I didn't follow up.<br /><br />So I'm thinking, if this thing really is a Kellogg frame built for the Olympics, it's probably worth quite a bit to a collector.<br /><br />So I emailed him again, asking for more details. and sent some pictures.<br /><br />Here's where it gets.....um....interesting.<br /><br />It turns out that, yes, it's a Kellogg frame. Sort of. It was built by Jeff Duser, Toms chief framebuilder. Maybe.<br /><br />In reality it's a Ross. Yes, the Ross bicycles we all know from Sears and Kmart in our childhood.<br /><br />Tom was hired by Ross in the early '80s to set up their 'Signature' line. It was to be a line of hand-built frames in a high production setting to keep costs down. Tom designed the bikes, and came out with a few different models - a couple of lower-end chinese imports (but still hand-made in china) and their top-of-the-line series, hand-made in the Ross factory in pennsylvania using high quality tubing (either Columbus SL or Ishiwata 022, not sure which mine is. Tom claims Ishwata, but <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/9466770@N03/4208448343/in/set-72157622932892483/"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">this bike</span></a> is SL )<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">I have a Circa 1984 Ross 508 Signature Triad.<br /></div><br />Tom wrote: "The frame design was mine, the same exact design I developed for the first Ross Signature racing frames. Unlike the rest of the Ross bicycles made over the years, the Signature frames were real hand built frames, as good as any made at the time. I was very proud of what we did there. The guy who built that 508 was good enough that I hired him away from Ross and he is still working for me to this day, twenty six years later. You've got a little piece of history."<br /><br />The only caveat to add is that Tom had left Ross in 1983 and Jim Redkay was running the shop by then. In all likelyhood, Jeff Duser _did_ make the frame, but the 508 Triads were built by a team consisting of Jeff, Juan Rodriguez, and Dave Rodriguez (hence the 'triad'). So truth be told, I don't know for sure if Jeff actually built my frame. I asked Tom for more detail, but I haven't heard back. He's probably tired of me annoying him (like you don't know that's possible).<br /><br />So, even though this bike is in Toms words "as nice as anything else that was being built at the time", it probably isn't worth a whole helluvalot. I only bring up this point because I was considering selling it. It's worth more to me as a ridable bike than I would get for it at this point.<br /><br />And man...it rides nice. My '91 Merlin is a first generation Kellogg design as well, and this thing rides _that_ nice. It's a shame to just leave it to collect dust, so I've made it my commuter - a fixed gear with some really nice old parts I had laying around not being used. I actually decided to abandon the <a href="http://thezenofcycling.blogspot.com/2011/02/you-dont-see-that-every-day.html"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Fuji experiment</span></a>, and use some of the parts from that.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-munMjTNkB1w/TcBqu7SrP-I/AAAAAAAABbY/yWce2-dRYDM/s1600/DSCN0767.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-munMjTNkB1w/TcBqu7SrP-I/AAAAAAAABbY/yWce2-dRYDM/s400/DSCN0767.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602595290871447522" border="0" /></a>Circa '92 Campy Chorus crankset, brakes, and brake levers. (all in _excellent_ shape). I'm riding Eggbeaters because I need to walk a bit to my office after my commute, and I wear MTB shoes so I can walk on the linoleum.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RarkbgZyp-U/TcBm2Ntr4KI/AAAAAAAABaw/OcjcbWrWoNQ/s1600/ross2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 316px; height: 400px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-RarkbgZyp-U/TcBm2Ntr4KI/AAAAAAAABaw/OcjcbWrWoNQ/s400/ross2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602591018029146274" border="0" /></a>It's hard to tell, but that's an authentic Campy Chorus seat post bolt.<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QmpU_cl72GQ/TcBm2hbwncI/AAAAAAAABbA/huYQSSFxpd8/s1600/ross3.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QmpU_cl72GQ/TcBm2hbwncI/AAAAAAAABbA/huYQSSFxpd8/s400/ross3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602591023322668482" border="0" /></a>Easton EC90 carbon bars, EC90 Stem, American Classic Trilock Headset (a fabulous idea, too bad it didn't catch on.)<br /></div><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Re6KlnYzMWQ/TcBm14UwrqI/AAAAAAAABao/hGVkXLi3wns/s1600/0503111534.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Re6KlnYzMWQ/TcBm14UwrqI/AAAAAAAABao/hGVkXLi3wns/s400/0503111534.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602591012287458978" border="0" /></a>San Marco Rolls Titano saddle.<br /></div><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SKJh9vNC7s4/TcBm2yFd6mI/AAAAAAAABbI/2D29h0hnlUE/s1600/ross4.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SKJh9vNC7s4/TcBm2yFd6mI/AAAAAAAABbI/2D29h0hnlUE/s400/ross4.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5602591027792570978" border="0" /></a>I have a 39x14 on American Classic hubs laced to Matrix rims now. I normally ride a 42x16 on my fixed gear bikes, but I'm getting older and don't spin like I used to. My commute is pretty flat anyways.<br /><br />I have a set of somewhat worn '92 Campy chorus hubs as well, but they need to be built into wheels. I think that will set the ensemble off nicely.<br /><br />It's a great bike, and I'm glad I have it. A little piece of history, for sure...if you're into that sort of thing.zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-89180263963226751422011-04-29T12:08:00.000-07:002011-04-29T12:32:56.187-07:00lunch crawl......Up the hills in the <a href="http://www.thetrustees.org/assets/documents/places-to-visit/trailmaps/Weir-Hill-Trail-Map.pdf"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Weir Conservation Land</span></a> for my noon-time ride today.<br /><br />From the southeast corner heading northwest up the weir hill trail (singletrack):<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yCXNsYmqT5A/TbsNExHy-_I/AAAAAAAABaY/zmmk9nzFvCo/s1600/weir1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 202px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yCXNsYmqT5A/TbsNExHy-_I/AAAAAAAABaY/zmmk9nzFvCo/s400/weir1.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601084937122020338" border="0" /></a><br /><br />Northbound on the Stevens trail (wide, but worn well):<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjS6u_RMXMM/TbsNFIDt3OI/AAAAAAAABag/abrB_S26BRk/s1600/weir2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 196px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-LjS6u_RMXMM/TbsNFIDt3OI/AAAAAAAABag/abrB_S26BRk/s400/weir2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5601084943278922978" border="0" /></a><br />Yes, those are sustained HRs in the low 180's. The complete round trip from my office, through the Osgood Hill conservation land, Half Mile Hill conservation land, and Weir Hill conservation land is just over 9 miles and takes an hour, less when it's dry I'm more fit.zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-11770209256698902752011-04-25T10:31:00.000-07:002011-04-25T12:16:12.810-07:00"he's not dead, he's pining!"Actually, just shivering from hypothermia.....<br />(or he could be <a style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;" href="http://www.mtholyoke.edu/%7Eebarnes/python/dead-parrot.htm">pining for the fjords...Lovely Plumage!</a>)<br /><br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_dulSurrlZU/TbXB0M4zN2I/AAAAAAAABaQ/_PUrSbuXsvk/s1600/quabbin.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 129px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_dulSurrlZU/TbXB0M4zN2I/AAAAAAAABaQ/_PUrSbuXsvk/s400/quabbin.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5599594814261901154" border="0" /></a><br />The above badly-stitched panorama is what the conditions were at the start of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0">Quabbin</span> Reservoir Road Race last <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1">saturday</span>. Temperature about 35 degrees, precipitation alternating between sleet and rain. The only thing missing was wind. There was a little gust from time to time, but nothing steady. The picture doesn't quite show it, but this was about as bad as it gets. If this were a cross race, we would all have been licking our chops, since in a cross race you warm up quick, it only lasts an hour, and you're never more than 5 minutes from your car.<br /><br />This is a 65 mile hilly road race. About 5000 feet of climbing, with some rather rough pavement on the east side of the reservoir. The first three miles of this race is downhill - in 35 degree rain, and at some point your going to be about 90 minutes from your car, with big hills in the way. I've done that a few times in my life. I didn't envy anyone.<br /><br />Turnout was high considering the conditions, but no one ever accused bike racers of common sense. My team puts on the race, so I lucked into driving a wheel van for the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2">womens</span> field. It was neutral, but one rider asked me to carry her wheels. I told her "I think I'm going to be <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3">carrying</span> more passengers than changing wheels today" - she didn't get it, and it turns out I was right.<br /><br />The first three miles of this race is downhill - in 35 degree rain. I've done that a few times in my life. I didn't envy anyone.<br /><br />Ten miles into the race I see a group of 4 male riders huddled at the side of the ride like a bunch of asparagus. I pulled off.<br /><br />"You guys <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4">ok</span>?"<br />"No", one of them managed to shiver out loud.<br /><br />I was just going to have them sit in my car when a big cargo van from <a href="http://www.killingtonmountainschool.org/"><span style="font-style: italic; font-weight: bold;">Killing Mountain School </span></a>pulled up. They were towing a trailer for the bikes, the van probably had seats for 15. The men all hopped in eagerly.<br /><br />I went ahead and caught the back of the <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5">womens</span> field again. About 15 miles in we came across an EMT and fire <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6">marshals</span> car at the side of the road. They had a rider in the back of the ambulance under a metal blanket. He wasn't quite coherent. Apparently he had simply fallen down, not really crashed, but just collapsed. Another teammate of mine working the race had pulled up and said he would make sure the kid made it back to the parking lot. I continued back on the course.<br /><br />I had a radio in my car provided by the emergency crew Mike Norton had hired. They were asking support vehicles with room in their cars to stop by a country store at about the 20 mile point and pick up riders, I was almost there. There was a dozen bikes outside, and a dozen wet racers inside huddling and shivering. An EMT was there triaging who needed to go first. With the extra wheels in my car, I had room for two bikes and two riders. My other teammate had the kid from the earlier ambulance in his car and came along as well. He could fit two more. Other vehicles were on their way. One of the guys I took wasn't thinking clearly and was speaking slowly, but the EMT said he would be OK. The other guy was limping a bit because he couldn't feel one of his feet. I drove them back to the finish, and by this time the lead pro/1/2/3 had finished.<br /><br />I drove the course backwards, looking for suffering riders - on this day, that was redundant. Since I had started behind the last field at the beginning of the race, I kept going until I passed the last person I remember, a cat 4 woman in a red jersey and black tights. I drove past her another 5 minutes and didn't see anyone else, so I figure she was probably it. The radio didn't report anyone needing a ride anywhere, so I turned around the follow her.<br /><br />There was a cop at an intersection at the 45 mile point, and she pulled over. I figure she was probably done. Sure enough - she struggled off the bike, shivering slightly, soaking wet to the point she was actually dripping where she stood. I loaded her and the bike and went back after the field. By the time I started catching people again there was maybe 15 miles to go, so I slowed by and asked each person if they were <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7">ok</span>, how they felt. I guess at that point it was becoming a matter of pride, since they all kind of gave me a brush off. I had to ask one guy twice, I couldn't tell if he was ignoring me or was mentally on a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8">carribean</span> vacation. He grunted "I'm <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9">ok</span>" at me. One other woman, another cat 4, said she couldn't feel her hands or her feet. She was friends with the woman I had picked up, and decided to hop in the car.<br /><br />The rain had subsided to a mist by now - 4 hour hours later - but the temperature was still 38 according to my car. I dropped the women off at their car, and I noticed my front seat actually had a 1" deep puddle of water in it. Luckily, my car has<a href="http://automobiles.honda.com/element/features.aspx?Feature=seatfabric"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> waterproof seats</span></a>. I had a blanket in the back, I just tossed it on the seat to soak it up.<br /><br />There wasn't much revelry at the end of this race. No groups hanging out on the tailgate of the SUV <span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10">barbecuing</span> tofu burgers, no coolers with exotic local <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11">microbrews</span>....just a steady stream of people slowly skulking back to their cars....some just tired, some looking sullen and gaunt, most everyone leaving the bike outside of their vehicles and getting it to start the engine, looking for some respite from the cold, trying to make some sense of their _lack_ of sense. Even the riders who placed seemed annoyed that they had to get out of their warm cars to collect the winnings. The race staff was bailing as soon as the race promoter said they could.<br /><br />To punctuate the dismal affair, I went looking for a local restaurant to sit and have a burger and a beer. There are two reasonably sized towns on the way back to the Mass Pike from the race, Ware and Palmer. Of the two towns, only Palmer had a legitimate restaurant, and it wasn't open (at 3 PM on a <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_12">saturday</span>). Ware had a sub shop, and Palmer had a subway - not quite what I was looking for. Between the two towns there were five open <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_13">chinese</span> joints - in a section of the state where the only <span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_14">chinese</span> residents probably worked in those restaurants. I had to settle for a burger from Wendy's.<br /><br />It's some thing we all do as bike racers, something we _have_ to do. I understand it, and I've done it. I'll probably do it again to, but no one ever accused me of having common sense either....zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-50282703288011256862011-04-07T11:32:00.000-07:002011-04-07T11:48:31.741-07:00Competition for UltraEndure GuyWhilst wasting time, I stumbled upon Dom Mazetti (though I wasn't actually using '<a href="http://www.stumbleupon.com/"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">stumbleupon</span></a>', I was legitimately surfing aimlessly (is 'surfing aimlessly' considered a legitimate activity?)).<br /><br />Dom Mazetti is the Brooklyn counterpart to Boston's Own<a href="http://media23.podbean.com/pb/7311a0f2a3522163338c18837f2de564/4d9e0679/blogs23/306185/uploads/UltraEndureGuy.mp3"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;"> UltraEndure Guy</span></a>. I have embedded here, for you edification, "Dom Mazetti Vs. Hipsters", in which Dom discusses hairy-legged women, fixed-gear bikes ("doze bikes wit no brakes"), and American Eagle Outfitters.<br /><br />Enjoy!<br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/aZDMLQM2Ps4" allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="390" width="480"></iframe>zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-2763155273388560842011-04-01T06:58:00.000-07:002011-04-01T07:28:13.132-07:00A Dose Of AwesomeFrom Boston.com, news of <a href="http://www.boston.com/yourtown/news/cambridge/2011/03/cambridge_installs_free_bike_m.html"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">public bike repair stands. </span> </a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"The stands provide tire gauges and pumps, Allen wrenches and a few other tools that enable cyclists to make minor repairs, such as adjusting seats or handlebars."<br /></div><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xcPH8xVL6ZU/TZXehMZhHlI/AAAAAAAABZw/rUBCzeDr9bU/s1600/bikerepair.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px; height: 300px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-xcPH8xVL6ZU/TZXehMZhHlI/AAAAAAAABZw/rUBCzeDr9bU/s400/bikerepair.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590619174295641682" border="0" /></a><br />I say it's awesome because it shows the willingness of the city of Cambridge to embrace cycling as a viable transportation alternative. However, I'm not so sure the money couldn't be more well spent elsewhere. This is certainly something that I would support if the cycling culture in Boston were more 'mature', but I'm not so sure the general public in the Boston area is quite comfortable with cycling in the city just yet. Cambridge, maybe, since the article quotes a significant increase in cycling traffic over the past couple of years.<br /><br />From a different perspective, is there a liability issue with the city 'encouraging' people to elicit their own repairs to dubious ends? I really don't know the answer to that question, but I'm wondering if it was considered.<br /><br />Still, I applaud Cambridge's efforts to encourage cycling. Perhaps it will in fact serve as an epicenter for responsible cooperation between cyclist and local government, and radiate outward from there.<br /><br />Oh, and don't bother with the comments on the article. As usual, it's loaded with the usual selfish ignorant diatribes from big-mac-eating fuckers, sort of like the <a href="http://i.imgur.com/eFYYe.jpg"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">facebook comments</span></a> from ugly americans over the earthquake and tsunami in japan (click on the facebook image after it loads to enlarge so you can read it).zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6660276929956357366.post-16923009785304926902011-03-31T10:02:00.001-07:002011-03-31T10:30:24.074-07:00H.N.T.Some of you know my riding hasn't progressed as I would have liked this spring. I'm still having a nagging tendonitis issue as a result of that late winter ride with a certain bike company executive.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5H8fqfYm8aQ/TZS4keinyKI/AAAAAAAABZA/iUJ64bkL9sg/s1600/hnta.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 267px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-5H8fqfYm8aQ/TZS4keinyKI/AAAAAAAABZA/iUJ64bkL9sg/s400/hnta.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590295974286706850" border="0" /></a><br />It's getting better, I can commute to work without any problems, though I'm noticing the colder it is, the more likely I can feel some pain. But, since it's just over 30 minutes of riding, I haven't had any pain that would cause me to alter my pedaling style.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FHEBK270PNk/TZS4klssTcI/AAAAAAAABZQ/7s7BI4d6Mos/s1600/hntd.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 284px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-FHEBK270PNk/TZS4klssTcI/AAAAAAAABZQ/7s7BI4d6Mos/s400/hntd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590295976207994306" border="0" /></a><br />The funny thing about it is that it hurts the most when I'm spinning a light gear. If I get out of the saddle, or grind a hard gear, the pain all but goes away. If I sit and spin, after about 45 minutes it feels like someone is jabbing a hot soldering iron under my right kneecap.<br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QgQirgUquUc/TZS4kmy7IKI/AAAAAAAABZI/jDlpP93c_0s/s1600/hntb.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 400px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-QgQirgUquUc/TZS4kmy7IKI/AAAAAAAABZI/jDlpP93c_0s/s400/hntb.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590295976502567074" border="0" /></a><br />I did two MTB rides of note. Two weekends ago I did my typical Winnekenni ride. I was out for two hours, and didn't feel anything until I was on the road for the ten minute ride home from the park. The last 1/4 mile was quite painful.<br /><br /><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCasD7dOcys/TZS4k49DKqI/AAAAAAAABZY/h0R9AdcR9dI/s1600/hntc.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 240px; height: 400px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-gCasD7dOcys/TZS4k49DKqI/AAAAAAAABZY/h0R9AdcR9dI/s400/hntc.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590295981376875170" border="0" /></a><br />Last weekend I went to <a href="http://www.mass.gov/dcr/parks/trails/print/haroldparker.pdf"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">HPSF</span></a>, and rode for two solid hours. I felt a little pain as I was cruising on one of the fire roads about an hour into the ride, but when I hit the single track in the south end of the park, again, the pain went away, since very little of that section allows you to sit and spin a light gear. It's all rocky and technical - delightfully so.<br /><br /><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O_TJZ5Nc8L4/TZS4lLiwggI/AAAAAAAABZg/7pYwH7FAzJc/s1600/hnte.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 295px; height: 400px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-O_TJZ5Nc8L4/TZS4lLiwggI/AAAAAAAABZg/7pYwH7FAzJc/s400/hnte.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5590295986366874114" border="0" /></a><br />FWIW - I rode at HPSF on a modified version of <a href="http://thezenofcycling.blogspot.com/2010/01/son-of-ice-bike.html"><span style="font-weight: bold; font-style: italic;">Son Of Ice Bike</span></a>. I put on some WTB 2.1 rubber, a Scott LF flat bar, and a Ritchey Vector saddle. It rode well and was comfortable, though I'll be putting on a shorter stem for the next trip - pictures to follow soon.....of the bike....zencyclehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00972746221081909463noreply@blogger.com2