Spoke Pony Express

Wise Uncle Ralph

2008-12-05T07:04:00.006-06:00

Saw this the other day:

"Do not go where the path may lead; go instead where there is no path and leave a trail." Ralph Waldo Emerson

I like it. It speaks to the spirit of building your own scene.

With the end of race season in sight, it's the perfect time of year to head out on roads less cycled with no particular plan. Discovery lies ahead.

Facebook friends

2008-12-02T12:10:00.003-06:00

According to Facebook, I have 83 friends. How the ?!&F**k?! did this happen? Paul counts a measly 70 facebook friends, and he's an acquaintence whore for cris'sakes!

Ok...down to 78...I suppose that's some progress. With a bit of scutiny, I ID'd 5 people who I would NOT buy a beer if I ran into them at a restaurant. And I've couple more are on the fence - along with two new invites, so at best it looks like I'm stuck at 78 for a bit. Even so - WTF? I kinda feel like my carefully cultivated introverted misanthrope rep is on the line here. So maybe it's time to raise the standards and limit my friends to people who I'm confident would buy a beer for ME. Or possibly, I need to cut friend-whores...'cause some of these people have three and four hundred friends, which has to violate some standard of decency. It's got to be time for some standards... One True Way to judge friends (even on facebook.)

You MIGHT be friends if you would buy them a beer. You are NOT friends if they would not buy you a beer.
If someone has 5 times more friends than you, you are NOT friends...you are not that special.
If you have no friends in common, you are NOT friends.
You MIGHT be friends if you would hand over your last (only) inner-tube/cliff bar/etc with 50 miles left in the ride.
You are NOT friends if you wouldn't share a bed in a cheap hotel on the way to/from a race.
If sharing someone's half-eaten cliff bar makes you uncomfortable - you are NOT friends.
You might be friends if you trade parts-you-have for parts-you-need.
If you charge someone for a tube, you are NOT friends. If they do not try to compensate you for the tube, you are NOT friends.
If you wouldn't loan someone a spare frame/wheel/or bike - you are not friends.
If you haven't spent a few hours riding/eating/drinking/talking IN REAL LIFE - you are NOT friends.

Pursuit of Layers

2008-11-21T15:16:00.008-06:00

Each year, as the mercury dips into the 50s, 40s, and below, the wise rider's fancy turns to layers. As young lovers in springtime, compulsive gamblers, and crack addicts - thoughts turn and return to the pursuit - not just of layers - but of the perfect layers. The right combinations of layers are without question the difference between joy and misery in the space below 60 degrees. I run a bit hotter than some, but for me the essential recipe goes something like this (with adjustments for sun and wind):

45-55

Road:SS wool baselayer. LS jersey. Wind vest. Bibs + knee warmers. Windstopper gloves. Toe booties.

Offroad: Sleeveless wool baselayer. SS jersey. Arm warmers. Bibs. Knee warmers. Full finger gloves.

35-45

Road: Sleeveless wool baselayer. LS wool midlayer. LS jersey. Wind vest. Bibs. Tights. Glove liner. Windstopper gloves. Wool cap. Booties.

Offroad: SS wool baselayer. LS jersey. Wind vest. Bibs. Knee warmers . Baggie shorts. Windstopper gloves. Winter shoes.

25-35

Road: SS wool baselayer. LS wool midlayer. Thermal jacket. Bibs. Windfront tights. Glove liner. Windstopper gloves. Wool cap. Toe booties. Booties.

Offroad: SS wool baselayer. LS jersey. Wind vest. Bibs. Knee warmers . Baggie knickers. Windstopper gloves. Winter shoes.

<25

Road: SS wool baselayer. LS wool midlayer. SS jersey. Thermal Jacket. Bibs. Knee warmers. Windfront Tights. Glove liner. Windstopper lobster gloves. Wool cap. Toe booties. Booties.

Offroad: LS wool baselayer. LS jersey. Wind vest. Bibs. Knee warmers . Baggie knickers. Glove liner. Windstopper gloves. Wool cap. Winter shoes.

Fruit Pie The Magician

2008-11-20T17:07:00.005-06:00

Fruit Pie the Magician was once a regular member of the Thursday Journey Into Darkness. You would think that bringing 480 calories, 68 grams of carbs, and 400mg of sodium to the party would be enough to earn a permanent membership. But somewhere along the road, Fruit Pie fell off the wagon and hasn't regularly been seen for a few years. Perhaps he was offended when Paul started packing wine and cheese. Maybe he got too wrapped up in a career of print ads, comic books, and animated television commericals. Or maybe the ride simply grew weary of his whacky magic tricks.

I like to think that Fruit Pie will return one day. A prodigal son has returned, a lot of miles lie on the road ahead, and it's a long winter. I think there is a good chance that Fruit Pie will appear from time to time, and rejoin his rightful place near the head of the line. And if not...then I'll plan to see him in Iowa.

What Lies Beyond Far?

2008-11-19T12:10:00.014-06:00

I'm in. And to quote local gravel guru and the brains behind the Dirty Kanza "...what in the world was I thinking?"

I've been riding bikes for a while, and despite my inconsiderable abilities, riding far is one thing I have been able to do reasonably well. This could be a result of talent. More likely it's the benefit of practice. Quite possibly, it's because my cycling infancy included mid-ride conversations with vastly more talented riders (VMTRs):

ME: How much further until we are there?
VMTR: A ways.
ME: How much longer will we be riding?
VMTR: A while.

I now have a basic grasp of hours on on the bike - mostly because my phone, car, home, and wife all have clocks and I can successfully perform elementary math. "Home around 5. Left around 2. Ride must have been ~3hrs." But years later, I still have no real comprehension of what a ride means in miles. For me, any ride is one of about five types:

a little ways (takes a little while)
a ways (takes a while)
a good ways (takes a good while)
a long ways (takes a long while)
far (takes more than a long while)

I suspect that this idiotlike characteristic is beneficial when riding for a ways or more, helping me dodge mind-crippling, despair-inducing, leg-cramping countdowns of distance-to-go. Everything is some variation of a ways - which takes some variation of a while - which is true for every single ride no matter how slow/fast/easy/hard/windy/hilly the course.

Except when it's Far. And it's hard to express how long Far takes, because the more I ride, the longer Far gets. Back in the day, Chequammegon's 40-mile course was Far, but now I would be hard pressed to call it more than a ways. Centuries used to be Far, but now I'd call it a good ways (unless it takes a long while - which it shouldn't.)

By any reasonable standard, Dirty's Kanza's 200 gravely-miley-goodness is Far. I've completed(ish) the distance, and know that it takes a bit more than a long while. I've also ridden more than 24 hours - which is definitely Far - but may not be as far as the THREE-HUNDRED-AND-TWENTY(ISH)-FREAKIN'-MILES of Trans Iowa.

So I find myself wondering...what lies beyond far? MoreFar? FarThur? Or just more Far? Can any ride really be further than Far? And if so, how does one really know they've ridden FarThur? Or, having done so, does FarThur just seem Far, with some even more absurd challenge taking it's place?

Seriously, what lies beyond Far?

Just Say No

2008-11-16T15:27:00.004-06:00

As BikeSnobNYC so astutely points out, proper style is essential to the cycling life. From Cyclocross (high fashion) to Freeride (dirtbag) to Fred (no style) and all points in between, each cycling niche forms a style unique to the group. Every tribe sizes up new riders based on how well the his "type" matches the group; baggy-shorts-and-flat-pedals are rejected from a matching-lycra-kits ride just as predictably as an incompatible organ transplant. The unwritten rules - adopting the style to the ride - are core to the culture and subcultures that make the cycling life diverse, dynamic, and a playground for creativity and self expression.

Just as style may divide, so do ties bind. Eat before you are hungry. Drink before you are thirsty. Keep the rubber side down. Knee warmers below 60. Universal principles of belief and behavior neccessary to unite the tribes as one bicycle nation. And too often recently, I've born witness to acts of abhorrant behavior flying directly in the face of good sense, good style, and basic human decency.

As decreed in the One True Way: "Thou shalt not wear ankle socks."

Unless you are a cheerleader, say no to ankle socks. Seriously. In fact no socks are preferred to ankle socks. 2" cuff, 3" cuff, 4" cuff, 6" cuff, crew socks, knee highs - everything goes. But no ankle socks. In fact, I'm extending this rule to everyone who is even semi-athletic (and generously including golfers as quasi-active.) If you own ankle socks, repent now, admit your mistakes, burn them, make a paste with the ashes, rub the paste on your ankles (where the tan line SHOULD be) and beg forgiveness from the universe for not less than 60 days. When you have a proper tan line and feel genuine scorn for ankle-sock-wearing heathens, you have my forgiveness.

Just say no to ankle socks.

SkyMall Is The Devil

2008-11-13T17:04:00.007-06:00

A buddy of mine and I have been comparing the brutality and intellectual terrorism that is air travel. He complains that he found the seventh level of hell the day he realized he was on a first name basis with gate agents...in multiple cities. This fella is a friend - but he's way off base here. You really know you are in hell the day you flip through SkyMall and actually think about buying something...because SkyMall Is The Devil. Who but the dark lord himself would torment captive prisoners with such tempting treasures as the Towel-Matic:

Dispense paper towels with a wave of your hand!
No more wasted paper towels! The Towel-Matic's sensor-activated control dispenses one sheet, two sheets, or the new half sheet with just a wave of your hand. It never unravels. Built-in optical sensor automatically identifies the perforations on the towel and stops right at the line every time.
One-handed operation guarantees perfect tearing and helps prevent the spread of germs. Designed for tabletop, wall mount or under-cabinet mount.
Requires 4 D batteries (not included).

Seriously - who among us has not been held in rapt-and-breathless-hope that one day we too would be able dispense paper towels with a wave of a hand, and avoid the shameful embarrassment of pulling one sheets too many? This is seemingly the answer to the question we all have been searching for. But beware! This is unquestionably the Devil's work - as with all things too good to be true - batteries are not included.

Crossers Unite!

2008-11-12T12:31:00.009-06:00

According to worldwide traffic since the dawn of time, CyclocrossWorld is yet more powerful than FixieNation. Crossers enjoy superior numbers overall, especially during the peak June-January season just before the onset of hibernation. However, FixterNation has been operating a slow-but-steady buildup of WSDs (Weapons of Self Destruction) leading to a growing arms advantage during Classics and Tour seasons every year since 2006.

With some steady determination (and several trillions of federal funding) crossers should be able to win this battle and restore balance to the universe. With the natural advantages found in working brakes, spare bikes, and handlebar tape, Fixters make easy targets for guerrila style assaults by bands of crossers traveling to and from the forrested grassland training grounds.

Coordinated assaults should focus on the "hipper" among FixterNation. These weaker quarry are easily identified by their American Apparel and Langsters and are most often found loitering near bars and coffee houses or travling the great hipster silk road puffing cigarettes and preening. Thinning the ranks of these, the impure sub-species, should be sufficient to restore the traditional balance between the two tribes.

Hipster Overlords, most often seen darting among taxis, shooting art-films, and hocking fashion-hoodies should be avoided. Identified by extensive tattooing, paying messenger jobs,zero sense of self preservation, and a thirst for general thuggery - these dark warriors pose a threat to all wearing sensibly coordinated race kits or skin suits.

TrackRacers - the holy men of FixieNation - should be held immune from all attacks, verbal and otherwise. These noble warriors - pure of heart, lung, and leg - are a rare and peacefull breed who must not be mistaken for their baser counterparts.

Crossers unite!

Bicycles and Beer

2008-11-10T16:51:00.007-06:00

Bicycles and Beer go together. Preferably in that order. The only cyclists I know that don't drink beer simply don't drink alcohol - and predictably look to caffeine for both their pre and post ride fix; which isn't all that bad, since a double shot of espresso can be a real aid to raising a pint after an especially gruelling death march. Beers brewed with coffee as a flavor component are often good, but "caffeinated beer" is really a bad idea.

Now what I don't get (and really can't stand) is the 20 something generation of ne'er do well fellas that spend their evenings swilling vodka-and-redbull...or (lord have mercy) vodka and diet 7-up while fretting about carbs. People people people! Drink beer (not too much.) It's tasty and good for you. I especially like the Rogue XS Imperial Pale Ale. Fully of citrusy-hoppy goodness. And just the right amount to lend a rider an extended pleasant feeling after a long day in the saddle.

A Guide to Specus Vir

2008-11-07T09:52:00.008-06:00

Last night OPW (Old Possum Willie) delivered some tragic news. It seems the world has fallen from grace and lies mired in confusion about what exactly constitutes a proper ManCave. As the official keeper of the ancient society of the One True Way, and the word's leading expert on the history and nature of of specus vir - I am profoundly disturbed to report gross and unholy perversions loosed upon the world. Alas - a search [for strong stomachs only] of google reveals a situation far worse than could be imagined.

For those less hardy souls, Fratboy and Satan have been spreading bastard love children across the land, leading the dim and the dullard down a woe begotten path. DON'T LET THIS BE YOU! For those who have been tempted to stray, or those who wish to reaffirm their allegiance to the One True Way, we present Man Cave 101:

A man cave shall never appear in any way similar to any part of any frat house
A man cave may include electronics (tv, stereo, etc) but MUST include tools
A man cave shall not occupy any area that could otherwise serve as an office, library, guest room, media room, play room, craft room, or any space that could in any way be made suitable for female occupation
A man cave may include a fridge for beer, but does NOT include a keg, a kegerator, or a bar; a man cave is not an idol to alcohol
Stone or concrete walls are preferred, painted drywall is acceptable, wall to wall carpet is specifically forbidden
Man cave heating and cooling should be adequate only to maintain conditions as exists in nature; central heating/cooling is accepted only in rare circumstances
No man cave furnishings shall appear as new, unworn, or undamaged
A man cave must include no less than three opportunities to cut, bruise, maim or mangle in such a way that blood is spilled on the floor; spilt blood must be left where it falls
Man caves tolerate female visitation, but do not invite frequent or extended exposure
A man cave must regularly include maintenance or construction projects (ideally involving metal and grease) that would not be tolerated in spaces of female occupancy

Lend a hand and spread the word

10 Signs You Might Be A Fixster

2008-11-06T16:43:00.008-06:00

Jeremy Haynes (the Boss in Boss Cross) and I recently got to yammering about fixed gears. Specifically about the Fixie Hipster Phenomenon as chronicled by BikeSnob NYC and others. Whether you react with envy or scorn - our ponder was what exactly brands one a Fixster? I've had at least one fixed gear in the collection for nearly 20 years, ride a fixie at least once a week, and will never be confused with a hipster. Jeremy does wear the style that could see him accepted into Williamsburg camoflagued as a native, but he's not a hipster either. Most of my cycling friends have ridden fixies for years, and will (with slight provocation) testify to the soul inspiring purity of the noble machine, yet the critical eye will find not a hipster among us. So what is it? What are the qualities that separate the despicable fixter from a nobler sort?

10 Signs You Might Be A Fixter (aka Fake A$$ Messenger)

1) You are not and have never been a bicycle messenger

2) Your rims are painted to match or accent your frame

3) You own vintage 80's era Oakleys that you did not own in the 80's

4) Your bike has spoke cards. Your bike has ever had spoke cards

5) You are any awareness of Japanese fashion - any awareness at all

6) You own one or more pairs of Dickies OR skinny jeans

7) Your bought (vs built) your fixie from a shop that does not sell racing bikes

8) You ride a rare/unique/expensive track frame in the street, and not on the track

9) You bike has high end vintage/NOS parts that were not purchased as New New Stock

10) You wear euro-pro cyclings caps and cannot name a member of the team

Don't be a fixster!

The Godfather

2008-11-04T16:33:00.005-06:00

Nice writeup on the One on One Bicycle Studio posted here. If you ever get to Minneapolis and have any interest in the cathedrals of midwest bike culture, the place is must see. If -you don't know, Gene-O is the godfather of the Minneapolis Mafia and has had influence in Surly, Cars-R-Coffins, Salsa, newSwobo, TwinSix, and other really cool bike brands.

I spent most of the 90's in MPLS and it was then that my passion for bikes and cycling really took hold. First as a commuter, then shop mechanic, then a framebuilder, and finally a racer. During my first race (cyclocross in the snow in February) I suddenly found myself getting pushed up the hill by Gene - who was leading the race at the time and didn't want to lap me before the finish. A talented rider, and a terrific guy who's been hugely influencial in my and many others cycling. Gene's business grew out of a pile of crap he'd accumulated over the years, and with Jennifer's help has grown into the kind of shop that every passionate cycling community would be pround to have. It's good to see the Godfather getting his due.

Taxes and a homemade trailer

2008-11-03T16:38:00.005-06:00

I am glad the election is nearly over. I don't engage in politics beyond the opportunity to debate with true believers, whom I generally find capable of little more than recitations in dogma. To be clear, I don't believe the Oval Officer has much impact my life and that checks do indeed balance. Unattached to any outcome, I am freed to consider and debate issues from any point of view.

Late last week, I came across an article on Forbes.com America's Path to Euro-Taxes. Cyclists, by nature are pro-euro, have discovered that euro-style-pro-bike cultures tend to brew better beer and more attractive women. Optimistic, I seached the text in hope of some nuggety goodness. Instead, I've had an irritating thought lodged in my craw:

His [Obama's] tax plan would make the system even more progressive and would push the U.S. perilously close to the "tipping point," when more than 50% of Americans would pay no income taxes at all.

I believe in Roe v. Wade, the moral compromise of big business and politics, and strong schools. I believe in rational healthcare, funding research science, and investment in public infrastructure. I believe in a progressive society, conservative finance, and that ultimate responsiblity rests with the individual.

And I believe that everyone should pay taxes. More for some, less for others, but something from everyone. Taxes provide services for everyone - so everyone should pay something. We value too lightly that for which we pay too little. A buddy of mine learned this lesson first hand. He had somehow lost and replaced his cheap wedding ring several times. Frustrated, broke, and heavily in debt, his wife spent $2500 on a platinum number - and 20 years later, he's never come close to losing it again.

Everyone should pay their fair share, every one. And if all else fails, I suppose I'll have to build a portable bed and head across the pond for good.

Solitare

2008-10-31T10:34:00.003-05:00

Superman had his fortress of solitude, the crystal palace up north full of heart-to-hearts with the dearly departed Jor-el. This keyboard-callused wrench, nobly bearing the Everyman logo, lacks any fortress outside the realm of his simple man-cave. Solitude, however, I seem to have in abundance. Paychecks a function of documents composed in faraway lands, this scrivener's task is interrupted by periods of hotel gym and room service; with riding scheduled in the crevices between family and faraway.

Which ain't so bad really. Mostly, I ride alone and at night - which I suspect is an advantage in 24 hour races and events like the Dirty Kanza - where the reality of 10 or more hours all alone is the cost of doing well. Last night I hit the trails at Landahl just before 8 for a couple hours of getting the FIX on. Riding a rigid fixed gear off-road is an essential joy, with darkness adding a level of spellbinding concentration that triples the focus; doubles the fun.

The road isn't nearly as fun at night, and I'm not sure if this is because being alone in the dark wood is somehow more primal (even if a little red-riding-hood) or because the possibility of getting smacked by an oblivious driver is the wrong kind of spooky. I love riding my road bike, but as clock and leaves both fall, it becomes clear that the best kind of solitare is played in the forest at night.

Darkness is your friend - so get out and ride.

Buy in Bulk

2008-10-28T09:49:00.012-05:00

I have a tendency to hoard. I feel uneasy if I don't have enough of certain treasures stockpiled. Even if I have enough, I prefer to have more. More than I am likely to need for the forseeable future. And possibly even a few more than that. Zip ties for instance. Once, I purchased a bucket of 1100, used probably 300, and purchased another 1100 last week. Evidenty 800 is my lower threshold for zip ties.

This tendency is different than having appropriate stock on hand. I habiutally keep no less than two new chains, sets of bar wrap, a half dozen cable sets, several sets of tires (road, mountain, and cross), and 20 tubes on hand at all times. This is not hoarding - this is a responsible home supply for any mechanic, and insures against ruined rides. (In fact anyone that has less than these items on hand should stop reading now and go to the bike shop.) I do, however, hoard chainring bolts and have quite a few sets dating to the late 80's in an ever-larger ziplock bag.

Despite contrary opinions, hoarding and pack-rat-itis are not the same infliction. Hoarders collect specific things, while pack-rats accrue everything. I am the former, my wife-and-mother-in-law, the latter. To wit: my in laws have every single costume my wife ever wore. Every halloween, every parade, every recital, every pagent, play, concert, show and event generated a unique ensemble; carefully archived and preserved for the day the whole enchilada forms the basis of a Smithsonian exhibit. Hording is balanced with the desire to purge...what better way to guarantee space for furture zip ties?

Don't Forget to Brush

2008-10-28T09:49:00.005-05:00

According to Christopher Wanjec over at LiveScience, kids are better served by massive Hersey's fueled bacchanalia than strict Reese's rationing or sugar conservation. And not just because the binge-euphoria-nausea-hangover train is the time honored pre-teen training ground for future indiscretions, but also for maintaining the constitutional right to defend against playground bullies with the threat of a strong, healthy bite. According to the article, "primal chocolate gorging is the lesser of two evils for their teeth."

In scenario one, your gluttonous little angel coats his teeth with sugar; the oral bacteriaexperience their own version of Halloween; and the acidity level in the mouth rises. But this can be neutralized regardless of the amount of candy eaten when the child brushes his teeth. Even if he doesn't brush, saliva will eventually wash away the sugar in about an hour, starve the bacteria, and neutralize the acid.
In scenario two, the child builds up acid in his mouth with the first candy bar; but if he has a second one an hour later, he pumps up the acid level again. Constant snacking on candy ensures the mouth stays acidic, which can lead to tooth decay.

Based on this logic, it's clear that the cycling lifestyle is the Trojan health of dental care; a long-term bacterial siege against the coffee stained enamel so necessary for working through the frequent post-ride Mexican combo. Every week, I spend an average of 14 hours a week applying a IV steady application of sugar infused fluids to wash down some combination of gels, bars, beans, and bloks - each carrying another payload of bacteria inspiring sugar delivered in relentless 15 to 30 minute increments.

I no longer spend enough time on the playground to be bothered by bullies, but I have grown rather attached to my teeth. Thus, I suppose it's time to add another step to the training regimen. Brush after every ride.

Airline Survival

2008-10-27T08:38:00.005-05:00

My job involves travel. Ask me on the wrong day and I'll profess that my entire life - family well being, home, bicycles, retirement - hinges on my willingness to do two things: getting on airplanes and attending meetings. I can't complain about the job, but I CAN complain about airplane seats. Continental, Northwest, United,Southwest, Delta. Each and every one a ghetto in the sky, nearer to Greyhound than anyone is willing to commit.

I once read that the average seat in coach provides less room than was allotted to each African on a slave ship...and I don't doubt it. On the best day, a flight is uncomfortable. On the morning after a hard weekend of racing - it's a sublime experiment in leg cramping torture.

I haven't found any tricks to make seats comfy, but I have developed a few rituals that make the travel extravaganza less horrible:

Emergen-C before every flight and every day while traveling. Two a day if you feel tired or sick. No exceptions
NEVER board a plane without food. You never know how long you may be stuck on a runway, and the staff will not take care of you.
Bring your own liquids - which means overpaying for water after security. Do NOT leave your hydration at the mercy of a flight attendant.
Noise cancelling headphones and an iPod Touch with video loaded and ready to go. Buy two magazines (books are heavy) for takeoff and landing.
Stay tied to your anchors. For me this means an hour of exercise every day, frequent calls home, and sending "hi, i love you" videos to my daughter using my cell phone.

...live from Detroit.

Bottle Openers

2008-10-24T13:25:00.003-05:00

I'm not the first victim of this siren's song - look at that beauty! Cast iron, hand painted, and perfectly at home in any old-school wet bar. I've got more than a few bottle openers around the house, the toolbox, and my racebag - but nothing near so spectacular.

One of my favorites is the Pedro's Beverage Wrench that someone gave me a few years ago. It has become my go-to opener (and I'm a guy that takes the wrench to the twist off) occupying a place of honor in the kitchen next to the fridge. It's a pro-quality opener, and one of the things that has made me a fan of a lot of Pedro tools. Park has the BO-2 in stainless, but I honestly don't like it near as much as the Pedro's.

Next on my favorites list is a home-brew number I made out of an old 70's era Schwinn stem-mounted shifter. Cast of dubious aluminum, it's the product of a slow winter day at the shop about 15 years ago. Comically large for a shifter, it's got decent leverage, feels nice in the hand, sports a cool "super-S" logo, and does a passable job of prying cap from neck.

Beyond these, it's a classic Old Milwaukee bottle/can opener from the 60's, and a bunch of crap-freebie-keychain openers that may to the job in a pinch - but ADD ABSOLUTELY NOTHING to the moment. I enjoy beer, especially really well crafted brews. I enjoy tools, and invest in sturdy pro-quality gear. So I'll be on the lookout for my own timeless beauty - a pro-quality opener that was as mindfully created as the beer I'm about to enjoy.

Live Mindfully.

In search of tractors

2008-10-23T15:38:00.007-05:00

Some folks I know had a meeting with John Deer today, which sparked quasi-erotic thoughts about tractors and other farm machinery. Maybe it’s because I grew up in the country around farms, or possibly because I’ve dropped into a career where “strategy, insights, and recommendations” are the most valuable things I create. I’m not alone in this. In fact, I can’t think of a single cycling buddy that doesn’t love tractors. And mark my works – I will happily re-route any ride, over big hills and into a headwind, if I think it increases the odds of seeing a tractor graveyard, truck graveyard, or other big hunks of rusting metal.

Machines – big heavy metal tools – are cool. I suspect this man-machine love is a big part of what binds the me to the bike over the years. And although I genuinely enjoy the benefits of hyper-light wisps of carbon, I find the most fulfilling rides upon the simplest, sturdiest, steel and ti steeds as we roam the countryside in search of tractors.

The Resistance

2008-10-22T12:58:00.005-05:00

Fifty-five and rain is ideal weather for racing cyclocross. That same fifty-five and rain is not great motivation for quality training rides. The trails are off limits, and the sane cyclist is left choosing between an evening on the trainer and a soggy bottom/extensive bike maintenance combo-meal. No one looks forward to trainer-time, but it's a fact of my life when family, work, and weather claim the daylight, relegating a ride to the fringes of the waking hours. The Four Horsemen of Resistance - Dark, Cold, Wet, and Apathy - subvert Motivation.

Resistance is the enemy. The slayer of dreams, ambitions, and goals; the barrier standing in the way of what we need, want or intend to do. A couple of years ago, I read a book by Steven Pressfield called The War of Art. It intends to help people understand their internal battles and emphasizes a blue-collar resolve and the discipline to grab the lunch pail and in the work...every single day...no excuses. Although it's marketed toward creative types, it's a quick and valuable read for cyclists (and aren't all cyclists creative anyway) or anyone who is seeking to boost performance and morale.

Rain rain go away.

Thursday521

2008-10-21T16:33:00.007-05:00

Endurosnob made a nice point today while envying the Portland scene; quoting the Flaming Lips by way of stressing the importance of building your own scene.

This week the KC Woodchucks kick off the 10th season of the Thursday Nite Journey into Darkness - a traditional 3-5 hour mix of urban trails, river levy, storm drains, alley ways, and whatever lies between - fixed gears preferred. Our rules, as they say, are simple:

By invitation only - capable and experienced riders only
YOU and only you are responsible for you
YOU are responsible for anyone you invite
This is not a race
Turns will not be announced
You have been warned

The Kansas City scene has evolved a lot in the past 10 years, and the current core of the scenemakers is probably more talented and more committed than ever. Urban trail development (by riders, for riders), multiple enduro-style events, an exploding cross scene (with a TON of beginners), national championships, Tour of MO, and dozens of group rides available every day. KC may not yet have gained notoriety - but there's a powerful cycling culture coming into it's own.

This Thursday, our group will continue to do our part to feed the KC scene. A group of like minded riders journeying out into darkness for a night of exploration, adventure, and camraderie. If you happen to score an invitation - be prepared for anything. And if the woodchuck ride isn't your thing, gather some friends, start a tradition, and do your part to build the scene. Get out into the darkness.

No Moto

2008-10-20T14:50:00.010-05:00

My head hurts. As do my ribs and shoulder. I've got that hungover all over feeling without ever getting to enjoy an alcholic rush. Maybe cross racing the day after a skull-bruising crash wasn't the brightest idea...and doubling up both masters + 3/4 was even dimmer. If you're looking for a race report - this ain't the place, there's more than enough bike whores spinning tales out there in blogland.

It's just a hunch, but I'm guessing it takes a bunch of energy for the body to recover from a nice hard bounce on the pavement...'cause I've got NO motovation. The am commute was called on account of pain, and the 9 to 5 has been long on day, short on work, seasoned with a piss poor attitude. It can't help that today I bowed out of the Arkie Fall Foray - our annual four day singletrack orgy. I am seriously bummed about missing this trip. It is seriously lusty riding - fast riders and enough hours to throttle the pace to the lower edge of sufferdom. Local legend Doug "pappy" Long made the pilgrimage last year, and this season features a couple new and deserving initiates.

360 days a year, I love my life. Beautiful wife and daughter, cool bikes, good riding, lots of local races, an interesting job and enough flexibility to keep all the balls in the air. Today, however I just ain't got no moto. I am soooo looking forward to a nice recovery ride tonight.

Bikes make everything better.

Broken helmet

2008-10-18T14:35:00.002-05:00

Sometimes you can do everything right and still see it turn out wrong. Today was one of those days, the kind that start out promising enough, but unravel in such a way that I am tempted to curl up in bed and get a head start on tomorrow. I rolled out into sunny 50 degree skies to explore some country roads out south of the new house. Spotting the edge farmland within 15 minutes, I smile at the prospect of adventuring through a maze of cracked and quiet blacktop. A greasy-clay-rock-mud section lurking just over the crest a gently swooping hill smacked the joy right out of my mug. Knee, hip, shoulder, head - each take their turn bouncing - waiting for me to slide to a stop.

I can't claim to wear a helmet every time I ride - but it's awfully close. (The five minute trip up the street to the store and back is just about the only time I don't protect my melon.) While I examine the newfound cracks in my helmet, I'm thankful I haven't fallen into the habit of riding in a stocking cap in cooler weather. Even the best laid plans too often go to crap; and even though I and a half-dozen ibuprofrin are ready for this day to be over - I'm glad to know I'll be able to grab a bike go rolling on again tomorrow.

Thanks Giro.

Plastic Lawn Chairs

2008-10-17T13:56:00.004-05:00

My wife and I recently purchased a new home, and part of the budget was reserved for some outdoor furniture and a comfy couch for watching movies. We had some outdoor furnature...a metal mesh dining set that fits nicely in a screened in porch and a few camping chairs, but she wanted more, we're pretty careful with a dollar, and I tend to be the spender in the family - so heck yeah, why not? Honestly, I kind of assumed we were talking along the lines of plastic adirondacks, footstools, and a couple of end tables. Comfortable, all weather, light, cheap, available in an array of colors and easy to clean. Who doesn't love a plastic lawn chair? I mean, what's not to like?

When she made her decision a couple of weeks later, I was taken aback - four chairs and a loveseat - in wicker - for the cost of a very decent cross bike. It's not that I mind spending money on quality gear - but this was lawn furniture - and I had a hard time getting my head around how a woman who hates spending money on much of anything would this particular stuff. I struggled with it for a few days. I just couldn't get it - until one day out on a ride it occured to me: it's about what we value. Although I'm a cheapskate, I spend money on bikes because riding bikes is important to me. Even though my wife if thrifty, wants "nicer" lawn furniture because relaxing outside is important to her. Values are important - and so is the gear that helps us embrace our values.

This moment of clarity moved me from confusion to harmony, and as I head home to help unpack the delivery, I'm as excited for her as I would be by a new bike.

gPhone is NOT the answer

2008-10-16T15:18:00.003-05:00

I really want to like the gPhone - i get a bit tired of the slavish-southern-evangelical ravings of iPhone devotees - and I thought maybe this could be the one. But after reading several reviews online and seeing pictures of the G1, the vertict is...(drum roll)...it sucks. I don't even need to see one in person to know that it's nowhere near slick or elegant or modern enough to really matter. I'll probably play around with one out of professional curiousity, but there is no chance that I'll actually care.

Perhaps that's not so bad, really. Even though the trend is to pack ever-more-features into every possible phone, I've personally been moving pack to multiple devices - each specialized for the job. I LOVE my iPod Touch as a media player (probably 75% of my tv watching is on this little wonder), a blackberry for work e-mail, a iPod shuffle for tunes while riding, and a 2-year old weather resistant flip phone that I can throw in a jersey pocket and never worry if it rains while I'm riding. Each of these devices does one thing really well - better than a single "converged" device - and honestly, I don't want a phone call to interrupt me if I'm listening to music, and it's freeing not to always have access to e-mail.

Maybe convergence is inevitable, but if cycling has taught me one thing it's that there is a certain beauty and a lot of benefit to specialization. I can ride my mountain bike on the road, but it will never be as fun as the road bike. The cross bike can handle a lot of trails, but it's a lot more fun to ride the mountain bike. Specialization adds to the enjoyment - so if T-mobile or anyone else wants to sell me a converged device, it needs to do everything as well as a specialized device.

Go Raleigh Go

2008-10-15T12:47:00.005-05:00

Like everyone, I rode bikes as a kid, but didn't really become a "cyclist" until sometime around 1992 when I started working at a bike shop and bicycle commuting to and from the University of Minnesota full time. It was a 9 mile ride each way, even in the coldest and most miserable weather, the trip door-to-door was faster than a car could ever hope to be. I rode a Raleigh Grand Prix at the time. Nothing special, I literally pulled it out of a dumpster one day and rebuilt it as a fixed gear with crap laying around that had been pulled off of customer bikes. White with black panels, mafac centerpull brakes, suntour superbe pro hubs on a set of used MA40 rims that you could almost pull the hop out of with a lot of patience at the truing stand. House-brand parts from Bianchi and really cheap gumwall knobby tires rounded out the mix.

When I graduated, with several newer-faster-cooler bikes in the stable, I made a sacrifice to the bike gods and trusted that some lucky bastard would find, adopt, and appreciate that Raleigh and get as much use as I did. Objectively, it could never compare to the bikes I've owned since - but damn, that old franken-heap was a cool machine. I love each of my current bikes, but whenever I see some college kid rolling around on a pieced together fixie (and not some trendy-and-ever-so-stylish pre-built fake-a$$ messenger bikes) I miss that bike.

Go Raleigh Go

Oh thank god

2008-10-14T14:30:00.000-05:00

A few years ago, a little company out of Portland hit the scenes with something called the English Riding Jacket. Clean, modern, and urban with moto influences, it was the perfect drunken stepchild of softshell-meets-sportcoat. I bought one in Olive and after a few week test drive, went back to purchase another one in grey...only to find they were out of any even remotely my size. Since then, I've worn this baby in the wind, in the rain, on the bike, and in the board rooms from New York to Detroit to Seattle to Prague. It may be the perfect jacket. No muss, no fuss, no worries, and ALWAYS great style. I've literay wadded it in the top of an over-packed backpack during an over-seas flight and pulled it on just before a dinner with company executives. Not one wrinkle, not one stain...nothing.

Nau cratered in a capital crunch, but they've been happily reborn as part of the Horney Toad family. Best of all - the Riding Jacket has returned! At last, I'll be able to abandon my "other" sportcoat and embrace this dark-grey (caviar) beauty. Seriously - I love this jacket. To any athletic-sporty-business traveler that may trip across this post...buy one. Nau. http://www.nau.com/mens/categories/jackets/riding-jacket-308M502.html