One Glad, One Sad

Two great animations, but for two different reasons.

Howdy Ladies!

IMG_0838, originally uploaded by J. Suzuki.

It was also good to see PuddinPie back racing. As you can see, the new-baby induced lack of sleep has not worn even a hint of shine off his Cary Grant smooth.

That was one expensive DFL! Race report #5

IMG_0468, originally uploaded by J. Suzuki.

I learn (or re-learn) something new at every race. At yesterday's BASP - Coyote Point I learned the following:
1) The south bay Bay Trail loop JS and I used at warmup makes the East bay version look like a bad asian knock-off. It was so nice, that if we didn't have numbers pinned, we would have just kept on riding.
2) Great team-mates are both a blessing and a curse. More on that later.
3) 28h reflex rims are plenty strong for my 155lbs of bacon, but don't stand a chance against a 175 lbs BUTT side load. More on that later too.
Things I re-learned.
1) Have a pit bike ready to go....I mean REALLY ready to go.
2) Never EVER look back at a crash involving a rider who just face planted on pavement 10 frantic pedal strokes into a race. I mean..WTF happened? 3 seconds into the race and the guy to my right STACK it hard and there's a rear wheel next to me face. I hope he's o.k. It looked baaaad.

Despite the comedy of errors that befell me yesterday, I was in a surprisingly upbeat mood driving home. Maybe is was the warm-up? Maybe the post-race thermos of coffee or maybe it was the fact that I didn't feel like total crap afterward. I've been sick for almost 3 weeks so it was nice to feel like that monkey was no longer flinging poo at me. I had a decent race, fitness wise, but started so far down in the hole, that I almost....almost packed it in. You see, not more that 5 seconds after that face plant, I got tangled up. At least two of us went down. The other rider got up unscathed. I got up to find his chainring had torn an inch gash in the side wall of my new TUFO, his significant behind had taco'd my rear wheel, and my bars were pointing west while everything else looked north. Now here comes the hard part. Since this was the start, I now stood a good 300 yards from my pit bike. Thrwarting our rapid union was a steep hill and woodchip. Needless to say, by the time I got it, Elvis had left the building. I flail-iantly chased on my SS in a 40x19 with file treads (see lessons re-learned #1). Anyone who raced the course yesterday just laughed at that. It was brutal hard to pedal and keystone-cop funny to steer. I figured it was pointless. I was heading for the truck. Coming into the start finish, I was looking for the exit, when much to my chagrin...er...suprise, my teamates were frantically yelling. "We've got your other bike! We've got your other bike!" They had found a rear, straightened my bars and had my geared vagen waiting for my. You PEOPLE are Awesome. Don't ever do that again! I soon found out that while I had a new rear, I couldn't shift into the small ring. The crash had messed the front shifter. The pit wheel would also only shift into the 23. Oh Joy. Rode the race in a 46x23. Gratned it was better than the 40x19...but only by this much (squeeze thumb and forefinger together). On the drive home I was adding up the damage. $85 tire, $100 to repair the rear, $150 for a new shifter all for a DFL...yet it didn't get me down. I guess feeling better CAN make you feel good. Now to get some fitness back.

Bravery as a way of life.

"The woman at my polling place asked me do I believe in equality for gay and lesbian people. I was pretty surprised to be asked a question like that. It made no sense to me. Finally I asked her: what do you think I fought for in Omaha Beach?"

Gift horse. Race Report #4

I hate racing sick, but I had little choice. Fortuna smiled slightly however, and I managed to come away with 2nd. I will be eternally grateful. General concsensus was that the new kit was worth 5-10 seconds per lap too. I'd have to agree. I wasn't feeling great and knew it during warm up. MFS was on hand, as was the "Cheetah", last years series winner. To my surprise, Cheetah was also sporting a new kit. To my dismay, it was the same as MFS. I was going to have my work cut out. Now two of the fastest singlespeeders out there were teammates. Double crap. My foggy brain thought the tactic of the day was to lead from the front. I was thinking that if we could establish a gap, they'd be content to ride my sorry pace. In hind site, maybe I should have tried to sit on. Sure enough we got the gap I was hoping for, but they weren't content with me snailing around the course and the attacks started early. Cheetah attatcked on the long straight, knowing he out geared me a bit. It hurt big-time to stay on his wheel. On the 2nd or 3rd lap, MFS counter attacked hard and I had no choice but to watch. Cheetah sat on my wheel. Fate interviened moments later however, and Cheetah flatted. The gap we had established was mercifully sufficient for me to settle in and hang on although I didn't know it. I was in a daze the whole race, unable to tell where I was in relation to the chaser. I hope I didn't dig my self into too deep a hole.

Note: Check out "Letters of Note".

Just tuned into Letters of Note. It's a great site that, in there own words "is an attempt to gather and sort fascinating letters, postcards, telegrams, faxes, and memos. Scans/photos where possible. Fakes will be sneered at". The letters and whatnot usually involve some famous/infamous fgure/celebrity. They range from the touching to the obscene, the quirky to the down-right educational. Enjoy.

Race Report #3. The Whine Cellar, Mclaren and Myrah

Yep, you saw it here first. My new secret weapon. From the "Ministry of Silly Walks Stretching for Athletes DVD, I'm goose stepping my way into shape just prior to the self mortification of that which is Mclaren. Goose stepping is the new Kettle Ball., didn't you know?
There's no real reason to whine about Mclaren. Lots of people do it better than I. To be honest, it's not the course (Course layout courtesy of PuddinPie) that tweaks me so much. What sucks harder than the run-up-hairballdecent-climbuponclimb is the everything that's not the course. The parking, of which there is none, the surrounding environs, which leave no place to warm up, and the, um, neighborhood. During my 'warm-up' through the streets, I watched a two seperate yoots casing cars. Nice. At least they moved several blocks from my car after saying "Good morning" to them 4 or 5 times as I rode around. I really had unrealistic expectations for the race. I'd been feeling sub-par since Wednesday. My tune-up ride the day before was harder than the numbers would suggest and my legs just wouldn't come around during warm-up. The adrenaline of running top 5 lasted until the base of the paved climb. Then, three minutes into the race, the wheels fell off. I went from 5th to 10th in 10 seconds. 10th to 15th in the next 20 seconds. It's at this point a smart man heads for the car, gets dressed and comes back to the course with a cow bell. I so wish I could be that man. Instead, I continued to suffer, unable to respond to even the push from Tom. Fatigue caused my fumble after the barriers and a mechanical. Just salt on the wound. The only consolation was Don Myrah. Not that I like getting lapped by anyone, but if that anyone is a former world champion, my ego sleeps a bit sounder. He's been poking his way back into cross the last few years, but he's full-time serious this season. And let me tell you, he was putting on a clinic. I was able to stay within sight of him until the decent. He dropped as if on a freerider. A sight to see. Crazy. Just rooster tails and dust. After eating up the 35+ As, he took a switch to the Elite A's. Gonna be fun to watch.



IMG_8979, originally uploaded by J. Suzuki.