Big and Bearded ... Is It Just The New Me?

Ermahgerd, it's the hurlidurs agin.

Still fat and thus, still hairy. It is also the holidays, which means it isn't easy to maintain, let alone lose, weight. I have been ebbing and flowing with 5-6 lbs. for some time now. I get close and then my weight creeps back. Still trying, but two years into the beard penance, it is getting old.

No snowboarding yet. But there has been decent enough snow now for what, a week? Promise that I am taking Smarty Pants up on Sunday.

New bikes... new bikes.... they fill my dreams and haunt my waking hours.

I Do Stuff.

I've had a busy few weeks but I have been able to sneak in a couple of rides and runs here and there. With surprisingly good results, even.

First was the Royal Riders Century. This was a last minute entry to benefit the Huntsman Cancer Institute and Roy High Athletics. Two great causes, and I prefer to register for events that give back to something I believe in. And I believe in cancer research. You might say with my life. Quite amazingly, this was my first organized century ever. Normally it's just me out there with only me to talk to and my face in the wind for a hundred miles or so. But considering my condition this year, which is poor, I thought the distance would be a challenge and if I got into any trouble I could draft behind Mike. Mike has been training to ride RAGBRAI (Registers Annual Great Bicycle Ride Across Iowa) with the Air Force team, and his wife said he could have a new bike if he rolled 4k on his odometer this year. He's been riding like a fiend, devouring miles like a madman. Plus he was bringing along Angie, another first time century rider. I thought it would be a good ride to do. And I was right.

Long story short, it started out as the three of us with Mike and I trading pulls and keeping Angie out of the wind and on our wheels. As the miles wore on, our trio swelled as riders started to struggle with the distance and found the pedestrian 16 mph speed I pulled the group along at to be mostly accommodating to their sense of survival. Mike looked out for Angie and I sat on the front, where I like it. We shepherded riders along. They left aid stations when we did. Other riders came and went out the back. Michael nearly choked out a guy for trying to ride two up with him on a busy road, and I nearly choked the same guy out for riding in front of me like he was trying to take a pull and help out, but riding at 18 mph. A pace the majority in the group couldn't hold. WTF? I helped out a lady who had been dropped by her husband after his ego pulled them past us and then left her in no woman's land. He attacked something and left her in limbo, behind him and in front of me struggling to catch up. I bridged up and asked her if she just wanted to ride in the group. He finally faded and came back to us under the relentless pressure of the crushing 14.5 mph I was dragging the group at. Anyway, 6:15 later I was in and glad of it because my butt was starting to get sore. I guess that is how centuries unfold. You ride with your group and people come and go. People irritate you. I doubt this will be my last organized century.

Next was the Morgan Marathon. A new event, work was a sponsor and I won a comp entry. So, current fitness aside, I decided that since it was free, I was going to get my no-moneys worth and signed up for the full 26.2 marathon miles. I had two months to parlay marginal fitness into becoming marathon-worthy. With huge projects at work, a late spring that delayed everything and a week driving cross country, getting ready was a true challenge. Which I failed. However, I was buoyed by the confidence from the century bike ride. I knew that, at a reasonable pace, I would be okay and finish in maybe 4:30 without problems. I'd be fine.

I totally PR'd this run. That's right, personal record. Now I have only run a pair of marathons, but considering I ran the downhill Ogden Marathon in 3:53 and the ribbon candy-profile Morgan Marathon in 3:52, I am extremely pleased. And I did it with no blisters, lost toenails or gut wrenching stomach issues I am normally plagued with. Other than sore legs and feet I am none the worse for wear.

I doubt I'll ever run Ogden again, but Morgan probably. And I might even train the next time. But the problem with run training is that it isn't on a bike. And I miss biking, almost so much I could stop running and swimming, sell my road and cross bikes and just ride and race my mountain bike. I won't, but being a jack of all trades ain't easy and I'll take a PR anytime.

I Hate Fashion

It's not easy being me, rather, finding clothes that fit my odd shape. See, I am about 5' 7" and weight about 155, but I am reasonably lean. I also have, for my height, a longish inseam at 31". I've never enjoyed shopping for clothes because I am between sizes on about everything. But with the current trends in fashion, I find shopping downright stupid now.

While wandering in and out of shops yesterday with Wifey, I found a t-shirt that I actually liked. I mean, how often do you find something with Hunter S. Thompson on it? I normally wear a medium, but they looked kinda small. I grabbed a large and a medium and went to the fitting room.

Okay, so the medium fit like a cycling jersey. The sleeves were tight on my biceps and it was tight through my back. It was even snug on my skeletal chest. Plus it only went to my belt line. So I put on the large. Which still didn't fit all that great, and is a bit long, but I went for it anyway. Again, HST!

I walked out and I mentioned to Wifey that I didn't know who in the hell they sized this stuff for, but it wasn't me. She replied that it was the style that clothes fit tighter now, it was the style. I know it is, but said it was ridiculously snug. She started to say something about my lack of fashion sense when we were addressed by one of the store employees. "Are you guys finding everything okay?"

It was a hipster guy in his early 20s, my height, with a scraggly little beard. He was wearing some sort of skinny jean capri-things that hugged his non-existent thighs and made his ass disappear like his cheeks had gotten frightened and crawled into his crack to hide. Underneath his little wool cardigan (mind you, it's 90°) he had a t-shirt on the was not stuck to his back, chest or arms.

I realized this was who clothing was designed to fit now. And I now understand why many women get frustrated shopping for clothes that are designed to fit a 6' tall, size 1 supermodel. Clothes for men are now made to fit someone other than me, because not only does brooding not build muscle, it must inhibit it.

I bought the large shirt. It's a little long, because of my shorty highpockets build; but at least I don't feel like I'm wearing a wetsuit. I guess I'm just not meant to be cool...

On a side note, tomorrow I am riding my first organized century. Like with other people. Hope it's fun!

Pain and a Few Words on Modesty

The last day of June was my first "real" mountain bike ride of the year. How f#@king sad is that?

I'll tell you it's pretty sad coming from a guy that used to live, and I stress live, to mountain bike. I rode, trained and raced. I ate, drank and slept to mountain bike. I even got sorta fast. Sorta.

But last night on the trails above Ogden was just brutal. Buhrootal. My bike is old. I'm too fat for my clothes. My fitness is lacking. Any riding skills I ever had have packed and left. I've been out on a couple of shorter rides this year and last night in the heat really confirmed the aforementioned woes.

Yet, in spite of the pain in my "quads" and back and pride, I still enjoyed myself immensely. Which got me thinking. When I started mountain biking 20 years ago (HOLY SHIT!), a mountain bike was all I had to ride and mountains were pretty much where I rode it. Then I started racing and bought a road bike to train on. Then I started riding more and more on the road, but still had time as a single man to get my mountain bike fix. If I rode five days a week, two or three would be in the dirt.

Then I started really enjoying the road bike. There is something great about mindlessly ticking off the miles, and it is easy to open the garage and just go out for a couple of hours. And I got a new bike I really like riding.

All of the sudden life got all serious with a kid and house and stuff, and I am lucky to ride twice a week. Then along came marathons. Try training for those and riding bikes. Then triathlons. Three sports to train for, four if you count mountain and road biking separately.

What's a guy to do? Day's aren't getting any longer. My life ain't either. I've been tempted to unload the road bike and get back to only riding a mountain bike. But then I lose the ability to grab and go on the road bike. And I do still enjoy the road bike. And why do I sign up for marathons? I need to swim, my back appreciates it, especially when riding.

I guess I need to just learn to embrace mediocrity. Even though my loss of mountain bike skills is a tough pill to swallow, I like the other stuff enough that I need to get used to it.

On a different subject, I hope that modesty comes back into fashion as Smarty Pants grows up. I've had a pair of incidents lately with attractive, long-legged ladies running/hiking in booty shorts with seriously, a one-inch inseam. Don't get me wrong, I'm far from a prude and certainly like looking, but save it for the swimming pools - where you expect to see it.

I hope fashion re-vovles into clothing that keeps ass cheeks covered by the time my daughter is a teenager. I can't follow her everywhere with a loaded assault rifle.

Does this Jersey Make Me Look Fat?

With summer finally coming to Utah, I have been making some occasional forays into exercise. It hasn't been easy. The getting out and enjoying the sun has been easy, it's the exercise itself that has been the toughie. My legs are killing me. No speed. No endurance. Both combine to make the Morgan (gulp) Marathon I am signed up for appear daunting. Tough course, light on fitness. It's going to be a slog. But, it's free because I won an entry. Heck, maybe I won't even finish this one. Or maybe I will. I dunno. I am hoping to make it under 4.5 hours.

So I am out riding the other day, on my way to East Canyon spillway. I catch my shadow on the road and notice I still have a little hair out the back of the lid. Then I remember I have on my white and pink Fat Cyclist jersey. And I haven't exactly been hittin' the weight room lately... and I start to wonder if I look like a woman. Long-ish hair, narrow shoulders, pink on my shirt... and it did seem like I was getting a little more room from passing cars. This is what I think about on road rides. Plus a bunch more stuff that I can't recall because I forget by the time I get back. But let me assure you there is some mind-blowing, world-saving shit going on in my head when I ride. And when I shower. I think of a lot of great stuff in the shower. I thought up a new ad campaign in the shower and now it is in national magazines. All while I am in lycra. Or naked and soapy with a shampoo mohawk.

Other than the Morgan Marathon, I don't really have any events that I am solid on. Mainly because work is nutzo and home projects are rampant and I just don't dare commit to anything too difficult. There are some trail runs out there. Maybe one of the Bear Lake triathlons - provided I do some swimming. If I do start swimming regularly, XTERRA is an option. At least the sprint. Regardless, now that the weather is looking warm I am just stoked to be training, even if it is for nothing particular. And that is my goal, to be fit enough to go and do any event, within reason, without gobs of specific training.

My run training for the marathon has increased. Unfortunately, I miss some runs that I normally get to do on my lunch break because I am just too dang busy to feel good about going. My pace has been slow, but in retrospect I think it is because I am tired from biking or longer runs. I had a shorter run last week and it kicked ass. But I ran 12 on Sunday and felt like shit. But I rode 40 miles the day before. I think that good training, with a short taper and some good rest before the marathon, and careful pacing will have me finishing and not hating myself.

I really need to lose 10 pounds. My jerseys are kinda tight...

I’m Here!

Since I have posted nothing of note since last fall, I’m going to skip the laziness and sloth of last winter and jump right into the very cold and wet “spring” in Utah. First up is a brief Canyondlands Half Marathon race report, followed by my first ride of twenty eleven. Before I begin, here is a transcript of an actual conversation I had recently.

Them: “Did I see you out running the other day?”

Moi: “Probably.”

Them: “What are you training for?”

Moi: “Nothing.”

Them: “Are you trying to lose weight?”

Moi: “No.”

Them: “What are you running for then?”

Moi: “I like it. I’ve run off and on since junior high.”

(Silence.)

Well, I thought it was funny. On with the show.

Canyonlands Half Marathon Race Report

It sucked. The hardest and slowest half marathon time of my life. I ran Vikingman faster with bad knees and 56 miles of bike before it. Headwind. It’s my own fault. I just didn’t get enough miles in. The wet winter kept me indoors. Being extra busy at work kept me from getting in my lunchtime runs. Excuses. Lazy. NOtivation.

Still, I’m philosophical about the experience and learned a few things: I was harshly reminded that you can’t hide from 13 miles of running. The minimum is just that, barely enough to get you by. And lastly, I like being in shape way better than not.

The weekend was fun though, I did some damage to my liver and ate very well. Katie and Kevin are awesome hosts. And it’s in Moab. What more can you want? Less wind maybe…

Back in the Saddle – First Ride of Twenty-Eleven

I made it before April. Barely. The first bike ride of twenty-eleven. Glad it’s out of the way. In typical FROTY (first ride of the year) fashion, it was more work than fun. My knees protested, ass started to hurt. I pedaled squares on the way back as I battled mounting fatigue, a stiff headwind and rolling hills that forced me to slow to a crawl. In short, it was g-l-o-r-i-ous, glorious. Better if you read it like singing the song by Them.

Yep, glorious. Just to be on the road again is a good thing. I didn’t even mind dodging old ladies u-turning on me and going deaf from Harley’s roaring by with nary a baffle in their exhaust pipes. What did bother me was that out of the dozen or so other cyclists I saw, only one waved back at me. Thank you, incredibly bolt-upright rider man for returning my salutation. Even the runners I saw offered a friendly nod my way. Not my fellow cyclists though. Maybe it was because I wasn’t wearing my official The Bike Shoppe team kit? Perhaps it was because I was on my non-carbon fiber cyclocross bike shod with 32s (which make Morgan County roads near bliss I must add)? Is it possible my gangly early-season form made me appear to be a new rider and thus less than those vastly superior specimens? Whatever it was, it was lame. Be friendly to your fellows.

It was also good because even though it’s taken 20 years of cycling, and with my age, a likely reduction in testosterone but I’m now smart enough to know that the first few rides of the season shouldn’t be exuberant, mouth-foaming death marches. I rode for an hour and a half and finished the ride without feeling shelled. Not normal for the FROTY. It makes me excited to get back out again, this time on the mountain bike. But I need to do some work on that, which I’ll have some time to do this weekend, while it snows again. And I get over this cold I now have.

Vikingman! - The Bike

2:50. Not bad at all.

Honestly, that's all that I can say about the bike ride. Nothing of note occurred. I drank a bottle of HEED and sucked down a gel every lap. I got passed three times. Those guys were faster and had way cooler bikes and wheels and shit than I do. They also had on aero helmets that made them resemble the creatures in the Alien movies and made them just look a LOT faster than me.

I'm okay that I got passed. I passed at least one of them on the run. I think two. And that was with the calamity that was forthcoming.

T2 went much faster than T1 at about 3 minutes. In and out baby.

I know, lame post. But nothing happened. I rode well. My back got a little sore. Nothing out of the ordinary, though I'd say it was a better than ordinary ride. It was cold though. Being wet, my toes went numb immediately and stayed that way until about mile 2 of the run. My fingers too went numb, painfully numb, but thawed by lap 2 of 4 on the bike. I couldn't think of many songs to sing. But I did keep thinking that I couldn't believe that I still had a half marathon to run. Which is next time.

Is it Spring yet?

It's snowing. Dammit.

But what does it matter? Most of my outdoor projects are completed and there will still be enough time to finish things up.

Plus, my back is out as I type, so I am not much good to anyone right now. I could probably ride, probably swim but not run really well because I can't stand up straight.

All this comes on the eve of the Double Cross Halloween Weekend. Races at Wheeler Farm on Saturday and Sunday. They are iffy now, at best.

On the bright side of things, I think my backyard tubeless cross wheel setup is working. I did a short ride the other night and had no issues with leaks or rolling tires at 45 psi. I did smack a rock hard enough to think I might have broke my front wheel, and nearly send me over the handle bar, and just kept right on going. It would have pinch flatted a tube for sure.

On a sadder note, my Dad's (and my) Jack Russell Terrier died last week. He had a severe infection from advanced diabetes and Pop decided it was better to have him put down. Roscoe was a great little dog and tough as nails. He'd fight most any dog and I saw him win against larger dogs more than once. He was a lover, too. He didn't like to be held, but that was alright because he felt like a sack of sticks when you did.

My sis gave him to me several years before she died. Then, when I married Wifey, Pa wanted to keep Roscoe at the house. He said it was to make my new apartment life easier. But I think he liked the dog which was why I never asked to have him back.

Roscoe went pretty much everywhere with Dad, so it is a kick in the gut to him. It's tough when your best buddy suddenly isn't there anymore, following you into the bathroom and stuff. I know. I gave him up once. But now, like so many other people and things I've cared for, he only lives in my memories.

'Cross Race #2

Two races. Two flats. Cyclocross race #2 was uneventful in the sense that my race lasted all of 5 minutes when I pulled out with yet another flat. Not sure how this happened. After fixing the first flat, not once, but twice, I put in a new tube. Problem solved, right? Wrong. The tire held air all week, until race day. Dig this.

I air up the tires to 50 psi in the back of the truck because, you know, I don't want to risk a flat. Next, I carry the bike across the parking lot to the course. Then, I set the bike down on the starting line and throw a leg over the top tube and the tire is almost flat.

WHAT THE FU@K?!

Now before you think I am a dumbass for not checking the tire for thorns, I did. Multiple times. The tube had a very small failure where the valve stem is glued to the tube. Just bad luck. Not the first or last bad luck I had on Saturday, either. In fact, Saturday pretty much was the shittiest day I've had in about the last 6 months. I digress...

So I rode most of a single lap before pulling out. Again. At least last week I got to do most of the race. And I now have a backyard tubeless setup in place that I am trying out.

- Stan's rim tape to seal the spoke holes
- 4 rubber rim strips to build up the rim bed, 26" size for a tighter fit
- UST valve stems
- Stan's tire sealant

I am hoping to get out to the fairgrounds race course soon to test the tubeless out. I need to make sure the tires don't roll off the rim unexpectedly causing me to die. But so far, so good! I am looking forward to a pinch flat free 45 psi and excellent protection from flats. Crossing fingers.

They're This Big...

29 inch mountain bike wheels, that is.

After years of knocking the concept of of the 29er, I finally decided to try one. Why the change in tune? 2010 might be the year I decide to buy a new bike.

There has been a lot of scuttlebutt (perhaps the first time I have ever typed that word) about the new models from Gary Fisher, the Superfly 100 and the Hi Fi's. Both have about 4" of suspension travel in front and out back, and the weights are pretty competitive. With all the positive press, I have been thinking there might actually be something behind it all. But I am hesitant, it isn't like 29ers are taking over the sport, but they are steadily gaining momentum (sic).

Back to the concept of bike buying. Originally, I planned on a 5" travel bike, specifically a Trek Fuel EX. I currently have Titus Racer X, one of the best-ever cross country suspension bikes ever. It has about 3.75" of front and rear suspension. Instead of jumping on the 5" trail bike bandwagon wholeheartedly, I have started to think about the 29ers.

See, I am an XC guy. My whole reason for being on a bicycle is to get from point A to point B as fast as I can. To do that, I need a bike to do certain things and weigh a certain amount. The Titus accomplishes this, in spades. But as I have gotten older and more responsible, which means I also ride less and less, I have found my technical skills are eroding. The Titus is a race bike, it has steep angles that can be unforgiving at times. Coupled with my lack of skill and it can be less than confidence inspiring at times. So, how do I increase stability at speed and in technical spots without sacrificing climbing "prowess?" With a 5" travel, carbon fiber wonder bike like the Fuel EX. OR, or, with a 29er.

The way I see it, and if anyone that reads this would like to interject I sincerely welcome it, I Bike like a Fisher Hi Fi 1 and the Trek Fuel EX 9.0 are very different, yet similar on many levels. Allow me to geek out...

There isn't much of a size difference between a 4" travel 29er and a 5" travel 26" trail bike. Having ridden a couple of 5" trail bikes, I've found the handling very similar to the Fisher Rig 29er I've been riding lately. Both handle slower than my Titus. Period. Which isn't a bad thing in my decrepit state of skills.

What you get with a 29er, as I have discovered, is a smoother ride - especially when things get rocky and technical. Having ridden the Rig on two of my favorite trails that I am pretty familiar with (Green Pond at Snowbasin and Behind the Rocks in Moab) I'd say I've learned four things:
1) As I mentioned, 29ers are smooth. They really roll over rocks easily and make technical trails easier. 2) I notice the momentum of the bigger, heavier wheels helps me more on the flats and through rocks than they hurt my performance on climbs. And, if the climbs are technical like on Behind the Rocks, the bigger wheels make it easier to climb. 3) Sand. 29ers motor through sand in a way that a 26" wheel only wishes it could. 4) If you are going to ride a single speed, you should only ride a single speed and it should be a 29er. With a single speed, momentum is your best friend and it comes in spades. But, I don't ride a single speed enough to have quads massive enough to really enjoy it. 32x18 gearing is just a little too big for my skinny legs. I got to know the Rig intimately during my time with it, often finding myself literally climbing all over the machine to grind it uphill. I was impressed with the amount of riding I was able to do on it though.

All very interesting... To me at least. Because this is in the front of my brain right now, my next post will be more exciting and discuss my recent trip to Moab among other things.

Gogol Bordello and the Man Date

Yo.

So a couple of weeks back I attended a concert by gypsy punk band Gogol Bordello. Never heard 'em before. Glad I went. It was a very high energy experience. I only remember seeing people that excited in the old days at a couple of Violent Femmes concerts. As good as they were live, I gotta admit that they are at their best live. I could do without most of their studio work.

The pre-concert drink was at my brother-in-laws place. Somewhere during that time Wifey hooked me up on a man date.

A man date for a bike ride no less.

Without going into details, the short ride ended up being better than I thought. Maybe one day I'll delve into man date #2, which was, less successful.

Ride to Mantua

Third post this week. WTF?

Sometimes I get carried away and last Sunday was one of those days. What started as a couple of hours on the road bike turned into a 4 hour death march.

Not that I am complaining, mind you.

Wifey and Smarty Pants had a neice's birthday party to attend, so I knew I had free time to have a good ride. As the day wore on, I felt good and figured I should make the most of it.

I left about 10:30 and headed west to escape traffic - strange since I was nearly run down by an asshole more focused on loosening his tie and being finished with church than piloting his damn vehicle. Fortunately I was able to take years off his life by screaming at him through his OPEN window. Seriously, this guy must have wondered how a guy with a bike helmet got into his truck and why he hadn't noticed me there before. He jumped so fast I thought he was going out the other door. Awesome. Maybe he'll pay a little closer attention when he drives now.

After that incident, which happened in the first five minutes of the ride, it was business as usual. The sun was out, it was warm, and somehow the wind managed to blow in my face nearly the entire time. Yet I still went on. To Mantua (Man-uh-way). 35 miles one way. Not usually a distance I am too concerned with. But it isn't like I am killing it on the bike anymore. I mean, I doubled the 2009 mileage on my Trek Madone on this fine day.

Coming back was a little more eventful. In addition to feeling like there were angry little bees trying to escape from my thighs, I ran out of both food and water, so I had to change my route a little because the way I was going had very little in the way of shopping. Fortunately I remembered to bring some cash with me. A whole $2. What the hell can you get for $2? A sale on commercial sports drinks and a granola bar. $1.68. At this point in the ride I would have given the 65 year old lady behind the counter a lap dance for a giant Snickers bar. But it was only about 10 miles. Obviously I made it. I even had a little tailwind the last few miles to bring me in.

The moral of this story is that I am not the rider I used to be, and it's a real bummer. But, on the flip side, I still went out and did a 70 mile ride with my nose in the wind and a fair amount of climbing thrown in for laughs. Oh, and my back didn't hurt. And that is huge considering back pain pretty much made me stop racing bikes. So I'll take what I can get, and rides like this where I can get them. I'll just be sure to bring more food from now on.

34x18

34x18 is the gear ratio I just stuck on my singlespeed. Previously, I was turning a 34x20, which I found a little too low. The results of my first ride with the 34x18...a little too painful.

A lottle too painful actually. As in I had to walk up a hill.

I don't believe in walking up hills. If I have a bike handy that is.

So I feel like I've been beaten like a government mule by the oldest bike I have. My singlespeed is a converted Specialized Stumpjumper that I bought way back in 1993. The frame is steel so it rides pretty decent, and I have it set up with a rigid fork. I also have the aforementioned 34x18 gearing. My saving grace are the 180mm cranks. If the number one rule of riding a singlespeed is keep your momentum, the number two must be have long-ass cranks for leverage.

I think I may repaint the bike next spring, and I am really considering putting a suspension fork on it. I know there is a time and money commitment there, which means that in spite of the beating I took today, I think I need to ride it a little more. Not having the option to shift forces you to crank up hills and push yourself harder than you would on a geared bike.

Sound like fun to you? Me either...

24 and DONE!

Another 24 Hours of Moab is in the books. Another. I should say my last. Of course one should never say never, but I am pretty sure that this was the last quack for the Duckboy.

I had fun, but this can be a miserable bitch of a race. The starting and stopping between laps is difficult. For me the sense of adventure is gone, as this was my 4th time. I guess it was maybe doing the race with friends that made me want to do it again. But seeing each other between rests and meals isn't exactly quality time. I'd rather go out and just ride and enjoy their company. SO! I think this was it. I'll go down and support a team, and maybe even pirate a night lap. But no more mandatory 3am, 35° temperature laps.

In spite of my whining, I admit the race went well. Our official position was 6th out of 34 teams with a time of 16 laps at 1:42:45 PM. Naturally, the 1st place team was in a league of their own. Ahem... Sandbaggers.

Still we did well. The weather held. It dropped into the 30s and the wind was pretty stiff but no rain. No one was injured. Nothing broke (except me). Everyone handled the challenge well and rode their figurative guts out (actually I rode my literal guts out). Especially our 4th rider, Payton. He's an animal. ANIMAL!

I managed two pretty solid laps before getting sick. After my night lap I started eating to refuel and got pretty nauseous. I slept for a while and woke up feeling fine about two hours before my lap. Unfortunately, I wasn't any better after all and even water was making me want to puke. After a 5 minute dry-heave session, I threw in the towel and Payton suited up.

My biggest fear was not having enough food and water left in my system and suffering dehydration and the hunger bonk the entire lap. I don't know what happened. But I looked pretty good in this picture at least.

My day lap was very windy but went pretty well. My night lap was awesome, I was really pleased with my performance. I bobbled a few times, but I hit some gnarly lines and rolled up and down some obstacles I wouldn't have tried in the daylight. Just a really great experience.

The Light & Motion lights worked well.

The Titus was dialed once again.

I didn't feel awesome physically, just a little sluggish, but probably needed a little more intensity in the training, and could have dropped 5 pounds. Guess I'll have to stop lifting weights. Whatever, stop drinking beer might help.

I wish I had a few more pictures to post but the LCD went out on the camera. Now I need a new camera for the next adventure, DISNEYLAND. Time to give back to Wifey and Smarty Pants for some of the training time I've been using.

Cyclocross is this Saturday, also. Better find a babysitter. I swear I am going to train for this one year...

Getting Closer

In a week I'll be residing on the dusty expanse of desert near Moab for 24 hours of exhaustion.

I. Can't. Wait.

The weather looks like it is going to work out at least pretty well, at least according to the 10-day forecast. 80s for the highs and 45 for the lows. Zero chance of precip. I hope it holds because those conditions are perfect for me.

I am hoping to sneak in one more night ride next week to test out my new lights. But I had to take in the Titus because it felt like I was grinding coffee when I pedaled. No, it isn't my hulking quads flexing anything. Probably something worn out that is expensive.

On the fitness front, I wish I knew how I am going to feel. I feel pretty good, but some fatigue has been creeping in. I've been pushing it a little for a while now, and maybe I need to make sure I take it easy this week. This training and racing crap used to be so much easier when I could just stick to a schedule.

I do know that I am starting to feel a little mentally cooked, or I just have ADD. I am having some trouble motivating myself to get on the bike, or run, or swim. Just a lack of focus, no goals. Just Moab and cyclocross, which is why I have maintained the bike fitness and let the rest slip. I'm ready to get out and do some bird hunting, or kayaking as I call it.

Smarty Pants is thoroughly enjoying her dance classes. Which means that her journey to the pink side is almost complete. I am afraid there isn't much I can do to keep her from becoming a princess. I had hope though, I brought home a new shotgun the other day and she thought it was cool. I was so proud when she said she wanted "her own little shotgun, a pink one."

A little pink shotgun. Makes a Dad proud right there. Realize this: I know people that can make it happen.

I think she needs another year before going with Dad on the marsh though. And there will be a little pink shotgun when we go. (No it won't be real. If you thought I'd give a four-year old a real shotgun may your brain melt into an ooze and flow out of your ears.)

"I don't want to go on the cart! I think I'll go for a ride"

I am slowly returning from the depths of snot hell. Slowly and snottily returning.

Two weeks to Moab and I am looking forward to the race. No trepidation. I feel pretty good other than my sinuses and jaw from my last dentist trip. I need to remind him that my jaw does not actually open 180°. It has been more than two weeks and it still hurts, but no Vitamin I yet today so I think I am improving.

I doubt I'll surpass my best ever 1:11 lap time on the course, but I am going to give it my best to be within a couple of minutes. I will definately be the slowest member on the team.

I decided to do something active today actually slipped out for a short ride during lunch. It was the first ride on my cyclocross bike since the crash during the alley cat race in July. It is amazing how far a little bit of back flexibilty goes. The handlebars on every bike I have feel high. The cross bike was way too high.

Maybe I can motivate myself to get up tomorrow morning and hit the trail pre-dawn. I still haven't tried out my new light.

The Weekend is SO Here!

Damn if I'm not ready for a day off.

Some of you that know what I do will scoff at that remark, but this has been a rough week. Deadlines and demanding clients have taken their toll.

I'm gonna rock out with my . . . I'm gonna run a 10k tomorrow to benefit the Hess Cancer Foundation, something I don't do enough of. It will be fun, I've never done an organized 10k, so whatever my time is will be a PR. It is also on the new Legacy Highway. A road that took 12 years and a buttload of litigation and environmental studies to build because it goes right through a wetlands area.

I'm not a fan of the Legacy Highway, but it's here whether I wanted it or not so I may as well enjoy it.

I'm sure a bike ride is also in order for the weekend. Maybe another morning dark ride. Something easy to recover from the 10k madness for sure. Or a road ride.

There is sure to be plenty of working in the house, too.

Time to go have a beer.

Officially Dedicated

I am officially dedicated. I woke up at 4am again and hit the trails this morning for two hours of riding before work. Hell, it even rained and we had two light failures, but we got it done.

I am also officially tired. Already. And it is only 9:45am. Today is either going to be insanely long or I'll sit here working in such a semi-stupor that it will be time to go home before I know it.

I am cooking jalapeno burgers for dinner. Never done it before.... Good thing I keep beer in hand. Yep, in hand, it's like on-hand except literally in my hand. Beer in one, spatula in the other.

BULLY!

Definitely won't be going riding tomorrow morning. Smarty Pants has already requested a breakfast of "marshmallow cereal" (Lucky Charms®) with me. How can I say no to that?

Of course, if I can get to the pool by 5:30 I can be back before she wakes up....

I keep trying to think of something at least entertaining to write here, but I think my brain is shot. Figuratively, of course.

Maybe my new lights will arrive today and wake me up a little, but probably not until tomorrow.

Dudication

Dedication is getting up at 4am, strapping the headlamp to the ol' Titus and heading out the door for a mountain bike ride. In the dark.

I'll actually be dedicated if I ever participate in such tomfoolery again.

Few things get me pemanently out of bed at 4am. The chance to get in a good duck or goose hunt, in someone's boat (paddling my poor man kayak won't get me out that early) is one thing.

Really that is the only thing.

Because what else do I enjoy doing, really, that requires getting up so early? Not. A. DAMN. Thing.

But it was so much fun. I couldn't eat anything proir to riding because the Duckboy's digestive gut parts were punching the snooze button, but what a great time to ride. No sharing the trail. Less than 900-degrees. I hope to be getting some badass Light & Motion lights this week, guess I might have to get up and go try them out before work soon.

And it's fantastic 24 Hours of Moab training. Especially for my lazy ol' guts.

All in, people. Can't wait.

XTERRA - The Bike

At long last I was able to get on my bike. And I had a lot of work to do to bring back the swim champs.

There isn't much to say about it. Nothing funny happened, no great stories to tell. It just rocked. The trail system the race follows has some of the best riding around and I am very familiar with it. Which means I knew that after about 20 minutes the doubletrack becomes singletrack and passing the swim champs becomes much more difficult.

So for that first 20 minutes. I. Drilled. It. As in 80-85% of my max heart rate. And it really didn't ever hurt. It felt great actually, and it shocked me a little because it isn't like I train anymore. I am lucky to ride twice a week.

I have no idea how many riders I passed but the number was high. I spent most of the trail off in the rocks and grass t0 get around people. Then came the singletrack and things ground right to a halt. Almost. It was very slow going. Riders would queue up behind slower riders and as the opportunity arose would pass. I must admit that people were pretty polite about being passed. I'm sorry if I pissed anyone off.

At the top of the climb, just above the lodge at Snowbasin, the trail split for the long course and short course. I was happy to be turning off instead of carrying on to the top of the mountain like last year.

Total bike time plus transition: 1:22:19

Next up: The Run.