11 Feb aka Let's Celebrate Murphy's Law!

Sunny at first but look at those storm clouds.  That was our theme today.

 The day is the 11th of February.  This day -for the Homey Trinity- would be indelibly etched in our memory as Murphy’s Law Day (Dear Mr. Murphy, if I ever saw you, I would ehf you up two times sir).

It began as the middle third of the homey trinity slept through three, separate alarms he allegedly set the night before (mm-hmmm!).  Since the middle third was also responsible for the last third that make up this-our-special union, he was late too.  Finally we hit the road, 5 people with cycling gear for the weekend, bikes, and corollary equipment like tools onboard Betsy the IV (of all the cars I’ve really loved they were all named Betsy:  an 83 Nissan Sentra-Betsy; a 93 Volvo 850 GLT wagon-Betsy II; and a 95.5 Audi S6 Avante-Betsy III), at least an hour behind schedule and what added insult to injury was the weekend ski traffic as we head westbound on I-70.  Snow was also falling on Vail pass so we had to run 4wd for a while just to be safe further reducing our terminal velocity as dictated by Colorado State Troopers.

The further westbound we go the higher the mercury climbs and once we arrive in Moab, at the Poison Spider to retrieve Jeremy’s 2012 Yeti 575 rental my Tundra’s digital thermo-meter says, “52 F°” (actually she says nothing but I’m anthropomorphizing my Tundra because I love her so).  

The La Sals, a pretty beginning for our adventure.

 Murphy’s Law number one:  New bike rear tire shall address the goathead sticker.  Jeremy and Hogan ride to our hotel and once we get unpacked and kitted out to ride, Jeremy, affectionately known as “that guy” was a goat head magnet.   The slime held in the front tire; but unfortunately it didn’t for the rear.  So what seemed to be a hiccup in the space-time continuum it’s 2:30 by the time we change out the rear and Billy and Kevin give some lovin’ to their rigs.  That time, by its own account should’ve sent red flags in our sensibilities of safety with day light burning out near 5:50 but now, we’re too ate up to not do Gold Bar/Portal Trail.

Everything’s good until the first casualty of the day:  me.

Experts?  Close.  Endurance? Yup.  Sunlight? Hiyill Naw.

Murphy Law number two (I said number two):  You talk shite to Mother Nature, Mother Nature will give you shite sandwich in spades!  I thought I was owning Mother Nature and was not respecting her because I was a cleaning/technical machine until Mr. Steep Rock Face had something to say.  He said, “Cycling beeyatch, today you will feel the sting of my lichens, thus shall you lose rear tire traction as you near 99% completion of the perception of cleaning me.”  I swear the last words I said before I lost rear tire traction on the lichens thus torquing my handlebars that served as a battering ram towards my 135 pound self times the acceleration of gravity equaling the force in Newtons as I got skewered by own handlebars, was, “Take that bitch!”  Then almost instantaneously I looked like a fish out of water, having the wind knocked out of me sternum side, with my other side of my ribcage colliding with Mr. Steep Rock Face, flopping on the tarmac holding my breadbasket, speaking in tongues, with the onset of a gran mal seizure, with Kevin running towards me to see if I was okay.  As he was running, he got a left calf cramp and collapsed when it cramped; adding to the log jam as Billy was behind him also trying to give me aid.  If there was a hidden camera capturing all this, it woulda been hella funny!

Murphy Law number three:  Plan all you want, when you start late, Mr. Sunshine will go down quicker than what you expect.  Once the sun went down we just started the portal trail and Billy and Kevin brought their lights.  I remember even as my ribcage was throbbing with pain, Hez-Billy and I were flowing through the rolling terrain skirting the edge of the chasm on the Portal Trail.  Thank goodness for a while until…

Murphy Law number four:  Damn suckas, you shoulda done brung a map foo’!  Who you think you are?  Magellen?  Yup our sorry arses got lost, we back-tracked several times to find the trail and by then it was cold and we were all hypoglycemic, hypersensitive to cold but trying not to lose it mentally, and night was on us.  Once we did find the trail we had to hike it out because there was a 500 foot sheer rock cliff that perpendiculared (yeah, I just made up a word) the Colorado River.  To the left, your exteroception facilities  could feel the electricity of the void that would claim your life should you slip, so we just didn’t think about it (too much).  Nothing like walking an hour and a half in carbon soled mountain biking race shoes with death some mere inches away on some parts of the Portal Trail.

Like that sign?  Behind Jeremy's a 500' sheer drop...

 Murphy Law number five:  You got lights?  Yeah, you think you got lights…Billy said we should move quicker because he only as about 35 minutes left o’juice on his lights.  35.00001 minutes later, light source number one goes bye-bye.  One light, Kevin’s light, lit 5 people walking down a precipice with 20+ pound bikes in tow, walking on cycling shoes in one of the world’s gnarliest, lethal terrain in pitch black (clouds obscured a normally ¾ moon).  I did see the sign stating three people have died here, so walk your bike: so that’s when I had Kevin take a picture of Jeremy and me flanking the sign.  What seemed to be an eternity prompted Hez Chilly to holler, “What the fuc* are y’all waiting for?!!”  So what seemed to be an eternity we’re finally on the road.  The cold made me urinate at least five times that evening.

Murphy Law number six:  Ite you sorry punks, I’ll give y’all a break.  We are still hypoglycemic, still hyper-cold sensitive but being on a one lane road with trucks in the middle of the night leaked out some adrenaline.  First, Kevin busted a high pace out in front, as I half-wheeled him, he increased the pace.  So what did I do?  I increased the pace some more.  He then half-wheeled me, and once he tired of my pace he amped it up a smidge.  After reciprocating this 3 more times, I busted the Alberto Contador I’m-standing-on-my-pedals-out-of-the-saddle-to-vary-my-pedaling-motion-so-as-to-vary-the-muscle-recruitement-and-not-cramp-but-little-do-you-know-I’m-fitt’na-bust-a-move-on-your-least-suspecting-arse move.  So I busted that move and attacked and the lactic acid flooded my chubby thighs.  We’ve been on the trail for nearly six hours now and here’s my busted ribcage self attacking out of light’s reach.  Once they were closing, the shadows cast by the chasers from Kevin’s light seemed to be out of a surreal movie.  The shadows were so big and so unorchestrated and so metronomic with the pumping of their pedaling action that it seemed phantasmagorical.  I don’t let up and finally Kevin chases on so now we’re two.  As we cross the last bridge into town we’re now three with Jeremy chasing on and that’s how it finishes as we head into the lighted parking lot of our hotel.  Holee Mackarel not only did we light all the matches in our matchbook, but we lit the matchbook as well and are HOLLOW to the point of bonking.  A round of fist bumping goes around as we’re finally the homey trinity plus two in disbelief of the lethal booshite we just experienced and survived collectively with nary a scratch (‘cept for some eft up ribs) as we’re putting the bikes in the hotel’s bike room as head out to City Market to spike our glycemic indices.  The other two that make up our group is Hogan:  Hez-Billy's mountain biking phenom (son); and Jeremy (aka that guy!):  said mountain biking prodigy's BFF.  A good group with heaps of testosterone keeping it competitively friendly.

Tomorrow, Sunday, we ride Sovereign but tonight we bask in the afterglow of the favorable results (that could've been a major failure or lethality due to stupidity by adults in the presence of minors) with happy endings (but not those kind of happy endings).  Everything else from this point forward is just quotidian.

Here's our lookout: Hogan, trying to spot any more trouble...

Hello 2012

Was haulin' butt out the house to try and catch the Hour of Power down at Wadsworth. From my house, it was above freezing, just slightly, but as the day went on it was eventually going to snow.  I took the back-woodsy way to the start- the hypotenuse of a right triangle as opposed to the three and four sides-and got there with five minutes to spare!  I yanked all my clothes off in the back seat and in order, put on my base layer T; bib shorts; jersey, socks, shoes, jacket, wind proof tights (oh hecks yeah! thought it was overkill but it was toasty), booties (I said, "booty"); balaclava; helmet; neoprene gloves; and shot out the back seat to assemble my bike lying in the trunk of my car.  When my non-drive side shoe popped into my speedplay the group was off and there I was drafting off the back as I slid my glasses off my helmet onto me mellon.
There was a group that left an hour earlier but it would've been waaay to cold for me.  I was after all born near the equator.  As we were rolling downhill towards the left turn into Waterton Canyon, people were already fading off the back.  Just that slight, downhill acceleration.  Maybe they were full blast into the wind?  Oh well.
Now comes the little riser, the pace was stiff but just enough for the group in front of me to climb it sitting in the big ring.  Once it backed off, I get up off the saddle and do the swimming lizard dance on my pedals.  A group of people got shelled from that climb.  I saw a tri-geek go backwards and felt no sympathy for him (sorry if you're a tri-geek).  I tried to bury myself in the pack to get ready for the climb up Arrowhead Golf Course and I noticed my heartrate wasn't backing down before the uphill crapfest.  Not good.  So I increase my rpms on the pedals, pedal smoothly but brisk with deep, get-your-heartrate-back-down-sucka belly breathing.
Here comes the hill and I have a nice spot in the peloton going up.  Halfway up they accelerate and I BLOW!  Can't even catch up to the flotsam from the acceleration and when I make the  180° turnaround it's off they go!  As I u-turn it, the smart alecky gate guard said, "Better catch 'em!"  For an instant my smart alecky self wanted to say, "Catch this beeyatch" while flashing the you're number one hand gesture.  He wasn't being malicious I was just in some mental distress.  I didn't do it.
As we're rolling downhill towards the reservoir, the people who got shelled recycle themselves into the chaos that's known as the Hour of Power.  Since the pack isn't so big there weren't too many yellow line violations fighting for that sweet echelon spot.  I tried to think ahead on our turns from where the wind was blowing (to seek shelter) and in one particular spot got some full-on headwind.  This is where I tucked in real close (without being a dick and pushing someone out) so I wouldn't have too much exposed surface area and I was hoping the guy in front of my wasn't a Fred in the echelon (he wasn't) and wouldn't fade in the wind (we didn't).
The rolling hills into the park was mellow too, not the awful accordion-effect we experience as we go like gang busters.  I was able to get some rest as I climbed with a slightly higher rpm than my neighbors but still sitting to conserve.
The lefty in the park was where the kookoos go ballistic, but thankfully it was smooth.  Danny Summerhill was in the pack, Greg Daniel was there too flying the Stars and Stripes. I saw them surge, gain some time but since nobody was working we eventually caught 'em.  Nothing too spectacular to the yellow sign sprint other than a slower dude got clipped as an accelerating rider passed him and came onto his line just a little quicker than the pass distance.  He got a wicked shimmy from where the rider clipped his front wheel.  We're doing  about 37 miles an hour (I really should look up) and I'm two riders deep to his left.  I was wondering, if he falls my way there's going to be a nasty domino effect that might could take me out.  Luckily he got control of his bike and it's off for the last burst. I holler, "Good recovery!" A group of four took off, and I found myself up front.  I get out of the saddle to get the lactic burn out and people think it's a sign to kick it.  Needless to say, the pack passed me but I was able to reinsert myself some 15 cyclists back to the leading group.  We let the out-of-saddle sprinters go while the rest of us just sat and marched a big gear to the line.
I look at my odometer and we covered 18 miles in 47 minutes.  What's that, some 23 miles per hour?  That's ite for the first crap-on-your-neighbor ride for 2012.  Saw some cycling acquaintances as we noodled back to the start.  Mike, for example, was sporting a nice beard for some insulatory purposes.  Still rockin' the carbon Giant.
After a chit-chat session, we did some chill ride miles.  It was getting cold so I turned around so's I can get 30 miles total.  So after an hour and a half;  thirty miles it is!  This was a good omen for my rag-tag attempt to kick start my 2012 cycling campaign.  45+ category here I come!  As I took off my not-so breathable winter weight cycling jacket in the car I noticed I was smelling something fierce!  Time for green tea and a hot shower peeps. 

Evergreen Singletrack

The kit-less Sam K. at the top in Evergreen.  It's October, we're riding, hence the smile(s) 

 Ah yeaugh, Saturday was riding with Kenny L.; today was riding with Sam K.  Incidentally both of these fine peeps are not only my buds and teammates but they-we-also roll on 29ers.  I'm sooo glad that when I had the opportunity to by a new bike I chose the 29er.  Was thinking superhard on some closeout 26er dual boingers but the 29er's rolling inertia on dem big wheels makes going forward that much more funner (yeah I know it's grammatically incorrect but then again I am a science teacher).

Sam K. is a cyclocross nut.  He came in seventh on that last cross race we did together at Monarch High School whereas yours truly was 29th (getcha sum!).  Even though Kenny, Sam, and I started out as road racers, we hang up the skinny tires once mountain bike season hits (aka the WinterPark series starts).  Today, even though I was 15 minutes late, he waits and we meet up on the main drag in Evergreen and head off to Dedisse Park.  I've known this park has existed but never rode it.  Apparently it's pretty righteous as it also connects to Alderfer/Three Sisters Park via the climb near Evergreen Lake.  From the get go, it climbed and climbed and climbed.  About a third of the way up I had to peel off some layers and the day was shaping up to be another picture, postcard, perfect day here in Colorado in the Fall.   Sam had the local knowledge of  where the sweet singletrack was hiding as evidenced by the occasional hiker we'd see on our climb to Alderfer.  Since there weren't too many hominids perambulating this day, we took to quasi-blasting the downhill to Alderfer in a way where we could've stopped if we saw hikers.  Once back in Alderfer we hit the downhill of the gnarly climb we took to get here this morning.  Rode the road back and we parted ways.  Before we left, Sam was gracious enough to spot me some calories since I spent quite a bit of energy hanging on to him on the climbs.  I love riding with people with skill and it's a bonus when they're also your teammates.  Technically we could ride for the local race team but we've established some camaraderie with our Natural Grocers Racing homies; so we fly the Halloween colors as kindred spirits.

October 24th and we're still riding...

Was not looking forward to the 6.9 mile climb in the headwind to get back to my truck.  It was mighty painful but I was going from the endorphins and Clif-shots (our sponsor) from Sam.  Once back at my truck the Cateye read:  29 miles in 3h 1min. 

So what did you do today?  Did you make the most of it?  I'm on break.  I have to be super selective in gleaning what I can for recreation yet be compliant enough to be Soccer Dad.  All in all it's a pretty sweet combination as long as there is a semblance of balance (Daniel-san).  Speaking of making the most of it, a cold front's coming in Tuesday night and with it, it's bringing snow.  Come Tuesday I want to be fairly rode out without having to touch the rollers.

Shoot.  I think I'ma get a ride in with my college roommate tomorrow if I can figure out a time and meeting place...

Hello October Break!

This cow was scratching the top of its head on the side of the walkway when we got there.  That's Kenny across the way.

 October Break arrive and envelope me with your sweet arms of non-work, no fighting students, no belly-aching teachers, no needy pupils, absence of alarm clocks, with time to read recreationally.  Today's Friday, the day before my school's October Break.  Other than being completely frazzled and time mismanaged at work, the break arrives nonetheless.  It arrives as my mental state's on the verge of collapse with our district (as well the State really) functioning on a deficit (we all knew this is year two of "suck" as opposed to rebound), a new schedule my circadian rhythm's all cattywampus from, and juggling the schedules of three active chilluns, it tends to make one Cycling Dad's trajectory o'recreation and mental health kinda wacked!  Sweet Melissa's attending her cousin's wedding in Texas for the weekend and I get the privilege to hang with my two remaining kids.  Maricel has soccer almost the same time Mason has swim lessons so she's spending the night with Gramma.  This evening, the Moose and I are chillin' on my bed.  He's so pooped out he just fell asleep before I could read him a book.  Gramma, being the ever-awesome Gramma, agreed to watch the Moose and Maricel (after her game and swimming) so I can go ride with one of my teammates who lives nearby.  Gonna bust a 29er ride with him.  Speaking of 29er, did another cyclocross race on my 29er in Boulder last weekend and came in exactly underneath the apex of the bell curve:  35th out of 70.  It was a real fun race, with a "maze" portion and one barricade that had a notch where people were bunny-hopping it at speed-including me.  The sprint to the finish line was on pavement and it ended with me having a nice cushion from Mr. 36th place.  I looked back a couple of times to make sure I wouldn't get passed at the end.  Had that $hit happen before and I felt flummoxed for letting my position drop by one at the last possible minute.

The Murphy's Law of Weather-To-Outdoor-Recreate-In is in effect, which states: as the bourgeoisie toil at work the weather shall be accommodating and purty; whereas said bourgeoisie's days off will consist of cold weather complemented with precipitation.  I have cold weather gear.  I ain't scared; but it's a deal breaker if the temps hover near-freezing.  Everything's cold then, including your Willy and toes and when that happens, it's time to stay indoors.  Got frostbitten once at A-Basin skiing with Jay.  On my my nose and near my cheek.  It was weird.  Yeah.  Ski season I is sooooo looking forward to you too.  I wanna ride with another teammate who just moved near the area.  He's an excellent 'crosser and mt biker to boot but I ain't gonna ride on wet trails peeps.   My boy Hez-chilly's going to Moab with his familia this weekend.  Nice.

Saturday is a wee bit cold but glorious for a Fall Day in Colorado.  Talk about the phenomenon of synchronicity.  My brother just recently made the switch to tubeless.  Today, before I take my son to swim practice (he's kicking butt by the way), as I load up my 29er to go riding with my homey Kenny L. and notice that both my tires are flat from all the goatheads that gravitated to my tires in my last cyclocross race.  At the rec center I call Kenny and tell him my tires are flat and he suggests I by some Stan's sealant to make my tires tubeless.  How cosmically hip is that?  Once I get to Kenny's he performs his magic and voilà (not more than 7 minutes later) I have a tubeless wheelset.  It also helps to get a UST compatible wheelset.  I have the Mavic C29 Crossmax.  Excellent design but a smidge heavy as a 700C, mountain bike wheelset.

Off we go to get a 3 hr, 35 mile ride in Boulder that consists of traveling on roads to hit some singletrack.  We meander around Marshall Mesa which goes over some private ranch lands and open space.  Kenny too has a 29er, a Gary Fisher Superfly.  Nice ride, also tubeless.  Oh yeah and it's a hardtail.  We can't believe how awesome today is weather-wise. 

Our view of the Flatirons from Marshall Mesa-ish.  Yes it's October in Co.

On one of our stops, a rider states that he saw some of our teammates in today's previously raced Interlocken Cyclocross event.  We used to have a very distinctive color scheme back in the day:  orange/light purple/white kits.  Now we're Halloween colors.  Oh well. We ride at tempo, cruise over rocks and the occasional cow patty and my tubeless wheelset's hanging tough and not losing any pressure although I did have to pump it up once when we were on the bike path.  Holding air nicely now.  The ride gets interrupted by milking cows loitering on the singletrack doing their niche as a primary consumer.  They're huge beasts and what resounded in my mind was:  I'm glad I'm a vegetarian.  Looking into that creature's eyes with that kind of mass and still knowingly consume it does not compute in my head.  I won't hold it against you though if you're a flesh eater (with no soul, selfish, artery clogging, ego-centristic species elitist). 

After I get my kids from Gramma, we travel home in order to do some familial bonding over a DVD only to find a tractor-trailer has overturned on our highway back home.  The jumbo-tron over the highway said, "Accident ahead, expect delays."  We sat for at least 40 mins.  It sucked.  I tried to snap a picture of the vehicle on its side with my cell phone.  See if you can make it out.

The median-barrier letterboxes it but see the cab on the left and trailer on the right?

 It's almost surreal because of the lights from the emergency vehicles reflecting off the cab and trailer like a billboard at night.  Once home, we hunkered down on the couch with Doritos and Dr. Pepper in hand to watch the 4th installment of the Shrek series.  Very cool movie both visually and of its plot.  At the end we all clapped with silly grins on our faces due to its wondrous audio-visual performance.  Kid friendly with some sly adult stuff.  Highly recommend it to y'all family types.  This is a good start to the Break.  Let's hope the new weather front isn't too harsh.  

The Seasons Are Kind Of A Big Deal

hello snow, it's been awhile...

Living in Texas for a couple of decades has desensitized my awareness-and therefore my (mental) sequential progression-for the seasons.  In Texas, it'd be Africa hot for months then boom, one day it dumps freezing rain (and all the hayseeds crash their dualies)  and I realize Fall must be here.  Living in Colorado, near 9000 feet (2700m), when the season changes it's a sensory experience.  It gets colder, the colors on the trees change, especially our Aspens that slowly tell me a progression towards Fall's coming, and eventually it snows and I realize I didn't harvest enough firewood. 

Happened moments before I got there

 

normally this is a two-lane interstate

Yesterday galvanized my transition (mental, paradigm shift to prepare for winter in the high country) to Fall as I drove to Grand Junction for my daughter's elite soccer team's game.  Grand Junction's a couple a hundred miles away going over-or under-the Eisenhower Tunnel in Summit County and Vail Pass.  Yesterday also had a Winter Weather Advisory because during my travel there it was also going to be dumping 5-10 inches (12-25cm) of snow.  Took the Tundra instead of the front wheel drive Camry because you need 4 wheels powering once the snow/ice crud accumulates on I-70.
Took some pictures of people who didn't prepare as they should have driving-wise.  Normally, I-70's a two laner but as we negotiated one of the many hills, this one on the way to Frisco from Breckenridge was particularly difficult for a front-wheel drive Honda Fit that got sideways trying to grab onto the snow.  We parted like the Red Sea to get around it.  Thank you four wheel-drive.  Living at our elevation, the bare minimum's all-wheel drive but to really negotiate the record breaking or the wicked one-day dumps, you also need clearance.  A pickup truck accomplishes both; furthermore you need the bed to haul firewood.

The forecast at Grand Junction was 55°F, partly cloudy with little wind.  It was actually quite pretty, with a tad bit cold thrown in to remind us it's Fall.  Maricel's team won 2-0.  Exciting to watch but not particularly looking forward to drive back home, especially if it's snowing again on Vail Pass (which it was).

partly cloudy and 55° F in Grand Junction

Snapped this beauty with my cell phone as we were leaving Grand Junction and heading towards Grand Mesa.

not bad for a cell phone, no?

Sunday morning, I get to survey the snow Mother Nature left us to recharge our well and to make our property aesthetically pleasing for me due to yesterday's (driving) trials and tribulations and my inordinately long, daily commute that make's the trade-off of mountain living digestible.

our Aspens from our backyard

Knocked out my first race of the season doing a 'cross race on my 29er which performed downright admirably.  Finished 29th out of 75.  Not bad for really not doing a whole lot of training this year.  My next 'cross race is this Sunday, the 16th in Boulder.  Should be fun.  Hopefully it won't snow.  Renewed my amateur license and I'm ready for 2012!  So these pictures are my visual reinforcement of Fall so now I have to gear up for my Auditory welcoming of Fall...

...which is the listening to sacred, choral music (Melissa reminded me of this recently).  I used to perform music in both symphonic band and choir and used to sing Handel's Messiah back in the day.  But what really made it endearing listening to sacred choral music was when I was stationed in Germany.  My friends and fellow airmen and I did a lot of skiing in the Alps.  My friend had a real nice 5 series bimmer and when we'd drive back to base from say, France or Switzerland, he'd always pop in Handel's Messiah.  Cruising the autobahn at night looking at all the gray bleakness of the snowtopped mountains and exfoliated, silhouette of  trees made the music (especially when the brass and screeching sopranos kick in) that much more ominous and brooding (the Fall/Sacred Music association).  The auditory clue that started my Fall connection was Melissa digging a radio broadcast of some Bach sacred music.  She researched their playlist and concluded it was Bach's Saint Matthew Passion.  We reserved it at our public library and it's made its way onto my iPod and iTunes library (rest in peace Steve Jobs), where it's currently resonating in my head.

Hello again Old Man Winter.  I don't particularly like the way you malinger here until May and knockout our electricity when you unleash your super heavy, wet, spring dumpages.   For now, it's alright and skiing's a'knocking with our WinterPark passes ready to be used up for some darned sweet family entertainment.

Miscellaneous ramblings related to (Map My) riding, work, music, and Google Earth.

My 29er locked and loaded.

Work has really interfered with my recreational abilities, especially with my inability to express myself via the written word (which I suppose is a form of catharsis/therapy). One especially cool thing I've done cycling-wise my experience cycling the Monarch Crest Trail. Don't know if has world-wide appeal in cycling circles but for top ten cycling things to do in Colorado, it's single digit up there. Come to think of it a local's top ten things to do out here would be cycling in Moab and/or Fruita, skiing off-piste in one of the many I-70 corridor, climbing (road biking) up Mt. Evans, honeymooning in Crested Butte (and hanging with Dave Wingo), riding Trail 401, hot springing it in Strawberry Jack(s) Hot Springs, making turns in Steamboat's champagne powder, to name a few but to NOT do the Monarch Crest Trail would be a definite downer.

Singletrack for the next 34 miles.

this and singletrack?  pinch me

Broke out the rollers to find cycling time in the legs. Being soccer dad, prepping for the day's lessons, and trying to be a good Dad (emphasis on TRYING) makes for difficulties in outdoor cycling. Rollers at least make the legs pretend it's cycling. Did the gambling themed extreme rated trails-i.e. Blackjack-out at Pine Valley Open Space. It was difficult for a first timer. The downhills are so steep and technical it's better to ride the downs than it is to walk your bike risking low speed damage to yourself negotiating, walking down.

At work I'm still working through my lunch so's I can minimize work at my house. I absolutely hate doing that.  Work is sucking the life out of me lately and I'm a big fan of the hypothesis of the The Symmetry of the Universe as it applies to my exaggerated parabolic leg of work with nary a scant of a recreational trajectory balancing it out.  Yuck.   Equilibrium where is (I know it's "are" but I'm trying to make a point) you?

Lately, music with lyric's not particularly exciting to hear except for maybe some older TV On The Radio or my public library's offering of the Double CD of Bruce Hornsby's (and the Noisemaker's) Bride of the Noisemaker, and the new Flaming Lips' redo of Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon.  I actually purchased the latter of the three aforementioned.  For the redo, If you're a fan of both The Lips and Floyd it really is a sonically hip rendition of Pink Floyd's LP while retaining the alternative, sonic near-kooky expansion inherent of the Lips. 

On the jazzy, piano-trio side, I've been grooving to the Brad Mehldau Trio's The Art of the Trio Vol. 4 - Back at the Vanguard and your favorite artist pushing-jazz-to-new-frontiers aka the free jazz artform...Ornette Coleman!  Specifically his 1961 gem The Art of the Improvisers.  Not at all experimental sounding like his Free Jazz LP but it actually has a conventional sounding just slightly unusual bop edge.  Just bought another jazz CD from an artist named Ignacio Berroa entitled, Codes.   Gonzalo Rubalcaba an amazing, Cuban, jazz-pianist in his own right produced this Blue Note gem.  Pick it up people.  Seems like the more stressed I am the more I gravitate towards Jazz.  Here's my cosmically, unrealistic hypothesis of why I find Jazz so attractive (at least lately).  Jazz was born/created from the historically beleaguered, mistreated and misunderstood African-American experience trying to find a voice once they could stand on their legs as a sentient, art-producing community.  This awful burden transmutates and is interpreted circa the 1950-1960-ish jazz scene producing America's most sonically potent art form.  As I stress from work, the struggle from their music makes it that much more translatable to me at a near personal, empathetic level.   That's my hypothesis and if you don't concur there's a 95% chi-square confidence analysis where you can probably kiss my...   

I'm really looking forward to (not particularly excited mind you) the cycling season next year.  After all the stuff that went down with my family (I suppose it's still continuing) it took me away from the cycling arena temporarily enough that it makes me miss it.  I'm trying to do some constructive training in a way that it doesn't lead to burn out.  I don't know if doing the hour of power should be in my early season regimen but damn it sure is fun.  I need to be doing LSD kinda miles but at my stage in life I'm at the point where I have to take it whenever I can.  I kinda want to do the mountain biking marathon events but that all depends on what kind of off-season endurance training I can muster.  Running doesn't seem to bother mountain biking muscle training.  In fact, I want to do some Winter 10ks if it's allowable.  I want to shoot for a sub-hour Turkey Trot in Dallas at sea level, the distance being 8 miles.  With the 29er underneath me the novelty to race is resurfacing.  At the very beginning I was still a bit chicken to really let her rip thinking the bike's a bit fragile to really thrash it like I do my Yeti; but now, knowing where the center-of-gravity is on her, I mostly let her rip.  On occasion, the mentally perceived additional height of me on the cockpit of the 29er flowing over the really technical stuff throws me the mental left hook where I think I have to slow it down (thus second guessing my abilities to kill it).  It's a learning experience but for the marathon events I think it will be an advantage (if I race the sixty year-olds).  Tight switchbacks I'm learning to negotiate with the bigger wheels and its desire to go straight at high speeds are somethings I have to adapt to.  I really have to emphasize the body english over the tricky bits because of the rolling inertia once I get her to ramming speed.

Since I'm on this completely random tear, here's a MapMyRide Google Earth of one of my favorite rides near my house.  The Pleasant Park-HighGrade Loop.

   

Oh-My-God Road aka Virginia Canyon

'Tis Sunday morning. Another cathartic TdF is about to be under wraps with my boy Cadel Evans finally taking the win after so many close calls and crappy teams not designed for him to win the tour. Rode and ran to my satisfaction and now I'm listening to the Oliver Nelson sextet's The Blues and the Abstract Truth (Impulse, 1961) drinking french pressed Kenyan Roast (and ingesting particulate solids of the bean). If you have no inclination for Jazz (straight ahead, bop, hard-bop, circa 50-60's AMERICAN jazz) can I suggest you pick up John Coltrane's My Favorite Things ? No question mark in the title. If you don't like that after a month or so of listening you might have right-brain aesthetics issues you might need to correct. Life can't be sweeter with the week I just had (I don't need much to keep me grinning).
Yesterday after corner marshaling the Mt Evans-Bob Cook Memorial-Hillclimb I was so baked from standing in the sun stopping cars from running over competitors, yelling at my compatriots for non-numbered riders trying to poach the course (we actually pay to shut down this road for this event, otherwise I wouldn't care), collecting tossed water bottles, cheering the slowpokes on...etc. I was too tired to ride with Kenny. So when our Natural Grocer's Boss Mr. T. came cycling along and told us we're done, I asked Kenny L. do you still want to ride? Thankfully he said yes. The day before he was scheming up a cool off-road with some on-road route that would take us over Oh-My-God Road to Central City and back to Idaho Springs. As volunteers we got the usual post race schwag but this year the T-shirts are cooler and we got a free sandwich from a local restaurant (being a vegetarian I gave my fleshy parts of my sandwich to Kenny). So after eating a Clif-shot and the lettuce, cheese, and bready parts of a sandwich and putting on a clean kit on a sweaty, stinky, warmed-over body (I especially love putting on form-fitting bib shorts on said stinkiness) we're off to ride in 95°F (35 C) temps. Here's an interesting description about this route Kenny chose from TrailCentral.com:
About This Trail: Oh-My-God road was once a major link between Idaho Springs and Central City. This road was critical for many miners bringing supplies to there camp by horse and wagon in 1865. Once the railway included stops in both cities the traffic along the road dwindled signifigantly.Along this road a great deal of mining activity took place, some ruins still remain to this day and add to the history you get to see while riding this trail.
Trail Description: The road is a well-maintained dirt road. There is a short paved section at the top, and the county is paving one mile of the road per year. Along the road, you will see many service roads branching off. Some of these go to national forest land, so feel free to explore. HOWEVER, some of these go onto private land with signs like this. We don't want to be responsible for anybody getting attacked by dogs, or shot, so please make sure you know where you're riding! The bike shop in town, Mountain and Road Bicycles (303-567-4666), carries an excellent map of the area. If you are planning on branching off of the main road, make sure you have a map.
Here's a link, to see the map as well as the profile.
Here's the video, thanks Map My Ride...

I especially like the if you are planning...have a map part. It was a rather fun exploratory ride for future references. The drag about the slight detours was usually after we bombed a downhill and we figured we went the wrong way, we had to 180 it and climb back out to retrace our steps. Kenny climbed in the big gear to get a power workout, I just pedaled to get over. We got all manner of friendly hints of NOT to ride your bike at Blackhawk, instead walk it to save the fine from the local po-po. We saw some abandoned mines, investigated its innards, and moved along. The weather was a little on the warm side but tolerable. After we bombed Central City Parkway we traveled on a little known (at least to us) bike path that paralleled I-70. It dumped us on the far eastern edge of Idaho Springs but what a cool path we saw and what amazing scenery we witnessed at the the top of OMG and Central City. There was some cool information a local gave us as we were filling water bottles up at Freedom Valley Resort. We also saw the town of Russel Gulch. A "town" in various stages of disrepair. Had that old, near ghost-town feel I witnessed riding around Jay's cabin in NM. High alpine mining towns are cool best witnessed with homies on a bike. Cool loops near Nevadaville we can explore on the 29er because the roads are sometimes unpaved out here in the old mining towns of Colorado. All of this information will be stored and used in late season or early season stuff when we need to pile on long-ish pedal rotations to get the body primed for (XC) race abuse and quality saddle sitting, gabbing with friends time.
Afterwards I meet up with the rest of Team M to celebrate mother in-law's birthday with some quality dinner components complete with imbibitions. Man what a most excellent way to end a most satisfying week. If you weren't listening, to recap: soccer with kids, listening to the TdF with my favorite winning, riding solo, riding with Kenny, celebrating mother in-law's b-day, and free socks and Clif products from our sponsor (thanks Kenny) make for a glorious week in this particular life. Mine...so there.