The Swamp Day 2

4:30 came early on Sunday.  The first thing I did was take a peek at the radar.  It looked like an amoeba was trying to eat Gainesville.  I was already awake so I figured what the heck and loaded up.

I met Tim and Ric at Higher ground and we piled in Ric's rather musty smelling truck for the 2 hour ride back down to Alachua.  The cruise control was broken so we spent some time at 85 and some at 70.  We didn't hit any rain until we reached our exit.

We set up my tent under dripping live oaks but the heavy rain had stopped.  The course was in surprisingly good shape considering the rain.  No mud at all.  I went out to warm up for my 10:00 race and just couldn't seem to get going.  I felt tired from yesterday, combine that with the gray, cool, wet day and I just wanted to go get a cup of coffee.  I pulled into the queue with the rest of the old guys and waited for the starting whistle.

This is actually from Saturday but I look so awesome I had to post it.

As soon as we started I got pushed into the ribbon by some guy in the 45+ class.  I came out of the first turn and into the barriers almost at the back of pack.  I managed to pick off a few as we made the first climb and descended down to the small barriers we were hopping over.  I had two riders right in front of me so I backed off a little to give them some room.  These barriers were spaced just far enough apart so it was hard to get a pedal stroke between them so I was using momentum to hop through them.  My two competitors were apparently using a different technique as I almost had to stop when they both floundered after crossing the first one.  I admit I uttered a bad word, cleared the second one, stood on the pedals, and put that silliness behind me.  That's what I get for starting in the back.

If you look closely you can see the unhappiness on my face.

I ran the sand on the first lap but rode it every other one.  The rain had packed it and there was a line even I could ride.  First and second were aways in front of me, fourth was pretty far back, I was in that no man's land where I was hard to get motivated to push ahead, and there wasn't much pressure from behind.  I had caught Dan (who was in second) Saturday on the last lap so I had some hope he might fade but he never did.  I ended up third.  Not as much fun as the day before but I can't complain.

I ran old school BC kit, thinking it was going to be muddy.  I just couldn't face more pictures in my 4 year old HG kit.

The After Party

We opened our cold recovery drinks and settled down to heckle the rest of the crew.  Major fun was had.  No food truck ever arrived (as was advertised) so we hit Moe's on the way home.  I devoured a burrito and fought to stay awake as the CO2 level rose in the back seat.  Apparently the air management system in Ric's truck only works all the way on or all the way off.

I was the only one willing to brave the Higher Ground Christmas party after we unloaded.  So many people I didn't know.  I had a few beers, the temperature was steadily dropping, I was exhausted, so I headed for the house.

Curled up on the couch in front of the fire after a bowl of chili I was content.  It had been a big day, I was sorry it was over.  I think bike racing is fun, so is all the other stuff that goes along with it.

 

 

 

 

Anyhoo, to the 5 of you who read this, thanks.  Have a good Christmas and New Year.  I'll see ya on the next page.

Swampcross

Saturday

Warm, windy, with a chance of showers, a new location for the event, 8 riders entered in the 55+ class, and The Kid wanted to go.  I was looking forward to the race. 

The Kid and I found the race site easily enough but had trouble finding where they wanted us to park.  The start/finish was a bit of a hike from the parking lot and the promoter got a little ill at me when I commented on how confusing it was.  Tim and Ric had headed down in Tim's truck since Tim needed to get back early.  Plus Graham and a friend of his showed up to provide comic relief, not to mention some extra talent.

You can't see it in the picture but he has a stick with GU on it as a hand up.

 

The course was, well, unimaginative.  Not very many turns, and most of it out in an open field.  They had dumped a couple of loads of sand in a section that was on the complete other side of the course from the pit area.  Only about half the venue was visible from where we were sitting.  Once I got over my disappointment in the layout I settled in for a good hour warm up before my 12:00 race.

I barely made it back in time for the start.  We had a big group of 24 all starting together (35+, 45+, 55+) which made for an interesting first couple of turns before things got sorted out on the first long climb.  Yea, believe it or not they found some elevation in Alachua Florida.  Combine that with deep grass and it made for some leg burning laps.

I had just been passed by fourth place rider Ted right before we hit the sand for the first time.  I was planning to run it no matter what so that made it easy to avoid the pile Ted made when another rider fell in from of him causing Ted to auger in.  That put me back in fourth with third 25 seconds ahead and Ted 15 seconds back.  I slowly started catching third, but Ted was creeping up on me.  By the last lap I was on third's wheel (Dan) and Ted was on mine.  I was gassed and couldn't do anything when Ted went around both of us on the inside, putting me in fifth.

As we started up the last climb before the downhill to the finish section I decided I was going to go for it.  I got out of the saddle, pegged my heart rate monitor in zone 6.1, and managed to gap Dan by 16 seconds at the finish.  Eight seconds behind Ted in third.

I was elated to get fourth.  Not so much with my position but with the fact that it had been a race for the whole 54 minutes we were out there.  I would have ended up second in the 45+ so that confirmed the talent level in the old man's class.  Yea it was a roadie course, I like to think it would have been different had we been racing together at Tallahassee.  I still had a great time despite all my bitching about the layout.

The Kid raced the Cat 4, running third till near the end before getting beat by a guy on a mountain bike.  There must have been 25 people in his class.  He was pumped to be able to race in a group that big.

The forecast for Sunday was heavy rain and colder.  We ran into a flood of biblical proportions on the way home Saturday.

I set my alarm for 4:30 am and went to bed not really knowing if we were going to race the next day or not.

To be continued tomorrow.  As if you care.

Cross X 2

Photo Lil Ball professional photography

I don't even know where to begin.  How about Friday evening when we were putting up stakes and banners trying to beat the dark?  Yea, there wasn't anything but paint on the ground to mark the course when we got there that afternoon.  A small crew of us managed to put up 1.2 miles of stakes and ribbon, plus build and install the barriers.  Then, Saturday morning, Tim was still putting the final touches on the course when I got there.  But like these things usually do everything worked out.  The course was amazing!

Well, most of it was amazing.  The only sketchy part was the paved section through the vendor area.  The heavy dew/fog, combined with a pavement sealer, plus tree cover, made it like ice during our 10 am race.  There was much carnage. 

I, however, avoided that mayhem, thanks to Tim's advice to just recover through there.  My strategy of keeping an even tempo and not blowing up in the beginning, plus the aforementioned care on the pavement, rewarded me with a victory in the 55 plus class.  Don't think my victory was in any way tainted by the fact that both my competitors spent time sliding along the pavement.  Hey, a wins a win.

 

 

Another Lil Ball photo.  I just wish he wouldn't throw leaves on me.

The Kid had a great race, riding my bike, and won the 15-18 class.  He spent the evening on the computer looking at cross bikes.

The Course

The venue was in an undeveloped office complex on the east side of Tallahassee.  The start was uphill on the pavement, climbed to the top of the hill, then made a left onto the grass.  That's where the fun started.  The banners weaved in and out under a grove of live oaks, going down hill, only to make a 180 and go back up, till finally turning at the bottom and climbing alllllllll the way back to the top where the barriers were.  By the time I got to the barrier run I was in the red zone.  Then it headed back downhill under more trees, zigging and zagging it's way to a section that ran off camber on a steep slope, then down to the bottom of a hill that some walked up.  It was a grunt in granny/granny to make it to the top.  Then came the famous slick pavement through the vendors eventually turning back onto the start straight.  The finish was located almost at the top of the hill.  Sadistic. 

Sunday, We Do It Again

I hoped for a bigger turnout but it was not to be.  The two gentlemen who crashed the day before didn't return, which left only three in my class.  Fortunately I got to race with some guys in the 45 plus class so I had some carrots to chase.  I won 55 plus again so my prediction of domination proved correct.

The Kid decided to race Cat 4 so he could get done earlier.  The rider that had given him fits in 15-18 the day before (Red Eye Coffee Racing RECR) was racing that class also.  Off the start the two of them were together in about 4th and 5th.  After the first lap they were off the front with The Kid in the lead and RECR on his wheel.  They stayed like that the whole 30 minutes, eventually finishing in a sprint to the line.  The Kid won by half a wheel.  The expression on his face when he rolled back up to the tent is why we go racing.

The After Party

We had the loudest corner.  Fueled by Fat Tire and good friends the heckling was as much fun as the race.  I understand why they say Cross is the fastest growing racing discipline in cycling.  What I don't understand is why the local turnout was so low.  I know it hurts to race it, but only for an hour or less.  And yes, it's a little expensive when you add in the cost of a license, but the bang for the buck is there.

 

Anyhoo, we're going to Gainesville next weekend to do it again.  The local CX scene down there is the biggest in the state so we're looking forward to a good race.

Retire?

 

 

I'm saving for it.  I have vague plans on what I want to do if and when I finally get to do it.  It's not something I am longing for, at least not at the present time.

Of course there's more than one retirement in our futures.  No?  Think about it just a minute.

I've already retired from motorcycle racing (maybe).  Big Jim has asked me a couple of times about retiring from the Havana Volunteer Fire Department.  "I bet there's not too many 57 year old firefighters out there" said Jim.  Statements like that make me feel so good.  There's retiring from bicycle racing, hopefully a long ways off, but you never know.  Then of course there's my job.

Timing

Why would you quit something you enjoy?  Just because "people" might think I'm too old to do some of this stuff?  Afraid I might look foolish?  I have plenty of experience looking foolish.  I guess when my participation becomes a burden on others it might be time to hang it up.  I hope I realize that moment when it comes.  Some would say it's already passed.

I attended a retirement party for a gentleman, who works in my industry, this past week.  He's my age and due to circumstances beyond his control he thought it would be a good time to get out.  As I looked around the room I realized I was one of the "old dudes".  Funny, it seems like just last week I didn't fit in because I was new.

My dentist, who is my age, was looking a little pudgy when I saw him for my 6 month check up.  He used to be a big runner and always kept in shape.  I commented on his now plus size figure (after the check up, didn't want to piss him off while he was poking around in my mouth with those sharp instruments).  He replied that he was "done" with that, that he'd "given up" and how "peaceful" he felt.  I told him he may feel peaceful, but he looked fat.  I bet I'll need a root canal on my next visit.

I had one of my few subscribers comment to me that "all you write about is being old".  Sorry, but it's the one thing I know a little about.  If you're older than me you're probably thinking "he's got a lot to learn", which is true.  And no, I don't really think I'm old.  I just look it.

CX

Anyhoo, back to cycling related matters.  Last Saturday was a hard effort of 45 minutes on Gators.  I had hoped for an improvement in my average lap speed but was disappointed.  I was not disappointed with the beer and pizza at Momos later that day.

Sunday was the Giant demo day at Tom Brown.  Lots of people, lots of laps, and a couple of hard crashes.  Not me, it was Wrecking Ball down first, with a loud splat.  Then The Kid rolled up with blood on his arm.  Neither was seriously hurt.

Wednesday nights' Gator session was 3-15 minute intervals, and for some reason, they were the same average speed as Saturdays 45 minute session.  I just can't seem to push myself into the red zone, even for shorter intervals.  I do enjoy having a few more people there though, it gives me some carrots to chase.

Plans are for another Saturday effort at Gators.  10:00 am. 

Hopefully followed by an interval at Momos.  Now that's something I hope I never have to retire from.

Spinning My Wheels

 

 

The CX track at the power lines close to Higher Ground has been mowed.  We call this Gator's for some unknown reason.  I was allowed to participate in this years layout.   Granted the cat 1,2's had already decided where it would go but they at least they allowed me to have the illusion I had some input.  I love laying out trail.

That was last weekend and I didn't get the opportunity to ride it on my CX bike, so I was pumped all day Wednesday; looking forward to doing some efforts on the new design. 

Wednesday

So, as I was about to leave the office on that cold and windy day, the fire pager on my belt went off.  I almost turned it off before hearing what the call was, I really wanted to ride.  Before I could react they toned again and called for a shed fire, located right across the road from my office.  I just couldn't not go.

Well the shed fire evolved into a brush fire.  Which caught another trash pile on fire, which burned onto a dock by a lake.  Which required us to lay 200' of hose, which we then had to roll up when the fire was out.  As soon as everything was under control I headed for the house to pick up the bike.

"I can still get in an hour before the sun goes down" I thought as I rolled onto I-10.  That's when I saw brake lights start to go on in front of me.  I was headed east bound and there was a wreck in the west bound lane.  Highway patrol and EMS were already there so it had been a while since it had happened. 

Please allow me to request a favor.  If the wreck is not blocking your lane, and in fact will not impede your travel, just slow down and keep moving.  DON'T STOP IN THE MIDDLE OF THE INTERSTATE WITH YOUR FACE GLUED TO THE WINDOW AND TALK ON THE CELL PHONE!  All 3 east bound lanes came to a stand still.  I could hear tires screeching behind me as other drivers topped the hill only to find a parking lot.  Trust me folks, you don't want to see what's under the sheet.

When we finally started moving again, the lady to my left, with her face still pressed up against the drivers' side window, her cell phone in her right ear, her mouth running, and without looking, began to move to her right.  Which was the space I currently occupied.  I laid on the horn, she looked at me like I had done something wrong, jerked the wheel back to the left, but never stopped talking.

Anyhoo, a normally 25 minute drive had taken 40 minutes.  It was already getting dark, the wind was still blowing, and it may have been 50 degrees, when I finally got to the track.  I was in such a hurry I didn't put on enough gear and ended up freezing for the whole 40 minutes I got to ride.

As I headed home the interstate was still blocked and by this time my truck was low on gas.  I tried Meridian Rd. which was backed up almost to Timberlane so I turned around, got some gas, and started up to McClay Rd.  It was then I noticed traffic had started to move on I-10 so I went around the block and back on I-10.

Another 40 minute drive that should have only taken 25 and I was finally home.  I am constantly amazed what I will go through just to ride my bike.

Dirty Spaghetti

It was fun, we sang songs, we pedaled, we ate spaghetti.  I did notice a drop in the after ride celebration.  I forgot my beer (I usually do this so I can mooch Jim's) so consumption of cold protein units was limited.  Lil Ball wasn't there this year and he can usually be counted on tilt back a few, maybe that was  it.  Maybe this crew is starting to show it's age.

Wrecking Ball and the Dirt Hippie.  I have no idea what's going on here.

 

 

Then again, maybe not.

Another Saw Such Ride

The Sausage Ride, I keep coming back to this little 66 miles of torture.  I'm never prepared, I always think it will be easy, and I'm usually wrong.  It was supposed to be a recovery week for me, low hours, nothing real hard.  I had even thought about going to the XC race on Sunday in Gainesville. 

That was until Silk called a MTB ride out of Tom Brown for Saturday morning.  I just couldn't resist, so against my better judgment, I loaded up and headed out into a beautiful morning.  3.5 hours later I was back in my truck, having abandoned all racing plans.  I figured I'd take The Kid to the Sausage Ride the next day.  "We'll roll easy and short" I promised while talking him into going.  I figured there'd be somebody wanting to go easy since we'd just done a big day.  Wrong.

Sunday Morning Coming Down

The Kid hasn't done much cycling lately due to school obligations and such so I didn't really want to drag him all over south Georgia.  It had been a while since we'd ridden together and I was looking forward to him going.  I swear I knew where we should cut across to shorten the route.  And the folks that would want to go easy?  They stayed at home.

Anyhoo, at about 1:45, into what I had promised would be a 2 hour ride, we still hadn't made the turn to go back.  The Kid had figured out I had messed up.  The ride had started out harder than usual so it was just the two of us left to navigate the country side.  We did manage to run into the pack after they made the turn in Boston but they soon dropped us again.  We picked up an older (than me, can you believe it?) gentleman who was tired of riding alone and I pulled the three of us back to Bradley's.  4:30 after we had started that morning.

The Kid had only had one slight meltdown when he thought I was lost (again).  He had only packed food for the advertised 2 hour ride and was starving when we got back.  Other than that he was in a pretty good mood, considering. 

Most of the ride had already packed up and left when we got back.  Silk, Paul, and Dirt Hippie were there waiting for us.  It felt like Deja Vue all over again.  We crowded into the little country store and raided the shelves for junk food.  I had the obligatory sausage dog, chips, and a huge Dr. Pepper while The Kid loaded up on cookies, chips, and a Nehi.

Sitting on the picnic bench outside while the cool wind blew the moss in the live oaks the long ride started to feel better.  The Kid even smiled, and somehow, in that brief reaction, the day was all worth it.

Now I Know Why Tigers Eat Their Young

Black and orange display at Higher Ground, just for Halloween

Halloween is a big deal at my house.  So even though we got stood up by all our friends and The Kid had a late basketball practice, the Lovely Wife and I still set up our little deal.




It looks better after dark

 



 

I'll admit we felt a twinge of sadness, two mature adults dressing up without having the usual kids around.  Oh well, we might as well get used to it.

I had rigged ghouls hanging from fishing line in the tree above us, a smoke machine under the table with the candy on it, plus strobe lights in the grave yard.  I could drop the ghouls near unsuspecting trick or treaters with a fishing reel which was hidden at the back of the pop up.  And for the coup de resistance I was wearing the mask shown below.

This is The Kid from last year's deal

The Lovely Wife was dressed in her usual witch costume.  We don't scare the little kids.  I didn't put on the mask until it got dark and the bigger kids started coming by, and  I only dropped the ghoul on the adults as they stood at the end of the driveway and took pictures.

After Dark

We start getting the regulars, the kids that come by every year.  They look forward seeing what we're doing and approach us slowly, looking for the trick.  I put the mask on, drape a black sheet around me, and sit at the back of the pop up.  I only stand up if they start talking brave, and then only move if they laugh.  One of the adults looked at me and said "now that's scary".  As he turned to go I followed him back to his car and stood by the window while he talked on his phone.  He noticed me out of the corner of his eye, slowly turned his head, and said into the phone "oh shit".  He laughed and drove away.

Some groups would yell "chase us" then scatter as I came out.  I never touch them and they have never touched me.  Until last night.

The Mean Little Buggers

They looked like all the other kids we'd had that evening.  Nothing about them gave me a clue as to how evil they would be.  They came in a large pack, complete with parents.  I couldn't tell how many there were, the mask doesn't have good visibility.  After they got their candy they started talking smack, taunting me, so I stood up.  Usually that's enough to get them to run, not this group.  Then the first sword poked my side.  I turned, suddenly something poked me in the face.  I growled and took a step.  More sword poking, then I catch a glimpse of an object flying through the air, smack, something hits me in the head.  Suddenly they're all around me, I try to move but the sheet is wrapped around my legs.  I holler "ok, that's enough" and pull off the mask.  I figured they'd stop once they saw it was an adult, or at least the momas would say something.  No, they just kept at it.  It was all I could do not to smack the living s&%# out of them.

Finally moma says "ok, lets go" and the pack of evil little dwarfs moved away. 

I was soooo pissed.  The Lovely Wife had to keep telling me to be quiet.  What is it with parents today?  If my kid had done something like that I'd have been horrified.  The kids showed no fear, nor any respect for an adult.  I suspect they need something to really terrify them.  Something to keep them guessing.  Make them a little less sure of themselves.

What they really needed, above all else, was just a good old fashioned ass whooping.

And I've got a whole year to get ready.

Cross

 

I have no idea why I like Cyclocross (CX) so much.  I only go to 2 races a year.  Not because they're aren't more to go to, I'm just too lazy to ride in a truck for 6+ hours just to race 45 minutes.  I guess if I really did like it as much as I say I do I'd put up with the travel right?.  But the XC season trips are still fresh in my memory, plus the races in Georgia don't have a 55+ class.  I think that's enough excuses?

Anyhoo, I've been practicing with Tallahassee's finest CX racers for a couple of evenings over the past two weeks.  They've got two tracks laid out in a pasture type setting, we do 3 sets of 10 minute efforts with 5 minutes of rest between.  Except for last night when we did a 30 minute tempo ride.  I guess it reminds me of moto, multiple laps over the same track, kinda like riding what we used to call grass track.  Fun.

Tallycross

They tell me CX is the next big thing in cycling.  I don't know about that but I can see the attraction.  The race in Tallahassee (Tallycross) is December 8+9 and as of today it will be held at the intersection of I-10 and 90 on the east side of town.  Oh, and there will be a 55+ class.  I plan to dominate it. 

 

If you race a bicycle, or have ever thought about racing one, you should be there.  If you drink beer, or ever think about drinking beer, you should be there also.  Spectating is almost as much fun as racing.

http://www.tallycross.com/

Fall

 

It goes without saying that this is a great time of year.  Summer finally losses it's dripping, wet, humid grip.  Last night, as I took a cool down lap around Lake Overstreet, the sun was setting, and the woods had that golden glow.  I should have stopped to take a picture.  They say they are worth 1000 words, especially my words.  Why is it the days get short as soon as the weather gets nice?  I dread starting to run lights.

Higher Ground has been doing an early ride at 4:30 on Thursdays.  When I can slip away I have enjoyed going.  The best part is that Todd cracks the keg open when we get back.  Free beer always tastes better.

Signs

Like most things in life it creeps up on you.  Age.  In case you haven't figured it out yet you're going to get old (maybe).  Unless you take option 2, which isn't really that much of an option to begin with. 

Anyhoo, I'd like to talk about some of the signs of aging, so one morning when you look in the mirror and see a reflection that resembles your grand parent, you don't get surprised.

These signs seem to occur at certain "moments" in life.  Like when you notice every body in a crowded room seems to be speaking gibberish.  Or you notice hair in places you didn't have it before.  The first time they offer you a senior discount at a fast food joint is a really fun experience.

I had one of those special "moments" last weekend.  Allow me to share it with you. 

The Moment

I was deep into a solid day of yard work when I got into The Kid's truck to move it from out in front of the house to the driveway so I could blow the leaves off the turnout.  He was upstairs supposedly doing homework so I didn't bother asking him to  move it. 

Before I continue, let me lay a little history on ya.  He (The Kid) had backed into a phone pole a couple of months ago.  In my best fatherly fashion I had jumped up and down all the while exclaiming how careless it was to dent a vehicle.  "I never dented my truck when I was your age" I bragged.  I succeeded in making him feel suitably careless.  Mission complete.

So, when I got into his truck to move it I wasn't even thinking about dents, or phone poles, or mail boxes.  I turned the key and was immediately assaulted by Led Zeppelin (Black Dog) playing at FULL volume.  I put the truck into reverse while I fumbled with the dial on the radio trying to turn it down.  Not having my glasses on I couldn't read all the flashing little lights, nor could I detect any change in the volume.  I just kept punching buttons and turning the dial, all to no avail.  I thought I had my foot firmly on the brake but unbeknownst to me, I was slowly rolling backwards.

The poor mail box never stood a chance.  We had just installed a new one this year.  Fortunately I only dealt it a glancing blow.  I looked up as soon as I felt my backward progress stop.  I sheepishly pulled the truck back into the driveway and got out to inspect the damage, looking around to make sure my stupidity hadn't been witnessed.

The mail box was bent but not broken and was still usable.  The truck had white scratches on the bumper which I tried to buff before I told anybody.  Realizing I wasn't going to get away with not telling anyone I went up stairs and got The Kid.  Like a good father I tried to make it all seem like it was somehow his fault but he wasn't having any of that.  He actually seemed amused that I had done something that dumb (I rarely do dumb things).  So with a smirk on his face he gave me one of "those" looks.  If you have older kids you've seen it.  It's a mixture of amusement, sympathy, and a touch of sadness.  I'm sure I'll get to see it again.  It's just one of those signs.

Imagine That

It's difficult to get back into riding my local trails after a weekend of exploring new ones.  I am eager to go camping and riding again, especially now that it has cooled off a little.  So when the alarm went off on Saturday morning I was less than enthused about doing the Sausage Ride.  I always underestimate this event, never hydrate enough, eat poorly the night before.  In other words just treat it like a normal group ride  Which it never turns out to be.

The clay roads were in great shape, we had a small group, and I was happy.  At least for the first 2.5 hours.  Then right about the 3 hour mark I started to sense a little hate creep in. I started to hate the way the potholes in the roads would jar my wrists.  I hated the never ending rollers that seemed to go up twice as long as they went down.  I hated the way Big Jim would whistle while I struggled to breath.  I hated the way the Boston Ga. water tasted in my bottles and the fact that I could never seem to drink enough.  By the time 3.5 hours rolled around I was watching my odometer like a hawk, willing it to roll over faster.  Then, after Big Jim effortlessly rolled away from me, I got to ride back to Bradleys' by myself.  Finishing in a little over 4 hours.

 

 

El Jalisco's

In the end, while drinking frosty cold beers and waiting for our steaming plates of Mexican food, it all seemed worth it.  The beer tasted better than it normally does (if that's possible) and the food, which is usually nothing great, seemed like a feast.  I spent the rest of the day in a rather pleasant haze.

 

Maybe I'll prepare better for that ride next month, then again, maybe not.

 

Round Here

I took the single speed out the other day.  Wearing shorts, a tee shirt, and sneakers, I just roamed around Beautiful Downtown Havana.  Unlike the other two cyclists who normally frequent our little berg, I wasn't carrying a bag of aluminum cans, nor was I yelling obscenities at the passing cars while dressed in short shorts and a blue blazer.  It doesn't take long to cover most of the town.  I'm always surprised at what I've missed.

 

 

These used to be all over the county.

 

 

I have no idea what this is

 

This was under a shed which had collapsed and been covered with vines.

 

CX

I started Cyclocross practice this week.  I like the change of format plus it provides a great workout.  I dread riding my mountain bike with lights and will avoid it like the plague.  I may race the Macon event, defiantly Tallycross, then Gainesville.  That should take me right up to Christmas, then 2013's gone.  Man the years go by like months nowadays. 

 

Bye Chuck

Chuck Wicker died this week.  He was 85 and a moto riding fool most of his life.  My last view of him was as he was walking across the road to get on his street bike after watching the Supermoto in Tallahassee this past summer. 

 

He was racing enduros in the Super Senior Class when I first started back in the 80's.  He was always fast and I don't think I ever beat him straight up.  At an age when most people are content to be able to just walk around the block Chuck was still doing doubles (double jumps) at his practice track.  He was my idol for staying active, he just never gave up.

 

He always had a big smile and started talking to you like he'd just seen you yesterday, even if he hadn't seen you in years.  He would lay out the same section for our annual TTR Enduro, we used to call it Chuck's section even after we stopped having the event. 

 

He was truly one of a kind.  Godspeed Chuck.

 

 





Sweet Home Alabama

Ah camping, nothing like hearing the wind in the trees and the birds chirping as you wake up.  Of course I could also hear Big Jim snoring in the next tent.  Not to mention the group of Boy Scouts across the road who wouldn't stop playing around the bathroom all night.  It would have been nice to see the stars, except you couldn't, not with the sodium light blazing not 50 feet away.  Maybe it was just this particular campground.  I don't have much experience with them.  It was a lot like a neighborhood with small lots, no fences, poor walls, and shared toilets.  Still, it was pretty, and I enjoyed it.  Well maybe everything except the bathroom. 

We camped at Oak Mountain State Park outside Pelham Alabama.  Big Jim, Dirt Hippie (DH) and I.  But before we left beautiful Downtown Havana, we felt we needed to construct some sort of contract with DH.  He's not a bad guy but he is prone to peculiar behavior. 

Sooo we (Jim and I) drew up a document which we titled "Contract for Acceptable Behavior".  I'll go over a few of the highlights:

1.      I will not complain about the way the Grumpy Old Man drives.

2.      I will not complain about the places we stop to eat or get supplies.

3.      I will not complain about the campsite (as I have made all the arrangements).

4.      I will not try to force my bizarre diet on others.

5.      I will not make comments regarding the diet of others.

6.      I will drink beer.

7.      I will not complain about trail conditions or the type of trail we ride.

8.      I will not keep remarking about my vast camping experiences.

9.      I will not holler “ohhh, here kitty kitty kitty” whenever I see a cat.

10.  I will refrain from calling the Grumpy Old Man “Dad” when others are within earshot.

11.  I will refrain from making fun of the people in Alabama. 

12.  Disregard the above.  They will get what they deserve.

13.  I agree not to take unflattering pictures of my traveling companions and subsequently post them on a social media site.

14.  Whenever Big Jim or the Grumpy Old Man raise their hand I will immediately stop speaking as it means I have started to become obnoxious.

He violated half of them before we got out of Florida. 

      Anyhoo, we had a great trip in my opinion.  We rode (I walked) some very rocky single track at Oak Mountain, rode an amazing trail system at Cold Water Mountain, then rode the fast flowing stuff at Oak.  We ate like pigs, at least Jim and I did, drank a few beers, and rode our bikes.  I crawled into my tent tired and happy at night.  I'm ready to do it again.

 

       Just a comment on the video at the top.  It's from the new trail at Cold Water Mountain, and it's the best downhill I've ever ridden.  The raw footage was 8 minutes long so I just included the first half.  Yea, I know I'm slow so you don't have to tell me.  And yes, Big Jim and DH dropped me.  That's not unusual.  As for the music, well YouTube has limited choices, so just turn the volume down if you don't like it.  I left the ending where Big Jim is just sitting there in so it would match the music.  Notice how he flexes and poses when he knows the camera is on. 

       I hope to do another trip before it gets too cold.  Thinking about FATS sometime in October.  We'll see.

Slalom Trail Breckinridge Co.

I've been in kinda a life/riding funk since the FSC race.  The hot, wet, weather, and a general malaise, have conspired to bring my grumpiness to an unusually high level.  It's not possible to stay "up" all the time, I know that, you'd be crazy if you did, but still, I'll be glad when this dark cloud moves on.

Sooo, I decided to put this little video in here.  Just watching it makes me want to ride.  Not ride locally mind you, but ride none the less.  It was 68 with thunder when we started this run.  We'd been lost and had decided to turn back towards Breckinridge and try to beat the storm.  Having just climbed this we knew it was going to be an awesome decent, we were not disappointed.  You might be wondering if I was able to stay up with The Kid, the answer is no.  I rode at a pace that made me smile but with the thought that I was a long way from home.  Later in another video you can hear him mumble "where is Dad?" while he waits for me and the thunder rumbles in the background.  And no, we didn't beat the storm.

The Here and Now

Back in not so sunny Florida and the present.   I have big plans for this weekend.  So big, I wake up early like a kid on Christmas morning thinking about them.  It involves something I haven't done in years, plus riding.  It will be a no fam weekend.  I'm hoping it helps clear the cobwebs, at least for a couple of days.  Don't get me wrong, I love spending time with the fam, but sometimes it's nice to get out from under those responsibilities, if only for a day or so. 

Disclaimer

The above video is not up to the standards of  WB or DH.  I don't want to spend hours in front of this screen editing something that only I really care about watching. 

Anyhoo, I hope the weekend generates much blog fodder.  I'll be disappointed if it doesn't.

0 expectations+ local trails+ good racing= a good day

Yea it was a good day.  Did I win?  No.  Did I get on the box?   No.  Did I have a good time?  Yes.  Did I consume a large quantity of cold adult beverages?  Of course.

Who's this old dude?  Is that the way I look?

It was the first race of the Florida State Championship Cross Country Series promoted by Gone Riding.  It was also my first race in the 50+ expert class.  I had been whining to any body who would listen about getting promoted.  Even going so far as to email the promoter begging to be allowed to stay in the sport class.  But to no avail.  My pleas fell on deaf ears.  I was sure I'd just be a rolling chicane for the rows starting behind me.  So, convinced of my lack of speed, and not concerned with my results, I lined up with 15 other old guys at Tom Brown Park in Tallahassee last Sunday.

Big Jim chasing Mr. Bonn, thinking about doing 4 of these.

When the whistle blew for the start I was in no hurry.  I hit the multi use in last and was content to sit there to see how things would develop.  They (fortunately) had us running 3 laps instead of the 4 that the other expert classes were doing.  Big Jim was envious of this but he'll be in this class pretty soon and he can complain when he gets here.  I was happy not to be doing the extra lap.

Why am I looking at the parking lot?

Anyhoo, my old nemesis from the base class in the Georgia Series, Hambone, was in front of me.  Just like old times!  So when he started to go around people I just grabbed his wheel.  When we hit the first section of single track we were still in a pretty tight group.  As we came to the third split where you could go either way I took the easier path, passing about 4 riders who got bottled up on a root on the other path.  "Local knowledge!" I yelled as I got in front of them.  I'm sure they appreciated that.

Hambone passed me back in the feed zone with a big ol' goofy grin on his face.  He stayed just where I could see him for the rest of the race.  Funny, sitting here now I wonder why I couldn't just get out of the saddle and catch him.  But I didn't have anything left in the tank at the time.  He must have reminded me at least three times at the finish how it was the first time he'd beaten me.

Hambone passing me.  Too far away to see the grin but it's there, trust me.

At a section called Wally World the locals had gathered to cheer, beer, and jeer.  I started yelling before I got there so as to get a good dose of motivation.  It sounded like a stadium.  Awesome!


The crew gathered after the race for beer and pizza (thanks Guardian Automotive!).  We heckled the white wave and told race stories.  In the end I enjoyed the day much more than I thought I would.  I like surprises like that.

The Kid got off to a good start but faded a little.  Still got a 4th.

Another Day On the Clay

"If those bastards were 10 years older they wouldn't be hauling up that hill like that" I thought as I watched my four "riding companions" pull away from me.  But damn did they have to make it look so easy, leaving me back there with the yellow flies?

I had my excuses.   Big Jim had pulled me all over Gadsden County two days before and my legs were still feeling it.  But the ride had started out mellow and I knew the plan was to do efforts on the rolling hills of Sunny Side road.  Still, my legs were talking to me like Scotty did to Captain Kirk on board the Star Ship Enterprise; "I'm given her all shees gat Captain" (say it in an Scottish accent).

Then, on the second hill, right when I took another deep gulp of air, one of those aforementioned yellow flies flew in my mouth.  I tried to spit it out but by this time I was very low on saliva, so he just buzzed around at the back of my throat for a couple of laps.  It was a unique feeling to say the least.  I couldn't decide whether to just swallow him or keep trying to spit him out.  Right before I ran off in the ditch I finally got enough phlegm together to get him out. 

Anhoo, those are my excuses for getting dropped and I'm sticking with them.  It's not easy always being the slowest guy on the ride, but I'm getting used to it.  Besides, it's "good training".  Yea, but they just get faster too.

After eating Georgia clay for over 3 hours the cold mug(s) of beer at Momos helped ease my frustration.  It started raining after we had finished the first two so naturally we had to have another, you know, just until the rain stopped.  I was disappointed to learn that Big Jim knew all the words to all the bad 80's songs they were playing.  And that he didn't mind singing them.

The Bug

When it was first finished I was giddy every time I rode it.  I liked the old Red Bug but the new one was like a brand new trail.  I guess it is (was) a brand new trail.  I mean just look at the picture above.  Take a good look, because it doesn't look anything like that now.  A monsoon just weeks after it was completed combined with the incessant rains we had this summer have brought the old Bug back.  All you folk that "love the gnar" should be out there tearing it up.

I know things change as they age, it's inevitable.  When a trail is young it's bones (roots) are covered by a smooth layer of skin (fresh dirt).  But as time passes those bones start to show through.  Then the trail gets crotchety.  Just like some people.

Don't think I don't appreciate all the money you rich folks down there in Leon Co. and Tallahassee pony up out of your taxes to provide these great trails.  I'm amazed that during these tight times they still find funding to provide me with a way to get my single-track fix.

Anyhoo, just like Red Bug, I might be getting a little crotchety in my old age.  Like Monday evening.

The Discussion

As I was leaving my local gym in beautiful downtown Havana, after one of my awesome, super hard, nobody else can do this, workouts.  The owner stopped me at the door (as he usually does). 

Now keep in mind I was tired, hungry, and maybe not on my best behavior.  He knows I'm a cyclist, he lives on a local road the roadies like to ride called the Havana Hills route.  So he starts in on me about bikes riding two abreast in a long line, keeping him from passing while he's on his way home.  Then he says they throw stuff at his dog.  Plus he complains about them throwing trash in his yard.

Really?  Now the two abreast thing I get.  This particular road is narrow with limited sight distance, plus it has hills (duh).  But the dog and trash thing I just couldn't leave alone.

It Went Something Like This

Me: "You know you, and most of humanity, do a lot of things that piss me off, but you don't see me stopping you to complain about them do you?  Anyway, aren't you supposed to keep your damn dog in your yard?   Isn't it against the law to let him run free?"

Gym Owner: "Well they throw stuff at him.  And besides aren't you bikers supposed to ride on the white line?"

Me: "Yea, I know that's aggravating, but cyclists have a legal right to be on the road, and if we ride close to the edge you impatient butt holes buzz us.  Or scream profanities at us.  Imagine how it would work if every time somebody made me mad I screamed at them (I tend to do this anyway but that's another story)."

At this point Mr. Gym Owner starts to laugh. He's enjoying my little rant.  We have this type of discussion often so he's not offended.  Yet.

Me: "And what do they throw at your dog?  If that mean bastard came out and bit me I'd come back and shoot him.  Cyclists have a legal right to be on that road, your dog doesn't.  (I could never shoot a dog, I just talk big).

Gym Owner:  "They throw cups and trash at him and in my yard and that gets him pissed off."

Me:  "Wait a minute.  Cyclists don't carry cups or anything that you could throw at a dog, except maybe a water bottle.  Are you sure it's real bicycle riders?  What do they look like?"

Gym Owner:  "Well, maybe it's the kids from down the road that throw stuff at the dog, but still, you guys shouldn't block traffic like you do."

Me:  "You're an idiot.  I'm hungry.  I refuse to talk about this anymore."  This type of witty response is what makes me such a great politician.

Then he tells me about a lane widening project that's currently occurring on that very road that is supposed to have bike lanes included.  Plus, there is an effort to get funding for a mountain bike trail system close by.

Wow.  So moral of the story; if you snarl up traffic they will build extra lanes for you. 

As far as the MTB trail goes I have no idea where that came from.  I did volunteer to be a part of any further developments.  I should be good at that huh?  Can't you see how well I handle people?

I want?

I want to wake up and only be concerned with where I'll ride today.

I want to eat lunch out of my back pack.

I want to decide which of the 20 cool restaurants we'll eat at tonight and how many beers I'll have.

I want to wake up to 40 degrees and clear skies.

I want to feel 15% humidity on my skin.

I don't want to watch it rain again.

I don't want to ride on the road because the woods are wet.

I don't want to end the ride soaked with sweat.

I don't want to walk into my laundry room and smell wet cycling shoes.

I don't want to eat Mexican food along the side of north Munroe.

If there was any question about whether or not I liked Colorado let me settle that right now.  I freaking LOVED IT!  In fact almost anywhere looks better than Florida right now.  Damn I am tired of this place.  I guess it's the constant rain that has me in such a funk.  Big Worm calls me a grumpy old man and he's right.

Getting away is what a vacation is for but the contrast between the Rocky Mountains and Florida in August is just too much to bear.

Voodoo Saturday

Anyhoo, we had a big crew on last Saturday's ride, which started out as a road ride, but quickly turned into a MTB ride when the early morning rains hit.  Yea I know that sounds counter to what you would think but it turned out that Munson was dry at 10 but the road was getting flooded at 7:30.

I was so sure we were gonna get rained on I took the single speed for what I assumed would be an easy paced trail ride on wet sand.  I even wore baggies and my old Fox helmet.  It was all going as I had planned until Dirt Hippie got on the front.  I quickly discovered I was geared too low for our new pace.  The Twilight trail is mostly flat and I was spinning like a hamster in a wheel trying to keep up.  We never got any rain but in the end I was just as soaked as if I had been swimming.

 

Later we met at this bizarre hot dog/ hamburger place called VooDoo Dogs for an after ride celebration.  Many cold protein units were consumed and greasy food was enjoyed.  This group really loves a $12 hamburger and a $5 beer in a concrete block building on the questionable side of Tallahassee. 

Big Jim ate all of this.

The really big appetites had a hot dog wrapped in bacon and covered with macaroni and cheese.  Yea, it looked as gross as it sounds.  My cheeks still hurt from laughing when I stumbled out the door and into the cloudy afternoon sun some 2 plus hours later.  Good times.

Eclectic group of pictures on the wall at Voodoo

The Day Before

Part of this same group had met for lunch on Friday.  Some of them were not working that day and some of them suddenly decided they didn't want to work any more.  Beers were ordered by the not working crowd.  Afterwards we wandered over to Higher Ground.  I realized things were going down hill when I saw some of our group racing around the shop on kids bikes.

And Jim ate all of this.

Funny, after thinking about last weekend, home doesn't seem quite so bad.  I even feel better. 

And hey look!  The sun's shining outside!