Nervous

I'm on my second cup of coffee but it's my third trip to the restroom.  Besides the fact that it's a function of getting old, I'm nervous, but also excited.  The dates for the Georgia State Series by Gone Riding are up!  Just four months until the first race.  Uh, excuse me, I gotta take another break.

Ahhh, I'm back.  Anyhoo, I can't believe it's time to start the OMTP again.  I'm tempted to find another type of program since I didn't end up on the box last year.  I just know it was the fault of the plan and not any shortcomings on my part.  Maybe I should change my diet?  How about learning to just get over a log?  Did I just type that?  For 56 (soon to be 57) I'll have to admit I'm pretty awesome but I still have room for improvement.  How about a new bike?  Oh yeah, that sounds good right there.  I have big wheel lust at the moment.  However the Kid has been putting the pressure on me for a new ride also.  But ya know, he's young, he's got plenty of years to get new bikes and race.  I however, may not have as much time.  There's a juicy rationalization.

Tallycross is this weekend.  I've been doing laps at Gator's CX Track.  And yes, it hurts.  But I find myself looking forward to it.  No, I'm not able to keep up with Jim.  Even after he eats a breakfast burrito before he rides. 

I tried yelling "burrito" every time I got close to him but it was to no avail.  Much to my disappointment he didn't puke. 

 

 

 

My only decision about the race this weekend is which class to ride.  The Cat 3 55+, or the Cat 4 open men's.  I'm concerned there may not be enough riders in the 55+ class and I'd have to race in the 45+ class with Jim.  I already know how that will turn out.  The Cat 4 is usually full of guys trying to sandbag, like me.  I'll see what it looks like on Saturday.

 

 

I bumped into a few old moto friends at the Supermoto race a couple of weeks ago.  Then last week I met up with a group who was trail riding just north of Havana.  I spent a lot of weekends with those guys over the years.  I do miss the people, but I don't miss moto.  Not yet.  The Kid says he'd like to do it again one day.  I could be tempted into getting a dual sport bike.  Then I watch while they unload.  Bikes and gear, all on trailers.  Then the apparel; helmet, neck brace, chest protector, jersey, hip pads, knee braces, pants, mx socks, boots, gloves, and goggles.  Fiddle with the bike, some start easy, some don't.  Take off for a 20 minute ride, come back in, sit down and shoot the bull for 30 minutes, fiddle with the suspension, then ride again (maybe).  I did it for 40 years and had a blast most of the time but there's not enough actual riding in it for me.  But I do admit to feeling a slight tug.

There's just not enough time to do everything is there?

Comes a Time

 

Halloween, my favorite holiday.  Yea I know it's not really a holiday, but it should be.  I mean we have Columbus Day right.  What did he really do?  And while I'm on this kick it should always be the last Friday of  October not in the middle of the week.

Anyhoo, this year was one of the better nights, even though it was on a Wednesday, we had more trick or treaters than in years past.  Here in my neighborhood in Beautiful Downtown Havana we don't necessarily have a large population of kids that are old enough to trick or treat so kids come from all over the town and the county.  We have gone all out for Halloween for the last 11 years and even if I do say so myself we out did ourselves this year.

 

 

I know it's weird, an old man rubbing zombie make up all over his face and chasing hay wagons full of children.  We don't scare the little kids (at least not on purpose).  The best group to scare is the teen agers.  We had a boy about 13 get spooked after getting his candy, run a little ways down the street, turn around, and say "Hey!  I'm Micheal Jackson, you don't scare me" then bust out in a perfect "Thriller" dance.  He was even dressed the part. 


Now onto cycling related stuff.

Photo by Hook Line and Sinker

Gator has mowed the cross track and we've been putting in laps getting ready for the Tallycross race on the 17th and 18th of November.  I put wider bars and better brakes on the Felt CX bike hoping to redeem myself for the whoppin I took last year.  If they have an over 55 beginner class I may have a chance.

 

Photo by Hook Line and Sinker

 

 

I am so awesome

It's time to bring the lights out for our weekly MTB rides.  I used to look forward to the first night rides of the year but not this time.  With the passing years my night vision gets worse.  Adding lights helps but I still have trouble judging distances.  Like the ones between trees.

The crew did a "tour of parks" ride last weekend.  The theme (you have to have a theme nowadays) was to hit as many parks as we could link together without riding stuff we've ridden before.  It worked ok, once we hit the park we'd take a lap around it on the CX bikes.  However Saturday morning isn't the best time to rail public parks.  I did get to see parts of Tallahassee I'd never seen before.  The highlight was the climb up the deserted parking garage, followed by the race down.

After our last weekend MTB ride we stopped by the new Higher Ground shop.  They've done an amazing job.  I almost feel uncomfortable there it's so nice.  The beer keg and leather couches in front of the big screen TV were calling me.

I stopped by the Supermoto race on Sunday and managed to run into a few of my old moto friends.  It was nice to catch up and watch a little racing.  The smell of race gas brought back good memories.  I'm starting to miss it a little.  That's a bad sign.

Carolina In The Pines

Yeah, I know it's not a pine tree

 

 

Friday afternoon it was granite climbing.  Which is kinda hard after 8 hours in the truck.  The effort was well worth it.  Dupont State Forest near Brevard North Carolina is almost heaven for the rider of an off road bicycle.  That's my opinion anyway and right now that's the only one that counts.  Using my unsurpassed woods guiding abilities I lead our little group of 6 up and down Burnt Mountain and then up and over Cedar Rock.  Of course we had to have Mexican food in town afterwards and beer.  Always beer.

Saturday was another day of "follow the old man" and we were able to ride all of the "fun stuff" I knew about on Dupont.  It was a perfect day, low 70's, the leaves were just starting to turn, and the trails were dry.  I tried to impress upon my younger cohorts that you don't get many perfect days like that and they should slow down a little and enjoy it.  I do like to take a little time to look at the woods while I ride.  You know, groove on nature and all that stuff.  But it was always "which way Magellan?" or "now where do we go from here?"  Kids nowadays, what can ya do?

Just kidding guys!

Sunday was our day in the Pisgah National Forest.  Cloudy, breezy, and some rain.  Like most days in the Smokies.  BJS was our guide for this trip.  Our first climb and descent was excellent (we only went a mile past the trail entrance).  I was afraid I wouldn't enjoy Pisgah but this trail had it all.  BJS got us a little lost on the next loop, of course that resulted in climbing 4 miles past the trail head.  But hey, he's not quite the Ranger Rick that I am.  He and Big T half wheeled themselves the whole way up.  When I got to the top I knew we (Jim) had screwed up.  He had the map out, which is a certain sign of desperation for him.

 

 

When we did find the trail head I noticed it was labeled Intermediate Difficulty.  It took off from the nice friendly gravel path we were on, up a steep clay bank, then disappeared into the trees.  Only Big T, BJS, and the Bearded Wonder tackled it.  I went on my own ride and had a perfectly lovely afternoon.  I'll let them tell you how theirs went.

 

 

I've taken these type of trips before in my moto days.  I was glad to see I am still able to irritate people to the point of insanity.  My ability to have one beer and suddenly become entertaining is a talent few posses.  I was in bed by 9:00 every night and up before dawn.  My companions did not appreciate my healthy sleep habits.  There were no fights and BJS only threatened to kick me out of the truck once.

I guess I should find people closer my own age to play with.

The Dirt on My Spaghetti

 

It wasn't a race.  So what was all the furor about?  Something about a jersey that said "World Champion".  If it wasn't a race how could there be a champion?  There were no timing chips, very few course markers, and no published rules.

Even knowing all that, plus the fact I had no hope of being in the front at the finish, I took off at the start like a dog chasing a squirrel.  My water bottle popped out on the first rough clay road.  Visions of Fools Gold danced through my head.  I still had another one but 62 miles in 85 degree weather was going to be hard if I didn't stop at all the sags. 

What in years past had been a pleasant roll through the south Georgia plantation country had turned into a blur of bikes, mud, and clay.  There were crashes, team tactics, and absent sag stops.  Unfortunately I only got to see about 18 miles of the "race" before I had had enough.  The Bearded Tree Hugger (BTH) who I had been following looked over at me as we tried for what must have been the fifth time to get back on and said "I'm about done, how bout you?".  "Screw em" I wheezed.  We then began our own version of the "race".  It still hurt.

The Bearded Tree Hugger sans shirt

I owe the BTH for taking almost all the pulls on the way in.  That being said I really didn't want to know the name of every freaking bird that chirped.

Anyhoo the after ride beers were great, as was the spaghetti.  Complaints?  Sure I always have a few.  The path to the lunch sag was not marked.  The last sag was not there (I was really counting on this one since I had only one bottle).  Orange spray paint on orange clay is not the best way to mark a course.

There seems to be quite a bit of interest in these "dirty" type of road rides.  I'd like to see some more pop up locally.  Of course you can only be "World Champion" once.

Clay

 

 

I love it.  Especially this time of year. 

 

 

What I really like though is to go where we haven't been before.  I want people to say "how do you know about these roads?".  I like to get a little lost.  It amazes me how you could have lived in Tallahassee all your life and never been to Fowlstown Ga., just 30 miles away.  So when I get to plan the ride I get all giddy.

Yea sure I get a little overzealous with the mileage when I lay out the route.  I may even lie just a bit about the roll time.  On the Fowlstown ride we did last weekend I may have agreed to 3.5 hours the night before.  Knowing full well BJS and I had done a similar ride and finished in 4.5. 

http://ridewithgps.com/routes/1630222

The Kid knew something was up when we were 2 hours in and still heading away from Beautiful Downtown Havana.  He looked at me skeptically and asked "how long is this ride supposed to be?" "Not too much further" I replied, "look at that view".   I began to hear rumblings from some of the crew.  It was after all a home game for FSU and someone had to get back and get prepared (means he had to start drinking).  Some body's foot was hurting.  Sometimes it's like riding with children.

 

 

I just kept pedaling and hollering out turns.  We found some mud, mean dogs, a cardboard box, and plenty of cotton fields.  The box caused a minor crash on a road section.  Funny how crashes are minor when you 're not in them.  We assessed blame, fixed the bikes, oohed and awed about the blood, then continued on our way.  Some skin, a wheel, and a pair of kitty kat socks were all that was damaged.

I just get so excited when my friends come over to play in my neighborhood.  We finished in 4 hours.  Sandwiches, pasta, and beer were consumed when we got back to Beautiful Downtown Havana.

There's so much more out there to ride.  I have all these trips in my head.  They're all less than 3 hours, honest.

I've Been Thinkin'

I've been thinking a lot lately about "the last time".    Let me give you some examples:

How about; the last time you carried your kid up to bed after they fell asleep on the couch.

Or the last time you spent time with an old friend that you had been seeing regularly, but then lost touch.

Or the last time your kid yells "dad's home" (happily) when you walk in the door.

What about the last time you played a game with your mom or dad. 

Like most things go we don't know what the next day holds, in fact we're not even guarrenteed a "next day".  So I have to remind myself to enjoy the moment, the right now.  Someday Isle is a fantasy place.  Better to do it today if you can.  Spend every day like it was a piece of gold.

Whoa, sorry to be so morose.  It's raining and dark outside, the summer's almost over, and the run to the end of the year from here always seems to go so fast. 

Oh, sorry, I did it again. 

Maybe it's because in my line of work the process of growing trees is so long term I'm reminded about the passage of time more frequently.  We're harvesting trees I planted when I started with this company 25 years ago.  I can remember when I planted them like it was last week.  The trees we're planting now will be somebody else's to deal with.  That's another one of those rude awakenings that come up unexpectedly after you reach a certain age.  How about retirement?  Scary huh?

I know it will catch up with me one day, after all there's a reason only 27 50+ riders rode Fools Gold.  I guess I should just grow up?

When I Get Off of This Mountain

 

Fool's Gold is over.  Unfortunately the pain is not.  I really thought I had a good chance at being close to BJS at the end.  Deep down I knew it was a long shot but hey, I can dream right?

 

Our Friday evening pre ride was a blast.  The machine built trail they call Jake was amazing.  I didn't notice all the climbing on Friday, but it seemed like it was all up hill by the time I got there on Saturday.

 

 

The forecast was for rain on race day.  I had metal brake pads.  Of course they were on the bench in my shop in beautiful downtown Havana and not on my bike in Dahlongea Ga.  So I worried about that all night.  Then I worried about slick trails along the side of the mountains.  Then I worried about losing BJS in the crowd at the neutral roll out.  The only thing I didn't worry about was cramping.  I seriously thought my awesome cross country fitness would get me through 6 hours of racing.  I had my Camel Back filled with 2 bottles worth of water, plus ice, and was running a water bottle with Heed mixed in it.  I had planned to stop at all the sags to make sure I stayed hydrated.  After all it's not like we hadn't been riding in humid weather for the past 3 months right?

 

 

I felt the first twinges of an inner thigh cramp at the top of the 18 mile climb, right before the first sag.  My heart jumped, "you've got to be kidding me" I thought.  I stopped at the sag, I hadn't polished off the Camel Back yet but it was low, and my water bottle was about half gone.  which should have been enough.  The kind lady at the sag filled my bottle while I filled my Camel Back, she put the bottle back in the cage for me, and off I went.  When I got to the bottom of the 2 mile descent my water bottle was gone, not empty but gone.  I should have checked it.  As soon as I put pressure on the pedals the cramps hit.  They were to be my constant companion for the next 4 hours.

I made the second sag with a bone dry Camel Back.  I ate Endura Lite pills like they were Chicklets and filled the bladder with Heed, hoping to get the pain to let off.  As I started the second biggest climb of the day I knew I was in trouble.  As soon as I got off the bike to walk a steep section both legs locked up.  Sticking straight out, from my hip to my feet, I fell over backwards, unable to bend my knees, I fell head first down the hill, on my back.  I crawled back up to my bike and drug it off the trail.  Riders would go by and ask if I was ok, to which I responded "DO I LOOK LIKE I'M OK?".  They just kept on walking.  Imagine that.

I finished the race, only because there was no other way off the mountain.  On the last section of rollers it hurt so bad.  I don't remember having that much pain for that long in my life.

So what's the answer?  Is it age related?  Did I just not drink enough?  Did I go out too hard?  Only 27 riders over 50 rode the 50 mile event.  I talked to a couple as they passed me and they had cramped also.  I hope this isn't a sign of things to come.

BJS thought it was funny when after the race I was jumping around the hotel room still cramping.  He finished 40 minuets ahead of me.  He cramped a little also which makes me feel better.

 

In spite of all the pain (or maybe because of it) I want to do this race again next year.  By then I'll be 57.  Then again maybe I should just stick to shorter distances.  Maybe I should just be happy I can still ride a bike, much less race one.  Maybe I should just play ride and drink beer.  Maybe I should just be glad I'm not still up on that mountain.