I seem to be weathering the snomaggeddon just fine. The trick? Eating. A lot.
Think about it. On Thanksgiving and Christmas, do you ever have an insane urge to ride? I don't. I sometimes have the masochistic need to further hurt myself after already doing some damage to a holiday spread of turkey, ham, potatoes, pie, etc. But that particular desire for pain comes from being food-drunk (and also alcohol-drunk) and isn't exactly the same kind that motivates me to go on Hains Point noon ride. So this weekend, I put myself in a state of food-comatose bliss and ate a whole bunch of gross food. Several pounds of pizza, candy, and soda later, I can safely say that I have no urge to ride 50+ miles this weekend.
I did make it out for a ride today though. A couple of the District Velocity guys posted an impromptu cyclocross stage race in the city and I couldn't resist. Obvious the need to do stupid things was driving this decision and I soon found myself being launched through the air and landing on my head on more than one occasion. We sure got a ton of stares as people were wondering why these lycra-clad weirdos were riding down a sledding hill on their bikes. Somewhere along the ride, I got a slow leak in my tubeless setup, which I was totally expecting since I haven't put new tubeless juice in those wheels since August. I also somehow broke the mount for the racheting buckle on my Sidis. Nearly every part of the Dominator buckle system is replaceable and I had to break the one that was hard-mounted into the shoe's upper. Lame. I called it a day, took a hot shower that made my toes sting, and ate the last bits of pizza I had in the fridge. Besides all the broken bike stuff, I'd say I'm surviving the Snowpacalypse just fine.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
The Eve of the Snowpacalypse
Why is it that on the eve of the second coming the Snowpacalypse I have my worst case of cabin fever to date? Could it be the lack of general riding for the past couple weeks? Or maybe it's because all I've been doing in my free time has been watching clips from the Tour Down Under, my 12hr DVD set of the 2005 Tour de France, and other race videos. I bet it's also because I'm kicking off the race season in a couple of weeks down at NAHBS. Oh yeah. ANDI'MGOINGTOFUCKINGNAHBS!!!! Dammit I'm so psyched about this!
But I haven't just been sitting on my ass and wishing I was riding. I did out a couple times on the Surly Cross Check, albeit as part of my two-part (car+bike) commute into the city for work and school. The bike's built up as my commuter rig with slickish 28c tires. Despite the obvious disadvantage, I've still been riding on the Custis trail. It's the same story every day. I park in my secret Arlington location and ride to the trail right behind the Italian Store. That one patch of trail is perfectly clear and dry. My heart jumps a little and I begin to think that maybe the above-freezing temps have miraculously melted away the previous day's snow and ice. I get maybe 15 yards of dry asphalt before my hopes are dashed across the hard-packed snowy ground. The rest of my ride is along the trail is a series bumps, "controlled" slides, and dabbed feet. But don't get me wrong. I'm having fun. At least I'm on a bike doing something. I'm bunkering down in the city for Snow Dookie 2010 and you better believe I'm bringing my (real) 'cross bike with me. You'll find me on the C&O Canal Towpath.
But I haven't just been sitting on my ass and wishing I was riding. I did out a couple times on the Surly Cross Check, albeit as part of my two-part (car+bike) commute into the city for work and school. The bike's built up as my commuter rig with slickish 28c tires. Despite the obvious disadvantage, I've still been riding on the Custis trail. It's the same story every day. I park in my secret Arlington location and ride to the trail right behind the Italian Store. That one patch of trail is perfectly clear and dry. My heart jumps a little and I begin to think that maybe the above-freezing temps have miraculously melted away the previous day's snow and ice. I get maybe 15 yards of dry asphalt before my hopes are dashed across the hard-packed snowy ground. The rest of my ride is along the trail is a series bumps, "controlled" slides, and dabbed feet. But don't get me wrong. I'm having fun. At least I'm on a bike doing something. I'm bunkering down in the city for Snow Dookie 2010 and you better believe I'm bringing my (real) 'cross bike with me. You'll find me on the C&O Canal Towpath.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Welcoming the New Year
What is this large, bulbous protrusion just below my chest?
In the DC Metro area, we are still bearing witness to the aftermath of our first winter storm, which brought 2+ feet of snow down upon our unprepared lands. I'll admit that I did join many of the mass in ransacking the local grocery store for bread, milk, hot chocolate, and candy. It was a shit show and some jerk wouldn't leggo my Eggo so I laid the smackdown upon him. This was all before Christmas and there's still piles of snow-turned-ice on the sides of roads and driveways. It's all coated in that sickly gray mixture of sand, salt, and exhaust fumes that make you wonder how you could have ever seen a childhood winter wonderland at all in the craptastic muck.
Which brings me back to the round bump below my chest. As it turns out, that would be my big, fat belly. While I probably still won't be picked for The Bigger Loser, I did gain a few lbs over the break. All those heavy meats and sweet treats took a devastating toll on my waistline and my ability to stay awake after eating them. All that time food-napping meant that something had to give and with the weather being as crappy and frigid as it has been, my motivation to ride bikes has been whittled down considerably. Losing whatever "fitness" I had during 'cross season, I have to start over again. On the rollers. God, I hate the rollers. But unlike last year, I will attack them with a steely diligence. I will be so disciplined in my winter riding this year that I will face and stare at a blank wall all winter and like it. No music. No movies. Just a wall. Maybe I'll put a poster up. I was thinking of getting one of a plain red brick wall or maybe a section of the Berlin wall that doesn't have too much graffiti on it.
Actually, wait. This sounds a lot like a New Year's resolution. And writing this blog post has the familiarity of desperate procrastination. I think the top button of my uncomfortably tight pants just shot off and punctured a hole in my tire. Great. Just what I need; another thing keeping me from the wonderful world of roller riding. That and my worthless jelly legs.
In the DC Metro area, we are still bearing witness to the aftermath of our first winter storm, which brought 2+ feet of snow down upon our unprepared lands. I'll admit that I did join many of the mass in ransacking the local grocery store for bread, milk, hot chocolate, and candy. It was a shit show and some jerk wouldn't leggo my Eggo so I laid the smackdown upon him. This was all before Christmas and there's still piles of snow-turned-ice on the sides of roads and driveways. It's all coated in that sickly gray mixture of sand, salt, and exhaust fumes that make you wonder how you could have ever seen a childhood winter wonderland at all in the craptastic muck.
Which brings me back to the round bump below my chest. As it turns out, that would be my big, fat belly. While I probably still won't be picked for The Bigger Loser, I did gain a few lbs over the break. All those heavy meats and sweet treats took a devastating toll on my waistline and my ability to stay awake after eating them. All that time food-napping meant that something had to give and with the weather being as crappy and frigid as it has been, my motivation to ride bikes has been whittled down considerably. Losing whatever "fitness" I had during 'cross season, I have to start over again. On the rollers. God, I hate the rollers. But unlike last year, I will attack them with a steely diligence. I will be so disciplined in my winter riding this year that I will face and stare at a blank wall all winter and like it. No music. No movies. Just a wall. Maybe I'll put a poster up. I was thinking of getting one of a plain red brick wall or maybe a section of the Berlin wall that doesn't have too much graffiti on it.
Actually, wait. This sounds a lot like a New Year's resolution. And writing this blog post has the familiarity of desperate procrastination. I think the top button of my uncomfortably tight pants just shot off and punctured a hole in my tire. Great. Just what I need; another thing keeping me from the wonderful world of roller riding. That and my worthless jelly legs.
Saturday, December 12, 2009
A Riddle for the Slow
What's square, ugly, and rendered completely useless after 45 minutes?
That's right. My pedal stroke.
I rode my road bike for the first time in months today. I figured I owed it to myself to take a week off before transitioning from cyclocross to training for the upcoming road season. Forty-five minutes into my ride, I soon realized that my legs while somewhat useful for riding 'cross were nothing even close to effective at powering my road bike. I felt slow and in my shame, I refused to look at my computer for fear that instead of displaying my speed and cadence it would simply show alternating emoticons of laughing and frowning faces. :D :( :D :(
Stupid computer.
On another note, if you ever want to star in a Cheech and Chong movie while maintaining your superior Vo2-max then I highly suggest riding this winter with ventilated sunglasses. My eyes became so dry and red that I was tempted to pull over at a gas station and put droplets of anti-freeze on my frigid eyeballs. I resisted this urge and used chain lube instead (because I was near my shop and it was free). Now it's time to drown my sorrows in an alcoholic beverage and suffocate them in an Italian Store sandwich. Woe is me.
That's right. My pedal stroke.
I rode my road bike for the first time in months today. I figured I owed it to myself to take a week off before transitioning from cyclocross to training for the upcoming road season. Forty-five minutes into my ride, I soon realized that my legs while somewhat useful for riding 'cross were nothing even close to effective at powering my road bike. I felt slow and in my shame, I refused to look at my computer for fear that instead of displaying my speed and cadence it would simply show alternating emoticons of laughing and frowning faces. :D :( :D :(
Stupid computer.
On another note, if you ever want to star in a Cheech and Chong movie while maintaining your superior Vo2-max then I highly suggest riding this winter with ventilated sunglasses. My eyes became so dry and red that I was tempted to pull over at a gas station and put droplets of anti-freeze on my frigid eyeballs. I resisted this urge and used chain lube instead (because I was near my shop and it was free). Now it's time to drown my sorrows in an alcoholic beverage and suffocate them in an Italian Store sandwich. Woe is me.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Muddaaay! [Part Deux]
I still haven't cleaned my cross bike yet. Aside from dunking it in the icy creek at Capital Cross and then re-lubing the chain, it's just been sitting there with a layer creek mud caked on it. Today, I finally took the seatpost out and it's draining upside-down in my repair stand now. But there's still a good bit of work left to do. The rims have taken on a lot of water. It sounds like one of those ridiculous desktop waterfalls whenever I slowly spin the wheel. Come to think of it, it's actually quite enjoyable, but it does make me have to go to the bathroom more frequently. I'm pretty sure I need to overhaul one or both of my pedals as they hardly spin now. I guess all that graceful swan diving I did into 5-inch deep mud has taken its toll. It's also about time to replace the chain, brake pads, and bar tape. Stupid bike. How am I ever going to build up my second 'cross bike if this one is hogging all of daddy's attention? This is a typical case of a jealous first child/'cross bike with issues. Fortunately, daddy is a neglectful, booze hound that is easily distracted by shiny things (i.e. not my current 'cross bike). Cry all you want, baby/bike, but all you're gonna get is an ice-cold sponge bath.
I also realized that I vigorously shook my bike while it was upside down, further adding to the bad father/neglected child metaphor, but I was too lazy to work it into my blog post. So just laugh as if I did anyways. LAUGH DAMMIT! (puhleease?!)
Don't Hate Disclaimer:
I don't neglect or shake babies, upside down or otherwise. That said, you probably shouldn't let your baby near me if you have one. It's just safer that way.
I also realized that I vigorously shook my bike while it was upside down, further adding to the bad father/neglected child metaphor, but I was too lazy to work it into my blog post. So just laugh as if I did anyways. LAUGH DAMMIT! (puhleease?!)
Don't Hate Disclaimer:
I don't neglect or shake babies, upside down or otherwise. That said, you probably shouldn't let your baby near me if you have one. It's just safer that way.
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Muddaaay!
As in, "It's so muddy, it's muddaaaay!"
I should have brought my snorkel to the Capital Cross last Sunday. I was pretty much swimming in mud. I also took a dip in the creek to clean off my bike post-race. It had snowed the day before and we got about 4 inches of wet snow that turned to ice overnight. Racing at 11am gave the ground an opportunity to thaw and gave me an opportunity to make a mockery of myself yet again on a muddy, technical course. Goddamn I suck in the mud. "Smooth" is apparently not in my vocabulary and apparently "run-up" is translated as "pitifully hobble up like a pathetic gimp" when you're me and subjected to 40-degree weather. I felt like crap the entire time, which I guess is the point. Yeah. Sure. I had plenty of "fun". There's plenty of "fun" I'm still trying to get off my bike, out of my clothes, and from inside my ears, nose and eyes. I might dive into the world of tubulars next season. It's been a while since I got f'd up on glue fumes.
But now it's the off-season! While I enjoyed racing 'cross, it will be nice to spend the weekend drinking beers. That's right. Beers. Plural. This is significant because during 'cross season whenever I would have any alcoholic beverage over the weekend, it was usually after a race and I was more often than not exhausted and dehydrated to the point of delirium. This led to instant hangovers, something I would usually dismiss at the time. I would just pretend everything was fine, part of my "sack up and drink(!!!)" mentality that I developed in high school. Needless to say, it didn't work well back then and it didn't really work well during 'cross season. So despite having tons of fun racing in the dirt and enjoying the laid back atmosphere of the 'cross scene, I'm happily returning to my other favorite pastime: drinking my face off.
On the flip side, the road season isn't that far off. I am psyched!
I should have brought my snorkel to the Capital Cross last Sunday. I was pretty much swimming in mud. I also took a dip in the creek to clean off my bike post-race. It had snowed the day before and we got about 4 inches of wet snow that turned to ice overnight. Racing at 11am gave the ground an opportunity to thaw and gave me an opportunity to make a mockery of myself yet again on a muddy, technical course. Goddamn I suck in the mud. "Smooth" is apparently not in my vocabulary and apparently "run-up" is translated as "pitifully hobble up like a pathetic gimp" when you're me and subjected to 40-degree weather. I felt like crap the entire time, which I guess is the point. Yeah. Sure. I had plenty of "fun". There's plenty of "fun" I'm still trying to get off my bike, out of my clothes, and from inside my ears, nose and eyes. I might dive into the world of tubulars next season. It's been a while since I got f'd up on glue fumes.
But now it's the off-season! While I enjoyed racing 'cross, it will be nice to spend the weekend drinking beers. That's right. Beers. Plural. This is significant because during 'cross season whenever I would have any alcoholic beverage over the weekend, it was usually after a race and I was more often than not exhausted and dehydrated to the point of delirium. This led to instant hangovers, something I would usually dismiss at the time. I would just pretend everything was fine, part of my "sack up and drink(!!!)" mentality that I developed in high school. Needless to say, it didn't work well back then and it didn't really work well during 'cross season. So despite having tons of fun racing in the dirt and enjoying the laid back atmosphere of the 'cross scene, I'm happily returning to my other favorite pastime: drinking my face off.
On the flip side, the road season isn't that far off. I am psyched!
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Muddy Mirage
Holy shit. What a muddy course.
The course at Taneytown favored the strong and the smart. I was neither. After I blew my wad trying to get up to the front of the race, I realized that perhaps I had too much air in my tires, not enough tread, and that I was a horrible bike handler. The sopping wet 9am course was practically 50% mud, a majority of which was 4-7 inches deep. Add in a few off-camber sections and I had myself a miserable slopfest. I started getting hung up on the fact that I wanted to ride through sections that were impossible to ride, which ultimately had me dismounting from a dead stop in peanut butter-thick mud. I then tried to make up time in the sections that were slightly more rideable, which is where I found myself sliding and falling all over the place. In the middle of the race I rode directly over some plastic rebar that was supposedly there to hold the tape up and define the course. I used it like a stripper pole for my bicycle, straddling and grinding on it with my bottom bracket. You had to be there, I guess. With all the mistakes I made, I was just happy to be able to cross the finish line in one muddy piece and I headed off the the hose to clean off the bike. Being a wrench, I figured I would be a pretty effective bike washer. I stood in line for a while shivering in my warm-up jacket and mud-caked embrocation, relishing the thought of my super efficient bike wash. I had it all planned out in my head and scoffed at the others' lengthy turns at the hose. It was finally my turn and I did everything I had planned out in my head. Chain, cassette, crank, wheels and even the underside of my saddle all met with the icy blast from that Taneytown spigot. I completed my wash in about half the time that the others took and arrogantly handed off the hose to the next guy. I proudly looked at my bike as I was walking away expecting to see a sparkling example of how a proper bike wash should look, but what I saw instead was a bike still half-caked in mud. I may have gotten the majority of the grass clumps out from behind my bottom bracket, but I still had turf and muck packed in my derailleur pulleys, shifters, and pedals. As my bike dried off, a filmy residue of dirt revealed itself as well as my mediocre bike washing skills. The course itself was a blast and I honestly did enjoy my experience in Taneytown, but be warned that if you're anything like me, the mud mirage is a dangerous beast. It'll have you tripping over yourself in a race-crazed stupor and perpetually cleaning your bikes. I hope it's dry at Reston...
The course at Taneytown favored the strong and the smart. I was neither. After I blew my wad trying to get up to the front of the race, I realized that perhaps I had too much air in my tires, not enough tread, and that I was a horrible bike handler. The sopping wet 9am course was practically 50% mud, a majority of which was 4-7 inches deep. Add in a few off-camber sections and I had myself a miserable slopfest. I started getting hung up on the fact that I wanted to ride through sections that were impossible to ride, which ultimately had me dismounting from a dead stop in peanut butter-thick mud. I then tried to make up time in the sections that were slightly more rideable, which is where I found myself sliding and falling all over the place. In the middle of the race I rode directly over some plastic rebar that was supposedly there to hold the tape up and define the course. I used it like a stripper pole for my bicycle, straddling and grinding on it with my bottom bracket. You had to be there, I guess. With all the mistakes I made, I was just happy to be able to cross the finish line in one muddy piece and I headed off the the hose to clean off the bike. Being a wrench, I figured I would be a pretty effective bike washer. I stood in line for a while shivering in my warm-up jacket and mud-caked embrocation, relishing the thought of my super efficient bike wash. I had it all planned out in my head and scoffed at the others' lengthy turns at the hose. It was finally my turn and I did everything I had planned out in my head. Chain, cassette, crank, wheels and even the underside of my saddle all met with the icy blast from that Taneytown spigot. I completed my wash in about half the time that the others took and arrogantly handed off the hose to the next guy. I proudly looked at my bike as I was walking away expecting to see a sparkling example of how a proper bike wash should look, but what I saw instead was a bike still half-caked in mud. I may have gotten the majority of the grass clumps out from behind my bottom bracket, but I still had turf and muck packed in my derailleur pulleys, shifters, and pedals. As my bike dried off, a filmy residue of dirt revealed itself as well as my mediocre bike washing skills. The course itself was a blast and I honestly did enjoy my experience in Taneytown, but be warned that if you're anything like me, the mud mirage is a dangerous beast. It'll have you tripping over yourself in a race-crazed stupor and perpetually cleaning your bikes. I hope it's dry at Reston...
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