Christmas comes and goes...

Sorry I haven't been much on typing of late, dear readers, but as usual Christmas has been hectic. Why is it that we over schedule ourselves an extra 50% to celebrate the birth of a man that was all about PEACE? I'll never figure it out....
Anyway, Christmas eve brought cold temps and a group mountain bike ride for those of us still in town at the pig trails. It was around 40 degrees when we hit the trail, but we had a good time anyway. I've never ridden that trail much, but like it a lot. Let me tell you, though, anyone that preaches love for the pig trail while complaining about Thomson is crazier than batshit. That is one rooty, rough trail, a LOT more so than Thomson. Maybe all these people rode thomson last decade some time and have never been back. Update, guys, the trail has changed.
Off the soapbox, and on to pictures:


Let's see, in other news, the Christmas cookie fairy visited, and left me an extra 5 lbs. Thanks, really. Looks like I'll be getting plenty of use out of the trainer my sweet wife gave me for christmas so that I can still fit in the cool Twin Six Argyle jersey she also gave me. Was that a shameless plug?
I'm finding it really hard to schedule enough time out on the bike, especially the road bike, so the trainer should keep me pedaling through the nasty weather. One of my fellow riders likened riding an indoor trainer to (and I quote) "a hot poker up the ass," but I don't find it quite so objectionable. The trainer, that is. I've got a "gut buster" interval set from the Chris Charmichael column in Bicycling magazine that gives me an hour ride if I can work up to doing the whole thing. I should be there in a week or so if I stay on it. Alternating 2 min of all-out pace with 2 min of recovery, repeat 5 times, 8 min recovery spin, another 5 reps with appropriate warm up and cool-down spins. We'll see.
Happy New Year, Kids, and I'll see you on the trails somewhere soon!

Ahhh, Family

Today we drove down to Fitzgerald to connect with my Dad's side of the family for Christmas. Fitz gerald's in south Georgia for those of you that are scared to be out of site of the interstate. It's about an hour and a half south of Warner Robins. Maybe an hour in the Mustang. It's an interesting town. Like most towns in south G-A, it's a typical farm town, but shortly after the civil war it was re-invaded by the north. The post-war years were hard in the northern midwest for farmers, bringing massive droughts and catastrophic crop failure. Word of the hardships reached the farmers of Ben Hill County, who were in the middle of an extremely good year. In good christian fashion, they rounded up a wagon train of donated necessities and sent it north. When the hungry yankees were presented with such bounty, they figured they knew the address of the promised land and moved south. On arrival in Ben Hill County, they were welcomed in and the newly expanded town was officially named and mapped out. Given the unique make-up of the townsfolk the north-south streets were named after Southern generals and the east-west streets were named after Northern generals.
So, we drove down to the town of general streets and met the fam at Tom's Super Country Buffet. We started doing this a couple years ago. They fix a great spread and don't mind that we take up half the joint and hang out for 2 hours. And nobody has to clean their house before and after the party. I'm rare I guess, because I actually enjoy the company of my family. I know some of them are way out of touch, and there's always some you have less in common with than others, but I love them all. I look around the table and see people that have come up from simple backgrounds through hard times and still retain laughter and light. They have thick country accents that I can hear echoed in my own voice, and they laugh the same way I do at the same things. Most of us have hand calloused from honest labor and faces that bear marks of joy and tears in equal measure, but still smile.
We ate and talked, and talked, and talked. After a half hour goodbye, a few of us went to Granny Sexton's grave and the aunts put out some new flowers. Standing there in the strong December sun listening to the wind blow through the marble markers, I looked around at my bloodline, and was proud. Don't worry Granny. We're still here, and we're going to be fine.

Happy Thanksgiving!!!

So, even with all the yummy, mouthwatering tidbits we'll inhale later, what am I thankful for today?

FRIENDS!!!

THAT was a Good Game.

Saturday dawned bright and cold, and found us on our way to the Cracker Barrel to meet Shane and Diana for breakfast before trail building at Thomson. Momma's Pancake Breakfast with heaps of hot maple syrup is by far the best trail-building fuel in cold weather. It's a known fact. So, after gratefully imbibing several thousand calories of homestyle goodness, we rolled out to meet Dean and the OMBA tool trailer at the trailhead. Dean, hardcore hero that he is, had already pulled a lap or two before we got there at nine. Did I mention it was barely above freezing at that point? Dude...
As the day warmed up, we had a LOT of people show up. I think it was the most people I've ever seen working on Thomson at one time. It was great. We started by following Shane (our trail boss and the man with the plan) for a refreshing hike through a solid quarter mile of tangled underbrush which we were planning to clear. Two and a half hours later, we had cleared, cut and cussed up about a quarter mile of rideable trail. Poor Shane damn near had an apoplectic fit trying to rein in all the energy and joyful misdirection at the front of the work party, while also keeping Bruce from cutting down every freakin' tree at Thomson. Thank God he had loppers and not a chainsaw. I'm pretty sure he's the third largest source of world deforestation, right after hurricanes and harvesting of the rainforest for IKEA furniture. We went back through and touched up and back cut for about another hour and retired to the picnic tables for pizza and beer.

I'll refer you to Kat's Flickr account for photo coverage of the event

After the work party, a bunch of us mounted the steel steeds (or aluminum, or carbon, whatever) and tried out the new run. I think it's great. Or will be as soon as it rides in and has some consistency other than that of a memory foam mattress. I've heard some comments through the grapevine that it dumbed down the trail, but I think people may be missing the point. We have to build trails that don't cause permanent damage to the woods, or if that's not possible, we have to reroute the bad ones eventually. Nobody wants to ride through three foot deep wash basins. Anybody ride the Thomson trail around '99, when it was only a little under 3 miles and not maintained? Ever see those washed out trails? I don't think anybody remembers how bad it was. The point is, given the soil type through much of Thomson, some trails won't have a long lifespan. You can build straight-down, aggressive stuff, but don't be surprised when it has to be taken out in a couple years. Wait about six months and these new, flowy trails will develop some scary spots, trust me. If it's not challenging enough, ride faster. Technical skills don't only mean those you have to use at trackstand speed.
Okay, nuff soap box.

Today, Diana went and rode Arrowhead. Kat was planning on going, but caught a bug and wasn't feeling up to riding. Hell, she barely looked like she was up to standing, so Diana and I let her stay home. It was my first time riding Arrowhead, and I must say it's a great trail. The trees are at peak color, and it was stunningly beautiful. The air was just warm enough to ride in shorts, and the trail was blanketed in so many colors it was like riding on a tapestry. I really understand now why the OMBA crowd is so obsessed with the trail. There's nothing else like it around here. It really is a huge asset to biking in the area, even if i do get tired of hearing about it. You can certainly tell it was built by strong riders who enjoy climbing. There's a LOT of climbing. It seems a little choppy and hard to build a rhythm, but the first ride on a trail is always a little rough. I've heard people say it's easier than Thomson, and I can see that. If you are a rider who's strength and fitness is better than your bike handling and balance, I would imagine you'd prefer this trail. Thomson caters to riders with above average bike handling, and will let you slide a little if your fitness is down.
All in all, it's a great trail. Worth the ride, and worth the drive to get there. The last climb out may be the steepest thing I've ever climbed on a bike. I'll rank Arrowhead a close second to Thomson as my favorites locally. Kudos to those that built and designed it.
The only mishap was when leaving, I left my front wheel laying beside the truck and promptly backed over it. You gotta love Sun Rims RhynoLITEs. I totaled the skewer and bent the bejeesus out of the disc rotor, but the rim was still damn near true. It was out so little that I would almost bet it was that way from riding, not being run over. The XT hubs spin as pretty as punch. Let's hear it for tough parts.

Kountry Kastle, Revisited

Okay, I just figured out how to email myself pics from my phone. Ya know, for a Ga Tech grad, sometimes I'm a real caveman. These are shots of the bar at the Kountry Kastle, taken like any undercover PI would, with a phone. You really don't want to spook the customers. If you still haven't eaten there, start driving now. They're open late.



And this is a shot of the "Mix N Match your own six-pack" rack at the World Wine Store in Paducah. This seems to be pretty popular out that way. I guess the do the same thing locally, but they know everybody only wants yellow fizzy beer, so they go ahead and package them that way.

Just a quick internet find

No real news other than Ididaride participation looks less hopeful after talking to the registration lady, but while bookmarking all the FL mtb forums I could find (hoping to find a couple slots for the ride) I found my new family crest:



Kat, you may want to right click and choose "Save As" or the Steve Jobs equivalent.

I also found the indoor trainer that will be number one on my Christmas List: SmartCycle

I'm the most talented biker I know -- or -- I think I need a new helmet

So, after much waiting, I finally got to go out on the urban ride in Macon. It was cold and turnout for the ride was a little low, only 5 riders. And they got to witness a fine sight. One that you should all be sorry you missed. I hit a tree. Hard. IN DOWNTOWN.

Okay, we were riding through a park near Mercer (I think) at a pretty good clip. I'd been hopping curbs, riding a few stairs, and generally having a whopping amount of fun. As we cut across the grass I see two Crepe Myrtle trees ahead of me, planted about six feet apart at a forty-five degree angle to my direction of travel. The branches were not quite touching, and were just tall enough to walk under. I figured it would be cool to switch back between them, so I accelerate a couple strokes and chicane through. The limbs were a little lower than I thought, so I ducked down pretty far and cleared them easily.

Now, Before we go any further, I want to take a minute to discuss proper decorative planting. Ask any gardener worth their potting soil how one should plant to maintain a natural look, and they'll tell you never to plant in even numbers. Always plant an odd number.

Can you see where this is going?

I charge out from between the TWO Myrtles, look up with a big smile and have time to think, "Well, shit, there's another tree." I remember my headlight clearly lighting up the twin trunks, so I was probably a bike length away, going maybe 10 or 12 mph. My only reaction is to throw my weight back, grab a BIG handful of disk brake and duck. Which worked out, kind of. I almost stop before my front tire hits the tree, but I think I probably would have gone over anyway as hard as I locked the brakes. Ass end rising, I slam the front of my helmet into the tree and drop the bike, but manage to remain on my feet, somewhat dazed. I take off my helmet (somewhat disheveled) to find Mike and Jeff staring at me mouths agape and eyes alight. Once they knew I was okay, boy, did they have a good laugh. Which is exactly what I would have done. To quote Jeff, if you do an endo correctly, they can see both your asshole and your bottom bracket. He said I was doing fine.

The bike was fine, the helmet's a little dented, and my neck's a little sore. But I rode the rest of the tour with no problem.

Well, I needed a new helmet anyway......off to surf the Performance Bike site......

Go West, Young Men

Last weekend we went west. A good friend needed help retrieving a lonely corvette from the frozen north. Well, it'll be frozen in a couple months, anyway. Being the good chums we are, we borrowed a trailer, bought some beef jerky and left at the ass-crack of dawn. Wait, scratch that. We were no where near the crack, it was more like the ankle. Dark thirty. Damn early. So we ate breakfast in Atlanta, lunch in Paducah, Kentucky, and dinner in Edmundsville, Illinois. We picked up a Vette, slept in a motel, had brunch in Paducah, and dinner in Warner Robins. And we had a good time.


Yeah, like there aren't stories to tell.......



First, if you're ever in Paducah, KY, find the Kountry Kastle for lunch. I don't know where exactly it is, besides the bottom of an off ramp, but if you ask anybody driving a pick-up with a ladder or gun rack, they'll point you right. I'd recommend getting the $3, half-pound Angus burger, but you might also want to consider the fried balogna sandwich and fried dill pickles. Or the herd of buffalo (32 wings for $11) or the tamale special. Top it off with onion rings and a 32oz beer for $3.20. The part you can't put a price on is the atmosphere. Dark wood paneling and old neon cast middle-America glow on well-worn vinyl booths and vintage bar stools. I could retire there. Try to ignore the stumbling drunk next door at the strip club, especially if he's bouncing off cars at 1pm like he was when we saw him.



Second, Jesse is a man of his word. If he tells you he has boxes of rocks he needs to move, by God, the man has rocks. And plenty of them. Doesn't matter why, or where he got them, or even if Shane helped him get the rocks off (ahem.), it only matters that the rocks are in Illinois and need to be in Georgia.



Third, the St Louis arch is one of the coolest man-made things you'll ever see. Especially at night. We almost opted not to go see it since it was late and 25 miles away, but we suddenly had a spark of reason and braved the chilly night to hunt down the big sucker. It was.....beyond words. And so I'll use pictures:



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Fourth, six cases of beer is all you can fit in the back seat of a 2004 F150 and still have room for a Jesse. In the same way that wine connoisseurs will seek out local vineyards while traveling, we seek out new and different beers. Some of these we know and love, but can't buy locally due to the vagaries of distribution and antiquated import laws. Some of them are just stuff we've never tried before. Good thing nobody else went, they'd have been very uncomfortable under all that, and the Vette was already full of rocks.

Fifth, Shane can drive 70 mph towing 6000lbs and still shoot a full manual SLR camera. Pretty well. On a bridge over the Ohio River. No kidding. It's a good thing I brought a change of undies.


And Lastly, Corvettes look better in Georgia.


Yep, 1300 miles in 36 hours, so we averaged 30 mph, even while sleeping. And two very good friends. Makes for a Damn Good Weekend.

29:48

Twenty Nine Forty Eight.
What, you may ask, is that? Is it a bible verse? No, my right wing, bible-drilling hotentots, it is not a 'For God so loved the world that he invented the bicycle' quote of heretic intent. Is it the total commercial time in a one hour episode of CSI: Hawkinsville? Well, it may very well be, but that contains not its significance in this venue.

That, kids, is my new best time at Thomson.

That's right, sub 30 minutes for one lap. Okay, okay, I admit that that's ride time not total time, but like the asterisk at the end of Maguire's records or the positive B sample on Floyd's record, I refuse to let it alter my achievement. Technically, I stopped for 8 minutes or so to talk to someone and that is not reflected in ride time, but the rest of the ride was non-stop, so THPPPPPBBBTTTT!! - which is the sound it makes when you stick your tongue out and blow real hard. Go ahead, try it.
I was riding by myself and started off cold and not feeling very good. I was pushing myself, but just sort of lacked the drive to really thrash on my poor body. Sometimes when your out alone, you can be merciless and gut it out right to the edge, but it was cool and I wasn't feelin' it quite to that extent. I pushed to around 90% or so and ended up at the spider web in 10:20, where I stopped to talk to Diana, who was undecorating. After that I was feeling a lot better since I was nicely warmed up, and proceeded to run the back side of the trail without stopping. By the time I came up the smoking room, I had to stop for about 30 seconds so my vision would quit wavering, but continued on without really recovering. The new reroutes really help with maintaining your speed. My legs started coming apart before my lungs really gave out. At the top of the climbs, my form started to fall apart. My knees would start angling out randomly and the handlebars were sawing back and forth like I was trying to cut the fork off, but with concentrated effort I managed not to fall on my ass and keep moving. It's like my body was saying, I'll go any direction I can if I don't have to push straight down on the pedal.
All in all, I think I could have pushed harder. I had a little left, I didn't leave everything on the trail. Maybe next time.
But, having typed that, I have to wonder. Did I really have any more? or is that my cycling addiction talking? Only one way to find out......

The Coffee Shop Ride

Carrie and I crawled out of bed this morning and decided to ride for our breakfast. This is as close to the historic hunter/gatherer schtick as I plan to get. One of the things I've always held as goal was to begin doing errands on my bike. I can't bike commute - it's just too far on dangerous roads with no facilities to freshen up at the ens. I can however, use two meat-motor powered wheels to go get the occaisional meal or forgotten grocery item. It's not that easy to do bike errands in our suburban-sprawl, Generica hell town, but thanks to the access roads and Cohen Walker, I've got safe, easy access to a Publix, some fast food restaurants, and my new favorite - Duncan Donuts. So far, I've avoided the temptation of donuts, but they have wicked killa good bagels, and an everything bagel has always held a warm spot in my soul. Especially with cream cheese and a large coffee.
So when we got up this morning, realizing we were out of coffee, I suggested we ride to DD for our morning repast. It's about 3 miles one way, and only has one or two mini-climbs. On the road bike, I could probably make the run in close to the same time as taking the car, given the traffic and Rube Goldberg street architecture of the area, but Carrie doesn't have a road bike (yet.) We rounded up the cold weather gear ( it was windy and in the 50's), unloaded the bikes from the truck after last night's Halloween ride, and set out to the call of caffeinated beverages.
It was a beautiful morning, though a little cool to start. I decided a road bike is MUCH better on the road than my mountain bike. My legs were a little stiff from riding last night and hitting the pedals straight out of bed, but we clipped along at a stady 11+ mph. Carrie did great on the climbs, and kept rolling toward breakfast. The DD was ridiculously busy, and we stood in a long line of Church-goers who regarded us with a mix of curiosity and disdain for our heathenist lifestyle. The girl that took our order asked about our bikes, and generally seemed interested in riding, which was cool. We sat outside by our bikes and watched the sun climb up through a beautiful morning while we enjoyed our coffee (with sugar) and cream-cheese laden bagels. Hey, if you ride to the restaurant, you can eat whatever you damn well please. Those are the rules, bub.
I love going places by bike. I'm not going to lie and stand on some soapbox preaching about decreasing my carbon footprint, it's something different. When you are on a bike, you play by your own rules. The topography is different, and you can choose thousands of ways to get from A to B, seeing things along the way nobody else sees. You are your own transportation, subject to any detour or side trip you choose. You are absolutely, completely independent.
Bike = Freedom.

Changing Seasons

I'm calling tonight the first cold weather ride. Okay, it's only in the low sixties out there, but it's damp and dark as only Georgia in the winter can be. Mostly, for the first time during a ride, I looked down and thought, Damn, my toes are cold. Of course, bib shorts, short sleeve jersey, and thin socks don't offer much insulation.
The cool weather always makes me realize how adaptable we are as humans. People that spend a lot of time outside (cyclists, for instance) acclimate pretty quickly to the weather. I rode all summer in ridiculous heat and learned to tolerate it. Riding while it's in the mid 70's now feels like a cool fall day, and sixty degrees sends me running for toe covers. But, come spring time I'll be used to the cold. Sixty degrees will have me back in summer gear and seventy five will feel insufferable.
Temperature isn't the only thing we get used to. The years I'm riding a lot I find I feel more "plugged in" to the natural environment. You can almost feel the plants waking in the spring, the rush toward blooming and budding. The air is fragrant and rich with life returning. And in the fall you can feel everything slowing down like a worn out kid going down for a nap. I think this is one of the reasons outdoor activities are more popular than ever. Whether you're riding the local hills, shooting rapids, or even out hunting, spending time out there fills a gap that is getting bigger in this techno society. I'm sitting here at a computer typing away, and you're sitting there reading. We move just a little further away from our origins. So we all find ways to try to regain a little of that connection.
So some of us go ride. It's a hell of a lot more productive than sitting in a tree waiting for warm venison to amble by.

On less spiritual notes, my weight seems to have plateaued at an even 250, which is 20 lbs from my starting weight. The road riding has almost stopped for now, and I haven't ridden much for the past few weeks, so I'm confident it will start to drop again as I pick up my riding a bit. Jesse and I rode at Thomson tonight, and I turned a personal best time. I won't embarrass myself by posting it, and I had to make flipper ride a single speed and kick him in both knees to keep up. And I still think he was sandbagging. But I'm still faster than I used to be.

Picture Credits: The fantastic illustration is by Mary Teichman. For more info, visit PictureBook. Here's another one by her that you guys might like:

Singin' in the Rain

We finally got some rain here in the deep south, and we decided to go riding in it. Actually, that's not quite right. We were out riding when it started riding, and we kept riding. I love riding in the rain. Not the lightning striking, monsoon downpour rain like we enjoyed at Santos, but your average, steady rain. The woods are beautiful and quiet, and all the colors seem to deepen. Most times, I'm already sweat-soaked anyway, so a little more wet really doesn't matter.
The other reason that I like it is that your average reasonable human is at home warm and dry and thinks we're crazy. Hell, a lot of the bikers around here think we're crazy. I'm not sure if the separatist, extremist quality of the sport drew me to it, or if I enjoy riding because I'm that kind of person. I've always valued being different from the herd, but I never use that as a motivation. And that's why riding in the rain is so much fun. The people that mountain bike because it's "Xtreme" and is the cool kind of thing you see in a mountain dew commercial don't ride when it's raining. They're busy standing around at cocktail parties and singles bars impressing people with stories of they're latest "Xtreme" ride. They wouldn't dare get all that muck and grit in the XTR workings of they're carbon double-bounce bikes. If asked why they're not riding, they may say it's for the good of the trails, but don't believe them. They just don't want to get messy.
So, I'll enjoy riding in the rain, or when it's 105 degree, or when it's 20 degrees and pissing sleet. I'll freeze, bake, suffer and repeat. I'll be riding while they sit at home and read about the latest $600 Italian retro wool jersey and how it defines style and who you are as a biker. They can leaf through the printed-on-heavy-stock, beautifully photographed catalogs. I don't think those catalogs are a tribute to our sport. I think they're trying to sell me something. But I plan to be too busy to listen.
I'll be out riding in the rain.

Welcome To The New Blog!

I decided to switch blog hosts. The geocities blog offered no creative control, so I came here. So far, so good. I'm going to copy the last post from my old blog over here, just in case you missed it. And for the millions of new viewers, the old blog can be found here:

<<<<The Old Shopfiles>>>>>

Monkey Business

I think I've got a monkey on my back. I'm not really an addictive personality. I even managed to stop smoking cold turkey, back in the day. But I think I've finally crossed the line.

The saddest part of this is that it's the result of hanging out with the wrong people, just like my parents warned. They're all addicted. All the classic signs are there, if you really look. Weight loss. Neglect of family and friends that don't share in the addiction. Anger and mood swings, especially if kept away from the drug. And now I'm too far in to get out.



My name is David S, and I'm a mileage addict.



I'm noticing that with my increasing level of fitness and decreasing weight, I'm riding stronger than ever. I'm finding that I keep longing for longer rides, which sucks because I'm running out of daylight. I feel like a wound spring before a ride. I can feel the strength in my leg, I can feel the tension building inside and I know I'm going to have a killer ride. I felt that way last night before the road ride, and managed to climb all the Bible Camp hills in the big ring, clocking 17-15 mph over the top.

And I'm starting to undertand a little more about my friends that have been riding at high levels.

I could never imagine riding a century in the past, but now it's not such a strange thought. Walking back to the car at the fair this year, I kept looking at the perimeter road and wondering If I could get a century in when we do the ACS Relay for Life next year. I find myself worrying about not riding enough, especially on the road, since the time change will happen soon. I told Carrie that an indoor trainer is a necessity.

But unlike all our favorite stars, I don't think I'll be checking into rehab any time soon. I think I'll let this addiction run it's course, even if it leave me a shrunken shadow of the man I was before. It may take many, many years.