Lately I've felt the internal nagging that is the, "what I'm a doing with my life?" sort of feeling. And I honestly don't know what I have been doing, except that all of it feels pretty alright, if only it weren't for that nagging feeling, which I need to shake in order to achieve utmost contentment. Anyway, it's taken me over six weeks to get half-way through my current book, which is Sometimes a Great Notion by Ken Kesey. It's a great book, I love it, but no time to read, I've found, because I'm always doing other stuff that I can never put my finger on. You know, like not doing anything important at all. But what the hell is important? Do I feel like I'm wasting my time? Is it just because I have the vague intent of going back to graduate school someday? Is it because it's the off-season? Is it because it's winter which just seems to lend itself to the over-abundance of down-time? I'm a just restless? Yes. My bad.
Anyway, last week was the Holidaze Alleycat/Scavenger Hunt put on by the Pisgah Brew Crew (i.e. Justin and Beth) and it was quite the blast. I raced it with good ol' Phil Shaw and Kevin Booth, and I think we got third, though the scoring was all subjective and silly, so who knows what that even means. Either way, sprinting through town, across town, over and up town, out of town and back into town, all the while forgetting that traffic is still a threat and you're just racing for glory, so its not worth killing yourself over...oh but it is! So friggen fun. Go Alleycats. Asheville needs more. But in the mean time, a big thanks to the Brew Crew for putting that on, it was sweet.
Besides that, I've clocked quite a few hours, even a few with Alex, which makes my heart swell to an enormous size. Trackie Boy who can also hold his own riding street and can bunny hop, like, 4 feet, has built up quite the agressive cross country hardtail, and damn, boy can ride. Especially uphill, on a 2:1. He kills it, and then I get all embarassed, but don't admit it, and he's like, "whatever, you already ran an hour today and rode four hours yesterday." And I'm like, "yeah, that's all it is (sob, sob, sob.)" Anyway, the favor was returned, or whatever, as I built up a fixed gear. He calls it my track bike, which I think makes him proud, but it's a Trek 420 with one hell of a dented top tube and I think I paid for the chain and that's all, and calling it a "track bike" just seems too over-flattering. So I call it my townie. But I think it's my new favorite bike, of the arsenal of crud that I own. Go fixed gears. I can't track stand worth shit on it, but I'm figuring it out, slowly-but-surely. And getting bolder on the downhills, and around turns...and yes, pussy me funs a front brake. Sorry purists.
Anyway, I gave most of the parts off my singlespeed to Alex so he could build up his XC war machine, and in the process, striped down my geared race bike and turned that into a pimped-out singlespeed. So no more gears for awhile, which so far is treating me quite well. I'm running a 2:1, which has proved difficult but great on such standards as Bent Stupid Creek, Squirrel Gap, Rainbow Ridge, Kitsuma, etc. Snake Creek Gap #1 is the first race of the season, coming up a week from Saturday. Wtf!?! Right? Anyway, I'm excited. I hear a 2:1 is a bad choice for that course, but over-geared seems to work for me. I can't spin worth shit. Then a month later is the Icycle, then 12 hours of Santos, and then race season will be in full swing. Word!
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Saturday, November 29, 2008
Updating
In the past week and half or whatever it's been, I've:
Or something.
Don't tell Jamie I didn't take his advice. He'll be pissed. He said that's why my road bike got stolen--so I couldn't ride it. Knowing him, he's probably got it stashed at home, or he sold it to some kid at the BMX track for $125. Dang.
- Got a tatoo
- Moved into a new house
- Found and started a new job
- Learned to thoroughly enjoy my new job
- Make friends with my new co-workers who have finally found that its ok for them to make fun of me, thus more firmly solidifying the otherwise awkward friend/co-worker relationship
- Got my road bike stolen
- Hated all of humanity
- Built up a new road bike with old parts donated to me by Tavis and Alex
- Learned that some of humanity is so friggen awesome
- Learned to like my new road bike well enough even though its not my old road bike, which I loved through-and-through
- Some other stuff and stuff
Or something.
Don't tell Jamie I didn't take his advice. He'll be pissed. He said that's why my road bike got stolen--so I couldn't ride it. Knowing him, he's probably got it stashed at home, or he sold it to some kid at the BMX track for $125. Dang.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
USARA Nationals and another minor competition
This past weekend was USARA Adventure Racing Nationals, held in a little town in the Blue Ridge mountains called, creatively enough, Blue Ridge, Georgia. This was to be my swan-song of adventure racing, so I could move on to bigger and better things, by which I mean shorter and more fun races. Once upon a time I used to run marathons, and with those, I would run the first 20 miles feeling great, then the real race started after that, and I'd just try to hold myself together for the last 10k, and that was fun. The weight is in favor of fun, and even the hurting part is bearable because its taking you toward the finish line. But for some reason with adventure racing, I spend the first 20 hours hating it and wondering why I'm doing it and wanting to cry and go home, and then for the last 4-10 hours, I feel great and I love it, and I have a blast. But that doesn't even out enough for me, and so I don't really like the sport. Add to that a sea of gear-headed dorks, stupid route planning (80 miles of gravel road when you're surrounded by an area raped with awesome singletrack! WTF?!) erroneous logistics for what would otherwise be a dandy romp in the woods, and the feeling that all I am is the little girl trying to keep up with my two male teammates...and the result is me hating the sport.
But this time wasn't so bad, honestly. Of course, as usual, I hated the first 20 hours of it, and at one point around midnight, I told my teammates I was dropping out. Thankfully , they ignored me, and we eventually got a gap where a guy gave us his Subway sandwich, and the vegetarian-since-age-seven in my went "Salami! Yum, give me two!!" And five minutes later, we got to a checkpoint where a bunch of men listening to Rod Stewart ("this isn't weird, is it?" they asked) offered us a quick warm-up by the fire and some Michalob Ultra (of course...this was an adventure race afterall.) This came right before the bike-to-trek transition, so I think the mixture of fire, beer, and change of tasks helped reinvigorate me, and finally gave me the second wind I had been waiting 19 hours for.
But this time wasn't so bad, honestly. Of course, as usual, I hated the first 20 hours of it, and at one point around midnight, I told my teammates I was dropping out. Thankfully , they ignored me, and we eventually got a gap where a guy gave us his Subway sandwich, and the vegetarian-since-age-seven in my went "Salami! Yum, give me two!!" And five minutes later, we got to a checkpoint where a bunch of men listening to Rod Stewart ("this isn't weird, is it?" they asked) offered us a quick warm-up by the fire and some Michalob Ultra (of course...this was an adventure race afterall.) This came right before the bike-to-trek transition, so I think the mixture of fire, beer, and change of tasks helped reinvigorate me, and finally gave me the second wind I had been waiting 19 hours for.
The rest of the race, which lasted until about 9:30 the next morning (our finishing time was 26:20:21 or something...you know, like a day and some change.) And for the rest of the way, at least during the dark time, I kept falling asleep on my bike, which was crazy and rediculous. This was my 5th of so 24 hour race, and I've never had that problem before, but there's a first for everything, so whatever. I crashed into a few ditches, and eventually, right before dawn, crashed pretty good, and that, mixed with the pending daylight, helped wake me up for good (or at least until around 2 pm, when I fell into a post-race, drool-puddle, rock-hard nap while trying to read "Sometimes a Great Notion.") About an hour before the end, the 2nd to last checkpoint provided us with some whisky after we whined about them not having coffee ("I have something else that'll keep you warm" the guy said, and the rest is history.) It ended with a 3 mile jaunt down a railroad, ala La Ruta, which everyone tries to be like. Posers.
Anyway, we ended pretty strong, and I ended not hating adventure racing that much, which is a good way to go into retirement, I think. Unfortunately, I did miss one heck of a camp-out, cook-out with Alex and Pals up in Madison and the Swank, two things I am very sorry to have missed. But no regrets. 24 hours of woods-romping, even if half of it is taken up whining to myself, is ok by me.
And last night was the inaugural Inter-Asheville Bike Shop Bowling Tournament held at Sky Lanes. There was a good showing from Industry Nine, Pisgah Works, Suspension Experts, and then me and Alex for ProBikes (stupid Jed had to work...he would have pulled us through, being the God that he is) until we suckered I-9's best players onto our team. I think we still lost all over. I don't even know if anyone really won. But overall, a good time was had, I think. So you know, that was cool and stuff.
I'm about to go get a tattoo from old pal Galen. I'm not saying what it's going to be, except to saythat's its going to be awesome. Like the Pisgah boys' bowling skills/fashion senses awesome:
Monday, November 10, 2008
The Gameplan
Turns out I'm going to be racing for Independent Fabrications next season, which I'm thoroughly excited about. There are some awesome folks racing for them, and I whole-heartedly agree with the unstated mission statement of the company, so I'm thrilled to be representing them as I ride around in circles and then spread goodwill post-race. But with this newfound direction and motivation for next year's race season, I've come to the realization that I really would like to step up my game. That is, get friggen faster, and get better all-around on a bike. And I want to do it without the smile-draining, fun-sucking drag of current, conventional training, which I don't really think will be a problem.
Today BikeSnobNYC, who consistantly is like music to my ears, said it perfectly:
I love it! This paragraph is a masterpiece. My oft-used line is "fast by default" which I use to describe riders for whom I have a lot of respect, and the type of rider I'd like to become. That is, a rider who is fast because all they do is ride, and all they do is ride is because that's all they want to do. I'm so against power-taps, but I'm all about working on my gate-starts at the BMX track, trying to keep up with Alex's sprints through yellow-to-red-lights, and running a 2:1 in Pisgah just because it hurts and its fun that way--that's power training by default, I can feel the benefit, and nothing's beeping at me. And I want my handling skills to get better, which I'm planning on doing by building skinnies in my back yard with Lexy's slag wood, riding my bike through the house, challanging everyone to games of Foot-Down until I can hold my own, and of course, just from zipping through town trying not to get hit or doored or beer-canned.
In some interview awhile back, Jill Kintner said something along the lines that where she wants to be as a rider is to be able to do whatever she wants on a bike. I love that. I, too, want to be able to do whatever I want on a bike. And on all sorts of bikes. I want to ride my bike through the house, trackstand to turn a light off, fakie my way out of it to fit through the doorway, then park my bike nicely in the corner. (I was trying this the other day, but couldn't get the fakie part right, and kept cheating by touching the wall...I'll keep trying.) I want to be able to do on a bike whatever I can do on my feet, only better and more impressively. I want to develop the handling skills to do whatever I can picture in my head.
I'm so far off that. I can't even bunny-hop without clipless. Whoops. But hey, I'm still young.
Today BikeSnobNYC, who consistantly is like music to my ears, said it perfectly:
"Personally, I'm against training. In fact, I feel that if you're against doping in cycling, then you should be against training too. Some riders have access to more and better training, which in turn forces their competitors to attempt to match that training in order to level the field. In turn, the former riders seek out increasingly esoteric training methods to reclaim their advantage. The result is a cycle as vicious as it is dorky, and as anybody who's spent any time around bike racers knows, training (like drugs) can take a horrible toll on a person. Sure, training is much less likely to kill you than drugs are, but in large doses, it is almost guarenteed to make you incredibly boring and unpleasant to be around. If I want to have fun, I'll ride my bike. But if I want to spend a lot of time around people who constantly monitor their bodies with electronics, can't drink alcohol, and go to bed early, I'll volunteer my time at a hospital."
I love it! This paragraph is a masterpiece. My oft-used line is "fast by default" which I use to describe riders for whom I have a lot of respect, and the type of rider I'd like to become. That is, a rider who is fast because all they do is ride, and all they do is ride is because that's all they want to do. I'm so against power-taps, but I'm all about working on my gate-starts at the BMX track, trying to keep up with Alex's sprints through yellow-to-red-lights, and running a 2:1 in Pisgah just because it hurts and its fun that way--that's power training by default, I can feel the benefit, and nothing's beeping at me. And I want my handling skills to get better, which I'm planning on doing by building skinnies in my back yard with Lexy's slag wood, riding my bike through the house, challanging everyone to games of Foot-Down until I can hold my own, and of course, just from zipping through town trying not to get hit or doored or beer-canned.
In some interview awhile back, Jill Kintner said something along the lines that where she wants to be as a rider is to be able to do whatever she wants on a bike. I love that. I, too, want to be able to do whatever I want on a bike. And on all sorts of bikes. I want to ride my bike through the house, trackstand to turn a light off, fakie my way out of it to fit through the doorway, then park my bike nicely in the corner. (I was trying this the other day, but couldn't get the fakie part right, and kept cheating by touching the wall...I'll keep trying.) I want to be able to do on a bike whatever I can do on my feet, only better and more impressively. I want to develop the handling skills to do whatever I can picture in my head.
I'm so far off that. I can't even bunny-hop without clipless. Whoops. But hey, I'm still young.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Last week it snowed and I rode the trainer. My general rule of thumb is that no matter how cold it is, if it's dry out, you're not allowed to ride the trainer. Wet and cold, you're allowed to whine, but dry and cold, you still have to ride outside. But after working in the stupid woods all day, commuting to and from work in 30 degree weather (which is normally fine, but in October? Not quite ready for this, nature. Ease up, there) and realizing I had been cold from 6:30 am when I left the house until 6:30 pm, when I made it home after 10 hours of working, taking the long way home, and dropping off 3 lbs of deer meat for Alex, etc. I figured being cold for 12 hours was enough. High time to get sweaty and do one-leg pulls on the trainer while rocking out to 90's music. I'm such a puss.
On Friday Alex and I took a couple demo Yeti 575's out to Pisgah to ride big bikes and feel cool, but fatty Alex snapped a chainstay less than an hour in, so we wound up hiking out, disappointingly as it was a wonderful fall day, back in the 70's after the mid-week winter freak-out. But so it goes. I'm not such a fan of big bikes anyway, slack head angles, 7 inches of forgiveness, 2.4 tires, all that rediculousness. Keep mine straight and steep, with the constant feeling that you're about to get tossed from your bike. That's the jam.
Saturday I sort of got my fix in, but was all sick with a headcold and whine, whine, whine, so more sort of slodged and pleghmed my way through a four hour mountain bike ride. Sunday, still feeling sick, I spent about four hours riding all over the place and yet no where at all on my road bike. It was awesome. This has been my road riding lately--no more epic loops for some reason, I'm just zipping here and there with some sort of half-formed agenda, taking the longest, most convoluted routes to places I need to get to that day, thus turning a 20 minute errand into a 2.5 hour ride. I guess this is base training, or end-of-season rest/transition period, but I do feel like I need to sit down and figure out where I'm going with my bicycle-riding life. You know, like a, uh, er, a (cough, cough) training plan. That'll be a good task for when I'm unemployed, I think. That and building cold frames and chicken coops and turning Alex's suburban house into one heck of a homestead.
Anyway, collegiate nationals a couple weekends ago: props like woah to Johanne and Dan from Brevard. Jo won everything twice (DS and omnium) and Dan podiumed all over the place. And Matt from the Warren to the Wilson for getting 3rd or something like that in the omnium, and of course, Rebecca Toma-wiki-wiki-wiki-Goddamn! who won XC (on her SS, of course) and tied for omnium with Jo but got squeezed to second because of rules, or something. Anyway, fast little scholars, always a good scene, ridiculousness and mayhem and bikes and smiles.
I've got Adventure Racing Nationals this weekend. Gulp. Wish I were doing the Swank, quite honestly, but its sort of like eating broccoli as a kid: You feel forced to do it, you never quite enjoy it or see the point in it, but you're probably getting some trace benefit out of it that you're completely unaware of...maybe. And it appeases those around you. Stupid team sports. Oh well. Can't complain too much about running around in the woods for a day. By the way, I just heard an awesome joke about broccoli, but again...it's one of those that can't be told on such a family-oriented blahg as this. So remind me about it later.
And now I'll leave you with some words of wisdom. Last week, I was walking back to my little office at the Southern Research Station with a mug-full of coffee, and a construction worker said, "Hey, you're spilling all your coffee!" And I said, "Yeah, I know, I'm terrible at this." And he said, "You just can't look at it." So I lifted my head, picked up the pace, and didn't spill a drop. We used to watch former WWC forest manager Richard drive the work trucks off-road with coffee filled to the brim, and he'd never spill a drop either. I thought he was God, but turns out he just knew not to look at the coffee. This story also, for some reason, reminds me of the time Lexy and I were throwing a football at a basketball hoop, trying to make a basket. And I said, "I'm just not trying anymore" and of course I made it on that one. I don't really know where I was going with this, but I think the moral might be that looking down and trying only causes you to fail. But if you just do it, you're golden. You can't lose because you're unattached from the outcome. And if you're not looking--you don't even know how much coffee you're spilling anyway.
That doesn't make any sense. I'm no philosopher. But I do rock at crossword puzzles. Go Vote. I mean, if you feel like it.
On Friday Alex and I took a couple demo Yeti 575's out to Pisgah to ride big bikes and feel cool, but fatty Alex snapped a chainstay less than an hour in, so we wound up hiking out, disappointingly as it was a wonderful fall day, back in the 70's after the mid-week winter freak-out. But so it goes. I'm not such a fan of big bikes anyway, slack head angles, 7 inches of forgiveness, 2.4 tires, all that rediculousness. Keep mine straight and steep, with the constant feeling that you're about to get tossed from your bike. That's the jam.
Saturday I sort of got my fix in, but was all sick with a headcold and whine, whine, whine, so more sort of slodged and pleghmed my way through a four hour mountain bike ride. Sunday, still feeling sick, I spent about four hours riding all over the place and yet no where at all on my road bike. It was awesome. This has been my road riding lately--no more epic loops for some reason, I'm just zipping here and there with some sort of half-formed agenda, taking the longest, most convoluted routes to places I need to get to that day, thus turning a 20 minute errand into a 2.5 hour ride. I guess this is base training, or end-of-season rest/transition period, but I do feel like I need to sit down and figure out where I'm going with my bicycle-riding life. You know, like a, uh, er, a (cough, cough) training plan. That'll be a good task for when I'm unemployed, I think. That and building cold frames and chicken coops and turning Alex's suburban house into one heck of a homestead.
Anyway, collegiate nationals a couple weekends ago: props like woah to Johanne and Dan from Brevard. Jo won everything twice (DS and omnium) and Dan podiumed all over the place. And Matt from the Warren to the Wilson for getting 3rd or something like that in the omnium, and of course, Rebecca Toma-wiki-wiki-wiki-Goddamn! who won XC (on her SS, of course) and tied for omnium with Jo but got squeezed to second because of rules, or something. Anyway, fast little scholars, always a good scene, ridiculousness and mayhem and bikes and smiles.
I've got Adventure Racing Nationals this weekend. Gulp. Wish I were doing the Swank, quite honestly, but its sort of like eating broccoli as a kid: You feel forced to do it, you never quite enjoy it or see the point in it, but you're probably getting some trace benefit out of it that you're completely unaware of...maybe. And it appeases those around you. Stupid team sports. Oh well. Can't complain too much about running around in the woods for a day. By the way, I just heard an awesome joke about broccoli, but again...it's one of those that can't be told on such a family-oriented blahg as this. So remind me about it later.
And now I'll leave you with some words of wisdom. Last week, I was walking back to my little office at the Southern Research Station with a mug-full of coffee, and a construction worker said, "Hey, you're spilling all your coffee!" And I said, "Yeah, I know, I'm terrible at this." And he said, "You just can't look at it." So I lifted my head, picked up the pace, and didn't spill a drop. We used to watch former WWC forest manager Richard drive the work trucks off-road with coffee filled to the brim, and he'd never spill a drop either. I thought he was God, but turns out he just knew not to look at the coffee. This story also, for some reason, reminds me of the time Lexy and I were throwing a football at a basketball hoop, trying to make a basket. And I said, "I'm just not trying anymore" and of course I made it on that one. I don't really know where I was going with this, but I think the moral might be that looking down and trying only causes you to fail. But if you just do it, you're golden. You can't lose because you're unattached from the outcome. And if you're not looking--you don't even know how much coffee you're spilling anyway.
That doesn't make any sense. I'm no philosopher. But I do rock at crossword puzzles. Go Vote. I mean, if you feel like it.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Double Dare and Pisgah Pale
I probably average about 17 hours of bike-riding time each week, so I was hoping last week, with the Double Dare this past weekend, that I would have something like 87,000 hours in one week. But it turned out to be just 29. So it goes. I've never been one for simple arithmetic.
Even though it resulted in a disappointingly dinky weekly total, 20 hours worth of riding (which, admittedly, also included some hiking, eating, and some PBR shot-gunning) in two days proved to be pretty beefy. But in a good sort of way. It was an absolute blast. The race format was Noon to Midnight on Saturday and 6 am to 6 pm on Sunday, with 10 checkpoints each day. Only one was mandatory per day, which created a very open-ended "race", by which I mean, a good way to force yourself to ride loops and trails in directions that you otherwise never would.
Of course I didn't feel like sitting on my saddle at all on Sunday or then Saturday night, descending down 256 from Mt. Pisgah back to White Pines in 34 degree weather felt a little drawn-out and torturous, but that's peanuts compared to shot-gunning PBRs at 9:30 on a Sunday near Shining Rock (which was, of course, part of the race) or campfires or Jeremy making an amazing plate of eggs and pot of coffee that morning, or climbing Pilot and getting to watch the sunrise over to our right, or getting to ride trails I'd never ridden before, and don't really know why I never bothered, and now having a bigger inventory of Pisgah and wonderful ideas for big rides, and the newfound/refound motivation and apprectiation for bike riding that a good epic leaves you with.
Anyway, a good way to spend the weekend. I can't wait to get back into the woods. I get to go back today, but that's for measuring trees, which because its part of work and my bicycle isn't present and Mike Brown won't be there with beers and a slingshot...just doesn't feel the same.
I spent yesterday sleeping in, running, going for a 2 hour road ride, clearing Alex's new backyard, making plans for cold-frames and chicken coops, getting my fixed gear up and running, and then making some homemade pizza and store-bought PBR. This is how I envision unemployment--long days of getting lots of good stuff done, until you loose your dignity and get evicted from your house. Shoot. Back to work today though, working for the man and having a steady source of income for three more weeks.
I'm skipping the BMX track today, since Lexy won't be there to drive me home afterwards. Maybe I'll go try not to die on my fixed gear. You should see the top-tube, heh-heh...scary! Alex doesn't like it, he says its a piece of shit, which it is, but it wouldn't be anything of mine if it were any nicer. So I dig it. And I finally wore knickers, winter-gloves, and socks on my commute to work this morning. It usually takes me about a month of being a frozen-idiot before I remember how to dress for cold-weather rides, but I think this past weekend helped me along a bit (e.g. "I won't need booties for the Double Dare, it won't get that cold..." and then we rode from Bent Creek Gap to White Pines via the parkway and 256 in mid-30's weather and I realized I was retarded.) You would think that living in the mountains for 4 or 5 years would have taught me something about elevation and shit getting cold. But no...
Collegiate Nationals this weekend! I am so excited to be standing around with 20 oz of coffee, wearing a beanie and a down-vest and watching all these nervous kids freeze their butts off while racing for glories and stories. That was such a friggen hard race last year--I wanted to win so bad and Kate Chapman (watch out, too, for her...she's so strong and will soon take over the world--of endurance-racing, at the very least) was relentless and it kind of hurt for awhile and I had worked really hard and I really wanted the win then I did and then I smiled, and now my jersies are collecting dust somewhere and I lost my medals, but now all that silly stuff is over with...until grad school, of course. My work here is done. I love retirement.
As Megs would say, "Go Phillies!!"
Even though it resulted in a disappointingly dinky weekly total, 20 hours worth of riding (which, admittedly, also included some hiking, eating, and some PBR shot-gunning) in two days proved to be pretty beefy. But in a good sort of way. It was an absolute blast. The race format was Noon to Midnight on Saturday and 6 am to 6 pm on Sunday, with 10 checkpoints each day. Only one was mandatory per day, which created a very open-ended "race", by which I mean, a good way to force yourself to ride loops and trails in directions that you otherwise never would.
Of course I didn't feel like sitting on my saddle at all on Sunday or then Saturday night, descending down 256 from Mt. Pisgah back to White Pines in 34 degree weather felt a little drawn-out and torturous, but that's peanuts compared to shot-gunning PBRs at 9:30 on a Sunday near Shining Rock (which was, of course, part of the race) or campfires or Jeremy making an amazing plate of eggs and pot of coffee that morning, or climbing Pilot and getting to watch the sunrise over to our right, or getting to ride trails I'd never ridden before, and don't really know why I never bothered, and now having a bigger inventory of Pisgah and wonderful ideas for big rides, and the newfound/refound motivation and apprectiation for bike riding that a good epic leaves you with.
Anyway, a good way to spend the weekend. I can't wait to get back into the woods. I get to go back today, but that's for measuring trees, which because its part of work and my bicycle isn't present and Mike Brown won't be there with beers and a slingshot...just doesn't feel the same.
I spent yesterday sleeping in, running, going for a 2 hour road ride, clearing Alex's new backyard, making plans for cold-frames and chicken coops, getting my fixed gear up and running, and then making some homemade pizza and store-bought PBR. This is how I envision unemployment--long days of getting lots of good stuff done, until you loose your dignity and get evicted from your house. Shoot. Back to work today though, working for the man and having a steady source of income for three more weeks.
I'm skipping the BMX track today, since Lexy won't be there to drive me home afterwards. Maybe I'll go try not to die on my fixed gear. You should see the top-tube, heh-heh...scary! Alex doesn't like it, he says its a piece of shit, which it is, but it wouldn't be anything of mine if it were any nicer. So I dig it. And I finally wore knickers, winter-gloves, and socks on my commute to work this morning. It usually takes me about a month of being a frozen-idiot before I remember how to dress for cold-weather rides, but I think this past weekend helped me along a bit (e.g. "I won't need booties for the Double Dare, it won't get that cold..." and then we rode from Bent Creek Gap to White Pines via the parkway and 256 in mid-30's weather and I realized I was retarded.) You would think that living in the mountains for 4 or 5 years would have taught me something about elevation and shit getting cold. But no...
Collegiate Nationals this weekend! I am so excited to be standing around with 20 oz of coffee, wearing a beanie and a down-vest and watching all these nervous kids freeze their butts off while racing for glories and stories. That was such a friggen hard race last year--I wanted to win so bad and Kate Chapman (watch out, too, for her...she's so strong and will soon take over the world--of endurance-racing, at the very least) was relentless and it kind of hurt for awhile and I had worked really hard and I really wanted the win then I did and then I smiled, and now my jersies are collecting dust somewhere and I lost my medals, but now all that silly stuff is over with...until grad school, of course. My work here is done. I love retirement.
As Megs would say, "Go Phillies!!"
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Kethcup. Ooh, Kethum, ID. Let's go there with bikes...
Hey! Wanna hear my most favorite poem ever? Well, not ever...but for the love-genre it is, and its the poem that's going to go on the doilie-place-settings at my wedding (not that I plan these things or anything...) Here it is (by e.e. cummings):
yes is a pleasant country:
if's wintry
(my lovely)
let's open the year
both is the very weather
(not either)
my treasure
when violet's appear
love is a deeper season
than reason;
my sweet one
(and april's were we're)
e.e. cummings is the jam because, not only does he write awesome poetry (some of its really erotic, but I'm always too embarrassed to read that stuff, so I just skip along to the PG stuff) and uses unconventionality in form that just seems to make so much more sense (kind like in real life), but he also doesn't even bother to capitilize his own name. I went through a phase like that in grade school--i thought it be a cool self-humbling statement if i always wrote my name like kylie krauss. I stopped doing that, though, as soon as I realized feigned self-righteousness and conventiality works for most other people, and they were all getting along much better than I, or i, or whatever. What the hell am I talking about? Oh well, I'm digressing anyway.
Spring, like e.e. cummings, is the bomb-dot-com, as it were. But like co-worker Brandon and I happened to notice today, fall isn't too bad either, assuming you're able to ignore what it's about to lead up to (i.e. winter, which is a terrible idea, seasonally speaking.) But fall, for what it is, is awesome. Especially here, in the Southern Appalachians. Word.
As much as I don't want to identify with the octogenarian motor-tourists that drive 25 mph down the parkway oggling over oranges, reds, and goldens...E.O. Wilson's whole Biophilia hypothesis forces me to excuse them. Everyone loves fall for its aesthetics. And dang! As they ought to.
It does, however, make me rediculously restless. Dwinding daylight and changing seasons coupled with me soon to be jobless, waiting to hear back from team sponsorships, not know what I want to do next year (work? grad-school? bake corn bread and make coffee for my man?), etc. It's been the most wonderful Indian Summer so far, and I'm trying to squeeze in as much riding as possible, knowing this isn't going to last. Soon there'll only be, like, 15 minutes of daylight once you're out of work, and it'll be all cold and wet, and my Campi grouppo will get all salt crusted from the road spray. I didn't just say that.
But yeah, fall riding...sure is swell. I've been feeling awefully strong this week--the Rainbow Ridge-Kitsuma-Rainbow Ridge oreo ride was great, I tried to take it slighty slower and focus on the key technical and power moves, all-official like. Last night I hammered a standard Bent Creek loop. My singlespeed's been sitting at home this week, waiting for me to put in a half-link so I can finally run it as a true 2:1, without a stupid tensioner, so I did Bent Creek on gears, which I hate doing. It makes me disappointed in myself. A couple easy rides the next two days, then I somehow got myself into doing the Double Dare along with Jeremy Hargroves. I think it's going to be a real tough race. I'm excited though--I haven't raced since August, and I've been feeling a little slacky.
In other aspects of my silly little life, my job with the Forest Service is ending soon--seasonal position as a research technician. It's been a good time, goofing off with co-workers under the guise of advancing the science of forestry. Or something like that. And so I've been trying to find another job, which, for those of you in Asheville, know is about as hard as cleaning Farlow your first time--unless your Sam Koerber, or God, then that analogy doesn't make sense. But yeah, trying to find a job. Trying to keep on keeping on.
And the guy I've been climbing to the top of fire escapes with to watch these fall sunsets, and other such acts of rediculous adorableness, is moving to this side of town, which sadly, yet conveniently, means no more evening sprints on the townie across, well, town. We used to use phrases like "smitten" all the time with eachother, now we're solid-like-a-wolf and use phrases like "re-smote" "smodden" and "forever smod."
And if that's not making you feel sick, wait 'til you see this.
I'm excited for this weekend--a good excuse to ride for 12 hours two days in a row, and there's no entry fee, so officially we're not really racing, so no pressure. No pressure at all....Gulp.
yes is a pleasant country:
if's wintry
(my lovely)
let's open the year
both is the very weather
(not either)
my treasure
when violet's appear
love is a deeper season
than reason;
my sweet one
(and april's were we're)
e.e. cummings is the jam because, not only does he write awesome poetry (some of its really erotic, but I'm always too embarrassed to read that stuff, so I just skip along to the PG stuff) and uses unconventionality in form that just seems to make so much more sense (kind like in real life), but he also doesn't even bother to capitilize his own name. I went through a phase like that in grade school--i thought it be a cool self-humbling statement if i always wrote my name like kylie krauss. I stopped doing that, though, as soon as I realized feigned self-righteousness and conventiality works for most other people, and they were all getting along much better than I, or i, or whatever. What the hell am I talking about? Oh well, I'm digressing anyway.
Spring, like e.e. cummings, is the bomb-dot-com, as it were. But like co-worker Brandon and I happened to notice today, fall isn't too bad either, assuming you're able to ignore what it's about to lead up to (i.e. winter, which is a terrible idea, seasonally speaking.) But fall, for what it is, is awesome. Especially here, in the Southern Appalachians. Word.
As much as I don't want to identify with the octogenarian motor-tourists that drive 25 mph down the parkway oggling over oranges, reds, and goldens...E.O. Wilson's whole Biophilia hypothesis forces me to excuse them. Everyone loves fall for its aesthetics. And dang! As they ought to.
It does, however, make me rediculously restless. Dwinding daylight and changing seasons coupled with me soon to be jobless, waiting to hear back from team sponsorships, not know what I want to do next year (work? grad-school? bake corn bread and make coffee for my man?), etc. It's been the most wonderful Indian Summer so far, and I'm trying to squeeze in as much riding as possible, knowing this isn't going to last. Soon there'll only be, like, 15 minutes of daylight once you're out of work, and it'll be all cold and wet, and my Campi grouppo will get all salt crusted from the road spray. I didn't just say that.
But yeah, fall riding...sure is swell. I've been feeling awefully strong this week--the Rainbow Ridge-Kitsuma-Rainbow Ridge oreo ride was great, I tried to take it slighty slower and focus on the key technical and power moves, all-official like. Last night I hammered a standard Bent Creek loop. My singlespeed's been sitting at home this week, waiting for me to put in a half-link so I can finally run it as a true 2:1, without a stupid tensioner, so I did Bent Creek on gears, which I hate doing. It makes me disappointed in myself. A couple easy rides the next two days, then I somehow got myself into doing the Double Dare along with Jeremy Hargroves. I think it's going to be a real tough race. I'm excited though--I haven't raced since August, and I've been feeling a little slacky.
In other aspects of my silly little life, my job with the Forest Service is ending soon--seasonal position as a research technician. It's been a good time, goofing off with co-workers under the guise of advancing the science of forestry. Or something like that. And so I've been trying to find another job, which, for those of you in Asheville, know is about as hard as cleaning Farlow your first time--unless your Sam Koerber, or God, then that analogy doesn't make sense. But yeah, trying to find a job. Trying to keep on keeping on.
And the guy I've been climbing to the top of fire escapes with to watch these fall sunsets, and other such acts of rediculous adorableness, is moving to this side of town, which sadly, yet conveniently, means no more evening sprints on the townie across, well, town. We used to use phrases like "smitten" all the time with eachother, now we're solid-like-a-wolf and use phrases like "re-smote" "smodden" and "forever smod."
And if that's not making you feel sick, wait 'til you see this.
I'm excited for this weekend--a good excuse to ride for 12 hours two days in a row, and there's no entry fee, so officially we're not really racing, so no pressure. No pressure at all....Gulp.
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