So long, farewell, a Billy Zane goodbye

to you, and you, and you, and you, and you.

I'm all ready to leave tonight after dinner tonight. The die has been cast, and the fjork has been cast away.

The Fox's time was up, and it's time to get nitty gritty once more before 2009 leaves with a whimper. Too bad the Kodiak didn't get here on time, but I think it's being polished up north before delivery to ensure absolute shininess before I get around to photographing it in my poorly lit bike room. This will be the longest amount of time I'll spend in the saddle in one go for 2009, and I am in the worst shape I've been in since February or March. By that I mean I haven't ridden an extra mile on the way to work since mid September, and I'm already @ 4-5lbs heavier than I was when I was "in shape". I get winded using the ice cream scoop to dislodge frozen cookie dough from the container (I'm just saving electricity and cutting out the middle man).

What strikes me as odd is that when Dave "Beefcake" Cook suggested a similar ride (to the Hush Hush) years ago I thought he was nuts. I said, "No one's gonna wanna do that, especially me." Now here I am doing something I said I would never do for the umpteenth time in my life wondering if it's gonna be as bad as it is in my head (things are pretty bad up there).

Sorry for the secrecy re: The Hush Hush Ride, but I've been sworn to keep the details to myself till after the event is over. Hell, I called it the Hush Hush Ride because as a non-event it doesn't really have a name that I can refer to when I discuss it in the most veiled manner possible. I may even have to change some of the names of the non-participants of the non-event when I tell the story on Monday to protect the innocent. As a matter of fact I've probably irritated some of the other Riders of the Hush just by mentioning the Hush Hush, but whatever. I mean, you invited me of all people and asked me or all people to not say anything? I talk about a saddle sore for two days straight, so I can hardly ignore blog fodder of this magnitude.

All questions will be answered on Monday... well except for the ones I can't answer, but I'll make something up entertaining for those.

Most popular exit link from yesterday's post: Ruta wet t-shirt contest. Sorry guys.

Still here (and not quite there)...

Man, oh man. That's what it's like having a day off in the middle of the week. Did you know that Costco sells Fat Tire Ale and Sierra Nevada? I didn't. Did you know that you can save water and wash your car in the rain? Oh, you did? ... whatever.

So a Wednesday behind me without so much as a peek at the internet from 8-5. I used my time wisely kicking around with the children and having lunch with an old friend (not that we've been friends for a long time, he's just old). I also did a little more preparational type stuff for the big Hush Hush ride this weekend. I laid out some clothes, mounted up my fender (I think the tropical storm might leave the trails a bit moist), and sorted out some nutritional stuff.

I found some Heed I had bought back in the spring of 2007 that was dated 05/09, but how can this stuff go bad? It's got ingredients that sound more like super heroes than actual food stuff, like Xylitol and White Stevia. In order to kill two birds with one stone (get rid of it and get more calories in each bottle) I decided to double up on the amount of powder in each bottle. I dare not taste it before Saturday on the off chance that I end up hating it. Better to find that out at 5:30am when I still have 90+ miles to go.


Once I was able to get on the internet yesterday evening I checked out the happenings around the world... well at least the bike world. La Ruta has started and Colt from Cyclingdirt.com is down there with his digital video capturing device. I bet you have a hard time getting enough Jeremiah Bisquick in your life just like me, so do yourself a favor and watch him in the pre-race breakfast video, the middle of a gravel climb video, the post stage one video, or the blowing up the porta pottie after breakfast video. If you're not like me, and you've seen more than you can stomach of Mr Bisquick this year be sure to check out all the other videos Colt has put up on the site. There's plenty of stuff that will interest even the JB haters, so don't let his studly mug and perfectly coiffed hair keep you from checking it out. So much to see with just a little mouse clicking... like a little controversy, some helmet cam footage, and even a Ruta wet t-shirt contest. Good times, good times... I almost wanna go back...

I'll find something else to do this winter like this, this, this, or this.

Forty six hours till the Hush Hush goes mush.

Currently 48 degrees, but that's gonna sky rocket to 49 later. Twenty to thirty mile an hour winds with rain... How many times will I hear "I'd hate to have your job today?"

One more prep session for 2009

Like a junior high kid who can't wait till the first day of school to wear his new Pony's I went ahead and donned my swap meet obtained Pearlizumi X-Alp's (even though the weather was hardly chilly enough to warrant the eschewing of my familiar sandals). Just as the junior high kid has his reasons ("...but Mom, I need to break them in.") I had my similar reasons to break out the fancy footwear a bit early.

I wanted to see if the X-Alp's should be the shoe of choice for the big Hush-Hush ride this weekend. I have a feeling I'm gonna be spending a fair amount of time walking around in the woods, so why not wear some comfort oriented cycling shoes if I got 'em? While the upside would be having comfortable feet the downside would be exposing my shoes to a month's worth of wear (under standard operating conditions) thus reducing their useful lifespan. I'll have to ruminate on that one.

I'm talking a lot about a ride I can't talk much about... thus the reason I'm calling it the Hush Hush ride. I've been sworn to a certain level of obscurity, but some aspects are totally open for discussion. I've already started packing up my shit.

The timing is very odd... well at least coincidentally odd. Just last year at this time I was packing my BD-2 for a ride that actually inspired me to bother the U.S. Ergon handler to obtain said BD-2. For those of you not acquainted with my history I tried to ride my road bike 225 miles to the beach on Thanksgiving loaded down with everything I would need. I started out at 4:00am in freezing temps, my front shifter froze leaving me in the big ring through the Uwharrie Mountains (destroying my knee), and I ended up lost in a little town that unfortunately sold no maps of said town forcing me to call up headquarters for an extraction. How odd that one year later I am grabbing my light (with two batteries) and trying to figure out how many PB&J's I'm gonna need for another full (at least intended to be full) day in the saddle.

I'm stoked about this ride. It is an unprecedented event (in its own way), and it will be unlike anything I've ever done before (in its own way). I'll be up at 4:00am and on the bike at 5:00am with the possibility of needing my light to finish the ride. The BD-2's carrying capacity will be put to good use since I'll be carrying all kinds of spare shit. Some Swiftwick wool socks, a spare pair of gloves, most of the standard PMBAR gear, all the little "Oh shit" stuff (brake pads, chain links, zip ties, duct tape, back up light, extra chamois cream, tire boot, water purification tablets... you name it), and if I can fit it in, a beer.

I won't be blah-ging tomorrow since I've been given the day off. No sense in waking up early just to be up early for the sake of being up early. Tomorrow is one of those pseudo holidays (no disrespect to veterans) when most businesses are closed (banks, courts, post office, etc), but not everything is closed. There will only be enough work for one messenger, and my boss decided to take it, leaving me in dry dock. I'd love to be thrilled about having a day off, but with Ida coming it's not like I can knock out some yard work or spend time with the kids OUTSIDE (where kids belong). Ida should be dropping by later this afternoon dumping inches of rain on my head as I try to finish out my day, but at least I can test out my swap meet acquired Gore Tex Pac Lite coat.

Inches of rain and flooding.... wonder if The Pie will mind if I take the kids for a walk tomorrow to watch the greenways flood?

A weekend not wasted

On Saturday I hopped on my bike, rode for a less than excruciating twelve minutes, and arrived at the cyclocross race in Veterans Park without even breaking a sweat. The first order of business was to search for my people (they're not quite hip enough to be peeps).

Hank the junior phenom, Jon Benoit, and Will "I can pull a wheel outta my ass" Bolt discuss the finer points of owning a boutique, appointment-only bike shop.

I got there to the venue in time to bust out one lap on my not ready for prime time fixed/brakeless cross bike. The course was a blast (the best cross course I've seen, and I've seen like five of them now), and I even had trouble negotiating on downhill off camber turn to the point that I popped out of it and shot under the course tape due to poor fixie skills.

The first race of the day was the Masters Class, and I got to see my boy Captain Morgan whoop up on his fellow old men.

He crushed the competition even though he only had just a little Captain in him.

Captain Morgan is one of those guys I just hate. He's good at endurance races and the short shit I totally suck at (but still enjoy).

Captain Morgan won the LSD prime, but did not realize that he had to wait till after the race to collect.

I got to stick around for one more race, the CX3's and the women.... ahhhh, the women.

Here Beth Frye is launching off the front in an attempt (a successful one at that) to catch and destroy most of the male CX3's that started ahead of her. She is such a little monster, and like Captain Morgan she stomps at endurance races too, and also like Captain Morgan, I hate her.

I don't understand my attraction to cross. I really suck at it... I mean reeeeaaaaallly suck at it, but I still think it's awesome. It's like an adult version of tag with strange boundaries played out on bikes. Ask me to ride hilly nilly around some urban park on a Saturday and I'd scoff at the suggestion, but set up some course tape and say go and all the sudden it's a great idea.

I want a cross bike, specifically I want a MOOTS Psychlo X, but with horizontal drops because I'm all hard core like that. I would never be able to do a bunch of cross races though, as this time of year I am making up for all the traveling I did over the summer and spending time close to home. For example fifteen minutes before the SS Class started I left and headed home to get in the car, pick up my mom, and head to an adoption expo to watch The Pie spread knowledge on those who would seek it. Obviously being there to support her while she does some good in the world and makes a difference in people's lives has to be a priority... at least in the off season.

I consoled myself Saturday night with a loaf of Trader Joe's Beer Bread made with a .67¢ can of Simple Times Lager (tastes like shit, but makes a decent loaf of bread).

Sunday I headed to the Lowe's Motor Speedway for The Big Stampede swap meet. It's getting harder and harder to find shit that I need there, but I think that has more to do with the fact that I have fewer needs rather than a diminishing selection. I didn't find the $700 cross/road bike of my dreams or the elusive cheap mountain tandem I've been looking for over the past decade. I did find these:

They were EXACTLY what I was looking for. I almost paid retail for these things at REI a month or so ago, but I decided to hold out for the swap meet. There was ONE PAIR in MY SIZE... fate, kismet, whatever you wanna call it. The cycling gods were looking out for me. Why would I buy a pair of semi-running/semi-riding shoes? Work. These past few years I've just worn an old nasty pair of shoes that were on their last legs when the temperatures got too cold for sandals. Walking around uptown Charlotte on a pair of hard soled shoes gets old, and when it's super cold you can feel the shock all the way up your spine with every heel strike. I'm old and fragile, and my comfort has to take a priority sometimes, and when comfort comes at a steep discount I'm in.

I purchased some other less than fun crap and went home satiated, but not thrilled. I hardly consumed at a rate that would keep America safe from terrorism (under GW's plan). The weekend was full, and sadly, over.

Next weekend... the big Hush Hush ride. I'm actually nervous??? Maybe.

Heaving help me

This weekend will see some bike related activity, but no actual bike riding worth mentioning. I'm gonna do my best to get out and see some cross action on Saturday, if just for the fact that it's a fifteen minute bike ride from my house. Although some AM beers would be nice I do have to attend an adoption expo where The Pie will be speaking later in the day, so morning beers will need to be kept to a minimum. On Sunday I've prioritized the annual swap meet; The Big Stampede. I missed it last year due to a funeral in Ohio, so this year I'm coming back with a vengeance... well, a reserved vengeance due to my work slow down, but a vengeance all the same. I've got a shopping list ready to go, and I'll still have my eye out for that $700 SRAM Force equipped road bike... ummm... yeah.

I've asked Mike Piazza (gear coordinator) to do a quick inventory around the bike room just to make sure we got all our bases covered.

"I think we got plenty of chains, but if we see a case or two of PC-1's we should probably jump on them."

In other (not necessarily) news...

Pete-unh has taken an interest in improving my IT department by suggesting that folks donate money to the Team Dicky Facility Upgrade Fund. I'm not sure what inspired him to do this exactly, but his efforts are appreciated somewhat like I appreciate a free cookie, but not the kind of free cookie that someone gives me, but more like the cookie with one bite taken out of it that I might find in the garbage can on top of all the other garbage and above the rim (Constanza rules in play). Like the unwanted cookie liberated from a garbage can I'm not sure I want the help, I know I don't need it, but I'll probably take advantage of the opportunity if it's there. Even if I upgraded my computer related hardware I can assure you that the quality of my posts would NOT improve one iota even with the purchase of a MAC or a shiny new desk made of particle board held together with plastic hardware. I've got the kind of problems you can't just throw money at to make them go away. For all his supposed enthusiasm you will have to look really close at his blog to even find out about his efforts to help me. Look at it... over there in his right hand sidebar... under the heading Propaganda... Team Dicky Fund. That's it. Hardly an overwhelming effort, but it's the thought (or lack thereof) that counts. Heck, I'm still waiting for that shiny new Nummers frame for winning (I have to assume I won) that popularity contest that ended last month, but maybe he is waiting for the donations to pour in so he can save money on shipping and box up my frame, hoodie, and jersey with a big novelty check. I really like those big checks, don't you know.

So anyways, go ahead and click this...

if you wanna see me writing my blog like this (just a dramatic representation of what could be):

Good thing I already have the MR T poster. That will save at least $4.50 of your hard earned money.

Pete-unh is encouraging you to spread the word... that's up to you. I can't say I would actually think there will be enough money raised for a MAC or anything similar, but I was thinking about buying a netbook for remote blogging from exotic race locations next year. You know, those periods when the blog goes dormant for a week at a time and rumors of my disappearance start popping up all over the web.

One week till the big Hush Hush ride. Are you ready?

It's a sign...

After moving Mike Piazza's horse farm to the backyard I realized I had a lot of free space on my work bench. That led me to scoot some things over, which led to some organization, which in turn led to a total and entirely inevitable cleaning of my bike room. Over on my table (which currently has a bottle feeding kitten with a heating blanket on it) next to my work stand my stack of number plates from 2009 laid in a heap, under some small ziplock bags of various nuts and bolts. I always wait till the end of the season to pin my numbers to the wall, and I guess I might as well admit that 2009 is officially over. It's a bit of a cathartic moment when I put the numbers in chronological order and mount them to the wall to remind me that another year has passed, and yet I still find that I have some internal drive left to make next year better than the last.

Most of the numbers on my wall have some sort of significance. I don't just save every XC and cross number plate, since I doubt that I'll ever have a life changing moment over the course of 30-90 minutes. Here's a random sample of a few that happen to be next to each other for no apparent reason.

On the far left is my number from my first ORAMM back in 2004 (which I won the SS class on my Spicer with a 5" fork). It was my first endurance race on a single speed, and the experience I had allowed me to think I might be able to finish LaRuta on a single speed (which I did four months later). The next is from the 1996 NORBA National in Traverse City, MI. I raced in the sport class back when the classes were huge at these kind of things, and an annual license only ran the average sport class racer $35. It was my first NORBA National, and I'm pretty sure that's when I figured out that all those demi-gods that filled the glossy pages of Mountain Bike Action were just humans... very strong humans, but humans just like me (except very strong). The third one is from the Long Cane Massacre (1999??), which wasn't even a race at all. It was a two day 100 mile ride down in McCormick, SC that included a poker run, camping, pasta, pancakes, and fun. The best part of the whole weekend was the breakdown of Eric "PMBAR Honcho" Wever's Volvo on the way down to McCormick at 11:30 at night. We packed up all our shit and rode fifty very eventful miles through the wee hours of the morning to get to the event. There's a lot of shit that went down that weekend (a very long story Eric wishes I would tell in great detail), but Eric will agree that the events that transpired definitely tweaked our perceptions of the possible possibilities we might have previously deemed impossible. And lastly, the number on the far right is from my first 12 hour race, The Night Train (2000). It was really the first "some number of hours of something" that started my obsession with that format of racing, and an experience I'll never forget.

Ahhhhh... a walk down memory lane. Nothing like it to stir up a little inspiration during the off "season".

BTW:

There's a cross race in Charlotte this weekend, and nobody told me?

BIKE RACE

I have commitments that day, but perhaps I'll get out for some cowbell ringing in the AM. Have fun bastards.

More excitement here at Bad Idea Racing headquarters

Last week while discussing (at great length, mind you) the topic of my wrists and how I remedied my somewhat painful situation I flippantly threw out a comment regarding the need for a new computer monitor. Mike Piazza actually reads my blog (although he waits for the weekends to read it in five day chunks), and decided he'd help me get rid of the beast that I purchased at Value Village for $13 when my last hunk of shit monitor died.

So Mike Piazza dug through the box of used shit and struck a deal with the proprietor of Phoenix Crank Polishing and Helmet Buffing; one pair of Salsa Carbon 17 degree sweep bars for one slightly used Flatron 2000 monitor. While I was thrilled to have a new (to me) monitor I was disappointed that there was very little room for modifications (stickers), and that a monitor without flames or skulls was worse than having no monitor at all. We hemmed and hawed over the options of old monitor (with flames and skulls), new monitor (with no flames or skulls), and no monitor (with no flames, skulls, or screen to see what I'm doing), and we came up with a happy compromise.

It would seem as if everybody is happy with this option. Camelbak bite valve for a head guy has more room to ride around, the bodiless alligator can get outta his wreckless path as he wizzes by without a care in the world (like a CO2 tossing superstar), and the Stan's/Slime alien booger now has a permanent place of residence.

On the backside of the monitor there is now a shit ton of spare room on my work bench. I was pretty excited about that added bonus as I could always use more room on my bench to spread out my tools thus making them harder to find. We put in the monitor on Saturday night, and by Sunday morning I discovered what Mike Piazza had been planning all along.

A horse farm.

Mike Piazza had always been dropping hints, but I told him there just wasn't enough room for a horse farm in the house. Being a stubborn man with great facial hair he decided to prove me wrong when he got the chance. I let him keep them for a few days, but when the miniature horse shit started piling up and he refused to clean up after them the horses had to go.

Other exciting news on the IT front here at Bad Idea Racing, Mike Piazza (head IT guy) and I decided to go ahead and renew the URL TEAMDICKY.COM for another year. I didn't buy it originally a year ago, but someone close and very dear to me thought it would make a great Christmas present back when I was debating a new format for the blog. Now I find myself trapped in what is sure to be an endless cycle (not to be confused with an Endless Bicycle). If I fail to renew the URL then someone else could buy it and do as they please with it, and that just won't do. Someone could buy TEAMDICKY.COM and turn into a porn site or even worse... a bad porn site. I did realize a certain benefit associated with keeping the URL to myself. Since I own TEAMDICKY.COM (which is seven letters shorter than teamdicky.blogspot.com) the cost on my custom jerseys should go down. Sure, if I was doing subliminated jerseys again it wouldn't make a difference, but this time I'm just gonna pick up some cheap jerseys at the swap meet, buy some iron-on felt letters at Micheal's Craft Store, and do them myself. Should turn out pretty cool, right?

Remember, I'm always looking out for you.