194: EF You Ken.

after a bottle of this:

and a hot bath:

(Monkey made me put bubbles over my junk... "no one needs to see that little thing...")

I'm feeling a little extra liberated tonight. Sorry Ken, you get the F- you. While I respect what you do, and your vision, even if I don't "heart" your style, I appreciate you.

However, during the Carlisle Classic, as I was turning myself inside you as you stood and announced the race, I heard our faithful announcer say over the PA, "Jeff Bohnson, young Jeff Bohnson how old is he? We could ask Faticus who trains will him, Faticus always has something to say..."

there was no response, as I was killing myself, trying for another shot at a top 10 result. I couldn't spare the energy to utter a thing.

"I guess Faticus doesn't have anything to say." Ken responded.

I swear, if I had one extra once of energy, if I had one cell in my body that wasn't trying to unsuccessfully reel in Dr. Mudd, I would have let you know that you were number one, and perhaps shouted a big fat "fuck you!" But I just couldn't get it out, between hyperventilated breaths.

But in my head, trust me, you got the big "f- you Ken."

This weekend was the MAC final. For all intents and purposes, this was the end of my cross season. My team director, who I love and am incredibly proud to ride for, has asked me to race next weekend, so I will, but it might be pretty ugly. Regardless, it was a good weekend, my results weren't as strong as I hoped, I left a goal on the board for sure, but I think my results were strong enough to land me in 10th overall for the season.

Carl Shackler might have total consciousness waiting for him on his death bed, but I have two consecutive years of top 10 in the MAC. Yeah, I kinda got jipped.

here are some additional thoughts from the weekend, you know besides from giving our announcer the big fuck you:

So this weekend I got to ride in the crafter with Tom. This is the pimpest cross machine every. Both days we set up, carried all out bikes, and got dressed in the warmth of the crafter's excellence. It was pretty awesome. Tom has a killer GPS that we used to get to the races both days. Normally, I just like to follow the directions, but we used the GPS, I won't really comment on our trip to Allentown Saturday. But I digress, Saturday I drove home from Carlisle. The GPS, which is set to French for language, as L-Web and Jeb just got home from France kept spurting out stuff to me. Jeb and L-Web have assured me that it was just giving me directions, but I swear it was saying:

Faticus is a douche.

Faticus is a douche.

Faticus is a douche.

When I freaked out and said, "fuck you GPS!" Tom had to talk me down. I guess that was pretty funny. Work has been really stressful this week, can you tell? I kind have a "eff you" theme going for sure...

Saturday night Monkey and I met Rotten Rob, Buddy the Keg breaker, Rachael at homegrown in town. The waiter came to the table and asked if we were waiting for one more. I pipe in, " Well, we had a sixth, but Rob's girlfriend dumped him on the way to dinner, can you believe that?"

Rob, caught a little off guard, you know because he didn't have a girlfriend, and I kinda made the entire thing up on a whim, we just rolled on with it, "yeah, can you believe that? I'm gonna need a beer pretty quickly..." Our waiter gave some sympathy," I'm really sorry man..."

Needless to say, our drinks rolled back to the table faster than ever. Can you say sympathy drink. Rotten was sure to look glum every time the waiter came by... Dinner was outstanding, and Robert did ask for the hostesses number at the end of the night... (totally a joke)

After my race at Reston, I rolled back to the car with the feeling of satisfaction that I had really given my best and left everything out on the course, but also with the feeling that sadly it wasn't good enough, I found a wonderful bag of cookies.

Kim, who I am a big fan of, had left me nice big bag of cookies. She thanked me for cheering for her, and wished Monkey and I a great holiday. You know, pretty damn quickly I went from feeling inadequate to the the luckiest guy in the world.

Yup, the cookies were that good. I Faticus, proceeded to eat almost the entire bag. I did give two to Tom, he really loves cookies, even more than big red teddy bears.

Thanks Kim, you made my day, and reminded me again, that this glorified beer league softball thing we do called cyclocross is less about result, and more about the experience, and more about the relationships we build in this game. That and your cookies totally kicked ass.

thanks.

Good luck to those racing Nationals, I know you will represent us all well, and to those staying home, drink lots, eat more, and have tons of fun. I love cross.

respect.

faticus

193: Ghosts in the Park...

Cross season is rapidly coming to a close. Just three weeks ago our practice was teaming with riders, bombing around the park. Tonight there was just five of us. This isn't unusual it happens every year. Cross it tough, the week in and week out grind of it, is perhaps the best, but also the toughest part of the game. Trying to maintain some semblance of a normal balanced life, while racing each weekend is very difficult. It comes as no surprise for me, that every year, following Thanksgiving things start to wind down. Peoples minds slip things like donut rides, and sleeping in, and not racing cross. Practice gets smaller...

Tonight was my first bad practice of the year. I was pretty bummed about that. I had one good effort, a couple good starts, but really couldn't get it going tonight. Looking forward to the weekend, to knock a couple more goals off of my list for the year, I need some solid rides to do that. Tonight's practice didn't instill the confidence that I had hoped for... I just need to be better than I was today. I am better than I was today.

Been working a lot, wasting a lot of energy on stressing out, dogs have been crazy, stupid damn e-collar, more like doggy battering ram, I haven't been sleeping well, worst of all, worst of all I ate pizza the past two days. I always ride poorly after eating pizza. fucking tasty pizza, my down fall in life...

Maybe it was that inside, I'm saddened that in another couple of weeks, there won't be any more ghosts in the park. That somehow, I'm depressed that cross, my favorite season of the year is drawing to a close. Perhaps, with that heavy on my heart, I just didn't ride great tonight. Maybe I'm just soft.

Maybe it was the pizza. It's always the pizza...

lots of work to do this weekend.

I'm not done yet.

I mean I'm not dead yet.

gonna be fun.

respect.

faticus

ps: diane has no idea I took the picture above.

192: goal # 6

Coming from a mountain biking background, one of the newest things for me to learn in cross was the concept of pinning numbers. Oh yeah, I’ve been to that race where they have mountain bike numbers on the cross bike. I have to admit I’m kind of against this.

First from a functional standpoint, the numbers are huge, and often too big to fit in a normal size of cross bars, next when attached to the bars the number will impede you from a hand position as the tops are blocked off. Additionally, I have found that the mountain bike style number impedes my shouldering and running technique. Although it can work, it just isn’t the true intention of the mtb number.

Perhaps from a fashion standpoint, and showing my true wannabe colors, I just don’t think it looks cool. Ever see the Belgians use mountain Bike number? I didn’t think so. Since we are racing cross, might as well look the real deal. My conclusion: Handle bar numbers for cross are so 1999.

Ah, but I as figured out, you can’t just pin that number on any old way, like many things in cross, there are unspoken rules about these things. My first couple of races, I can
remember Judy Miller, our official, re-pinning my number on the line. That was a little embarrassing.

Three years ago, as part of my routine my buddy Slik Rik used to pin my number, and then last season my teammate E-town pinned me up. This year, early on my friend Megan (the potty mouth princess) was pinning me. However, on my list of goals for the year: #6. pin myself.

Over the years, I have listened and learned the rules of number pinning:

1.Never use the holes
2. Always ball up your number, then flatten it out to pin.
3. Minimum of 6 pins, 8 is better.
4. Pins go in the corners, and on the center of each edge
5. Never fold the number- officials get really upset about this.

I know a good friend who used the same pins the entire season. They were his lucky pins . From a recycle reuse standpoint, I think that’s cool.
But I’ll admit the pile of safety pins on my dryer tell the truth, I take a new set of pins each week. As you attend more races it won’t be unusual for you to have a friend ask you to pin them. This is a big responsibility, and one you don’t want to screw up. I have a few pointers here.

Rule one: don’t stick your friend with the pin. You might get away with a nervous initial prick, but multiple stabs or blood lettings are bad form.

Rule two: when working with a skinsuit versus a jersey, take great attention to not pin through any base layers, or with your female friends the jog bra. If this happens it will mean disaster as they make last second runs to the bathroom, only to find that they have become trapped in their skin suits. Friends don’t trap friends in their skin suits.

Rule three: when pinning take care to make sure the number placement is good, and that enough pins are used so to avoid the number flapping in the wind.

When I was in high school I had this creepy friend named Jason. I can remember he told me that when slow dancing if you slid your hand up your partner’s side you could graze their boob with your hand. He told me if the girl liked it, she’s clamp your hand down with her arm, and you could feel up the girl, while you were dancing to “Every rose has it’s thorn”. Now, I was never successful using this technique, but there was one girl (Jenny), who didn’t have any trouble sticking my hand on her boob while we danced. That was an interesting night for sure.

But I digress. I will admit, every time I pin one of my women friends, and I get to that bottom front corner of the number, and I have a small panic attack. All that is racing through my mind is “don’t touch the boob, don’t graze the boob, Oh dear got if I graze her boob she is going to think I am such a perv, be very careful, it takes a steady hand, What ever you do don’t touch the boob.”

Rule four: don’t touch the boob. I swear creepy friend Jason, this is your fault, and totally stresses me out to this day.

Number placement has been tough for me, I’ll admit it. Too low, and it’s on your hip, too high and the official can’t see it on your back. This just takes a little practice and feedback from your
friends. Also key, remember to make sure to have the number right side up. Yup, I’ve done the upside down number trick. Not good. Luckily for me the C3-Sollay kit has a huge logo on the back of the jersey that allows for easy alignment of the number.

Shoulder numbers:

More and more promoters are using shoulder numbers to help officials score as cross fields continue to grow.

At Nationals in 2005, in registration they had a jersey with the shoulder number kind of on the chest. So, I like 80% of the people there ended up racing with my huge number basically on my chest. I’ll admit in those conditions the extra layer was helpful, but the number placement was all wrong.

Ethan has gone with the euro shoulder tops. This is a smooth move, but I’m not sure how helpful it is to the officials. My best recommendation is on the arm, and wrapped around, so that the number will be parallel to the ground when you are holding your handle bars. Four pins should suffice, six if you are getting some flap on the long sides. See above rules for pining guidelines.

Now for riders with extremely skinny arms, such as Joe Piccolo, this simply will not work. In this case, the parallel should number technique should be employed. Same pinning guidelines.
I will admit as a cat 3, Killer B, my research with shoulder numbers is far less extensive, and as such I have much to learn in this area. Yes, perhaps one of my minor goals, but a goal none
the less this year was to learn to pin myself. I’ve made great progress, I’m not yet ready to cat up, but I’m gaining valuable pinning experience each week.

Heidi and Auer have been using a spray glue to keep their numbers on that hold no sweat and doesn't damage the skin suit. That's top notch, cat1 pinning material if you ask me.

Hope you found this helpful.

Goal #4 for me this year was win a Maryland State Championship. Well, an 11 hour day at work today had me missing the championship race. I was kinda bummed, but then again Fairhill worked out for me, so I gotta have some balance. Sorry to have missed that race. Good thanksgiving, family was good, even got some climbing in with Rachel, Buddy, Jeb and Diane.

sooner or later, I'll actually get back on a bike...

respect

faticus

pictures from dennisbike.com were used in the fabrication of this blog entry. header photo by Kevin Dillard.

191: USGP

I started racing beginner mountain bike races in around 1991. Since that time, I have taken many a leak and a many a crap in "port o lets". There have been times when I have had to run from the car to "drop off the kids" in a "port o bowl". Let me say, I think I've done some of my best work in port o lets, - you know nervous stomach and all.

Over the years, I have been shocked at the devastation that goes on in these " portable johnnies." I mean, I never really understood that if there are only a couple of "honey pots" why some one would be such an ass to piss on the seat, or leave a steamer right there on the seat. I mean, if you have to go again, you basically just killed yourself.

Like all products, "johnny on the spot" technology has been greatly improved in recent years. Now it's not unusual to find "a can on the move"" with hand sanitizer, or even urinals. Hell, at the Ed Sander's Memorial the "honey pot" had a pump that would allow you to flush your work down. I have to say I wasn't a fan of this feature, I prefer to drop, wipe and run. Especially when you did what I did, which was drop I giant load, that takes like 20 pumps to get it to go down. Sorry to who ever was waiting in line behind me, but I figured you appreciate me getting that mess out of your way. After all I didn't want to be guy fouling the bowl.

But I digress. As I mentioned previously, I am always amazed that someone would totally foul a bowl, that everyone has to use, that everyone might have to use twice. Regardless, sure enough at almost every race it happens. I always assumed it was dudes trying to go "no hands" or they thought it was funny to piss all over the seat, or worse leave a package for other's to admire. Some kind of junior high poo joke taken a bit too far.

However, the recent advent of urinals in the "port o lets" leads me to another conclusion. It's not the dudes fouling the bowls it's the chicks.

you see dudes can pee into a urinal. When I was a kid, I was stoked the first time I got to use a urinal. OH, we might miss the bowl at home or get a dribble on the seat by mistake, but most of us can aim pretty good. Whizzing into a urinal is easy, dudes can control that. Hell, I'd bet most of us have spelled our names in the snow. (try spelling SZCZEPANSKI sometime, that dude must have mad skills)

But the chicks, have to sit on the damn thing, or as I believe they hover, or even worse climb themselves up on the wall and do some spider woman contortionist maneuver in there, and just blast away. They never really have a chance to hit the target, they just spray down everything they can. This was my revelation of the weekend. Chicks are the ones that fuck up the "johnny on the spots." Chicks man. Chicks.

Saturday was a really good ride, made the group early, then found myself out between groups with Woody. We took turns leading in the power sections, as we both knew that on our own we'd get gobbled up by the group behind us. Learning from my mistake last week, where Woody jumped me, and took the sprint from me, I attacked in the sand pit on the last lap, and got a gap that I was able to hold to the end. I heard Woody tried to bunny hop the flyover, and stacked it a bit, that helped me finish up 8th. I was pretty damn happy with that ride, you know being a USGP in all.

Sunday we were greeted with some nice rain to make the course slick. The promoters added in some sweet new corners, and it was on. I admit, quietly I was very confident, I like muddy, greasy days, I was really positive about my chances. Most of all I brought the right tires. Problem is they were in the toaster, not on my bike.

Oh well, life give you lemons, you make lemonade. I battled in, but found myself out on my own with a huge group chasing me with 2 to go. They caught me as I floundered in the corners on the backside. The sandpit, which I felt like I had wired 24hrs earlier, I just couldn't nail today. Last lap, I take my pit bike, with 5lbs less air than I was riding on my A bike. I could tell the difference. Problem is the large group that was stalking me, was now ahead of me after me doing too much slip and slide. But I was feeling good, and going strong. "chopping wood" as Richard Fries said today. No offence to the fellas just in front of me, but I was gonna take a couple of you down.

Once again cocky and rolling, I had just about made contact with the group, on the back twisty side, when I went too hot into the corner and totally yard saled it. Sliding under the tape, I realized the hunter, had just become the hunted. I stumbled up trying to get back on my bike. I looked up, and there was Brill. Look at that guy. He's freaking one of the most consistent guys in our class, and damn fast too. He smells blood and it's on. I don't think he ever gets tired. That dude is tough as nails, I pulled myself together, realizing I wasn't bringing anyone back, I had to fight off Brill. Which I did. Race ended, I finished 17th.

On paper, my worst result of the year. In my heart, I did my best, I felt pretty good out there, these where some the toughest fields I had raced against this year. I made some tactical errors, and my set up was off. So, I made lemonade. I had a fun ride, and got to do some slip and slide too. I love mud races.

You know, I consider myself a student of this sport. I get to the venue early, I ride multiple pre-laps to get the course dialed in. I play with my tire pressure and selection. In 14 races this year I think I nailed it 13 times. Today, not so much.

Jeremy Dunn, one of the best 2/3 riders on the east coast, finished in the group ahead of me, we cooled down a bit, and Dunn said to me, "we'll learn from today, and get better for next time..." That's why he is the man. That and a dead sexy beard.

yeah, that's the thing about this game, you just keep learning.

Hats off to the Mercer Cup promoters, I had very low expectations for the course, and for the event on the whole, but I'll admit the course was super both days, and everything really seemed to flow well. That venue was outstanding too.

thanks to all my C3-Sollay and Delaware Cyclocross Coalition of Delaware brothers and sisters for the pitting, and the support.

respect.

faticus

pictures taken from croth, and Dennisbike.com

190: quarterly hair cut

this might is one of my favorite pictures from the season, these ladies just got done trying to kill each other for 45 minutes, and now smile and congratulate each other. 'Cross rules.

Last night I got my hair cut. Usually I find this to be a pretty decadent experience. A number of young attractive ladies shuffle you around, wash your hair, massage your
Scalp, and finally they take me to my old friend Lauri, who has been cutting my hair for a few years.

It’s always good to see Lauri, and hear about how her kids, and family are doing. Lauri’s mom was my first boss ever, at my first job. It’s good to keep some roots. I’m not always so good at that.

Last night I had a bonus. Apparently this one woman was taken back to have her hair washed and kinda left there for a while. Just as I was being seated by some sixteen year old kid
Wearing too much black, too much make up and showing too much cleavage, the lady next to me freaks out.

“WHAT THE F…..!! I’VE BEEN SITTING HERE FOR 35 MINUTES!! I WANT TO SEE A MANAGER”

My poor shampoo girl almost choked on her gum which she was chewing very aggressively. The receptionist came back to help, but the angry customer dropped this on her

“OH NO NOT YOU MISS THANG, YOU HAVE PRANCED PAST ME AT LEAST TEN TIMES, AND NEVER OFFERED TO HELP ME!!”

The receptionist lost her cool, and told the woman she was crazy. Now, I’ve been working in customer service for a number of years, been in a number of great classes for dealing with irate customers, I've seen and heard some of the best customer service people in the world turn around really angry customers. However, I have found, that anytime you insult the angry customer, Things aren’t going to end well. The woman really freaked out now.

I have to admit, I was kinda of laughing inside and enjoying the show. Basically, I think she was right, the receptionist was too busy trying to look good, and didn’t pay attention to the customers, and she never Really figured out that she sat this woman for a shampoo, and no one ever came over to help her out.

My gum chewing, black wearing, cleavage showing 16 year old shampoo girl, walked me around the corner, towards Lauri’s chair, and I couldn’t hold it in anymore, I just started laughing out loud. It must Have been a tension release for my shampoo girl, she laughed too.

As I greeted Lauri, and sat to have my hair cut, I looked to left of me, and there was the angry customer, and from the look on her face she was still fuming. I started to make a joke with her, but thought the best of it. To be honest, I thought she might beat me up. I was afraid to look to the left the rest of my hair cut. Luckily, Lauri and I had a lot to catch up on.

You might think there’s a moral to this story, there isn’t it’s just a story about me, getting a hair cut, and a woman freaking out.

I have been watching the MAC website like a hawk.

The New Jersey USGP is this weekend and the 2/3 call ups are for the top 10 in the MAC standings. Well, the standings on the website are from the first weekend of racing, and I was in 13th place, actually a three way tie for 11th, but whose counting points. Well, after last weekend, I was able to move up to 9th place overall. I know this because I’m a total geek, and of course figured out the points on my own spreadsheet.

1. Linder 135

2. Brewer 88

3. Bahnson 87

Dunn 87

5. Townsend 70

6. Bradley 68

7. Budd 62

8. Brill 60

9. Vettori 57

10. Zgoda 55

And because I am a super geek I contacted the USGP promoter, and sent him my updated scores, with a smile, and admitting that I was totally being selfish. His response was “what ever is on the website Wednesday evening will be what we use.” I tried to joke about it, but I don’t think he thought I was funny. So being the OCD freak that I am I of course have been checking in on the website like a hundred times a day. If you can’t get on the website, I applogize, it’s my fault.

Reality is that I’m not stressing it. The USGPs are gravy for me. Another set of good races, but I’m not chasing points (really), I’m looking to get to race some of the best 2/3 in the Mid Atlantic and from New England. If I ride well, I’ll be stoked, if I don’t no worries, these are extra races, another chance to race cross. They do not impact my overall season goals, so I’m really looking to have a good time, and race some bad dudes.

Mega almost tackles Monkey with a great big hug!

That being said, getting a call up at a USGP would be a pretty cool honor, so if it happens I’ll be stoked, but if it doesn’t that’s cool too, the random draw will be just fine, and you know I have had some experience chasing from the back this year.


Respect

faticus

thanks to Anthony (cyclingcaptured.com) for the shots above.

189: melancholy

There is this song by Lucero, called "my tears don't matter much", that I really like, however when coupled with a couple of beers, it never fails to leave me in a very melancholy mood. I think I'm gonna run with that.


'cross is a harsh bitch of a passion. you have days like I had Saturday where I had felt like I had a break through. My 4th top 10 finish in 10 years of racing MAC cross. I was just off the lead group most of the day. On the final lap I found myself with Jeremy Dunn, as we picked up Pat Bradley who was coming back from a dropped chain. Into the final sand pit I attacked and took the lead of the group, I thought I had my first top 5 MAC finish in hand, up the next steep section, my file tread tire tire spun out, not once but twice, all I could utter was "fuck..." as I watch Pat and Jeremy roll past me, and run away from me on the amphitheater of pain. But still, today was a victory, a step forward.


Sunday was a reminder, that at the end of the day, I'm not really good enough. Got a good start, battled through some groups, turned myself inside out, but at the end of the day I couldn't make anything stick. I ended up a solid 15th. There I have been days when 15th was a victory for me, but not today, not after my ride Saturday. 15th- That's what I finished last year. I can't say that I didn't give it my all, I did, but on the last lap, hauling my fatmarc carcass up that climb on the backside, I just couldn't get it done and ended up giving up 2 spots. 2 spots to guys I respect, solid riders, but none the less, worse than getting beat, I hate giving up spots on the last freakin' lap. It was my best, but still, in someways a step backwards. Fuck me.


One of the things I love about cross is the people, and I'm pretty lucky to have lots of people cheering for me, lots of friends in the cross world. In some small way, when someone calls your name it makes you want to suffer just a little more. I'm lucky to hear my name a lot. That's the closest I have ever gotten to be the cool kid in school. Why do people cheer for me? Maybe it's a part of cross, and we've all been out there killing ourselves. Maybe it's because I have this blog that people read, maybe because I try to be nice to everyone, maybe it's because the DCCOD is monstrous, and if people don't cheer for me I'll make everyone do more efforts at practice.


Sometimes, I like to think that it's because people that know me, even just a little bit, know that I'm turning myself inside out when I race, that no matter what I have, I'm throwing it all out on the table. I think they respect me for that. I hope they do. I think those close to me know how hard I work, I think they respect me for that. I like to think that the cross fans in our region appreciate when people go out and just leave it on the line. As Auer said to me "racing to win, not racing to not lose..." I'm not a winner, but I love the fight, I think people watching me appreciate at that. Maybe I'm crazy. Maybe I'm drunk. Doesn't really make a difference. Today I was 15th.


Today was hard, I gave my best, I can't play "the race is really with yourself card", because right now I've had one too many beers, and listened to one too many Lucero songs, and I've worked a little bit too hard. I'm a little disappointed.


Good news is, and perhaps one of my favorite things about cross, is that next week, it starts all over again, and next week, I get another shot to turn myself inside out, to leave it all out on the course, and to try to be my best. I hope you still cheer for me, you know since I'm kind a being a drunk whiny bitch right now. You know like the sorority girl that drinks too much and starts crying over everything. yeah that's me right now.

good news is tomorrow is a new day. Next week another cross race.

hope springs eternal.

fuck yeah.

see you in Trenton.

respect.
m



ps: congrats to KC for the great ride today...
thanks to the beacon boys, and the Rutgers Cyclocross team for great events both days, kudos to you.

thanks to Joe P. who said I have big guns. that was really funny.

188: Pinball Wizard

It's 2:00 or 3:00 in the morning, Sweet Baby Jesus, Daylight savings time has me all jacked up. I'm so tired that I can't sleep.And my legs hurt, a lot. Fairhill was Saturday, it was a great race.

Friday afternoon, while placing step stakes in the ground and setting up the course, I was pouting about having to work Saturday morning. "grumble, grumble, great place to work, totally flexible and supportive, has to be a two way street. I feel guilty complaining but (in my best whinny voice) I don't want to miss Monkey's race... grumble, grumble.."

Then I got a phone call from the office. "system is not ready, we'll test Monday morning- no need to be here Saturday" I raised my hand in victory, not only would I not be charging from the office to the line, I'd be here for Diane's race! Which I'm sure would have been great if I wasn't there, but being there watching her ride what I think was her best race this season, pretty much made my day. She was awesome today.

My race was at high noon. The plan for my race was pretty simple: Try to stay with Linder and Bradley as long as I could, and see what happens. After setting up Friday, wasn't too sure what was in the tank, but I'm feeling a little spunky, lets see how long I can hang with the big boys. (by big boys I mean 10-20 years younger, and at least 20lbs lighter than me.)
45 seconds into the race, there is a new plan, I go from sitting in a nice position surrounded by a group about to go clear (teammate Morgan, Linder, Bradley, Fife), to realizing that I have yet another material issue: a flat in the rear.

Eric Morgan (not Eric Linder or Morgan Gerlach, but Eric Morgan) rolled by and goes, "dude, not again!" Rotten rolls up to me and frowns. I ask, "Robert, Tell Dan I'm coming in for a bike.."

Again, my plans for world domination have been thwarted. I consider just riding back to the car for a beer. But I love this, I love cross, I paid my money, this is why I have two bikes, I want to get my suffering on...

To make a long tedious race report short, it goes like this. I take off with new bike, get pimped in the corner by Syd. Good move on his part. Love that kid. Over the next lap I start charging... I figure if I can make the top ten it's a pretty successful day. I get my A bike back, thanks to Bernie letting me use his back wheel. I look up and not too far in the distance is a group of about 10, riding nose to tail.

I look up again, and see someone adorn in pink sitting on the front. ROTTEN ROBERT!! It seems ole Rotten and his kid brother tied one on pretty good Friday night. When Robert realized he was pretty hung over, he figured the least he could do was keep the group together for me, and allow me a chance to get back in. He sat on the front blocking it up a bit for me.
Someone would move to the front, Rob would sit on them, they'd let him pull through, and he bring the pace down just a little. Rotten Rules!

When I finally made contact, and started working through that group, I moved up next to Rotten, he said, "dude, what took you so long..." Rotten's effort was huge, and something I greatly appreciated. Rotten would finish up in 13th, and would add, "that's my best 3/4 result yet! maybe hung over is the way to go!"

As for me, I had really good legs today, and the course suited my strengths, as I told Tom, I have a new favorite course, he was truly masterful in this design. I fought hard and with Dan in the pit cheering me on, and Charlie seemingly around every corner telling me to breathe deep, get the bad air out, and keep attacking, I couldn't do anything but leave it all out there.
Thanks guys, and to everyone cheering for me around the course.

Amazingly, I finished on the box. My race plan was out the window, but I had a really good ride, and although I'm getting a little tired of chasing back on, it was a great race for me, in front of a home crowd who is only used to seeing me suck pretty badly at Fairhill. I was super stoked.

I am incredibly grateful to have ride for a great team, (Morgan was a huge help getting back into the race), and awesome riding partners, and great friends. Rotten, thanks a million of your help out there.

Monkey and the outlaws waited for me on the line, and gave me a big hug. They wanted to know how I was making up so much ground in the barn section of the course. I said, "tight twisty technical stuff, that's up my alley!" Diane called it my "special little place..." like we don't have similar styles or something...

After my race, my job was handling giving out awards and podiums. I kinda screwed that up. I didn't realize that the juniors got medals. I couldn't find the prizes for them. So I quickly grabbed all the DccoDers I could who had won prizes in earlier races: Jan 1st 35+ 3, Tom 2nd 45+ 3, JayZ 2nd Cat4, and my own prize: we ripped open the bags, and made sure the top 5 in the Junior under 16, and the top 3 in the U18 all walked away with a prize. Then President Ryan showed me the error of my ways, and we handed out the medals too. You can never give the juniors too many prizes. Thanks to my fellow DCCoDers who generously donated their prizes without question to the junior racers.

all in all a pretty great day. FSVS and DCCoD did a great job putting on a fantastic event. It was great to be a part of it from both an organizational and racing stand point.

BTW- as I am getting a little insomniac theater right now, I just finished watching a killer documentary on the WHO. I saw them in 1989 kinda by accident, and have been a pretty big fan since. I could watch Keith Moon play drums for hours.

Does anyone plan like that anymore? Dave Grohl might be the closest, but still nothing like Moon. Long Live Rock.

respect.
faticus

Photo Credits: all pictures of Monkey and I - Mike Kirk;Rotten Rob- Kevin Dillard, Keith Moon- Google Images.

187: The time I gave Jonathan Page the Heisman

The second year that we had the Grangoue Cross race, Tom wanted to take it UCI. I wasn't really sure what that meant, but it gave the race some extra prestige, and as I saw would draw a couple more riders, and help us maybe loss less money. Tom always was a visionary, I always was the cheerleader. Tom's vision was great, and each year we get closer to fully fulfilling it.

But I digress, as many of you know I answer the email questions for the race. That first UCI race I remember getting and email that looked kind of like this:

" dear promoter, my name is Jonathan Page, I ride for the Richard Sachs team, We will be attending your event this year, I am a member of the national team and have been to Europe a number of times, could you please comp my entry?"

I was kinda new to the game, hadn't and didn't get any other email of this type. My gut was that (a) I have no idea who Jonathan Page is, (b) why would I let anyone race for free who isn't helping put on the event, (c) if you win some cash, will you give us the entry fee then? (d) will you come down Friday and help with course set up?

Like I said I was pretty young an naive about race promotion, and although I had been racing cross for 3-4 years, didn't pay much attention outside of the Mid Atlantic at that time. If your name wasn't Big Willie, Yozell or Fergie, I pretty much didn't know who you were.

I talked to Tom, and we agreed, that what became DCCoD rule number four was our answer. "no one rides for free."

I emailed Jonathan back something like this:

"Dear Johnathan,

while we appreciate your efforts, we are a grassroots organization, and as such expect to take a loss at this event, we respectfully decline your request for a free entry..."

Page would go to Europe later that fall. He did race Granogue that year, but would never come back. Later that fall, and in subsequent years he would be racing in Belgium during our event, and would go on to be a 3x US national champion, and of course the silver medalist at worlds. All because Tom and I wouldn't give him a comped entry. Sorry Jonathan.

Here's a nice bit of irony for you. I am taking off of work today to help go set up the Fairhill course for tomorrow's race. But I got the news late yesterday that I would have to work Saturday morning, as such the chances of me racing Saturday are about 30% right now. If we get our system testing done early, I may be able to boogie to the race, and get kitted up and just make the start. Holy Red Bull Warm up here I come...

The real bummer for me is this: For the first time ever, I won't be there when Monkey races. In all the years, and all the races, I've never not been there for her. I know the DccoD, and our C3-Sollay.com teammates will look after her, E-town will keep a special eye on her. I know lots of people will cheer for her and say things like, "don't be satisfied!" or "slam your hand in a car door" and the every popular, "go monkey!" But I'll be honest, I'm really bummed I'm gonna miss that. Really bummed I won't be there. That's all I have to say about that.

I think I get more stressed for her race than my own sometimes... I know she'll kick ass.

respect.

faticus

ps: pictures were stolen from cyclingcaptured.com and todd leisiter's site. (thank you) no pictures were harmed in the creation of this blog. (Hollywood writers beware)

186: Halloween

I find that if you stand close to the counter while the fine folks at Panera make your meal, it freaks them out a bit. Good for a little laugh.

Someone was asking for more Zombie information. Well, not too much to say other than I think I had a small dose of "evil dead" hand at Wiss. I mean check this out:

nice freaking running style. The grim mace on my face is obviously from me fighting off the evil dead from my left hand. Or me bleeding out my eyes or something...

Although I always look forward to our post practice meal on Wednesdays, this week I'm really looking forward to it. Being in a college town, and Halloween, I'm hoping we move our weekly post practice burrito meeting down town. This way we are guaranteed to see some of the Halloween wild life. All the college kids get dressed up you know:

the slutty Hermine:

the slutty pirate:

the slutty miner: (big in West Virgina)

the slutty superhero: slutty rainbow bright?
Not sure when Halloween became about letting your inner slut out. I was at a Halloween store tonight, and kids of all ages where slutting it up. Mom was helping out. I was just looking for some Buddy Holly glasses. Of course there will be lots of dorky guys making an excuse to were there favorite costume too.

you'll have your trons:
and other superheros:

just a bunch of dorks standing around in lycra:

erra, well that's all I have to say about that. E-town can I have my cape back?

thank's to Kevin Dillard for any of the above pictures that weren't slutty.

respect

faticus

185:getting stoned with the woodland fairies

Friday night was the second annual DCCofD pumpkin carving gathering at our place. A little smaller affair than last year, but still many great creations came out of the event:







Jan brought his projector and we watched a Sunday in Delaware, and blades of glory, drank a few beers, and the skies poured on us. I admit, I was really giddy with excitement thinking about the next days race. Mud, rain: cyclocross weather. FINALLY:








Perhaps you have heard of my little friend Jeff. He's pretty much having a great year right now. He's someone I hope looks to me as a mentor, because I have really enjoyed watching him learn to race bikes, and how well he is doing now, and how much fun he is having. Anyway, Saturday we were pre-riding together, I was showing him lines, and talking about whose wheels to watch, and there was this one off camber section I kept balling up. Jeff speaks up and says to me, "I think I see another line" and showed me a killer line. I told Jeff after the race, that this was were I was able to make a huge move at the end of the first lap, going from about 10th to 4th and getting clear by the time I cleaned the camber. I rode it every lap, and basically Jeff's line was pretty key to my race. This is it, the last part of the line he showed me:








Despite taking his line, Jeff still managed to pretty thoroughly beat me. He may be able to kick my ass on the bike, now, but clearly, I can still beat him in wrestling.






Kralik, you were just lucky I couldn't find you, or I would have pinned you in the puddle too. Seriously, by the time I was done, Kevin was showered, and dressed and eating some of the fine perogies they were serving at the race.





Sunday I had hoped for another muddy race. Being the dean of my class, (read oldest dude) I often find that what I don't have in raw talent, or skill, I can make up for in experience and guile. Despite this, Sunday had no mud.




The event held, at Penn State Lehigh Valley, was really nice. After registering, I was talking to a couple of nice fellows. As I am walking away I hear this:




The first guys says: (sorry guys I forgot your names), says, "who is that?"

The second guy answers, "he's the C3 guy from Charm City..."

the first guy says" which one?"

Then I chirp up "hi, I'm Bernie McDonald!"


everyone laughed.




I had some material issues at the race today caused by a young man stopping rapidly in front of me in the sandpit, and the inertia of my faticus carcass plowing into him and destroying my front wheel. Sadly, this was very early in the firt lap and after a jog to the pit, I found myself in DFL.





I will admit, I turned the crank with great anger, on a mission to catch the fellow who had wrecked my wheel. If only to give him the stink eye.




Diane would cheer, "you are doing great babe!"

I'd answer, "I'm gonna get that motherfucker, do you know how much a new wheel will cost?" Next lap she'd say, "you're picking guys off!" I'd say, "Fucking idiot, if you don't know how ride the sandpit, why did you line up on the front row!?"

She cheer,"keep it up!"

I'd answer," rat bastard, broken bike, material issues..."


I'd like to say that I am always the model of sportsmanship and decor, but being my father is Italian, and my mother is Irish, I pretty much have the passion nob turned up to 11, sometimes I lose sight of this basic goal.


So as I passed each member of the WC team during the race, I'd roll by and give them the stink eye, and the one fellow I let know I was coming by giving the polite, "please look out, I'm going to pass you, please don't crash me again."


yeah, really classy. I admit it, I can be a douche bag. It was probably my fault anyway, I mean I should have expected the pack to stop in the sandpit.


By the time the race was over, I was really pleased with my effort, I rode well, was aggressive, and aside from the first 45 seconds, had a pretty much flawless race. I wish I had bumped into the WC guys, I would have apologized for being an ass. It did fuel a pretty aggro ride for me, and I'm not usually an angry racer guy. Thanks to Brian and everyone else who cheered me as I rode along.

I also apologize to Rolf W, from Guys, because I know I jammed up his race as well. At the end of the day the sensations in the legs were good, I had a fun race, and rode as hard as I could. I'm out a front wheel, but what the hell, some days rubbing is racing. Props to Kevin on another win, and to my teammate Jeff CorDISCO, for bringing home the silver.

The weekend ended up strongly as Diane and I got back to town early, and got some food. I have been craving pizza all week, but I can't eat it before a race, because it makes me ride slow. So we had pizza in the house Friday, which I couldn't partake of, and thus have been craving it all weekend.

Feta and Spinach. So tasty. Washed down with a couple of these too.

Fairhill is next week. Don't miss it, it's another Tom McDaniel course and promises to be a classic Belgian Northern Delaware style race. I don't think rain is in the forecast but can hope can't we?

thanks for reading.

respect.

faticus

any pictures from here that were good were from http://www.dennisbike.com/