227: I was a teenage werewolf

Monkey and I started riding bikes together in 1991. Since that time we have done many, many get aways with bikes involved. However, it has just been the last month since we ever took a roadie with our road bikes. Seriously, it's just been the last month since we ever took both road bikes on a roadie together. I wonder what that means...

Thursday night loaded up the toaster, and headed to New England.

Once we arrived at my bro's house we were greeted by the kids:

the next morning we all headed out for a ride.

Skinny Craig and Monkey let me have it good. I was chasing all day.

the winter was hard on me, I feel like I'm pulling around an extra 40-50 pounds.

precious cargo

We had talked about catching up with Mega and doing an incline work out, but swim lessons didn't help that fit into the schedule. When out on the road we actually saw an Incline van, which was pretty cool. Next time we'll make it.

Watch out! Wide load!

Skinny Craig had wrenches and pipes in the pockets of the trailer.

That night we went to the People's Pint. It sucked. Save your money.

The dirty hippie waitress wasn't even nice. My nephew protested by throwing his food and some of mine on the floor. beautiful. damn dirty hippies.

back at the homestead we discovered that necessity is the mother of invention

Beth read "Bike Snob NYC" and Diane got tickets to yet another Hippie Show.

We had some awesome meals this weekend, none surpassing the wonderful breakfast Craig crafted for us;

we went to lunch with Mega and JD

and Han Solo

We walked around NOHO which is a cool town.

I bribed my niece into good behavior while Diane and Craig shopped for guitars.

Saw hot chicks with douche bags

later that night was a spread of sushi.

and Skinny Craig and Monkey jamming a bit

all in all an awesome weekend, very tiring. I think I'll go to bed now.

respect

faticus

226: client # 9

god bless day light savings time. Curse the politicians and their flandering ways, their cozying up with special interests, their war mongering, their public service gone wrong. But when they decided to extend day light savings time, well that my friends, was a beautiful thing.

Last night I met up with boys at AI. Shark lead the group that had e-town, Jeb, Tom, John h, McCunney and myself. We met D Dub in transit. I was pushing near max, and Dan was cold chillin'. I was in the drops hyperventilating, D Dub was on the tops chatting. sweet.

Rode well, felt good to be outside and to ride fast. I think I'll do it again sometime. Tom said after the ride, "I looked up and you were on the front, Jeb tucked in behind you, E-town behind him... Felt kinda like cross..." I love my road bike. Hard for me to say it, but Slick Rik worked hard to get me on the right one. He always said I hated road because I didn't have a bike that I loved. I really enjoy riding this bike...

I would have had pictures, but Diane set the camera on macro and they didn't come out to well.

I'm seeing a lot of hippy bands this year. Diane lined up another show yesterday. What is she on hippyband.com or something? Diane says I haven't been aggressive enough in finding shows I want to see. She just keeps piling the hippies up. I did enjoy last weeks hippies, and I'm totally looking forward to seeing the Black Crowes again... I was sad that I missed the foos this year...
oh well.

respect
faticus

225: boot

This is the boot that Ethan and Wes lovingly placed in Diane's tire last Saturday during our ride in Annapolis. Thursday night Diane and I were out doing a neighborhood crawl. Whilst out on a private road, now closed to traffic, I remember seeing her new tire on the kitchen table, you know just sitting there. I asked Diane, " Have you changed your tire yet?" She answered, "no, not yet" I ponder for a moment, then ask, "this is like the third or fourth ride you've done on that booted tire right? I mean a GU wrapper is holding your rear tire together..." She smiles at me, it flashes in the dark under the lighting of her helmet light. "yup" I respond coyly, "Beautiful..." All the while thinking how fucked we are if that boot explodes as we are out in the middle of no where at night on a road closed to traffic. Doesn't a Friday the 13th movie start out this way?

So now I see the tire sitting on the table. Do I just change it ?Or should I worry about her, because I know she won't, and likely she'll be out while I'm at work, or worse I'll be on a ride with out my phone, and it might blow out on her. Is it worth the stress and worry, or should I just change it? yeah I'll change it.

After a night with the bike liners Friday, I woke up a little hung over Saturday. If I was tough I would have slipped out then and gotten some saddle time in. Diane asked me what I was going to do. I usually would just go ride in the rain, I'd get sick and bitch about it, I'm trying to learn from my mistakes, so I decided to wait until the afternoon when the rain would stop.

Well, the rain never stopped, Diane, she is a tenacious rider, and she rode the trainer. I couldn't bring myself to get on the rollers, in my head I just couldn't do it. So I just sat there an watched her ride.

Sunday was a different story. I met some friends at the local park and we did my new favorite road loop. Head wind sucked ass, it was so bad that Jan was blown off of the group because his 12lb road bike just wouldn't track in the tough winds. Dennisbike, joined us up through west grove and then called it a day. Ted Logic, Slik Rik, Leg Breaker, LEO LEO, Rotten and myself were the final selection. You know I haven't been exactly sitting around on my ass, and when Rotten and Buddy are talking about suffering, and how they aren't riding much but then storming the climbs, it's hard for me to have sympathy for them. Fucking Strong Bastards. It's good to see Buddy's ribs finally coming around.

It was a very good ride indeed. Rule number 4 of the DCCOD dictates that I must say, "I have a lot of work to do..." But frankly, for March 9th, I was very pleased with how I rode today. Clearly I have a lot of work to do, but today was good, very good.

after the ride a bunch of us went to a peep show...

I fucking hate peeps.

go here register for this. (on Monday) It benefits Hera. It's a great race. celebrate a lost friend.go here buy this, it'll make you cooler. I mean it didn't really work for me, but you'll have much better luck.

respect.

faticus

224: cheap suits

standing in line waiting to see a dirty hippie.

the dirty hippie : Matt Costa

wheelie ted is joyous.

Gavigan finds out what happens when you pump a Stan's tire up to 60lbs : Stan's facial.

registration opens monday.

L-Web and I worked on the race bible. Similar to last year with some subtle changes. How'd we do ? You should come. YOU SHOULD. Don't want to race, that's cool, hang out, support HERA, work the kids race, celebrate life. It's always a great day.

my underwear is fitting funny. Monkey usually buys me medium old navy boxers. They fit nice around the waist, acting a little like a girdle, and prevent chaffing in a sensitive area. However, recently she picked up some AE mediums that aren't working out. I have to fold down the waist to make sure the waist isn't up by my nipples, but my legs are too big for these mediums and the bottoms of the boxers creep up over my thighs, creating a very uncomfortable mankini/wedgie combo. very unpleasant. I think I should go back to commando.

I got carded for water tonight. sweet.

respect

faticus

223: super sweet gloves

So at 3:30 of a 4 hour ride today, I was pretty shattered. I was in a nice small group, and we were headed for home. The roads had been pretty clear of traffic all day. A pretty great group with the Shark, Sharkette, President Ryan, Doc and DC Dave.



The I heard the noise behind me that every cyclist fears. Loud honking of a horn. I was stunned at first, then I realized the horn was getting louder and was very close. I saw my life flash before my eyes. Then I saw a blur to the left of me, heard a voice yell at me, and then a pack of mid life crisises flew by in our lane, mind you this is a two lane back road, road with no other traffic, and these a-holes are screaming at us, trying to push us off the road.


Usually, I let these bad traffic cyclist situations roll off my back. Usually I just wave at them and offer up a "Americans love their cyclist" blast. But this day, I yelled, I screamed, I was stoked to not have on lobster glove because I wanted this pack of 12 gold wingers to know that I was flipping them off.


The Shark and I both increased the pace, I hoped for a quick stop sign, or that our paths might cross again. I was furious. Now I'm not that tough of a guy, but the fact that Shark could also be known as the linebacker of the peloton, probably boosted my toughness rating. (think big like maggie b..)


What really pissed me off was that it was totally unneeded. The road was clear of traffic, there was only 5 of us. They were just being dicks. Furthermore, I always found that motorcyclists kinda got the plight of the cyclists. Traffic doesn't see them, they are killed in senseless accidents.

Basically I may not understand the leather of a Harley dude, or the day glo suits of the bullet bike guy, but I always thought there was a kinship there or something. I can't even count the number of times I was waved to or waved back to a motorcycle guy. Then the gold wing assholes with their stupid microphones. "honey, I see 5 cyclists, lets really give it to them!" Fucking assholes. Hope your mid life crisis goes well for you.


Other than that ugly turn of events, and counting my blessings that I'm still alive, it was a pretty great weekend. Friday had us get out of dodge and head down to Annapolis to hang out at Miss Behavin's family place. We had a nice group down there with tough cookie, rotten, Zayne, PMO, Monkey, E-town and I. E-town did a great job with dinner.




Early Saturday morning I got out to the beach for a bit. It was beautiful.


Auer came by to check on his pupils, and see how 4 of his team riders were doing.



fun ride.



I gotta say I am very lucky. I love my wife, I love my life.


BTW, I mentioned above that I wasn't wearing lobster gloves today. First, aside from allowing me to give the metal sign, which I do quiet often...


these gloves also allow me to tell someone they are number one.



or number one.



best of all is the snot guard nose wiping section is the softest, best I have ever had. I'll admit I've had some pairs of gloves that rip your nose off when you try to clear the remnits of a snot rocket being launched from your nose. These bad boys are a like having a box of puffs with lotion on every ride!

The gloves are by sugoi.


respect.
faticus

222: numb

lots of great riding going on this week.




sweet twisting single track that folks from out of state can destroy.
you know if you build a trail system that any idiot can ride, they will.


fast climbs, friends throwing in "peach" attacks. Just great stuff.




and the reality that I can't say it's January and I refuse to ride indoors.

I am losing the battle of the bulge. I don't think there is a MAC Clydesdale Class.
And so this week I ride the trainer.

I ride the trainer with MSNBC on, with MP3 player on, and I forage ahead, never really going any farther than my living room. Such a soulless activity.


To break up the sheer monotony a stealth group of us did a little urban neighborhood ride last night. It looked like this. Nothing sadder than a pack of mtbers, scarying soccer moms in mini vans, while crusing around town.

I can't tell you who was all there, because it's a secret. But someone got a new GPS.

I can tell you that one rider, who I happen to be very close with forgot her helmet, brought the wrong shoes and had her tire blow off the rim. Needless to say, it was an early night for her. Any guesses?

This morning I put on one of my secret Henry's jerseys. I thought to myself, "self, this is a little snug. Perhaps I stretched on one of Monkey's jerseys by mistake."

I checked, and a tear welled up in my eye when it was clear that it's was in fact my jersey, not the monkeys.

time to pull out the old Xl jerseys...

here's hoping your miles are more entertaining than mine.

respect
faticus.

221: hunting for jaws

Saturday morning Jan, E-town and I headed out on the road, looking for the shark. The shark is the leader of our communities hammer ride. Not that I really felt like I was going to be able to complete the ride, but somehow I had hoped that the less than perfect conditions would keep the pace to down just a bit, and I might be able to use guile to hide in the pack.

Pretty much out the door of E-town's I can to this conclusion:

when hunting the shark, I'm gonna need a bigger boat. (i'll let you decide in the picture above who is who)

I'm gonna say luckily for me, we never found the shark this morning, although for three crossers at the end of February, I think Jan, Etown and I did a pretty solid job of working each other over. Afterwards, we met monkey, she ogled Jan's I phone, while we ate chili.

pretty mellow weekend otherwise. I needed that pretty badly.

respect

faticus.

220: sticky

I just finished reading Ten Points, by Bill Strickland. I have to say that I enjoyed it in a "wow" that landed on me kinda of way.


Thankfully I was blessed with great parents, and suffered none of the gut wrenching abuses that Bill faced. However, there were a couple of passages that he wrote that I felt like really hit home for me.


the first was this:

“He was some kind of engineer, built lasers or computer chips or something I couldn't understand, had a doctorate, and knew a lot. Naturally gifted athlete- he would have been one of the best if he rode as much as I did... Since I had gotten to know him there were a couple of times when I wanted to ask him that if someone like him- a normal, great guy, with an important job, and a pretty wife, a cute daughter, ever felt like I did almost everyday, as if you had to concentrate your entire being on hanging on, on staying sticky, not to win but to just avoid losing everything."

Now I know that he was talking about more than just cycling. There was definitely a time in Diane and my life where we applied the cardboard box theory of economics. Meaning, that every economic decision we made was based on the fact that failure meant we'd be living in a card board box in a matter of days.

Thankfully, that motivation, that fear of failure drove us to be in a much better place now, but I really related to that feeling that everything we did could be the ultimate unraveling of our lives.
I know that we continue to work hard and not take things for granted, because even now, 17 years in, nothing is guaranteed.

From a cycling perspective it also landed hard on me. I thought about the "normal" guys I get to ride with, how incredible they are. I am sometimes envious of those guys. I look at them and how they have so much balance in their lives, while I feel like it takes such concentration, such focus to be able to stay in the pack, or ride with my friends, to stay in this game.


I focus on how much I eat, my bike set up, how much I'm riding. I am obsessive by nature, I get that, it's who I am, but I often wonder what it would be like to be normal. Just show up for the ride, and ride, and not have to worry about calories, and how many beers I had.

What does a balanced life would look like. Maybe I'd see my family more? Look, I'm not complaining, I love my wife, I love my life- but Diane and I have often discussed whether or not we'd even be able to be happy with a more balanced, more normal life. Hell, we aren't even racing this spring, but our lives are filled with trying to squeeze rides in, watching or caloric in take, all so we can ride well in the fall.

the second passage that hit me was this one:

"there are all kinds of riders... the roleurs the tough cyclists who can turn the pedals at high speeds for miles and miles without cracking. There are the grimpeurs, the angels of the mountains, who fly up leg breaking slopes. There are the flahutes, who excel in mud and cobbles and cold. There are domestiques, whose sole job is to protect their leaders. Rarest of all are the campionissimo, the champions among champions- the immortals. I was the least glorious, the least noble, silliest named bike racer of them all. I was sticky. My only talent on a bike: I was hard to get rid of. Always there, never first. Great teammates, terrible leaders. We were tenacious failures... It means I'm not a winner- I'm not built to win, I'm built not to lose..."

That rang pretty hard with me. It reminded me of conversations I have had with
Wes about knowing how to win a race, and that I didn't know how. I thought about Charm City, where I was winning but felt like fate was going to give me a giant wedgie at any moment, and relagate me to a finishing position in line with my ablity. I thought about talking to Kurtee about having that killer instinct, about knowing when to attack, and racing to win.

Racing to win? What does that mean? I don't know that I've ever done that. Yup, over the 15 years or so of racing I have picked up a few wins, but they kinda just happened, I don't remember a point where I said, I'm going to win now.

"built not to lose" I thought about my best races ever, both where I flatted and battled from the back to get a podium spot. I have said to Diane, “I wonder how I would felt about those races if I didn't have to fight from DFL? or I didn't have to come back"

She encouraged me to build up tubulars for the simple reason, "that you gave away two maybe three races that you could have won, but you flatted instead..."

I know myself, I don't have a drive to be the best, but I want to be amongst them, I want to make their lives tough. I am a tenacious failure. Sometimes I think I like the fight more than the few wins that I have had.. Sometimes, I realize that for me, the racing isn't really about trying to win at all...

Maybe I need therapy…

Anyway, really good book. I recommend reading it. It made me very grateful for my parents, and my life, and was interesting to hear another guy who felt like he had to live it, breathe it everyday just to stay in the pack... that was cool.

These guys are cool.

respect.
faticus

219: working for the weekend.

fresh dressed like a million bucks, I spent the weekend working for the man at a shoe show.

It's probably a HUGE stretch to say I work for the man. Maybe the WOman...

I have a pretty great job...

Friday was a long day of leaving Philly at 5:00am, and getting to bed close to 11:00.

When I finally got back to the hotel I was dismayed to find these guys rooming across from me:

I heard there adolecent shrills, and shreaks as they bounced around the hotel. I just wanted to go to sleep. Luckily, some mother took enough time to come up from the bar, and to hush these young ladies.

As I lay in the bed, hoping that they stay quiet enough that I can get some sleep, I think to myself:

HIGH SCHOOL CHEERLEADERS. Arrgh: the scourge of my existence.

Oh no, this isn't some latent "hot popular chicks didn't dig skaters during the mid 80's" blast.

I could list the trouble I got into when I was on my back and they were cheering "pin him, pin him" and they were from my school. When I told them they were number one, that didn't go over so well. I guess I used the wrong finger.

Or when I got pulled into my Athletic Director's office when I was coaching because I told the cheerleading coach that I didn't think her girls belonged at my match, and no they couldn't do a dance routine on my mats between matches.

Cheerleaders so badly want to be taken seriously as a sport. I can respect that. I struggle with that in much the same way that I struggle with Golf or baseball being a sport. Somehow, I have cheerleaders on the same level as kiddie beauty pagents. I love women's athletics, but I'm not too sure cheerleading counts. It's funny the girls that were perhaps the meanest, perhaps the most petty, are the ones begging to be have their "sport" taken seriously. Ironic isn't it?

But I digress it doesn't really matter. I mean if dressing up in some weird uniform, and screaming makes you happy, then go for it. Just not across the hall from me, when I'm trying to get some sleep.

I will admit when I read this:

"any guy and hold a girls had, but it takes an elite to hold her feet" I was thinking of something more like this.

anyway, the show went well, I had a ton of fun, worked my ass off. My badge holder said "executive"- My parents must be so proud.

My lunch runs for the booth however told the truth- middle management baby...

Had some awesome dinners while I was there, at a lot of sushi, and went to a killer resturant called Blue Point. They had this:

I'll admit I'm not a creme brule expert like E-town. But this was good. Best of all, unlike most places which give you a tiny little portion, this was the real deal. No 3 spoonfuls and it's gone. This could have been a meal in of itself. Now that's what I want to see out of my desserts.

It is really good to get home, see the Monkey and the pups. It's so good to be home. Who knows I might even get to ride a bike this week, mother nature willing...

respect.

faticus

218: rainy days and thursdays...

too much rain this week...

hate when I try to buy cold advil, that I have to sign my life away. Isn't that some kind of privacy violation or something? They register my damn licence, and because I work in PA and live in MD, it took like 20 minutes.

damn meth heads. I feel bad for them, but damn, I just want some cold meds for you know my cold.

anyway. I'm just saying...

respect

faticus