09.17.2007 | 8:18 pm
I think I mentioned — in passing, in the comments section — a couple of days ago that I have something new coming up.
Well, now I can say what it is without fear of jinxing myself: I’ve got a weekly column at BikeRadar.com. Click here to go to my first installment. And, if you feel like leaving a comment at the bottom of the article — yep, BikeRadar.com has comments enabled — that would be very cool of you. I’d like the BikeRadar folks to know that they pick up a pretty engaged and interesting bunch of people by having me write for them.
Why BikeRadar.com?
I’m writing for BikeRadar because I think they’ve got themselves a good site, they’re interested in doing things a little bit new and different, and because they asked me to.
Plus, they pay me a huge amount of money. Your eyes would totally bulge out if you knew how rich I am now. I just paid off the house, after writing this one article. Next, I’m going to fill my swimming pool (which I need to have made) with Nutella.
How Will This Change the Blog?
Not at all, except for maybe I’ll start acting kind of snobby and dismissive of everyone now. I mean, more than I used to before.
Comments (61)
09.16.2007 | 8:31 pm
I haven’t talked about it ’til now, but I got one really spectacular gift for my birthday: A Canon TX1. It’s a cyclist’s dream camera. 7.1 megapixels, 10x optical zoom, high-def video recording, automatic lens cover when it’s off. Fits very easily in a jersey pocket.
I’ve been bringing it with me most every ride lately. At least, any time I go out riding with friends (note to self: post about the awesome ride Brad and I did a couple weeks ago).
Last Monday I rode a quick “Super Tibble,” as I like to call it — a two hour loop that hits pretty much all my favorite trails in the world: Tibble, Joy, Ridge, Mud. Two hours full of perfect singletrack.
I was riding alone, though, so I made a concious decision: I’d leave the camera behind. I mean, what would I want to take pictures or video of?
I am such a fool.
First Clue
As soon as I began climbing, I knew I had made an error in not bringing the camera. The colors are starting to change, and when they change around here, they go a little nuts.
The color changes actually made me a little sad this time, though, because they made me think of Kenny missing this ride — and all the Autumn rides. You see, every Autumn, Kenny and I have the same conversation about how Fall is the best time of year for mountain biking. Nobody’s out on the trail anymore, in spite of the weather being much nicer, and the trail no longer being dusty.
And in fact, it was true. Here on the best trail for miles around, and I wasn’t seeing anyone. And the temperature was about 70 degrees. And the trail conditions were perfect: hard-packed, barely tacky. No dust. I wished he hadn’t busted his hip, at least not until the end of Autumn.
I took in the colors and kept going.
Second Clue
The first mile of Tibble Fork is brutally steep. None of it is impossible to ride, but I have threaded it all together without putting a foot down maybe five times, ever. Monday was one of those times.
I kept going, not wanting to break my string of luck, up the next steep part. Cleaned it! Then up the loose S-curve to the first meadow. Still clean! As I rode, several times quail — their neck feathers puffed out like a ruff — dashed across the trail. I wished for my camera again, though I kind of doubt I would have been able to get to the camera in time to get a picture of the fast-running birds.
Then, after miraculously making it cleanly to the second meadow without putting a foot down, I saw something awesome: a four-point elk. A big one. Now, I’m not a hunter, but I do love a good elk steak (my dad is a hunter), so I had mixed feelings on seeing this. On one hand: magnificent, beautiful animal in its element on a perfect day. On the other hand: good eatin’!
Why didn’t I bring that camera?
Third Clue
After finishing climbing Tibble (my climbing streak was broken by the crux move, and then several times on the endless move), I dropped down Joy, loving every second of the perfect state of the trail.
Then, as the trail left the alpine and evergreen forest and opened up into a sloping meadow, my trail was blocked.
By a moose.
To tell the truth, I don’t know whether this was an especially big moose. His rack wasn’t all that big. But even small moose are pretty big.
I stared at it for about two minutes, just kicking myself. I could not believe I had left my camera behind. I would have loved to have brought home video to show to Susan and the kids.
Finally, I decided it was time to get rolling again, but the moose was still there. Right in the middle of the trail. There was no way I was going to roll by and potentially startle something that big, with those long legs.
So I yelled at it.
It turned and stared at me, unconcerned.
I yelled some more.
It turned away from me, no longer interested in what I had to say.
Eventually, it wandered away, and I continued my ride. By the time I finished, I had decided I would come back the following day and do the exact same ride again, this time with the camera.
Redux
Of course, you know what happened. Lightning doesn’t strike twice like this. The next day, I saw no quail, no elk, and no moose.
That said, the trail was still awesome, and the weather was still perfect.
And I did at least get a picture of the changing colors on the mountain:
And…
And…
So, not a total loss, I’d say.
Comments (39)
09.14.2007 | 4:19 am
From time to time, I will consider the “Desert Island” question as it applies to a particular food. There are, for me, a surprising number of foods which I would be pretty happy eating exclusively for the rest of my life. Peanut butter sandwiches? Check. Burritos (provided they come from one of my favorite taco shops)? Check. Fish tacos? Checkity check! (I really love fish tacos)
There is only one food, however, that actually kinda wish I’d get desert islanded with: Breakfast cereal. I love breakfast cereal. I would gladly eat it day in and day out, every meal for the rest of my life. If there were a desert island with nothing but breakfast cereal to eat, I would move to that desert island and then build a fort complete with a parapet, from which I would defend myself from any ne’er-do-wells who think I might want rescuing.
Preemptive Dismissal of Naysayers
Oh, I know what some of you are thinking. “Breakfast cereal isn’t just one food, like a peanut butter sandwich. It’s a whole aisle in the grocery store.”
To you, I say, “Pfff.” This is my desert island fantasy, and in this fantasy island (which is much different than Fantasy Island, because I want nothing to do with Mr. Rork or Tattoo on my Island of Breakfast Cereal Delight), there is a mysterious, enormously large cache of my favorite breakfast cereals. Oh, and also there’s a milkman who drops off five gallons of 1% milk every week. And there’s a nice, working fridge.
Oh, don’t roll your eyes. It’s no sillier or unrealistic an island than Lost. Quite a bit less silly, actually.
The Best of All Possible Cereals
Originally, I planned to call this post “7 Perfect Breakfast Cereals,” but then I realized my love for cereal doesn’t really break out that way. There are about 5000 kinds of cereal, most of which are delicious.
That said, there are two breakfast cereals which somehow stand out from the field, rise above the noise, and are otherwise objectively perfect.
- Honey Bunches of Oats: It’s got flakes! It’s got oats! It’s got crunchy clusters of sugary goodness! It’s purportedly low in fat and has 9 essential vitamins and minerals! This cereal is so delicious I would happily eat it six times per day, which may explain why a box of it never lasts through the day at my house. Note: The original is the best. The others — with Almonds, with Strawberries, with Peaches, with Bananas — are like drawing a fancy hat on the Mona Lisa: not necessary, and probably not an improvement.
- Reese’s Puffs: These are actually best as a snack. But mercy, what a snack. There are other peanut butter cereals out there (Peanut Butter Cap’n Crunch, for example), but none of them come close to this one. How does Reese do it? That dude’s a genius, I tell you.
I am prepared to hear arguments for other cereals I should try, provided you are willing to vow, under threat of severe ridicule, that your favorite breakfast cereal is every bit as good as my favorite breakfast cereals.
Also, I’d be interested in hearing from anyone who doesn’t like breakfast cereal, just so I can observe and pity you, much as I would a two-headed calf at the county fair.
PS: I hereby declare that Autumn has begun one week early. Monday I shall provide proof. In any case, let the annual weight gain commence! Huzzah!
Comments (120)
09.12.2007 | 2:00 pm
Today’s Susan’s “scan” day — which means a week from now we’ll know whether the chemo’s continuing to do its job. I stayed home from work to take care of the twins while Susan did her CT scan and then came home and crashed.
I’m an anxious ball of nerves, and I’m going to be like this ’til this time next week.
It occurs to me that there’s going to be a week like this every quarter for pretty much ever. I don’t like the thought of that.
Trying Something Different
A few weeks ago, I asked whether I ought to do the e100, Lotoja, or the 24 Hours of Grand Targhee. As many of you noticed, I was leaning heavily toward doing the 24 Hour Race.
Since then, I’ve been thinking, though. Here are the things I’ve been thinking about:
- The race is on September 15.
- Susan’s birthday is also on September 15.
- Birthdays mean nothing to me.
- Birthdays mean a lot to Susan.
- If I do this race, I’ll be gone on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday — three of the days of the “anxious week” during which we’re wondering what the results of Susan’s scan are.
Thinking about all these things, a wild thought occurred to me: what if I stayed home on my wife’s birthday and made her a cake? Possibly, even, the best cake in the world? And furthermore, what if I wrapped her presents, instead of handing them to her in the amazon.com boxes they arrived in (or at least wrapping the amazon.com boxes up)?
And last of all, what if I stuck around and took Susan out to a dinner and movie on her birthday, to take both our minds off the Big Questions we otherwise can’t seem to get out of our heads?
It’s so crazy, it just might work!
Comments (82)
09.10.2007 | 9:05 pm
I’m going to let you in on a personal little secret. One I’ll bet you wouldn’t have guessed about me: I am not good at mixing and mingling with strangers. If I’m at a social gathering where I don’t know many people, I will hang out exactly long enough to make sure that the person / company that for some reason expects me to be there has noticed that I am in fact there, and then I’m gone.
You see, I’m lousy at small talk.
I know, that seems like a bizarre thing for a guy who, for about 2.5 years now, engages in what amounts to electronic small talk on a pretty much daily basis.
But that’s because we’re talking about bikes. I can talk about bikes all day, day after day, with anyone who’s also interested in bikes. Doesn’t matter if they’re interested in road bikes, mountain bikes, track bikes, BMX, downhill, endurance, cross-country, cyclocross, building bikes, restoring bikes, racing bikes, touring with bikes, or some other thing about bikes. If you’re interested in bikes, I’m genuinely interested in your story, and maybe have a story you’ll enjoy, too.
So, armed with that knowledge, I always look forward to meeting other cyclists when I’m riding. Almost certainly, we’ve got stuff to talk about, and we’re going to get along great.
There are, however, exceptions.
Hello, Rabbit
A few days ago, I was riding my bike to work — I had my Banjo Brothers Commuter Backpack on, loaded up with my computer, lunch, and a change of clothes. This pack’s comfortable and holds everything I need, but loaded up this way, it’s certainly not light.
As many of you know, I’ve got a good-sized climb as part of my 20 mile commute to work: the South side of Suncrest — a four mile ascent with 1300 feet of altitude gained. I had planned on just kind of churning my way up in my granny — no special need to set a PR today.
And then I saw the guy up ahead.
You probably play the same game I play: “Close the Gap.” You know, make a note of a point the person ahead of you passes and note the time, then see how long it takes for you to reach that point. When you do, note another point the person passes and see how long it takes for you to reach that point.
The point of the game being, of course, to reduce the amount of time between each measurement.
The first time check showed he was 1:40 ahead of me. The next one, I brought it down to 1:35. Not much of a change.
So I started pushing myself a bit.
Pursuit
By the next time check, I had brought the gap down to 1:20. Then 1:00, then 0:45.
By the time I got to within half a minute, I decided I no longer needed to measure gaps and should just concentrate on catching him.
And, in the middle of the penultimate pitch, I got close enough that I knew I would catch him.
I slowed down for a few seconds, taking time to note that he had shaved legs and an extremely expensive — and clean — bike. Which is to say, this was a person who takes his riding seriously.
Introductions
I, for one, hate it when people pass me and say, “Hey, how’s it going?” It just sounds so condescending. When you say, “Hey, how’s it going?” you clearly actually mean, “Hey, look at me! I’m faster than you!”
OK, If I’m going to be honest with myself I guess I have to admit that when you pass another rider, no matter what you say, you actually mean, “Hey, look at me! I’m faster than you!”
Don’t try to tell me otherwise. We both know better.
So I pulled alongside him and said, “Man, killer hill, isn’t it?”
“Oh, this is side is nothing,” he said, in a condescending voice. “I’ve actually already climbed the other side this morning — it’s a much harder climb.”
Character Assessment
It’s remarkable, really, how much you can learn from a simple exchange like this. Here’s what I learned from his response:
- He was mortified that he had just been caught.
- He was even more mortified that he had just been caught by a guy with a large, full backpack.
- He needed me to know that the only reason I had caught him was because this was his second big climb of the day. If he had been fresh, I would never have gotten close.
- I would not ever willingly ride with this person. If you can’t give props to someone who, while wearing a pack, just caught you on a hard climb, you’re a dork. Seriously.
He then continued, saying, “Not many people are as crazy as me, getting up this early and doing this kind of a ride!” Which made me wonder:
- Had he not noticed the 40 or so other people on bicycles I had noticed as we each climbed the same road this morning?
- It was 75 degrees and brightly lit outside — maybe 7:30 in the morning. My guess is that 80% of the people in Utah who planned to ride that day were currently on their bikes. This dude was definitely not an outlier or showing any wacky amount of dedication by being on his bike right then.
- Climbing both sides of Suncrest is hard, but not crazily hard. It takes just over an hour. Climbing to the top of the Alpine Loop is harder.
- Apart from any number of sarcastic remarks I could think of related to the three observations above, what kind of response could he possibly have expected from me? Abject admiration, perhaps?
So, following the “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything at all . . . but blog about it later” rule, I just grunted — an aknowledgment that he could take however he liked.
The Winner!
Now we were at the beginning of the final pitch to the top of Suncrest. He stood up and took off, sprinting.
When you’ve got a twelve pound pack on your back, a standing climbing sprint just isn’t in the cards. So he gapped me, beating me to the top by about ten seconds.
Except he knows, deep in his heart of hearts, that some guy closed a nearly two minute gap on him in a twenty minute uphill, while wearing a big ol’ pack.
And I have a sneaking suspicion that this knowledge keeps him awake at nights.
Comments (87)
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