The Decade from my Second Level of Hell

I was going to write a 2009 wrap-up of my cycling exploits (or lack thereof). But I decided that after taking a reliable test I randomly found on the Internet that has determined my eternal fate, I am going to fill the cyber world with a multi-part diatribe of the last decade.

2000: Nothing starts a new decade like having a rummage sale. If I was a better shopper and did my research in the 1990's, I would not have bought half of the stuff I thought I needed. But this was a rummage sale that needed to occur whether I liked it or not. It really sucked to see the old crap go to another buyer (or multiple buyers based on who you talked to). So when a hired antiques appraiser tells you that what was in your possession was garbage all along, you do not feel bad that it is in someone else's garage. I still laugh today that I got the better part of the deal. I will be laughing harder in 2010.

2001: At sometime in all of our lives, you hit a patch of ice. But I was speeding on bald tires when I hit that ice. No. Not, never again.

2002-2004: Professional acceleration. Going very fast and not giving a shit about the speedometer. Get out of my way or road pizza. Even a motor with two wheels is procured for the need for speed. Kick. Ass.

2005: Ummm...was someone going to tell me about the gas gage? No problem. I will start walking to the nearest gas station and someone will pick me up along the way. HEY!!! Where is everybody?

2006: On that long walk to the gas station, finally a ride---in a LIMO! Treated like a rock star, with a free lunch. Hitting the gas pedal but always looking at the gas gage. And a GPS for the nearest gas station...

2007: Remodeling/Reconstruction is in order. The exterior is beyond repair, so the effort is concentrated on the interior. It is amazing what some gas, a knife, a saw and 4,5a-Epoxy-3-methoxy-17-methylmorphinan-6-one can do for oneself. But when the doc threatens (3R,5R)-7-[2-(4-fluorophenyl)-
3-phenyl-4-(phenylcarbamoyl)-5-(propan-2-yl)- 1H-pyrrol-1-yl]-3,5-dihydroxyheptanoic acid, it is time to remove the daily ingestion of 3-[(2S)-1-methylpyrrolidin-2-yl]pyridine.

2008: Sorry to steal this, Lance. But it is all about the bike.

2009: Loss. On too many fronts. My Nona left after a wonderful 97. Paul after 83. Pat after 44 hurt the most--on a bike. From loss comes enlightenment on how life should be lived. As my buddy Doug says: "Don't eat the stem of the mushroom and see a few colors, eat the WHOLE bag and see GOD!". Since Mother would have something to say if I ingested psilocybin, I will just say that 2009 sucked.


The Future: My antiques appraiser says that schadenfreude will provide early returns sometime in 2010. Remember, I'm going to Hell anyways....

AND it's all about the bike.

Happy Holidays.

9 and Done

I am done...well done.

Nine straight weeks of racin' in 2009 for a total of 17. I did not even particiapate in 9 races on 2008.

Conclusion: I am fat or old or both. I think just fat. I refuse to think at 45, I cannot be a better athlete than I was at 25. It just takes more work and it starts after Thanksgiving.

So I will be watching the Wisconsin State Championships, not racing. CW Buff and I are going to play superfan to the real racers and drink beer.

2009 year-end summary comming soon...

More Beechwood S&M + Halloween CX = Burnout

I am wasted, smoked, toasted, and burned.

Last weekend was suppose to be nothing but rest from the previous 5 weeks of bike racing, but Mitch had a great idea: Let's all go to the Beech for 60 minutes of hell, otherwise known as the FIRST Beechwood Recoil CX. It probably did not help that Joe gave me a beer when I first arrived, beer number two before the race started, then beer number three at lap three. No matter, but still five hard CX laps at the Beech is no easy undertaking. Ouch. Six straight weeks of racing.

Today: Washington CX. Excellent start. Top three into the turn and up the first climb. But something is wrong, I am not feeling it in the legs/lungs and ten places are lost. It may be burnout since I have been riding since March or it is something else. Seven straight weekends of racing.

Estabrook next Sunday. Eight straight weeks of racing. It has to be top half or I am shutting down 2009.

There is no point paying for mediocre. There is work that needs to be done for 2010 because my USAC license is going to be auto-upgraded if I want to race. Shit.

Beechwood Epiphany and Death of a F6

I hate Beechwood. The Curtes clan are the most twisted, sick, sadistic individuals on two wheels. I do not like you guys because you make it look so easy, which makes me feel more like shit. I am finished--physically and emotionally.

So, my single-track racing career has come to a close and I do not feel bad about it. Two laps at the Beech was the nail in the coffin to 3 years of mediocre, single-track race results. Never DFL, but never to my standards.

Beechwood also was the last race for the 2006 C-Dale. Way too many problems in 2009 for my liking and patience. Winter months will consist of research for building the 29er for the only race that matters in 2010. I may even take a bigger leap in 2010 with one gear--I think it may be time to get back to the basics.

Do I hate the Beechwood Blaster? No, not, never, ever. Mike and Jay are some of the friendliest people I have met and they know how to throw one hell of a party. Great race, great food, great home brews, great conversation, and most of all, just a great vibe. I just feel privileged that these guys ask me to race, even though I suck bad. Thanks guys for the invite--I will pay double the entry fee in 2010 if you let me come back.

Now, just rest. Five straight weekends of racing has taken its toll. One week off, then 4 weeks more of CycloCX, Thanksgiving, Christmas, Cheq entry, CX Skiing, building the 29, and severe weight loss.

Then it starts all over again in 2010...

A Feeling of Nothingness

I have had a tough time personally since my race, but it took an old friend like George to bring me back home. I have may have watched you puke 27 times up and down Olson House in 1983, but you still inspire me. Thanks bud-you have always been my hero, even though you will never understand this.

So, it has been 12 days since that race and I still feel nothing. It was not a total failure, but it was not my most stellar athletic moment.

I did not: Get the best starting spot. Position myself properly during the rollout. Refuel properly during the race. Pace myself properly. Relieve myself properly before the race. Or during the race. This is embarrassing...

I did: Slaughter people on hills. No climbs hills like me. Fuck everybody else.. you all suck on hills. I rule-everybody else sucks. Even if I finished 798/1766.

In the end, a top 45%. Not bad for a first attempt, but not to my standards.

So, this was my first and last 40. I have made a decision to go back to the Short and Fat 16 for 2010. I do not have the training time nor the mental energy to do more than 17 miles for a race. Ask the Szy... I could run the 5k in 17min, but I could never train over 7 miles. Go figure.

CX season started on the 26th. I sucked, but I had a blast. 56th of 92nd--without ANY effort.

If only I would give 5% more...............................

Rage.

After 44 years and 361 days, I have figured out what drives me as an athlete. It is now the first thing that you are greeted to when you see my blog.

Is this a good thing? Yes. If you do not agree, would you prefer that I take my aggressions out on something else besides my own body?

I have no idea where my mind will travel to on 9-19-09. Mile 1 will be self-doubt. Mile 2 will be more self doubt. Mile 3 will turn to suicidal thoughts. Mile 4 will turn to homicidal thoughts. Mile 10 will turn to heavenly thoughts. Mile 20 will turn to delirious thoughts. By Seeley Tower, thoughts will turn to nothing but rage. After that, fuck everybody and everything.

Here I come Gary.

Crash #3 a/k/a How Not to Bunny Hop at 25mph

Jonathan Vaughters once said about crashing:
“Tell you what. Next time you’re in your car, get up to 50 mph, strip down to your underwear, then jump out the door."

I was not going 50mph, but only 25. I did a 360. End over end, not side to side. And still clipped in. And I hit traffic bond.

Moral of the story: I cannot bunny hop a curb at 25mph.

This is really going to hurt in the A.M. so I am in the process of killing it with beer.