Onwards and forwards... but kinda at an indirect angle

No weekend getaways to exotic locales.  

Still, something like 160-180 miles in seven days of riding.  One trip to Pisgah, but mostly local trails, two greenway rambles, and one wandering journey around town linking up a couple lesser ridden singletrack ribbons.

More snakes tho... 

 

It almost feels like I went straight back to March.

Member March?

I member.

My mountain pizza game has been renewed, but it took some thinking about what I really want in a slice of pizza that has been warmed by my lower back for a couple hours.

I'm now at least four months in on totally intending to buy a new Sawyer water filter instead of bumming one from friends... but...

Farlow Gap.  What can I say?  That was at least my fourth ride down it after saying I'd never ride it again.  The gnar gnar bro bros will wanna put my head on a pike, but it's in a sad state right now.  I know some drainage work was done a few years ago, but it was just terrible.  With it requiring a climb  of something like 2,000+ feet of climbing in about six miles to get to the top, I'm wondering how many people are actually riding it anymore.  It's a legendary trail, but most people looking to get their shred on are probably hitting Bennett, Black, Avery... way more accessible (and fun) trails.

Mebbe that was my last time?

I did an image search for Farlow Gap (and me) and found plenty of photos of my friends and I riding sections that aren't even recognizable today.  So there's that.

So much local riding got did done.  

Some rides were just to get out of the house, others to be marginally social, and a few that were just plain fun.  I truly am blessed to have so much trail nearby with a decent variety of flavors.

Now, back at work for a week and the RNC is in town.  That should be great fun, right?

Oh, I can't get to work using South Tryon or College and there are so many guns and cops and fences and Jersey barriers?

Smells like freedom all up in here.

In need of recipes

Bill Nye told me my last post was rather bleak.  What can I say?

Hump day or something.

Today is Fri-yay, so here comes the weekend followed by five days of wandering around looking for something to do (paint the interior of the hall closet... why not?) and then another weekend.

The reason I posted images of my wheels leaning against the wall and not on the bike was because my bike was incomplete at the time.  Always a difficult time for me, when my bike is hanging up in a state of disrepair.  My orange squish bit was at FOX getting some needed love... but they turned it around fast enough that I've missed zero adventures.

Tis a beautiful thing... I built it back up last night whilst also making supper... because you should be properly distracted when you put together something that your safety depends on.

Should be like riding a new bike this weekend.

The mountains are calling my name... or they're just calling me a "dick."  Dunno.

Faster engagement, lighter wheels, beefier tires (again), and a 44mm offset crown to try something entirely different.

See?  I'm in a good mood.  

Just wait to see the smile on my face once I get rid of all the mold in the hallway closet and have a fresh coat of paint on the walls... that will only be seen by my family, a bunch of shoes, and my DVD collection.

I almost registered for a race the other day, but either fortunately or unfortunately, it filled up.  I wasn't going to be able to get outta town that Friday early enough to be in my comfort zone for a long drive followed by an early wake up, so there's that.  I probably woulda got fourth place anyways...

On the bright side, the next time I come back to work, the RNC will be in town.  

So I got that going for me...

Taking suggestions as to what should replace mountain pizza as my long haul trail food.  Has to pack into a SWAT bib pocket or slim fanny pack and not melt or give me salmonella.

Thank in advance.

... is on fire.

Let's dip our toes into the shallow end of the pool first. 

I got new wheels.

Did I need new wheels?  Define "need."

When I built up the Vassago Meatplow V.8 almost two years ago, Industry Nine let me know that they had "something" up their sleeve... but it was gonna be months before it got released into the wild.  Without any other boost wheels laying aboot to put on the bike, I bought Torch 310c wheels.

They were fine... well, great actually.  At the time, they were the best wheels I'd ever owned.  Hands down.

But then Hydra came out and I got a set (with 310c rims) for the Vertigo Meatplow V.7 and then the 280c Ultralite rim came out and I dumped even more money into non-Boost technology because I'm an "athlete" and I care about "performance" and then there were no more bike cycle sport races and I ended up riding the Vassago a lot more than usual.

Tell me I'm crazy (you'd be the first... mebbe second), but I can tell the difference between 0.52° of engagement and 3° of engagement... and also the 200 gram weight difference between the wheelsets.  The Vertigo felt like a rocket and the Vassago felt less so...

Cat food is for cats.  Race wheels are for racing.  

Life is short.  YOLO and all that.  Assuming we "race" again someday, I can't say whether or not I'd grab the now even lighter Vassago... because suspension things don't feel like racing and I know that's dumb but... yeah.

So, 280c Ultralite because I'm barely 130 lbs dripping wet, and I can't wait to ride a "new bike" this weekend.

Now, let's jump into the deep end, after a red meat intense heavy meal, a few too many beers, no life guard standing by, and leaving our water wings back in the pool chair.

Pretending that everything is all rosey in Dickland isn't all that great.  I can't say that all this shit we're going through hasn't been destabilizing to some degree.  Every other week when I'm headed towards the big buildings to go to work, it's difficult to not feel like a deflating balloon of shared despair.  It's pretty much a ghost town in Uptown Charlotte, aside from all the construction, because I guess ghosts don't stop constructing things.

But I get it.  We (the few essential workers at the farm... I mean the firm) need to come in to support upwards of 300 attorneys and all the others working from home.   

But it's strange.  Wearing a mask all day as I sit here on a floor that's empty 99% of the time waiting to be called into action of some sort.  Sometimes I hear voices that aren't the ones in my head.  Occasionally, I'm getting outside and doing what I was hired to do. 

Mostly just perusing the internet and seeing professional bike racing picking back up in other countries and thinking...

"What did those other countries do right that we're doing so wrong... ?"

Oh yeah.

Dammit.

At least I'm healthy as well as my immediate family.  My daughter graduated this past Spring, so I don't have to think about what it would be like to send my kid back to school in this environment as we hurtled towards "will they or won't they?" scenarios all summer. 

Being fortunate.  I should be thankful.

But then all the unfortunate things that are happening to others on the daily weigh heavily on my mind, and I have so much time on my hands to dwell on things that aren't bikes and casual distractions.

Then there's my little friends.  I miss them.  I've kept my core group pretty tight in order to "do my part?"  The bike cycle racing people, the Bike Source people, The Spoke Easy people, the trivia night people... dare I say it?

The people at work?

I miss them.

Just getting the chance to do my job and see some smiling appreciative faces once in awhile (not that I'd be seeing 1/3 of their faces as things are right now).

*sigh*

I've been riding my bike a lot, but no matter where I am, it seems like it always takes twenty or so minutes before I can just "be."  My mind is everywhere but on the bike, riding seems stupid... I mean, I always end up back where I started, so what's the point?  The flow just isn't there.

But then it happens.  I'm looking at the next corner or feature or root or intersection and anticipating the next next next.  Riding becomes fun.  All-encompassing.  Nothing else matters.

Nirvana being achieved, I don't wanna get off the amusement ride just yet.  How much liquid do I have left in my bottles?  What time is someone expecting me to be somewhere?  Did I really just have a banana and coffee for breakfast this morning?  

Who cares?

How ironic that the sanest I tend to feel is when I'm totally absorbed in the silly, potentially harmful activity that is hurtling my body through the trees over uneven terrain at the greatest speeds I can attain under my own power hoping that more practice will make me stronger and hone my skills, thus adding more to that speed.

I think once I hit light speed, mebbe I find new hobby, no?

The roof, the roof, the roof...

Why, yes... I did wake up Sunday morning for what seemed like absolutely no reason at 8:07 AM.

And then I went right back to sleep.  When there is no need for an alarm, there is no cause for alarm.

When I did awake, I found out the earthquake had reopened the crack in the front of the house that we had just thrown thousands of monies into almost one year ago.

Blessed.

I rode my bike, and that made things better.  It's what I do... ride a bike... to make things better.

Make the most of weekend moments.  Fill the weekdays with more bike when possible.

Once again, in no particular order...

Bill Nye doesn't mind skinnies.  Member when it was all about skinnies?  I member.

The Topeak Tubibooster from is a lifesaver.  Not once, not twice, but three times.  The joy of broken spokes and tubeless tires... and a too long procrastinated tire swap.

Tortoise in its natural habitat.
 

Bill Nye in his natural habitat... slightly sideways and mid-air.

Drops, gaps, possible death and compound fractures.  Need a bone, take a bone.

Drip, drip...

Drop.

This is our Merica.   For now... anyways.  I just filled out my absentee ballot application... I mean "intention to subvert democracy via the USPS."

Can't.  Stop.  Skinnies.

Barging in on our ride.

A weekend back in the van.  Bill Nye doesn't mess around with his foodings when living out of his vehicle.

S.T.I.L. (Slipperier Then It Looks)

I think I may be tiring of #mountainpizza.  I don't know what's next.  Thinner crusts?  Better toppings?  Less eating it off my seat?

I did and didn't find out.

This happened on my last day at work two weeks ago.  A driving/parking protest between the courthouse and the jail.  This just happens, the kinda stuff that really makes me miss Bill.  He'd be so "cracked out" as he would say.

I'm a one trick pony.

I jump off things.

Things of a certain height.  Not much higher,, but I can go lower.

What can I say?  I'm 51 one years old and ever aware of my grasp to the mortal coil.  I enjoy being alive... well, mostly.  As much as any thinking person can in these times.

On that happy note, mebbe I try to squeeze out one more post later this week.

Mebbe.

STAND BACK

Yet another week of killing time in the woods with frands and a photo dump of some proportion short of epic but more than normal.  Once again, chronological order has been thrown out the window.

I halped Bill Nye make van life more better... by "halp," I mean I sat in that pink camping and offered my unsolicited advice.

Despite the rumble of thunder for a great part of the day, Colin, Bryan and I avoided rain almost as if we knew how to do just that.

How strange that whilst on a ride with one Nick B we would run into the other Nick B driving his sporting car (I'm sure that's what he called it).

Nick B hiding from the other Nick B because he thinks if they get too close it will violate some time travel rule that he learned watching Time Cop.  Also, #mountainpizza

Nick didn't wanna do the same old same old loop so we obvs found something much betterer.

Gnarly Gnick getting gnasty.

I like walking bikes in the woods with Nick.

Once again, rain was dodged like we were storm chasing but totally the opposite.

So many rides... so many #mountainpizza.  I can't keep it straight.

Captain Colin and Bryan doing the troll dance.

This snake.  Don't think I've seen this variety before.  He looked like he just ate two foot long meatball subsssssssss.

This bike, so good... although for some reason after a recent seal renewal, my lockout stopped locking out.  I like lockout.  I gotta figure out a fix right soon.

I was stoked to finally figure out that my SWAT bibs can handle not one but two slices of #mountainpizza.  SWAT bibs > fanny pack when you got capacious pockets in your Endurbro™ sharts.

Dr Mike and I... getting caught out in the rain... again.  I'm either his albatross or he mine.  

I asked Dr Mike to snag a picture of me sending it out into the puddle.  Four tries before he could fat-finger the button on my phone... and on that final try, I went as big as I could, over-shot the landing, and ended up in the weeds.

Dammit.  So muddy.  I'm gonna need to start packing paper plates.

So pretty tho... if you stop and look around... nature and stuff.  Member, kids.  The world isn't all shit.

Speaking of shit, a 25-30 mile ride made into a sub-20 because you can have enough of this at some point.

A dry ride with Dr Mike, albeit one thousand degrees outside, so only dry in the sky but not so much in my chamois.  I'd seen this feature online but not in person.  It was, as they say, STIL.  I took a very hard pass.  Kudos on a local trail having something this intimidating.  

Pulled the plug short on this ride because any ride that has a non-sweater like me to drink almost 46oz of water in just over an hour... is enough... if you wanna ride the next two days in an oven... again.

Bill Nye showing all the stoke after discovering his Race Face crabon crunk was doing the pedal wobble and waiting for two hours for a ride to start... in the rain.

Birthday boy Daily (Shirtless Club for Men member since 2016) and Andy were only 45 minutes late tho, so credit given where due.

Birthday "ride."  Rain.  Rain.  Rain.  Not a very good theme for the week.  Better than heat by by only about 15%.

I got lit up by a yellow jacket right at my mini-beard edge on a solo ride.  Only three miles in... I wanted to throw in the towel, ride home, drink beer... but it was only 11:00 AM, so I kept going.  Twenty plus miles in the tropical jungle that is the BYT will empty a man.  Fortunately, I could concentrate on my throbbing face part and ignore my cooked brain part.

I packed in one more ride with NO PHOTOS, but I swear it happened.  I got in almost thirteen hours on the mountain bike and over ten thousand feet of climbing, so we'll say it was a good week... despite the rain and heat and stinging insects and shortened routes and late starts and watching people at the USNWC behave like nothing is real...

Back at work and the grind is back.  Is it really gonna be August, and I WON'T be going west to where the air is cool and dry to get my respite from the North Carolina summer death heat?

Yeth, El Guapo.