Back to me... after these words

Before I get back on to the topic of my new bibs, I figure I'll give some closure to those of you who live under a rock and rely on this blog for all their bicycling type news.  The Specialized Goliath VS Small Bike Shop David is over just about as fast as it started.  Mike Sinyard (CEO) flew to Cafe Roubaix (presumably in his private crabon fiber jet with BRAIN Technology) and personally apologized to shop owner (and let's not forget, war veteran), Dan Richter.  They even got it all on video.  I have no idea how to embed the video here since it was posted on Facebook, but it ended with a double-fisted handshake that transformed into a hug.

I'll admit, most of my indignation here and elsewhere was pretend.  Let's face it.  This was hardly the greatest injustice in the world that's happened in 2013, but when the 300 pound gorilla in the industry picks on the little guy...

Hell hath no fury like a bunch of bored cyclists at work with access to Facebook and Twitter.  And even when they get what they want (an apology and an explanation) they still want Mike's head on a pike.

That's how Nelson Mandela would have wanted it.

So those bibs.

Trial run stuffing the pockets at home before their debut in the mountains of NC.

In the pockets, from left to right:

Tülbag (the OG 4X4" version, not the V.2 4X5")

Gu Brew, iodine, and numerous Gu gels

Fönbag (with antique iPhone 4)

Everything a man needs for a day in the mountains (assuming no one gets injured, lost, or suffers from agoraphobia)

Of course, the phone shoulda went in the middle pocket, and in the end it did.  I was in a hurry... whatever.  The Pie does not want to spend her entire evening doing a photo shoot, especially when it involves this type of behavior.

My take on things that matters very little and goes absolutely nowhere

The Specialized Goliath VS Small Bike Shop David topic has been beaten to death already, and it's only a few days old (and took an interesting turn late yesterday).  The following is a bit of a ramble, an attempt to cover ground not already covered, my personal view of the situation through Tuesday morning bleary eyes.  I'll probably run out of time, so don't expect me to pull this all together before I'm done or that I'll revisit this topic Thursday as I need to get back to talking about my new bib shorts (way more important).

I just found out about this whole thing on Sunday, even though it "broke" on Saturday.  At its birth, I was not hiding under a rock, but actually riding over many of them and posing my bike against one.

Cycling: IRL

So I missed the initial foray, but I got right to it Sunday morning.  With limited facts and a weary head, I produced this image for Facebooking along with some commentary about Specialized suing the earth for making tiny reproductions of itself called Globes™:

Had I known it would be included in the now infamous "Open Letter to Mike Sinyard" and the "Suck it Sinyard" tumblr page, I mighta tried harder to center the big red S.  Anyhoo... I went back later trying to edit the image description, clicked a couple wrong clicks in my four enchilada hangover, and deleted it.  Self-validating shares and likes gone.  All in all, an almost complete failure.

Later on, I posted this: 

One of my most beloved toys from my childhood... aside from my plastic, life-sized M-16 that I broke trying to crack the ice in the puddle in my back yard so I could drag my Stump Jumper through it behind my Huffy Wrangler.

Little did I know that someday my first real mountain bike would be a Stumpjumper.  Not to say my first two mountain bikes were imaginary (like my friends were when I was in elementary school), but they had death-defying plastic Shimano Exage components that were more decorative than functional.

My first "real" mountain bike, some time around 1992.

Yes, that is my 1992 Stumpjumper.

weeeeeee.

The overlap in the current world of industry insider (past and present) douchbagginess is massive as of late.  No sooner than I make plans to procure something for which I have great desire, I see that others have obtained them before me.

photo cred: Stevil

So not only did Stevil fill my hole at Dirt Rag, he also managed to use his industry insider douchbagginess to get the bibs of my dreams for FREE, but then he also-also titles his most recent post (of substance) "Here comes the corn™," totally disregarding the fact that I trademarked TM'ing things for no reason at all.*

I have been wanting bibs with multiple rear pockets for quite some time.  Remember my excite when Specialized (which is currently being lambasted on the internet for loading a moving truck full of baby seals using a pitchfork) came out with their SWAT concept?

As of the moment, buying anything from Specialized is akin to placing the baby seals on the tines of the baby seal loading pitchfork, so these bibs I no can haz, lest I be pelted in red paint the second I leave the premises.  Fortunately, Giro came out with an alternative... that I had to actually buy if I wanted to own.  No amount of cajoling or douchebaggy handshakes was gonna work for me.

Who's in charge of me?

Well, I accidentally selected my "Sleep in Wednesdays" alarm last night.  The good news being that I got an extra 50 minutes of sleep.  The bad news being that I don't have time for a decent blog post or even the less than decent kind you're used to.

My apologies.

You now get recycled FaceLeaks and whatever else I can bang out in twenty minutes.

I was a little pissed about something I read on the Jingle Cross Rock FacePage, which I can no longer find, but I assure you that USAC is doing a fine job at nothing but being themselves.  Taking money from the mouths of babes...

There was some good news yesterday.

Probably the first time I've ever registered for a race more than a thousand miles from my home with no idea how I'm getting there, where I'm staying, or with whom I'm traveling.  I see great opportunities for fail here.  I also wanted to discuss the first part of my "season" today in an effort to get some input...

Guess that will happen later.

And one more final bit.

Loneliness of the Long Distance Punner

Last night, I was going to have the house to myself... a great time to learn how to bleed my XTR brakes... something I've successfully avoided for months now.

Around 3:30PM, Bill Nye was desperately seeking company via FaceMessages for the NoDa Brewing Run Club Wednesday night affair.  I do not run and have no plans to start, but the run did begin and end at a brewery and it would mean I could put off the whole "bleeding brakes" thing.

I was in.

Three options: one mile, three miles, and five miles.  Don't wanna do the sport distance.  Give me five, despite the fact that I don't run.

Rode home after work, ate an avocado with salsa, washed it down with a beer, grabbed my fourteen year old racing flats, and hopped in the car with Bill Nye and Ramsay.

Assimilated with the group, crossed North Davidson en masse, and into the neighborhoods trying to not step on people's heels.  The one milers broke off soon, then the three milers... and then Bill Nye and I were out there with some other guy who was doing the five for the first time.

Awesome.

We held up a bit, found someone who knew where they were going, occasionally got our bearings, and ended up back at the brewery in 40 minutes.  Didn't think I'd be able to do eight minute miles off the couch... perhaps it was the knowledge of running towards beer. 

Damage report.  One aggravated toe injury, an odd blister the size of a dime behind the ball of my right foot, very tight quads, a slight hangover, and still unbled brakes.

Right where I left it.

I'm coming up with a plan in regards to the SSUSA VS SSWC thing...

Postponing the Unpostponable

When the alarm went off yesterday at 6:30AM, I awoke in a state of anger.  Squinty eyed, looking around the room, closing my squinty eyes... I hated everything in that moment.

Fuck the following things:

* blogging

* working

* getting up

* moving

* the outside world

I just remained there for an eternity, which was actually no greater than three minutes.  Enough time to realize that I can't fight the inevitability of reality.  I got up, stepped around the dogs, fired up the computer and the coffee, and jumped back into normality.

Not sure where the negativity came from.  Perhaps it's a combination of the following things:

* Holidays.  This is not the best time to have my job.  Busy delivering a mix of corporate type gifts and actual important end-of-year shit.  Banal elevator conversations about shopping and football.

"Did you see the game yesterday?  I was exhausted by the time it was over."

* My injured toe

* The time of year.  Getting cold, dark, and just unfriendly.  Wears on one's spirit after a time.

* No more racing for quite some time in the near future and no clear picture as to what 2014 will be like.  I do better with some sort of focus.

Right now, focus has to be brought into the 2014 decision making process.  I've already had two big opportunities come my way for next year, and I think I will end up turning them both down.  Sad because once everyone finds out that I lost my "industry insider douchebag" status, I doubt these offers will continue.

Bird in the hand, but like a whole flock of them in the tree across the field on the other side of town.

It's just way too early for too many commitments. 

Time Travel

It was a very low-key four day Thanksgiving break.  We, The Pie and I, decided to keep it quiet... close to home.

Thursday I decided to start the anal compulsive sorting of shit in the entertainment center.  I had finally bit the bullet and bought a flat screen and a Blu-ray (but well before Black Friday in order to give "the man" a middle finger and spend @ $100 more than I had to), and found that our second hand entertainment center was a haven for old boxes, wires, VHS tapes, recordable DVDs, and all manner of uselessness.  Whilst frittering and wasting the hours in an offhand way, I lost track of time, made a huge mess, and when trying to step over said mess, I stubbed my toe on the foot of the couch.

That, in and of itself, was the most brilliant thing I did all weekend.  It did not stop me from going over to Bill Nye and Ramsay's place for typical (but not so typical) Thanksgiving foodage with the family.

Pleasant, normal people stuff.  Gathering, eating, drinking, conversating.  Not so bad being normal sometimes.