I have come here to chew bubble gum and kick Jennifer Beal's ass

Without constant internet access at work I don't spend as much time as I used to looking at my stats. When I do get around to it I'm still dumbstruck when I find a mention of my blog on an MTB forum from another nation. There's a part of me that is pleased as punch to be an international man of misery, but in some ways I feel pretty ignorant. Knowing that people there are people in the world who speak English as a SECOND language well enough that they are willing to read my incoherent babble always makes me feel inferior as my foreign language skills are only good for things like counting, initial introductions, swearing, and asking where the library is located.

Recently I got a decent amount of traffic from this thread on ForoMTB.com. Being that my Spanish is limited to "Donde esta casa de Pepe?" I used babelfish (not an actual babelfish, but the Yahoo tool) to get a loose translation:

Cactus: You throw a look to this blog, especially what it counts than found in its I9 bushing. Bad Devises Racing: AT least someone's looking out for me It pulls ahead, all to watch the bushings.

raposu: cone cactus, ten well-taken care of with TeamDicky because it is an addictive uncle. Of funniest than it has that way… and in person you divide the ass to you with. Of all ways, to Dicky those of Industry Nine sponsorizan to him, they have left more or less near house and it knows the people of I9… although it is not strange to me that the same has been invented it.

Cactus: Apparently those of I9 are almost neighboring his, and since Dickie had made the trapallada one clear pawls to save weight, the such Drew, that it must be the gurú of I9 put the “sorpresita to him” to dissuade to him if returned it to repeat… And yes, blog is muuuuy good, I take awhile entertained with him.


Besides the mild amusement I get from phrases like "addictive uncle", "person you divide the ass to you with", and "I take awhile entertained with him" I was also to see that Drew (at Industry 9) is now held in pretty high regard internationally as the "gurú of I9". I think Drew needs to print this off, storm into the higher offices at Industry Nine (actually just down the hall), and demand the pay worthy of a guru.

For those that are dying to be in the know so they can appear to be the most knowledgeable Team Dicky fan at the water cooler this morning this is how far along I am with my new bike project:

Sorry, but I had to blur out the size to omit potential correct guesses on my new frame. It wouldn't take too much research to figure what frame uses a 29.37 Thomson seatpost. That's as far as I've gotten with the project thus far as most of the other parts will just be removed from the MOOTS and reinstalled in the appropriate places on the new frame.

Totally unrelated topic. I watched District 9 last night, and it was awesomely awesome (more awesomely awesome than the soon to be available, all new, re-designed Awesome Strap). It was a like Rowdy Roddy Piper's movie They Live...



mixed with a little Shaun of the Dead



with a little bit of Flashdance



All right, there was no Flashdance type material in the film. Maybe I was thinking about Transformers, but I do think a little Jennifer Beals hawtness mighta been the only thing keeping District 9 from being an Oscar contender.

See you next year (figuratively speaking, unless I actually see you next year).

Bike Ride!!!

I don't actually spend all my time shedding sponsors, shooting myself in the foot, and picking up new sponsors based on loosely formed, beer lubricated friendships although it seems like that's all I've written about lately. Well I guess I also covered dead pets, new frames, weekly injuries, and naked guys at the Y. Sometimes I do actually go for a bike ride.

Poorly aimed Kerkovian shot taken with my new cell phone that has a CAMERA. Did you know they make cell phones with cameras?

Last weekend ALL the trails in Charlotte were shut down due to recent heavy rains. We've got a 24 rain rule here in the Queen City, but the rains were substantial enough to keep them closed for days on end after the rains subsided. The mountains were not an option either as they were socked in with 8-17" of snow right before the holidays. I thought I was screwed until my boss called and asked me if I wanted to head down to South Carolina and ride Hanging Rock.

First things first. I haven't ridden with my boss in over a decade. The last time I rode with him he had a steel rigid hardtail, but since then he has upgraded his rig.

That my friends is a (a crappy picture of) a GT Thermoplastic LTS with proprietary shock, square taper Race Face LP, cranks, Magura HS 22 rear RIM brake, and a slew of other parts that belong in the MOMBAT. This was the bike of his dreams years ago, and it has served him very well since his purchase. He does plan on upgrading again... in five or so years.

So back to the ride...

We headed down to Hanging Rock which is named after the creek that runs through it. All the trails are on the private property belonging to the family of Holt's friend Robert Mobley, our tour guide for the day. Also in attendance was fill-in messenger of the year, Eric.

Here's Eric atop on one of the many giant boulders deciding if we should attempt to ford the swollen creek or build a raft.

Once we got to Mobley's place he had to be summoned from his quarters, as he and his son had spent the night in the woods. It took awhile to rustle him up, but I could see how it would be hard to leave the comfort of these quarters.

Handbuilt chimney, cot for the boy, and (not seen in the picture) Gilligan style hammock for dad over the boy's sleeping area.

Before we headed out Robert hooked up the neutral support vehicle with extra water, spare tubes, and a floor pump.

His son Reese was supposed to be our Johan Bruyneel for the day, but washed away bridges kept him from fulfilling his duties, so he just spent his time puttering around the woods.

We weren't on the bike five minutes before we encountered one of the many washed out bridges. Half-assed repair work was done as necessary, and the ride hardly sputtered when faced with such difficulties.

Some bridges were left untouched by the flooding, and it's a good thing as this one would have been hard to fix, and crossing this creek would have required helicopter support.

Hanging Rock is a hoot and three quarters. The trails do not fit IMBA standards at all, but the steeps are steep (my 32X18 was quite taxing), the switchbacks are numerous and tight, the stunts have a decent pucker factor, the scenery is amazing, and the overall newness of the experience made it all the more fun. It reminded me of riding way back in the early 90's when there weren't really any "mountain bike trails", so we just rode wherever we could and had more fun than we could imagine. Thanks Robert for the unique experience and the chance to do something other than just hammer the pedals and turn every fifteen feet.

See, I actually do ride my bike. I also have a new helmet (first picture) that has a story of its own, and I'll tell you more about it when I get back to my usual non-ride related topics.

New news that new to you

First things first...

You may notice that Bolt Brothers (my local bike shop support) is missing from the sidebar.

That's sort of a long story, but I'll try to be brief. I went to Will Bolt back when I found out that MOOTS was officially going to sponsor me for 2009 as he was the closest MOOTS dealer to my house. Will accepted me into the fold even though he did not know me (beyond local hearsay and gossip). Over this past year he was quite generous and helpful in regards to assisting me in my quest to make great bike race, and on my trip to DSG last year he was quite the travel companion and ward. Unfortunately Will has a life complicated with health issues, and over the past few years he's been under the knife more than a Thanksgiving turkey. He also has to make time for his wonderful family and chase after his own interests, so being an owner of a bike shop became more than he had time for at this stage in the game. His retail store has closed its doors over the last few months, and while Will still plans to be involved in cycling through professional fittings and coaching he has decided (in his own words) "to get lost in the Milky Way".

So I ended up without a bike shop sponsor. There are still a couple of local bike shops I frequent when I have a need to fill my needs, but I got a call the other day while I was browsing at the local Salvation Army and doing my best to not buy a futon or a ping pong table I didn't need nor have room for in my humble abode. A familiar voice from my trip to Durango was on the other end, and a new partnership was born as I strolled amongst the unwanted TV's and semi-soiled undies.

George Wisell from Bike29.com has decided (or his wife Mandy said it was OK) to help me out in 2010. I first met George back when I was racing for Ellsworth Team Twenty Four back in 2001. I was out at the 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo when Tony Ellsworth himself (looking resplendent in a $300 pair of designer jeans) showed up to meet the team. His right hand man (who I assume did things for Tony that he didn't want to do with his own right hand) was with him, and that man was George. I really didn't get to know George very well as he had to tend to an ailing, flu ridden Tony, and I spent most of the race sitting around in the pits nursing my injured knee and seeking out beer in the middle of the desert.

I met George for a second time at the Fool's Gold 100 miler in 2008. We were standing around the keg the night before the race when we figured out that we had met seven years ago. What we talked about after that is still quite a bit hazy, but I do remember staying at the keg tooooo long that night. Ouch. Anyways, we kept in touch here and there, Mandy met me this year at Fool's Gold and approved me as a travel companion for SSWC09, and together they decided that sponsoring me for 2010 was not going to be too risque for their tastes. I think my mad dance floor skills were what swung Mandy to my side, but since shoving actual dollar bills in my banana hammock while we were throwing down at the Derailed Saloon would have been the thing that finally got us kicked out this seems like a much more appropriate way to show her enthusiasm.

So I got some much needed support for next "season", but I'll admit I was looking for a shop that would be closer to my house than Bolt Brothers was (45 minutes away by car). I ended up with an order mail bike shop that is over 1,000 miles from my house*, which is a bit further than I would drive for a few Gu's, but lucky for me they do ship stuff all over the country. Whodathunkit? A bike shop the mails your order to you**... I can't believe no one thought of this idea earlier. They should call it an "order mail bike shop".

George Wisell: He's got the head of the devil, and he's thrown it at you.

* They also run a LBS named Five Hills Bikes of the brick and mortar variety, so all you haters that suck my ceramic balls can not totally accuse me of not fully supporting a LBS.

** If you ride outdated 26" wheels don't bother looking for itty bitty tires and wheels in the online catalog at Bike29.com. What you need to do is get rid of that ridiculous play thing you call a "bike" and sack up with a man's bike. BTW: They sell those too.

Cleaning House

My new bike is...

not this bike, but I must admit this bike looks nice. If I were to build a bike I would probably pick some of the very same parts... oh wait, I did. Can you tell me how many parts the Meatplow has in common with this impostor?

Some of you might have noticed that I spent the four day weekend cleaning house on the old blog. Gone are the sponsor logos that are no longer part of what I'll be doing in 2010. Nostalgia does not play well here, and as heartless as it felt I had to cut the final ties. I also changed the very bottom of the blog (if you scroll down really far) to reflect the return to the "salad days mentality" I'm gonna work hard to dredge up and bring to the forefront once again. The new sponsor that recently jumped on board after extensive negotiations will be added tomorrow. I'd give you hints, but that would be something akin to insider information that could be used for financial gain. I'm not going down Martha Stewart style, so you'll have to wait 24 hours to find out.

Being that I will no longer be sponsored by MOOTS I also added a blog list of folks that I felt might have been inappropriate to list when I had a frame sponsor, but now it seems okee doke. Who are they?

Furry Knuckle: This would be the blog of the Silverback, Mike Ferrentino. It's called 104 Bronson (the address for Santa Cruz Bicycles), and it has an obvious SCB tainted POV. Regardless of that it has a nice Mike kinda style... the kinda style that makes my writing look like dookie. I have not owned a Santa Cruz since the early 00's, but that doesn't stop me from admiring them from afar. I do have to put up with "Wednesdays with Weir" posts, but since my buddy Mark hasn't kept in touch since the Hell Ride this is the only way I can keep up with his ultra cool lifestyle of shredding, modeling, Bud pounding, racing RC cars, and facial hair grooming.

Walt Works: I love Walt, but I don't know if Walt loves me back. He built my first quality rigid fork which I sold to Big Worm, which he broke, which caused confusion and weirdness, but I love Walt no matter what. He's a thinker, he builds bikes with the power of the sun, and he's built some bikes that are not quite beyond reason, but not necessarily something you can talk any builder into building. He blogs about the process of building quite a bit, and I like to read about that kinda stuff since I'm a curious individual.

Groovy Cycleworks: Rody is pretty neat, and the fact that his spirit has not been quashed by living in Ohio is a testament to his willpower and gumption. He builds creative stuff in a creative manner and blogs a lot about the process. His paint is divine, and he's got some cool ideas that he makes a reality in steel and ti. Being an Ohioan he might know Garth Prosser, but I will not hold that against him.

The Real Rock Lobster: This is not the Rock Lobster blog, but the blog of the man behind Rock Lobster; Paul Sadoff. He is quite the curmudgeonly opinionated builder, but with all the years of building experience he has behind him his opinion is well... well... his. I like to read what he has to say, and my only regret is that he doesn't say something more often.

I also added the Surly blog, the Salsa blog, and the Independent Fabrications blog. I read them on occasion, and I'm gonna keep them there so I remember to look at them once and awhile. The Salsa and Surly blogs have interesting industry tidbits, and the IF blog just has some pretty bikes now and then... and this really cool messenger bag with built-in beer holders.

I took the time to weed the garden of my other blog links. Some folks have pretty much dropped off the face of the earth or at least stopped blogging, so I let them go. Things were getting crowded over there on the right, and I needed to make room for the new additions. Sorry.

My schedule for the 2010 "season" is now up for the world to see... well at least the first few months worth. I've officially signed up for the P36 over the weekend, which I'll talk more about later when I have time to get more wordy. You might also notice the question marks surrounding the Tran-Sylvania Stage Race. I've got a few ducks that need to line up to pull that one off, so it remains on the "definitely maybe" list. I really wanna be there, and I've been planning on going since I heard about it, but being a true privateer has its limitations. Everything else on the list is SOLID. I will be at Hoffencross, the Six Hours of Warrior Creek, PMBAR, and the Breck Epic. I will be adding more races as I get around to it. Some stale favorites will be added to the line up, but hopefully I'll have some fresh events to boot.

That's enough for now. Come back tomorrow for the story that not even Cycling News could break (and they even have an inside man... errr... I mean woman).

Do not tell me that onion rings are not meal.

Where's this thing going?

To answer some of the questions from yesterday's HUGE announcement:

Will you be keeping your Moots frame and doing some fresh decorating as Big Dave mentioned above (Make yourself a custom headbadge for the Moots, remove the decals, put whatever decals you want on it)?

Adam B

I will not be riding the MOOTS next year. The Meatplow moniker will be shifted to the next rig which will be here shortly and announced slightly less shortly thereafter. Why replace the MOOTS? It seems weird to ride the same bike I rode last year while I was sponsored when I'm no longer sponsored. Call me a spoiled brat or just a dumbass, but I am choosing to buy something that is a little more... unnnhh... more.... all right, less MOOTSy. It will all make sense sooner or later.

you busy this this weekend?

Peter Keiller

As of yet Peter I have no plans. I was thinking about heading to the Cheesecake Factory, but I found out last night it is NOT a strip club. What a stupid name for a restaurant.

(re: new sponsor) Condom Warehouse?

Joshua Stamper

No, the new sponsor would not be Condom Warehouse. I was sterilized in a home economics accident back in the late 80's, so I have no use for condoms other than keeping the rain out of the barrel of my M-16 assault weapon.

All the cool kids are whoring themselves in 2010. Hope you'll still be on that frame though. Yikes, I'd sell my wife into slavery for that thing.

Jason

Jason, you're offer is pretty sweet, but since slavery has been abolished I will consider a period of indentured servitude in exchange for one ti frame. Can your wife degrease a chain?

And now back to me and my world...

I'm sure there's a perfect explanation for my decision, though I have yet to pin it down. Perhaps I'm just dropping my sponsor so Tomi will get me off his "Oh so pro" blog list...

Nah. Tomi's a cheater, so why would I care what he thinks? Cheater? Well, I found this photo that was taken after the last stage of the Breck Epic:

Apparently Tomi had a beer swilling midget packed away in his Bento Box (right behind his stem). When it came time to coast his fixed gear bike down the road he would kick his legs up in the air and the drunk little man would hold them up for him so he could relax. Sad indeed.

Some of you might be wondering if I'm quitting my job now that I'm an unprofessional journalist. Perhaps I might be going full time with my magazinistic ventures and quitting the messenger/racer thing for good. No, that is not the case...

photo cred Big Worm

The folks at Dirt Rag Headquarters said I couldn't wear my orange shorts at the office (apparently Maurice is distracted by bright objects), so I have to keep my old job if I wanna keep it real.

Speaking of magazines and keeping it real and strippers...

The latest issue of XXCMag came out last week while I was too busy mourning the loss of Wally to mention it. Once again Jason has put together something worthwhile to look at... well except for an article on running by Andrew Brautigam that included the following:

5. Never, ever, EVER run in either short-shorts or with your shirt off. No one wants to see your cyclist hair-shorts (if you shave over the winter) or your skinny, emaciated bird-chest. See: Schleck, Frank, and Dillen, Rich.

Hmmm... how ironic that just the other day I as out shopping for short-shorts, and then I read this fascinating piece of advice. Sorry, but Run Club Part Duh has been heating up, and I'm sweating up my UnderArmors while I'm running. When I head back outside in my sweaty drawers to hop on my bike and make deliveries I'm freezing my....unnhhhh... package off. I must admit though it's nice to be lumped into some kind of group with Frank Schleck.


I'm off work tomorrow, so I'm not getting up to blog. I promise there will be more news next week, and perhaps just a bit more Tomi bashing if you're all good little girls and boys.

Merry Christmas... even you Tomi

It's not you, it's me

I think sometime ago I announced that I'd be riding for MOOTS in 2010, but so help me I can't find the post even though I looked through the archives for at least three minutes. I made that announcement (or maybe I didn't) following a phone call sometime back in way early October. During that conversation both parties expressed a certain level of interest in continuing our relationship through next year. All the particulars would be sorted out in November, and by December things should be rolling right into the new year.

Well December came and more discussions were had, and for better or worse I've decided to not go on with MOOTS in 2010. This may not be one of the best decisions I've ever made, but I went with my gut and that's that. I didn't have something lined up or waiting in the wings, and there wasn't a better option at the time. Something told me it was time to go back out on my own again and go old school in 2010.

It was not an easy decision to make. Without getting all sappy I'll just say that I was a bit conflicted since I got to know some of the people at MOOTS, and despite being such a misanthrope I actually liked them, and I wouldn't want my decision to reflect poorly on them.

Just to quell the rumors...

MOOTS did not drop me because I wrecked my Escalade into my neighbor's tree while my wife was chasing me down the driveway with a floor pump threatening to kill me for my wayward transgressions.

This is not about money or the fact that someone forgot to remove the yellow M&M's from the candy dish at the MOOTS guesthouse when I stayed there in July.

Peter did not offer me a gold plated Misfit diSSent FE if I would leave MOOTS and run off to Moab with him so we can dumpster dive and ride all day for the rest of our lives whilst placating our primal urges by having brief flings with passing trailer trash females that are left alone in the campgrounds while their husbands are out 4X4'ing.

I did not lose my MOOTS Mooto X in a back alley poker game, although I mighta risked it and let it ride a few times on a shitty hand counting on my bluffing skills and fast feet to see me clear.

Hopefully by going out on my own a certain lack of professionalism will return to Bad Idea Racing. Gone are the MOOTS team kits, and there will be a return of an old favorite and perhaps something new for 2010. What exactly I'll be riding on next year is still not 100% determined, but I assure you it will have pink Industry Nine wheels, a Cane Creek headset, some genuinely innovative products awesomely strapped to it, and it will travel all over the place attached to a Raxter Rack. I plan on being out there just as much as ever, and I'll be announcing a very loosely put together schedule soon enough in accordance with my usual "Commit early and often" plan. This year I will go back to e-scribbling the words "Team Dicky" on the race entry forms in lieu of having a title sponsor, and the plan is to stay that way for at least the next twelve months.

As shit comes together over the next few weeks I'll update the blog accordingly. There is a new sponsor (not a frame sponsor or a title sponsor or a beer sponsor... meh) that I'll be announcing sometime early next week... someone I've wanted to work with in the past, but it's taken years to work our way through all the paperwork and legal stuff.

If I need more money to make it through the year maybe I'll just convert my blog to an online jewelry store like Dejay did...

FYI: Bad Idea Racing jerseys are in the works. When I know more you'll know more. Keep in mind that I'll be funding the 2010 "season" in part with the proceeds, but given recent circumstances I will be donating a yet to be determined percentage of my take to the Charlotte Humane Society.

Don't tell me it's too soon

Thanks for bearing with me over the last few days, and thanks for the comments, emails, Facebook messages, phone calls, smoke signals, telegrams, and strippers. It really helped ease the pain (although The Pie did not take too kindly to the stripper at the front door). Not blogging was the right thing to do since I would have been going on and on about grieving and loss. Topics like "Top ten ways to grieve when you're on the go" and "The moral implications of euthanization" we're hardly gonna go over very well. We've really been missing Wally around here lately, but...

I'd like to think that I don't believe the whole "everything happens for a reason" thing, but sometimes it's hard not to. The Pie and I wouldn't be together if not for a series of incidents that put us in the same place at the same time years after losing touch with each other while we were attending YSU. Without getting into all the sappy details if I hadn't been student teaching, hadn't taken my kids out sketching in the local park, hadn't been walking back to the school with a student who lived next door to The Pie (at that time just "Kim"), hadn't seen Kim drive by as we were crossing the street... my life would be totally different. I wouldn't be living in Charlotte now, wouldn't be a bike messenger, wouldn't have gotten into endurance racing, wouldn't have The Boy and Fajita... you name it. All these things happened because of one fortunate moment in time.

Anyways...

The day after Wally was put to sleep Cheese showed up at the Humane Society.

Cheese was left locked in an apartment after the tenants were evicted. She was alone without food or water for at least ten days before the landlord found her. She had started to chew on her legs and was pretty emaciated when she was rescued. She was taken to Animal Control, then the Humane Society saved her from her possible fate there, and she is now staying with us so we can help put some weight back on her (she's sitting around 5lbs and should be closer to 8 or 9lbs). We've got two weeks to get her fat and happy, and yes, she has made Wally's absence a little easier to deal with.

I promise this blog will go back to being bike related tomorrow. As a matter of fact there's some big news tomorrow, so be sure to check back in for the first bike specific post in a week or so.

Happy shortest day of the year fellow bike commuters. We win again!!!

Goodbye Wally

Yesterday Wally the long term foster woke up for the last time. His congestive heart failure had finally caught up with him, and his quality of life had been reduced to nothing.

Wally came into our lives at the right time. Just days after my father passed away The Pie got a call from the Humane Society. She called me right after she hung up with them and asked me if I would mind it if we took in a chihuahua that was probably going to die in a few months (more than likely a few weeks) in order to let him live out his final days in a happy way. I reluctantly agreed, and she brought him by the uptown on her way home to introduce him to me. He was a timid looking piece of shit little dog, but I couldn't see the harm in letting him stay with us.

Wally ended up at the Humane Society in the most unusual way. A very nice citizen saw him at a garage sale in a cage for $15 (the owners were selling everything they had since they were losing their home). She bought him and took him to the Humane Society where they looked him over and diagnosed his condition and gave him his sad prognosis.

Wally defied the odds and lived another 20 months. He was grumpy at times, but sometimes all the wheezing and hacking got to him and made him sore. Other times he was happy and loving, crawling under our covers at night and demanding attention when he needed it. Our two other dogs (a found Shelty and a found medium sized mutt) got along with him swimmingly and treated him like he had always been there.

We knew this time would come, but it didn't make it any easier. I never, ever, ever thought I could love a chihuahua, but I was wrong.

Sad post, I know. I've read plenty of similar posts over the years on other blogs, and I realize it's just a cathartic way of dealing with it.

So let's do some good with it...

Support your local Humane Society. Give them a bag of dog food, take some time to short term foster some cute kitties and puppies for a couple weeks, donate cash money, give them your time and scoop poop for a few hours... whatever it takes. Dogs don't start wars and cats don't run Ponzi scams. They're like little people with slightly more fur and less evil tendencies, but they don't have opposable thumbs which makes it hard for them to find gainful employment, so they most definitely could use your help.

I may be taking a day or two off, but I'll be back Monday for sure.

More Run Club Part Duh

I'm now entering the third week of Run Club Part Duh. I've been going to the YMCA at least four days a week, and I actually found time for one trail run two weekends ago. I'm pretty comfortable with running for up to 40 minutes... at least from the standpoint of mental stability, exhaustion, and endurance. I am having "issues" though...

The toes that I smashed with the case of canned cat food protesteth too much on every other stride. They get all shoved up in the front of the shoe, and they let me know with every step just how they feel about Run Club Part Duh. The pain is a two on a ten scale, and so I am able to ignore it just fine.

This has turned into a problem...

The lump has been replaced with a bruise that covers most of the side of my foot. Right now it's a very autumnal shade with greens fading into yellows and the dark gray and purple shades of winter offsetting its colorful glory. At first it was tolerable, but as of late it has become a problem, and after yesterday's 30 minute run I am now limping around the house. I think that because the YMCA enforces NASCAR rules (all left turns) on the majority of the weekdays at the track I'm putting uneven stress on my feet as I'm making turns every 1/36 of a mile. The pain is closer to a six on the ten scale, and I'm not gonna be able to go back to the Y until it subsides.

I've had a lot of time to think while I've been running. I write blog posts in my head that may never see the light of day, I compose emails that need to be written, and I listen to the music over the YMCA sound system. I think they chose a satellite station that plays music that forty something year old people (might) wanna hear, as Bruce Springsteen, KISS, Van Halen, Power Station, and U2 all got some play time yesterday. I even heard the song from Lost Boys with the greased up sax player...

Ewwwwww...

While I'm running I look down at the people below using the machines, playing basketball, and lifting free weights. I tried the treadmill the other day, and I only lasted ten minutes. It was something akin to torture, putting forth so much effort to remain stationary while the news of the world was displayed before me on a large flat screen TV. Sometimes I see people using large balls to exercise. I used to go to the weight room back when I was attending YSU eons ago, and I don't remember these large balls being used back then. Now people are using them for everything. People are doing sit-ups with balls, they're lifting weights with balls, they're even using the balls as their solitary piece of equipment, and I think I saw one guy carrying a ball into the shower (of course he was naked on the way to the shower save for the towel nonchalantly thrown over his shoulder). I'm trying to figure out how I can use a ball when I'm running, since apparently these balls possess some magical fitness powers.

I won't be running today since my foot will probably fall off if I do. I gave some thought to doing some weight training or "core work", but I think it would be pointless. Even if I did some free weights and spent some time on some fancy machines I'd lose any benefits I might gain when I stop doing them as the "season" approaches. Besides that, it seems to me that you spend more time recovering then you actually do exercising, and that seems boring given the music selection and lack of scenery.

Speaking of scenery, I still haven't figured out the blatant male nudity thing in the locker room. The other day I saw a guy doing the Winnie the Pooh.

Yes, he was walking around with a t-shirt covering his upper body and not a scrap of cloth covering his nether regions. I thought that was illegal unless you're a harmless, sexually ambivalent cartoon character. Sometimes I wonder... I really, really wonder.

And the winner is....

apparently not me

In the past month I have hyper extended my thumb, smashed my face into the ground, dropped a case of cat food on my toes, cracked the side of my foot with me mar's sliding board, and now this incident. I was on a harmless social paced ride with Scott T at Francis Beatty Park in Charlotte just having fun when all of the sudden a tree decided to shift over six inches to the right and directly into my path. I now have a nice, loose flap of finger skin and there is a decent sized piece of skin missing, but I didn't bother looking around inside my glove for it.

I've had a rough off "season". My mojo has turned into a no jo. Only two of the incidents and accidents happened while I was actually riding, and two of the others occurred while essentially doing laundry in a most dangerous fashion. Based on these facts I have concluded that doing laundry is just as hazardous to your health as mountain biking or maybe even smoking, so I think next year when the "season" starts I may have to avoid washing my own duds. I don't think I can risk it.

Oh yeah, most of you are probably here to see who won the ultimate grand prize from last week's That Butt Stuff poetry contest...

Well, the winner is:

Blair said...

My Haiku....

Dicky's wife is great
Her beauty is unrivaled
She puts up with lots.

The Pie read all the entries last night while I was away at the brocery store buying beer under the assumption that my absence would help to keep her selection process legit. She picked Blair's entry because "This is a Bad Idea Racing contest. Why would I reward people who put out a lot of effort or follow the rules? Besides, he's right and ass kissing goes a long way... you have to know who your audience is.". The Pie did mention that she was impressed by all the effort that some of you folks had put into your entries, but then again she was also surprised to find out I had been writing a blog. Blair knows how to get a hold of me to claim his prize since we have occasional contact with each other (I recently asked him if he'd be my snuggle buddy at the Pisgah 36 Hour Adventure Race... he declined). He's already sacked up and entered the silly race, so I know he'll probably be able to put his tube of That Butt Stuff to good use.

I wanted to be with you alone...

I hate when people talk about the weather. I hate hearing conversations about the weather while I stand by as a casual yet trapped observer in a crowded elevator. I hate being asked about how I "like this weather" when I'm trapped in an elevator with someone who never gets outta the uptown habitrail long enough to see for themselves.

Maybe I just hate elevators...

Anyways I've got to talk about the weather since it's been having a great effect on my life as of late. Since I got my new Bagaboo messenger bag less than two weeks ago it has endured four heavy rains already. Tuesday night's commute home was one of those soakers accompanied by upper thirty degree temperatures that turned my hands into blocks of throbbing wood that are useless for the first few minutes after I walk in the door. I've left my house countless times in the past few weeks prepared for the temperatures to warm up later in the day, and then it just failed to happen. Dark, wet rides home where I know people are looking out at me from the safety of their dry car seats thinking "Poor man", "F#*king idiot", or "I'd hate to be him". I'm not sure which one I agree with, but I guess it depends on whether or not there is beer in my fridge at home (there usually is). Hell, I'm looking over at them as they sit in a seven times longer than normal line of brake lights, and I'm thinking to myself "I'd hate to be one of those poor f#*king idiots". Last week the rain kept me from getting on my mountain bike all weekend, and that's the thing I rely on to keep my sanity the rest of the week. And it's only December 11th.

Welcome to an El Nino season in Messengerville. It's been awhile since we've had a rough one, and from the way things are going this might turn out to be the best (worst) yet. Yeah, I live in Charlotte, so I can hear you saying "Quit your bitching" from here. I wouldn't say that I'm complaining. I somewhat enjoy the change...daily hum drum work life becomes slightly more challenging, commutes become and adventure, and I get to test my restraint as more and more people that share my elevators will want to talk to me about the weather.

I smell change on the horizon, or maybe it's just the pile of stinky clothes in my locker at the Y.

Flashback

Eric "PMBAR Honcho" Wever took this photo at the 2000 24 Hours of Snowshoe.

I was racing on a five person team in my very first 24 hour race. I was pretty stoked to be there and incredibly elated at this moment in time that was captured for posterity because I had just passed John Stamstead. As I passed a couple of people supporting the team (stage left and right) I let them know "I just passed John Stamstead!!" Timmy (on the right having no idea who John Stamstead is) is pointing to Dave White's girlfriend (who also has no idea who John Stamstead is). He was using less than subtle body language to let me know that she is about to expose her breasteses to me as a form of inspiration. I was so deeply absorbed in the moment of passing my (then) hero that I failed to see him pointing at her soon to be bare breasteses. I entirely missed that sweet, sweet moment that is normally reserved for rockstars and free beads, and I'll never get it back. Even as popular as this blog has become and despite the fact that my internet fame has grown to dizzying heights I have yet to receive this form of adulation at its most highest level since.

BTW: I now know that heroes are people who bravely change other people's lives with little regard or want for their own personal safety, general well being, or monetary reward. I reserve that word for those who truly deserve it... like women who selflessly show their breasteses to passing cyclists.

I think about it all day long

Registration started the other day for the Pisgah 36. I have not, as of this moment in time, registered myself for the event. This is the third year for this event formally known as The Most Horrible Thing Ever. I would not be lying if I said that I am thinking I'm in and then thinking I'm out at least once or twice an hour. Why so indecisive?

The race starts at midnight on Friday, February 19th. Without getting into the details too much there are six stages and each stage is kept secret until you finish the previous one. You have until noon on Sunday to finish all of them. The winner is the person who can nab the most stages in the shortest amount of time. From the race rules on the website:

To win: Most CP's in the least amount of time. 31 CP in 35 hours beats 30 in 30.

Why can't I make up my mind? I find myself solving all the little logistical problems in my head from time to time;

What would I eat that would be warm enough to heat my insides, easy to cook, and easy to clean up?

What would I wear/do I have enough to wear for 36 hours in Pisgah?

Do I wanna keep my extra body fat for warmth or lose it so I don't have to carry it around for 36 hours?

How can I get warm/stay warm while sleeping?

Do I wanna be in Pisgah for 36 hours?

Of course the last one is the kicker. I'm not too sure that when the first stage is over (I'm guessing some time around dawn on Saturday) that I'm gonna be in all that great of a mood to keep riding. I don't like being cold, but I can usually handle it in small doses. Once I get cold my body takes a long time to recover. Back when Captain Morgan and I were hanging it out trying to beat the finishing deadline at the 2008 Double Dare I didn't stop to layer up on the final descent in an attempt to save time. Not only did we finish ten minutes late I'm pretty sure I was in the early stages of hypothermia. It took me quite awhile to recover and stop shaking, and it involved dry clothes and an actual source of heat. It was an unpleasant and somewhat frightening experience, and I found out that it doesn't take much to push me over the edge when it comes to exposure to the cold.

Eric PMBAR Honcho Wever decides our fate as we shiver and turn a wonderful shade of blue.

I have enough clothing for one long cold ride, and that's about it. I've got one pair of tights that I haven't worn in years, and a few other items I use on sub 20 degree commutes. If those items get wet or soaked with sweat than I am officially screwed. I'm not sure how to fix that problem without throwing money at it.

This race is too tempting. It's only 2.5 hours from my house, but I'll have to leave after a full day of work and hop into rush hour Charlotte traffic to get there. I'll have been up for eighteen hours before the race even starts, and it will probably be twenty four hours before the first stage is over. That's a hell of a way to start my Saturday knowing there's still thirty hours left. The entry fee is damn cheap though, so pulling the plug or laying down is not really gonna be that hard to do (I find the difficulty of quitting increases as the entry fees get higher).

I'm as conflicted as I ever get with regards to my entry/non-entry into an endurance race. Most of my arguments against doing a race are not valid here. The cost is low, the travel logistics are easy (except for driving home on Sunday), the trails are great, the other folks there are good company, and there is some chance of success. The question still remains, will I have FUN for 36 hours? Dunno, but I guess I gotta figure it out before the race fills up.

If you are looking for a real challenge, not laps for 12-24 hours, not one hundred miles of marked trails, and not 4-7 continuous days of 4-7 hours of saddle time this is your race. Make no exceptions, there is nothing else like it out there. Myself??? I'm not so sure this is what I'm looking for, but then again why am I thinking about it ALL THE TIME?

What I've got you've got to get it put it on you

Super rock star Anthony Kiedis shows us where he likes to apply his That Butt Stuff chamois cream before a ride.

I recently got another shipment of That Butt Stuff VIA FedEx. When I opened it I found the box contained more That Butt Stuff than I could use over the next year even if I were to grow another butt and hire a midget to keep it constantly anointed with That Butt Stuff. So in order to spread the butt wealth I have decided I will give it away, give it away, give it away now.

What do I want from you? I'm having a poetry contest, and I will give the winner the grand prize. The winner will be the one who writes the poem that The Pie likes the best (she doesn't know who any of you are, so that should keep it impartial). The poem can be short, long, a haiku, or a song... I don't care. It just needs to be related to butt lubrication and PG13'esque. Post it in the comments here, and I'll have The Pie read them as they come in. She will choose the winner over the weekend, and I'll announce it on Monday.

What can you win?

Actual product will not be quite so blurry

One six ounce tube of That Butt Stuff (street value - $14)
One handy dandy .5oz spare tube for your hydration pack (street value - $1)
One That Butt Stuff sticker (street value - priceless... or .75)

I have used That Butt Stuff on multiple occasions now, and I can attest to the quality of this product. While it did not remove any wrinkles or unwanted pounds from my butt, it did keep it chafe free for hours of enjoyable saddle time. I have not personally applied the sticker yet, as I think it will stick to the hair on my butt causing unwanted butt discomfort.

I will be shipping this on my dime, so I may just use the UPS Underground delivery option that Swiftwick uses to get product to me, so you'll have to allow for 6-73 days for delivery.

Since That Butt Stuff is made with oils of olive, avocado, sweet almond & shea butter I can't guarantee that the UPS gophers won't eat some of your prize along the way, so please be understanding when they show up at your house with a slightly nibbled package. They are easily frightened and may not return to your house if they feel threatened.

Give me your best, or your worst. I'm not sure what The Pie's tastes will be.

I might have a hard time blaming this one on Garth Prosser...

but not for the lack of trying.

I mentioned last week how on the night before Thanksgiving a case of canned cat food decided to unleash its potential energy on my toes thus postponing the first day of Run Club Part Duh. Luckily there was no real damage done, and now my toes only hurt when I wear shoes. I'd managed to squeeze in three runs last week, and things were going pretty smooth until Saturday night when The Pie and I went over to me Mar's place to make her bed up in fresh linens and help her with a few other things. While clutzing around with a basket of laundry in my arms I didn't notice the sliding board that was leaning on end by the side of her recliner. Somehow I managed to knock it over and get my foot as far away as possible to have the absolute pointiest end of it hit the edge of my foot with the highest speed attainable with the help of gravity.

This is a maple sliding board being used for it's intended purpose, but I can see how one could be used for self defense, pest control, or assaulting a figure skater.

It hurt... bad. I limped home, watched a movie, and ignored it. When I went to bed that night I noticed that there was some interesting swelling taking place, so I got outta bed and snapped a few photos.

The Pie says that's trapped blood pooling up under my skin. The Pie also said "No, you may not poke it with a needle."

Fuzzy photo, but you get the point... well, at least I got the point.

Can I blame this on Garth Prosser? I'm pretty sure there's a link between Garth and the danger of precariously stored sliding boards. Perhaps he invented the sliding board as an earthy, tree hugging, wooden woobie that could comfort a dread locked hippie in a time of desperate need...

Even though I was hobbled I went out for a trail run Sunday. The trails were too wet to ride (Garth's fault again), so I had to do something to make me feel like I was doing something. It sucks going a weekend without touching a bike in a riding type manner (repairs do not count as "bike time", contrary to what The Pie says), but whatcha gonna do? Ride a road bike?

Icky.

Run Club Part Duh, and How you too can blame Garth Prosser for all your problems

The last couple of topics I brought up on Monday that came up over the Thanksgiving hiatus will be addressed today. Since I'm giving you a two'fer each topic will get a Reader's Digest treatment as opposed to a full blown expose' length explanation.

I decided right before the holidays to give Run Club another try after a one year break from the stupidity of running. While back in 2008 Run Club was a group affair with an organized run over Crowder's Mountain and King's Pinnacle to bring it to a close this year I'm not bothering anybody else with my plans (or lack thereof). Things just lined up in a manner that made it possible to run this winter in a much more tolerable manner than I did two years ago.

Back in 2008 I was getting up between 5:00am and 5:30 am and heading out for a 2-4 mile run before I'd get ready for work. It sucked. Running in the dark with the temps between 15-35 degrees sucked an absolute capital amount of ass. My joints protested the cold weather and my eyes failed to see the subtle variances in the running surface causing me to trip over debris and turn my ankle on uneven concrete and pavement. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

This year I have a new plan. Since I'm a member at the YMCA (Not just to see a lot of guys walking around naked... btw: What's up with that? Why not wrap a towel around you on the way to the shower? I'm gonna trip over a bench or something if I have to keep walking around looking at the ceiling.)

Where was I? Oh yeah, I'm a member of the YMCA because The Pie bought a family membership. I don't normally use my membership, but I came up with a solid plan. For $5 a month I can leave a pair of running shoes at the Uptown YMCA. All I have to do is leave for work a little early and get to the Y before 8:00am and run until I get my first call. This can be 15 minutes or an hour, so for right now I'm limiting myself to two miles, and I'll slowly be increasing my running time so I don't kill myself right outta the gate like I did two years ago.

It's sorta nice running indoors on a cushy surfaced track high above the people doing more stationary type exercises. I got in two miles on Monday and two more on Tuesday. Like an idiot I tried to run a 6:00 minute mile for my last mile on Tuesday. Not only did I come up 30 seconds short I killed my legs, and I had to take Wednesday and Thursday off. That sucks, as those are the backwards days on the track, and I was looking forward to the change in scenery.

Viva Run Club.

I blame Garth Prosser for all my problems, and you can do it too. It's easier than you think. The other day I tripped over the ottoman one too many times, and I exclaimed "Damn you Garth Prosser for inventing the ottoman!" I'm not sure if he truly invented the ottoman, but I can't say for sure that he didn't either. When I got a paper cut at work while sifting through my messenger bag in an elevator last week I asked my fellow elevator passengers "Don't you hate that Garth Prosser made paper so thin that it can cut your fingers?" Now I imagine someone in uptown Charlotte will be sitting in their cubicle filing their TPS reports and when they cut their finger on a dastardly piece of paper they'll exclaim "F*&king Garth Prosser!!!" Last night when Fajita asked me why she had to eat her vegetables I just told her "Because Garth Prosser says you have to." Now instead of being angry at me her hatred is directed in Garth's direction, and now meal times are much more pleasant.

I have post 9-11 GW to thank for my new "Blame everything on Garth Prosser" plan. He was the man who embodied the "It's not important who you blame for your problems as long as you blame someone" spirit. Thank you George for at least doing one thing right in your eight years in office. You have made it acceptable to place random blame and use scatter gun tactics in a hilly nilly and vengeful manner to find a scape goat.

Don't like today's post? Wanna defend GW's policies? Send your complaints to GProsser@Gman.com. It's his fault anyways.

Wazupwidis? You tell me

The next topic that I alluded to on Monday that I will discuss today for a hamburger next Tuesday is the best piece of unprofessional journalism to grace the pages of the illustrious and great tasting magazine since the Old Coot discussed the drawbacks of using those new fangled toe straps, "Wazupwidis?"

Check it. It's legit, there's my name listed under contributors.

Yes, it happened. I gained a slight amount of legitimacy as a writer by having my first article published in a real paper type magazine. This is not like the time I was in Decline for the Hell Ride, or on the cover of Endurance Magazine, or briefly mentioned in Bike and Dirt Rag in the past (or even that picture that MBAction keeps using from the 2006 Solo Worlds). No, this is 100% shit freshly squoze from my head, perhaps with some grammar and spelling corrections from the staff at Dirt Rag headquarters, but definitely the smelly parts are from me. This is stuff you will never be able to read here on the blog, so you either need to subscribe, get to a magazine store or local bike shop, borrow a friend's copy, or come over to my house to read one of the 300 copies I got for myself.

I mentioned before that I've been reading Dirt Rag since the early 90's. I used to save all my magazines back then, and I mean all of them. Mountain Bike Action, Bike, Bicycle Guide (which became something else before it disappeared), Mountain Bike, Bicycling, Mountain Biking, and The Cycling and Extreme Knitting Quarterly Review. At some point I realized I had no need for all these old magazines, as I was no longer looking for reviews on close-out items from mail order stores to put together a new bike with outdated parts. I did manage to save one issue as the cover art was perhaps my favorite of all time:

Oddly enough the cover art was done by John Hinderliter who also did the cover art for the latest issue of Dirt Rag that contains my article (meaning I'll be keeping two pieces of his artwork).

This issue (the one adorned with Larry, Curly, and Moe) is from sometime around March 1994. It was purchased at the Nashbar Outlet Store in Youngstown, OH for $3.00+tax.

I flipped through it the other day and marveled over the outdated bike parts, photos of pros long gone, and lack of beer reviews. I also found the inspiration for the title of my article (Wazupwidis?); Gunnar Shogren's column "wuzzupwiddat?".

I find it odd that the only issue I saved contains an article "by Gunnar" that starts out:

"We're sorry to say that Gunnar was not able to contribute his usual tales to this issue of Dirt Rag. Seems he's a bit tied up at the moment training... we've selected two of the more memorable letters that Gunnar received from his faithful following..."

Wow. I wonder how long before I can dirge my writing responsibility to Dirt Rag and just have fan letters printed under my byline instead. Seems like a good idea, but I would've expected no less from the wily (and at that time 42 years old) Gunnar "King Willy" Shogren. Get to writing those letters kids... I'm sorry, they were called "letters" back in the golden era, but we now call them emails... so get to writing those emails kids since I won't have new material forever.

The other day Josh the Wonderboy snuck up behind me when I was writing my second installment of "Wazupwidis?" on a legal pad. He asked me what I was writing, and I told him "I'm writing an article for Dirt Rag".

"You taking over for the Old Coot?" he queried.


Meh.