July 4th since my last post?? That's a new record. Wow, that's ages ago. I've done a lot since then. I've decided to not make a statement along the lines of "so much to say, but I can't be bothered right now'. I am going to bother, but perhaps not all at once.
So, what's happened since July 4th?
-I got a haircut on July 12th.
-I went and saw Dr. Andy Pruitt on July 13th.
-I had a weekend event the weekend of July 15th/16th.
-I went to the UK starting on July 17th and saw sheep every day for 2 and a half weeks.
-I didn't win the Speedgoat contest on July 20th.
-I went to the Bontrager 24/12 the weekend of July 22nd and DID'T have a conversation that would determine my future.
-My mom had a birthday on July 31st.
-I went to the TransRockies on August 5th.
-Lucy had a birthday on August 9th.
-I went to Wisconsin on August 13th, during which I DIDN'T have a conversation that would determine my future AGAIN.
-Toby had a birthday on August 14th.
-Tim and Judith celebrated an anniversary on August 15th
-I flew home today to a mostly empty house after the departure of my former roommate and the two triathletes.
I know, some of those don't involve me directly but they are worth mentioning. Hopefully, I'll be able to come up with some clever anecdotes and retell stories from that list, but I really can't be bothered to fill in the gaps right now. I'm shagged from two difficult weeks on the road.
Sheep are still great, though.
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Monday, July 03, 2006
Do the chickens have large talons?
I had an ace ride today. I did this section of the Colorado Trail near Buffalo Creek. It's one of my favorite rides anywhere. There's no spectacular scenery, save for a couple of glimpses of some bigger mountains. There's no exposure or drop offs leading to certain death. There's just tons of lovely, swoopy singletrack with some ups and downs, and one soul destroying grunt of a climb. My friend John went with me, and we stuck to the tradition of a post-ride burger at the Bucksnort. The Bucksnort started out as the mercantile center for the canyon town of Sphinx Park, CO back in the day when the railroad was following the path of the Platte river. Now it's a haven of motorbike and mountain bike riders, and climbers. It's nestled between steep, red rock walls of this canyon that is just wide enough for a creek, some gravity-defying houses, and a single lane dirt road. The walls of the Bucksnort are adonred with handwritten graffiti and business cards. Some of the tables are made from cable spools, and the wonky floor ensures that you are never really sitting straight up, and your table is more like a rocking chair, regardless of how many sugar packs you try to use as shims.
There's really only one reason to go to the Bucksnort, and that is the burgers. In all honesty, it's not the best burger I've ever had, but it's thick and made to order, and hits the spot like nothing else after pedaling the 17 miles of the Buffalo Creek loop. I'm sure the rest of the food there is decent, but you hardly see anyone ordering something other than a burger. What I like about the Bucksnort-aside from the name, obviously-is that it's one of those places that not too many people know about. It's tucked away on a dirt road in the middle of a steep-sided canyon that blocks most of the light from the sun. I only go there after riding Buffalo Creek, and it's something I look forward to almost as much as the ride itself. A place like the Bucksnort makes me feel like I'm living one of those stories that people tell that make you think 'wow, if only I had a ride/place/time like that', like I'm part of something cultural. Like I'm on an adventure and I've discovered this little gem.
Don't ask me why the fact that I ride a bike isn't enough to make me feel adventurous.
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I talked to my father a little while ago. He's starting to move his foot and is walking again. It seems that he's making progress and my hopes are even higher now that he won't be suffering the effects of his stroke too much longer.
There's really only one reason to go to the Bucksnort, and that is the burgers. In all honesty, it's not the best burger I've ever had, but it's thick and made to order, and hits the spot like nothing else after pedaling the 17 miles of the Buffalo Creek loop. I'm sure the rest of the food there is decent, but you hardly see anyone ordering something other than a burger. What I like about the Bucksnort-aside from the name, obviously-is that it's one of those places that not too many people know about. It's tucked away on a dirt road in the middle of a steep-sided canyon that blocks most of the light from the sun. I only go there after riding Buffalo Creek, and it's something I look forward to almost as much as the ride itself. A place like the Bucksnort makes me feel like I'm living one of those stories that people tell that make you think 'wow, if only I had a ride/place/time like that', like I'm part of something cultural. Like I'm on an adventure and I've discovered this little gem.
Don't ask me why the fact that I ride a bike isn't enough to make me feel adventurous.
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I talked to my father a little while ago. He's starting to move his foot and is walking again. It seems that he's making progress and my hopes are even higher now that he won't be suffering the effects of his stroke too much longer.
Tuesday, June 27, 2006
Whining about whinging
There's a lot of whinging going on right now, and I'm tired of it. What's worse is that my efforts to vent don't sound any better than the original complaining. It's a perpetual cycle of whinge!
My dad had a stroke recently. I have somehow managed to suppress my angst over this. He can't move his left side very well, and he's in rehab to try and get some movement back. There's a lot of worry about what's going to happen if this, or that, and I just can't hear any of it. Perhaps I'm in denial. I prefer to think that I'm looking at the bright side.
I've got some much needed time off at the moment. It give me a chance to become even more enraptured with the World Cup, and of course, there's the TdF starting soon as well.
My dad had a stroke recently. I have somehow managed to suppress my angst over this. He can't move his left side very well, and he's in rehab to try and get some movement back. There's a lot of worry about what's going to happen if this, or that, and I just can't hear any of it. Perhaps I'm in denial. I prefer to think that I'm looking at the bright side.
I've got some much needed time off at the moment. It give me a chance to become even more enraptured with the World Cup, and of course, there's the TdF starting soon as well.
Monday, June 12, 2006
That old familiar
My hometown of Ocean City, NJ has a very distinct smell in the summer. It's not really one I can describe. It's in the air. I think it consists of equal parts ocean air, fresh pizza right from the oven, caramel corn, cotton candy, salt water taffy, and all the other things that combine to make Ocean City what it is: a barrier island on the Jersey shore where thousands of people over generations have spent their summers. The aroma is a reminder of all that I love and hate about the O.C. It doesn't exist in the dead of winter, when plywood covers most of the store fronts on the boardwalk and the town is reduced to the year-rounders that call hit home for all 12 months of the year. Don Henley's 'Boys of Summer' is an apt theme song for a place like Ocean City. It always reminds me of home when I hear it. No, the smell only really starts around Memorial Day weekend, and seems to go away at the proverbial end of the summer season on Labor Day weekend.
When I was growing up there, summer was so much fun. It seems that since those days in the early 70's the number of people that come to the shore in the summer has grown exponentially. Now the weekends that I happen to be visiting are something I've come to dread over the past few years. There are just so many people, so many cars, long lines for my favorite pizza place, and streams of traffic that seem like red blood cells moving through every artery of pavement on the map. This cycle starts on Friday evenings, when waves of people escape the summer heat of the city by seeking the cooling waves of the ocean, and tapers off on Sunday when the masses return to the megopolis. Anyone making the mistake of trying to do everyday things like errands during summer weekends quickly realizes the mistake they've made.
What's worse about the swell of the population in the summer, is the seasonal cutoff of my favorite riding route here. I've got this coastal route that I like to ride that includes 2 sections of boardwalk on different islands. Bikes aren't allowed on the boardwalks in the summer, except for very early hours and well, I'm not an early riser. My enjoyment of that smell is therefore limited to walks on the boards. Getting there involves sitting in that horrible traffic though, so it's become a rare event for me to enjoy.
I remember reading somewhere a long time ago that the sense of smell was the most powerful of the 5 because of it's ability to open floodgates of memories. Tonight, while I was picking up a pizza from Mack & Manco's at 9th and Boardwalk, I was hit by a waft of that perfume that only Ocean City produces, and I was reminded of all the things I've always loved about the Jersey shore.
When I was growing up there, summer was so much fun. It seems that since those days in the early 70's the number of people that come to the shore in the summer has grown exponentially. Now the weekends that I happen to be visiting are something I've come to dread over the past few years. There are just so many people, so many cars, long lines for my favorite pizza place, and streams of traffic that seem like red blood cells moving through every artery of pavement on the map. This cycle starts on Friday evenings, when waves of people escape the summer heat of the city by seeking the cooling waves of the ocean, and tapers off on Sunday when the masses return to the megopolis. Anyone making the mistake of trying to do everyday things like errands during summer weekends quickly realizes the mistake they've made.
What's worse about the swell of the population in the summer, is the seasonal cutoff of my favorite riding route here. I've got this coastal route that I like to ride that includes 2 sections of boardwalk on different islands. Bikes aren't allowed on the boardwalks in the summer, except for very early hours and well, I'm not an early riser. My enjoyment of that smell is therefore limited to walks on the boards. Getting there involves sitting in that horrible traffic though, so it's become a rare event for me to enjoy.
I remember reading somewhere a long time ago that the sense of smell was the most powerful of the 5 because of it's ability to open floodgates of memories. Tonight, while I was picking up a pizza from Mack & Manco's at 9th and Boardwalk, I was hit by a waft of that perfume that only Ocean City produces, and I was reminded of all the things I've always loved about the Jersey shore.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Land of the highly modified class
Just when I thought I might change my tune about southern California, something happens that reminds me how much I don't like it here. In this case, I had to stop at 5 hotels before I found one that had a vacancy. Luckily I got the last room at this one. I drove around for an hour and a half trying to find one.
I got lulled into a false sense of relaxation over the last week. I was staying with one of the sales reps that is an overwhelmingly likeable guy. He and his family have hosted the Trek/Fisher pro race teams for years during the Redlands Classic race. Now they allow those of us on the demo scene to invade their space. A busy week was made easier by their hospitality. I acutally gave some consideration to driving back the 90 miles to their house rather than continue driving around any more here.
Tomorrow I get the thrill of driving to Las Vegas after another event. I probably won't get there until midnight. Then I hop on a plane to Philly for my parents 50th wedding anniversary.
I got lulled into a false sense of relaxation over the last week. I was staying with one of the sales reps that is an overwhelmingly likeable guy. He and his family have hosted the Trek/Fisher pro race teams for years during the Redlands Classic race. Now they allow those of us on the demo scene to invade their space. A busy week was made easier by their hospitality. I acutally gave some consideration to driving back the 90 miles to their house rather than continue driving around any more here.
Tomorrow I get the thrill of driving to Las Vegas after another event. I probably won't get there until midnight. Then I hop on a plane to Philly for my parents 50th wedding anniversary.
Saturday, May 27, 2006
NTSPAMF
There's a very large question mark looming over my head these days. I'm uncertain about my future. Once again I've fallen into the trap of getting my hopes up about something, only to find out that the basket I put my eggs into didn't have a very strong handle. The resulting crash has left with a feeling of not knowing what to do next. I'm contemplating making a move further west. Boulder has turned out to be a place that I don't really fit in to very well. I'm sure the fact that I'm hardly every in my own house has a lot to do with the glut in my social life, but at the same time I don't often cross paths with anyone that I would want to be friends with. I miss nice people, and I'm just not sure there are very many of them around in these here parts.
Moving would also make things easier workwise. I'm at the far edge of the area I cover here, and that's part of the reason why I'm home so infrequently. My travels give me a chance to visit other places. Some cities just give off a certain vibe. I can't really describe it very well, other than to say that they make you feel instantly comfortable. You can detect a 'cool factor'. The people you meet in passing seem like old souls, and you start picturing yourself living in a place like that because it seems so much better than where you currently are.
You know, it's yet another example of 'the grass is greener' syndrome. I've had a pretty chronic case of it for a while now. To me, no matter where I live, the grass will never be as green as it is in the UK.
There's a problem with being social, and enjoying the company of others. While you are in a state of hardly every being around friends, you forget what it feels like to want to be on your own; to take a break and just do your own thing. Conversely, being alone constantly makes you pine for time with your friends. Obviously, there's a balance to be hand, and I don't have that right now. I'm not currently in a state of social equilibrium, and for that reason I feel pretty lonely and out of place.
This is why greener grass syndrome is so bad for me. I know that no matter where I go, I probably won't ever feel as at home as I do in the UK. I worry sometimes that if I ever do get to live there again, that for whatever reason it won't be enough either. But, I've carried around this sense of 'homesickness' for so long now that I find it hard to believe that I'll have any feeling other than complete joy once I'm finally there and in the close proximity of my friends.
I should be able to be happy on my own. And some days I am. Others, not so much. But even on the happy days I can't help but wish that the good experiences I have here were shared with people on the other side of an ocean. This is why the question mark leaves me so unsettled. I just don't know what's going to happen for the rest of the year. I'm my own worst enemy, because i keep waiting for something to just fall into my lap, some easy solution. This prevents me for sorting things out on my own. I wonder how much longer I'll put up with being sullen before I finally make a move.
At least sheep still make me smile.
Moving would also make things easier workwise. I'm at the far edge of the area I cover here, and that's part of the reason why I'm home so infrequently. My travels give me a chance to visit other places. Some cities just give off a certain vibe. I can't really describe it very well, other than to say that they make you feel instantly comfortable. You can detect a 'cool factor'. The people you meet in passing seem like old souls, and you start picturing yourself living in a place like that because it seems so much better than where you currently are.
You know, it's yet another example of 'the grass is greener' syndrome. I've had a pretty chronic case of it for a while now. To me, no matter where I live, the grass will never be as green as it is in the UK.
There's a problem with being social, and enjoying the company of others. While you are in a state of hardly every being around friends, you forget what it feels like to want to be on your own; to take a break and just do your own thing. Conversely, being alone constantly makes you pine for time with your friends. Obviously, there's a balance to be hand, and I don't have that right now. I'm not currently in a state of social equilibrium, and for that reason I feel pretty lonely and out of place.
This is why greener grass syndrome is so bad for me. I know that no matter where I go, I probably won't ever feel as at home as I do in the UK. I worry sometimes that if I ever do get to live there again, that for whatever reason it won't be enough either. But, I've carried around this sense of 'homesickness' for so long now that I find it hard to believe that I'll have any feeling other than complete joy once I'm finally there and in the close proximity of my friends.
I should be able to be happy on my own. And some days I am. Others, not so much. But even on the happy days I can't help but wish that the good experiences I have here were shared with people on the other side of an ocean. This is why the question mark leaves me so unsettled. I just don't know what's going to happen for the rest of the year. I'm my own worst enemy, because i keep waiting for something to just fall into my lap, some easy solution. This prevents me for sorting things out on my own. I wonder how much longer I'll put up with being sullen before I finally make a move.
At least sheep still make me smile.
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
The writing on the wall
It's pretty frustrating to want to be good at something, trying to be, and then recognizing your limitations. This is how I am about writing. I enjoy writing. The fact that I spew on a blog is an indication of that. The problem doesn't seem to be writing down words about my random thoughts, but rather when I decide to write about an experience I've had in a journalistic fashion. Maybe it's nerves about making it 'publish worthy'. Words just don't seem to flow very well. My other issue is that I can't seem to incorporate any wit into it at all. My sarcastic sense of humor means that every once in a while, I can come up with a quip that gets people laughing. I can't seem to do this in the unprovoking realm of writing. It all makes me appreciate my friends who are really good at writing.
At least I'm halfway decent at editing. Taking the original thoughts of others and doctoring them up some comes easy. It makes no sense that I can't do the same for myself.
Thankfully, I have picture taking to fall back on.
Oh wait...
At least I'm halfway decent at editing. Taking the original thoughts of others and doctoring them up some comes easy. It makes no sense that I can't do the same for myself.
Thankfully, I have picture taking to fall back on.
Oh wait...
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