Curse of the Whinge Ride

I had one of those rides yesterday where nothing seemed to be in my favor. I was on the road again and planned to do the usual stop in Fruita for a quick ride before pressing farther west. I've been making this a habit, but yesterday I decided to do a different, harder trail than the usual. That was my first mistake. Here's a list of the other things that made the ride one of 'those' days:

My coordination was off
My legs were heavy
My suspension had lost some air
It wasn't as warm as I thought it would be
I looked at every rock I DIDN'T want to hit, and subsequently hit it
Part of the trail was still wet
The sun was in my eyes during what is normally the best part of the ride
My picture taking was crap

Say what you want about the American notion of not riding wet trails, but trust me when I say that you DO NOT want to ride Fruita trails when they are wet. Especially if you plan to ride a trail that is shared by offroad vehicles. All in all, I should have cut bait, but this particular trail (Mack Ridge) is easier once you've passed the techy beginning, and turning around would have been worse than carrying on. It was the first ride in a long time that actually made me feel like it wasn't worth it.

I made up for it today by stopping for an out and back in St. George, UT. The trail I did is an absolute hoot, and it more than made up for my numptiness yesterday.

I embrace the Whinge Ride-an inevitability for all of us who ride bikes-simply because it keeps me humble. Whinge Rides make me appreciate the good rides just a bit more. And well, it keeps the cosmic balance.

My life up to now Part 2

RIght...finally recovering from the Interbike madness. The show really offered nothing spectacular, other than the chance to hang out with great friends for a week. Chipps and I took the long way back to Denver afterwards and did some riding/driving through places I'd never been to before. It was a thoroughly enjoyable time. The scenery in southern Utah reminds me why I declare that State to be the most beautiful in the Union.

I'm back off to SoCal in the next couple of days before heading to NorCal for Chrissy's wedding and a couple of other events. Then it's home for a few days before driving south to Texas. Not really looking forward to that trip. I'll be busy most of November and rewarding myself with a flight to London on December 4th.

I don't have anything profound to say (ever, really). I can't say I've done much deep thinking in the recent weeks. Nothing that really jumps out at me, anyway. That's probably a relief to some. I think I've just been going with the flow and trying to make the most out of life in general. My dad's health has been very up and down, and as usual I'm trying to stay positive and not thinkg too much about the 'what if's'. If I let myself get carried away, then I start feeling sad about something that hasn't even happened yet. Maybe I'm not being realistic enough as a result.

Anyhoo...it was good to see everyone from over yonder on my side of the pond. Some for the first time, and others again. For those of you who weren't here, you were missed.

My life up to now Part 1

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.