Thursday, March 30, 2006

the man. again.

Midnight. Finally home. Full day today; lifted early, rode with Curry and Solomon up the cemetery, ate heroic amounts of biscuits and gravy, went to work and stayed there until a mere 20 minutes ago. Stupid sale, can't set itself up for some reason.

The city is inexplicably dark tonight. Sky is clear, no fog in sight, it's just wierdly dark outside my window.

The iPod died today. One minute I was adding the new Editors album and the next thing I knew the damn thing had no songs and was completely unreadable by my computer. Pretty sure they install these little devils with a self-destruct timer that bombs the shit out of it's own internals after enough expensive new versions come out. Another classic example of The Man trying to get my money. Trying to get me down.

Damn the Man.

A few new kiwis are in town. Met Richard at Fresh Pot this weekend. Haven't been able to get an impression yet, although rumor has it he doesn't drink coffee. Suspicious. Curry has returned a bit bigger but off the sauce for the next few months. Can't actually tell he's any bigger, but he claims to be a good 7kg's over weight. I give him a couple months and he'll be destroying some careers again this summer. Tuckerman on the other hand came over a few kgs underweight. That skinny little freak. Dude looks like he's stuck in some ancient potato famine. I feel like taking him to McD's and supersizing his goofy ass. Maybe the two g-units will just even each other out. We'll see.

First race this weekend. Dead flat. If a break goes away and a orange dude doesn't win it everyone's fired. I'll cover the field.


Saturday, March 25, 2006

Sunday, March 19, 2006

ahh, erg.

This is a modern torture device.

The thing is so stable, so rock solid that nothing moves but the cranks trying to turn that 80 lb. flywheel. The fancy pully system behind the flywheel means that Brian can sit back there and choose how hard he thinks I should go. For some reason we always seem to disagree on that one. I can't see the wattage output from the SRM, I have no control over the resistance, all I can do is try not to let the pedals grind to an embarrassing stop. Guess what the garbage can next to the bars is for?

Massive effort tonight.

8 kilos full bore.

Underestimated the wattage on the first two and went through so much awful pain I nearly didn't make it to the end of the efforts.

Headaches started immediately after the first set.

Started losing vision after the third.

I think my heart is sore.

I need a cookie.


Thursday, March 16, 2006

Cops and Kiwis

So yesterday one of our mechanics rolls out the door of his apartment on his bike (in the rain) on his way to work. He slows at a stopsign, looks both ways, sees that the sleepy residential street is as empty as Wal-Mart during a Nascar final, and casually rolls through to his right, straight into a cop squatting on a BMW with a cup of coffee in his hand. From 10 feet away the cop yells into his megaphone PULL OVER RIGHT NOW!! The motorcop hands him a $242 ticket for disobeying a traffic control device. Drag.

You're doing the environment a service and saving yourself from credit card debt AND avoiding contributing to the terrifying state of oil in the world, just minding your own business, riding perfectly safely, and someone wants to ding you for it anyway. WTF. Saying that a person on a bike needs to put his foot down at every stop is like saying a car needs to turn it's engine off and put it's parking brake on at every stop. Some of us live on about that much money after the bills are paid every month. What are we supposed to do then?

On a completely unrelated note, Tuckerman landed at PDX after his 24 hours of travel limbo last night. The Godfrey's cat Digger will be so pleased. Tuckie's ramping up for a big St Paddy's day, followed by a huge season of racing, with a large number of Muchas Gracias burritos peppered in between.

mmm... burritos.


Monday, March 13, 2006

Sun's Out

It's early. Cold. Frosty. But sunny.

Solomon wants to go ride, I want to drink coffee. That bastard. Guess we'll meet at Stumptown.

Guess the Veloshop got jacked up a couple nights ago, some idiots smashed one of the huge plate glass windows. Molly may have terrible grammar, but at least she runs a pretty killer shop, so you should go buy some sweet track stuff from her.

I guess Portland's pretty spoiled on the killer bike shop front. Between the Gallery, River Shitty, Cycle-Path, Veloshop and Bike Central, if you can't find what you're looking for around here, you are a freak and what you're looking for is probably really lame.

Oh and hey, when did Floyd Landis become the man?

And why is he wearing those glasses?


Tuesday, March 07, 2006

Post Race Hypothetical Wrap-Up / Pirate Crit Series

First Bannana Belt of the year was last weekend. Here's how it would have gone if I had been there instead of here (at the shop).

I would have slept as long as possible, and therefore I'd get a pretty late start. On the drive I'd probably listen to NPR for a while to wake myself up, then I'd transition over to something more aggro like Raw Power by Iggy Pop or maybe even some old Dropkick Murpheys. I'd show up about a half-hour before race time and sit in the car until everyone starts to line up.

The start sounded pretty hard, with a couple guys going blocks from the parking lot. I'd laugh at them from the back of the group and joke around with Skerrit or whoever else is around back there. After the neutral zone break comes back, I'd probably be amused at how much bling-bling is rolling around in my field. The opera of screaming break pads on new carbon wheels would make me smile on every little roller. I usually try to take it (really) easy for these races as to avoid the embarrassment of getting dropped in a easy road race, but I think yesterday I would have gone after the first sprint like in my usual spring fashion. About 500m before the line, while sitting around 3rd to last I'd change my mind and decide to go for it, fly around the field in the gutter and miss winning it by about an inch. I would have done this twice and spent the rest of the day hurting and thinking I should have done a few training rides this winter longer than 3 hours.

I think I would have finished about 8th.

After that I would've hung out in the parking lot for a while with a few friends and talked about how I didn't win because "I didn't really care" and "it's just a training race" instead of just admitting that I'm weak and I don't like it when it's cold.

Speaking of racing, cold and sprinting, who's up for a wednesday night training crit series? Anybody? I'm thinking maybe a couple of different courses, no categories, kinda like fight club for bike racers and any other hooligans who want to show up.

I'm down, are you?


Check out my sweet new custom track bike

Saturday, March 04, 2006

Virtual Magic Mountain

Olympic Bummer

City Made of Cookies

Wednesday, March 01, 2006

New Strategy; Bagpipes

New Strategy for complete national and local domination.

Travelling personal babpipe band.

They follow me to races, march into the infield and start playing battle songs while I warm up.

Went to Kells Irish Pub for a Guinness and some fish+chips with a few friends the other night. Place was packed to the walls, people everywhere. The air had that electric Saturday night tension that makes every second seem like the one just before everything breaks loose.
The Irish band on stage finishes up a raucous set and wanders to the bar. Things quiet down momentarily. Just as people start to get restless a low drone starts... you know... droning. No one knows where it's coming from, few even know what the sound is until the snare drums start pounding. Seems far away but it's getting louder and louder. Louder and louder until a bagpipe band walks straight past your table in full kilt-kit playing as loud as bagpipes, snares and bass drums can play.

I'm not even Irish and for some reason this sound made me want to stand up and fight everyone in the room. Everyone. Right then. If that stuff brings out the anger while I'm sitting at a table with Jenny and a few other girls, imagine how amped I'd get while warming up... That would open the door to "the room" and push me right through.

Plus, can you imagine how crazy that would look to the other guy? How insane would I look?

Anybody know a good bagpiper?