photodump

Posts are few and far between now that training is neverending and work is the only other thing I seem to do. Still no internet at home, so you'll just have to deal with the giant post on occasion.

So here we go.


Cliff diving is tough at Helen Hunt falls (did not make that name up).


Ping Pong had been working on his moustache for a couple of years, and brought it to Colorado to share it with the world.


I'm a competetive person, so I couldn't let an Asian with distinctly Aryan facial hair beat me in the stache-off.


I like this picture, because you can actually see the rays of hate that my cat is trying to shoot though Kacala's head.


Behold the new go-rocket.


This picture is all that could be recorded of what turned out to be a bit of a chaotic evening in the pursuit of "avoiding the bummer life." Eric from Ground Up cycles built a mini dirt velodrome on his front yard. It's 15 meters long, 14 inches tall and has a banking of almost 40 degrees. An average person on a 16 inch kids bike can do a lap in about 4 seconds. This track has become the centerpiece in a weekly barbeque/minidrome-cycleslaughterama. Never satisfied, Eric and co. has nearly completed a downhill course in his backyard which features some nasty switchbacks, a decent dropoff, a junkyard, a woodpile and a cactus field. Wheels bigger than 16 inches need not apply. Same goes for sissies. No sissies allowed.


On the ride home from the miniraces, we decided that finally, we really like it here.


Sharks with frickin laser beams on thier heads... Note the sweet Meshke bars. Still in the original poo brown.

And this is where I'll leave again for another stretch. Headed back to the track this afternoon to get chased down on a half lap start by the best starter in the country. I get a 10m gap, but we'll see how long that lasts.

DT

the pong is gone

So Eric spent last weekend sniffling and sneezing on my couch. Either he got some kind of asian bird flu in St. Louis, or just had a mean case of allergies and refused to admit it. Overall it was a good weekend. We ate (lots), we drank (lots), and we watch some really bad movies. The highlight was probably sitting on a rock at Garden of the Gods, watching rock climbers, heckling them amongst ourselves, wondering if they can hear us all the way up there and if they can, is it ruining their concentration and hurting their self-esteem. Some questions will never be answered.

Training-wise, I've run myself into the ground, and now I'm trying to get back up. I've slept somewhere between 12 and 15 hours a day in the last 3 days, and workouts got to the point where I was performing so poorly I was told to go home and not come back until I'd had a few days rest. Luckily this was the day before the Pong showed up, so I didn't spend his whole visit at the gym and track.

Nacho update: Jose Muldoon's nachos are on par with the Laurelwood's. Huge, chickeney, cheesey and not a soggy chip on the whole plate. A triumph in modern nacho-ing. If the salsa was any better, we'd be way ahead.

Project Leadville has hit a little stumbling block. So far we have a $10,800 4-inch travel full suspension race bike that weighs in at 20.7 pounds with pedals. The deal was "under 20 pounds no matter the cost." This guy will bring his own scale and weigh it before he picks it up. We've resorted to filing down the extra material off the custom titanium bolts we swapped out for all the steel ones, removing every decal and sticker in sight, cutting the post down to the absolute minimum length for his seat height, custom Stans ZTR Olympic wheels (each of which with tires and skewers weighs less than one of my training tires), a custom carbon shock, everything. Only options left are super-flimsy aluminum brake rotors and grinding off extra material from the seat. On the flipside, despite all the stress this causes, it beats selling hybrids for a living...

DT

plyos are bad for you

So about 3 weeks ago I'm doing box jumps with Blatchford. From the ground up to a platform 64 inches off the ground. Kinda like jumping onto someone's head. Even if your vertical leap is pretty high, it still takes a lot of effort, some luck and a smallish brain to jump that high repeatedly for a workout. So anyway, long story short on my third jump I drove my hand into the box with all my might and probably broke my thumb. At the time I was hoping it was a sprain (despite the grapefruit-size swelling and black and blue coloring), but 3 weeks on and I still can't do power cleans or anything that requires controlling a bar with weight on it. Riding's no problem, it's just a limiter in the gym. So more frustrating than anything. Fortunately my strength coach Mike figured out all the lifts I can do (like squats) and is punishing me for my lack of durability.

Ping Pong makes his grand entrance in T-minus 5 days. The couch is ready, I've got a couple days off and some mountain bike rides figured out.

Did some work on the truck the other day. Think it's coming along nicely.

on one hand; i'm progressing faster than ever, getting bigger than ever and loving the mountain biking and general outdoorsiness...

on the other handl; i miss good restaurants, good art, all my friends, happy hour at the laurelwood, cheap movies at the mission, culture, music, good espresso, and portland people...

DT

hey so anyway

What I was doing on:
Tuesday 6:00pm: Sitting on a patio in shorts and a t-shirt, enjoying the 70degree sunshine.

Wednesday 6:00pm: Trudging through 4 inches of fresh snow

Thursday 11:00am: Walking around in a t-shirt, enjoying the sun, wondering where all the snow went.

Current project at work: Create a sub 20 lb mountain bike with 4 inches of travel front and rear that's capable of surviving the Leadville 100mile XC race. Starting with a Cannondale Scalpel at 22 lbs, stripping her down, ordering a bunch of parts from Stans and some unpronouncable German companies and hoping the guy has a pretty high credit limit. His actual words were "if you can do it, I'll buy it no matter what it costs," so I doubt we'll have many problems with payment.

Headed out to the SRAM R&D building shortly to pick up a bike for a friend and get a sweet tour of thier suspension design department from an engineer dude I met out here. Should be cool in a super-geek kinda way.

Ping Pong called last night with travel plans for my neck of the woods. Bring it on.

DT

visualize me

This is what I feel like today

snow ridin

The weather took a turn for the cold yesterday and hasn't let up. Snow yesterday, snow today. Nothing sticking, just cold and windy. No, wait. Now the sun is out. Snow is gone. Consistency is not the name of the game.

Dave's been taunting me with this.

Yeah, it's cool. I'll just keep riding the aluminum one though. I know I'm not as fast as Dave, so he should naturally get the cool bike right?

Whatever. Went into the gym for the first time Wednesday with Blatchford. Haven't been to the gym for a good three weeks, so everything stayed pretty light. It's a strange feeling having tourists stare at you through plate glass when you know you're not working that hard (in my head: It's not always like this, I promise! Come back next week, really). Even so, today I'm feeling the seize. I'm walking like an oversized and not so cool G.I. Joe. Plastic joints, plastic muscle.

Track should be dry in 20 minutes or so, and I've got some motorpacing to do. Kilo efforts are the stuff dreams are made of.

fotoblahggin

Garden of the Gods. And Dave, Jenny says your hat is very comfortable.


Rocks


Tammy the Travelling Unicorn and Matt Hofman, taking in the sights.


Weather changes quickly around here.


This is our extremely photogenic back door. Classy.


Jenny likes snow. 24 hours after this picture was taken it was 65 and sunny. Wouldn't want to be a weatherguy in these parts.


This is what the entirety of my commute to work looks like. All bike path, all the way. I cross one street in 6 miles. Glorious.

Speaking of work, I'm now slinging wheels at Criterium Bicycles. Sweet shop. Reminds me alot of the Hollywood BG. Same size, good people, but one location instead of 6. I'm starting on Wednesday. Meanwhile, Jenny's working at a cool chick-stuff shop called Terra Verde in downtown CSprings. Her commute is a whopping 8 blocks, so naturally we're in the market for a new Hummer.

Workouts have begun, Blatchy's stupid fast, Kacala's stupid big and Des's hair is reaching new fro-tastic heights. I'm finally back into the gym at the Center tommorow, and not looking forward to the aftermath.

I'm trying to put together an all-star all-Springs sprinter group to bring with me to the AVC. Just need some gas money and a couple more host houses and we're there.

We're all out of Stumptown. I'm scared.

DT

nice people creep me out...

Altitude is one thing. Sun is one thing. New cities are one thing. However, random people being nice is something a longtime portlander has a bit of trouble getting used to. Couple of days ago, we're walking down the street, minding our own business, and this guy sees my chrome bag and says "hey, you going to critical mass?" uhm, wasn't planning on it. "oh man, you should because bla bla bla my name's aj, bla bla bla welcome to Colorado, bla bla bla yea portland's pretty cool, bla bla bla bla bla." Jenny and I are a little taken aback, so we seek shelter in that great homebase of all anti-socials: the bar. Granted this is a wine bar, but still, a bar. We fend off the nice waiter and get our drinks. and not 5 minutes later another random is going "bla bla bla, yeah welcome to colorado, bla bla bla, i love bikes, bla bla bla isn't wine just the greatest? bla bla bla bla bla bla."

Can't seem to get away from it. The baristas are nice, the waiters are nice, the shop clerks are nice, and everyone just wants to say hi and check on how your day is going. Like a bunch of happy white folks with great tans skipping around like idiots. What. The. Hell.

I guess sun deprivation really does make portlanders a little more surly than everyone else. Although LA boasts just as many self-important weiners as PDX and they get plenty of sun... So maybe it's the air? Maybe there's something in the water? Maybe we're just really, really good looking? Idunno.

DT

we're here, and yes, they have whiskey on tap

So we made it to sunny Colorado Springs, cat in tow. Still trying to unpack our lives from the boxes covering our apartment floor, so we've been avoiding it almost entirely by "getting to know the area." Turns out we're 3 blocks from a sweet coffee shop 4 blocks from a great bar, and 5 blocks from everything else you could possibly need. Our back yard is the CSprings version of the Springwater corridor. Exept ours is 42 miles long, goes through the center and way out of town from north to south, and you never have to cross a street. I know. Sweet. Still looking for jobs, still trying to figure everything out. Fortunately everyone from the OTC is at Track Worlds, so I've got a bit of time before the big hurt starts.

Altitude sucks. I feel old and fat.

DT

pre-drive panic

So we're headed off to CSprings on Saturday and it seems like nothing is done. Mostly because we don't have much stuff, aside from clothes and bikes, so seems like we've been packing alot less than we should. Safe to say that moving sucks the big one. Hate, hate, hate.

Jenny and I are both sick. The sucky thing about having great friends is every night another group wants to take you out and celebrate one last time late into the night.

Anyone seen my iPod? I haven't. I'm this close to tears. THIS close.

one for my homies...

Found this little nugget of history on FGG.

From behind the iron curtain, an original Takhion:

Apparently found its way to an apartment in Boston.


Konstantin Khrabtsov, Champion of USSR on the freakmobile.

I had heard that a couple of these hack jobs still existed, but this is the first one I've ever seen. Bars welded to the top of the fork crown. Only kilo riders and team pursuiters could ever be dumb enough to ride something like this. Totally mental. Super ergo.

linkgasm

enjoy

BIKERFOX!

Malkovich, malkovich, malkovich!

Anyone want to mess with Svein Tuft?

I don't. He looks like a certain actor's meaner big brother...

Looks like the best glasses on this great green planet earth are no longer made by Nike. Now they are made by Oakley. Initially I was bummed when Nike announced the Vision department was getting dumped in the scrap heap, but now not so much. I've been hounding Norrene for years to get Oakleys for the team and I finally get my wish. They're stepping up in a big way to help us out, and I'm psyched. Why? Because I can finally get Asian Fit glasses. I think this makes me more charming and better at math, right ping pong? Or maybe I just like nachos more? I don't know. Stay tuned.

Speaking of Oakley...

This is David Zabriskie's mustache from last week times five. This turns it up to eleven. First person who gets me a pair of these is my new best friend. I know that's not really very inticing, but seriously. DO it.

Been a bit of a long week(s). Beers anyone?

DT

context is for suckers

This pile rolled into the shop yesterday, falling apart the day after it was purchased.

And yes, it says "god save the queen" on the chainstay.

Are the white belt and ironic t-shirts included, or do you have to get that separate?

And hey, if London's not your bag, that's cool cause you can also get the New York track-bike freestyler-esque Dart-mobile.


In the words of BSNYC, take a last drag and swing your leg over the fashion express! DT

climb into the hurt box and have a look around

O face of the day goes to Meatball. Once again, making us all look stupid, Friedman spent all day in the break at Het Volk and finished 12th. That's right. 12th. Het Volk. Friedman. Taste the future.

DT

a Slow farewell

Some places are hard to say goodbye to. We're down to 3 weeks and counting before we ship off, so the due farewells are piling up. Jenny and I are (sometimes overly) nostalgic when it comes to the places we eat and drink. Portland is pretty spoiled in the bar/restaurant department, and since we've lived here we've tried to experience as much of it as we could afford. Like anything, there are hits and misses. One place we've been dreading leaving is Slow Bar.

You know how you have those conversations with your friends that go "man, if I owned a bar it would be all like bla bla bla bla bla?" I've had lots of those, and this place is as close as it gets to my ideal bar. It's small, has bare brick walls, high-backed leather booths, stiff drinks, dim lighting, and probably the best jukebox ever. Lots of 70s and 80s punk wierdness. To top it off, the food is awesome. All fresh, delicious, cheap. It's the kind of place you could see Hemingway hunched into a booth with a tumbler of whiskey, scribbling stuff into a notebook. If Hemingway were alive in Portland on the eastside. Anyway. Point is, Jenny and I frequent this place. So we decide to go in last night for one last meal and a pint.

Jenny is a creature of habit. She finds things she likes and sticks to them. At Slow Bar, she likes a particular sandwich they have, orders it nearly every time. So we sit down, order some drinks and check out the menu. The sandwich is gone. She freaks. When the stoned/drunk/bored waiter guy meanders over she asks about it. "yep, discontinued, but hang on" he manages to get out. He wanders back to the kitchen. Comes back a couple of minutes later, "yeaaah we're not doing that anymore, but the guys have enough stuff to make just one more."

I'm not into too much mystical stuff, but to me this was wierd. To Mrs. Tracy, it was sublime. Sandwich in hand, smile on face, drink nearby, she was in a blissful state. As we walked out we agreed that Slow Bar was saying goodbye in its own way.

As long as PBR or coffee doesn't get discontinued in the next couple weeks, I'll be safe.

DT

home base

Secured the new home base in CSprings today. Sweet apartment in a converted mansion downtown. No turning back.

Tuckerman's arriving on the sunny beaches of Portland in a couple of hours. If you've never met this lad, perhaps you'd like to join him on the pot for a chat about burritos and stuff? Click on the link, then scroll down to Meet The Kiwi. Pot Chat? Toilet Talk? Porcelainversation?

DT?

nice jerk-mobile, jerkface

Engage transportation rant... NOW.

I fear for people sometimes. Usually when I'm driving. The blatant disregard for the safety of others that people show when they climb behind the wheel of thier SUVs, minivans and hybrids amazes me to no end. Seems like people lock themselves into thier metal safety bubbles and suddenly don't give a shit about anyone else but themselves and whoever's on the other end of the cell phone strapped to thier faces.
I can understand a mistake here and there. I turned the wrong way on a one way downtown once. When I was 16. The first time I went downtown. The thing is, I wasn't a 40 year old in a LexusHummerFord who should know better. I could barely operate a clutch at that point. But I see people who've had plenty of practice do it every day.
Maybe it's not that people don't care. I think a lot of people just have no perspective. Say you climb into your average car, drive down the street, don't check the bike lane and turn right into a cyclist tooling along, minding his own business in the bike lane. What happens to the driver? Zip. Nothing. You feel no after effects. The dent in your audi or toyota is not a broken bone. The cops won't even write you a simple ticket (even if the person on the other side of the sheetmetal doesn't get up). You'll just be sent on your merry, oblivious way.
I don't know. Maybe commuter bikes should come with holsters for giant monkey wrenches and ben-hur spikes on the wheels. But probably not.
ehhh.
End rant.
DT

TOC update

I'm gonna call the results early (CNN Election Coverage '08 style). Tour of California has been won by David Zabriskie.
Here's why:

Look at that. Just look at it. Looks like the guy should be rolling up to the start riding bareback on a wild stallion while shooting a six-gun in the air and hollering something no one can understand. Seriously, check out how fine of a point the sides come to! That's no accident. He could alternately show up in the back of a horse-drawn carriage with velvet curtains, wearing a top hat and speaking in a foppish British accent. But given that the race is in California and is already full of prissy Europeans, I'm sticking with the Wild West David Zabriskie over the Hat Doffing Englishman David Zabriskie.

DT