- Bad Idea Racing - HAS LEFT THE BUILDING

4:57AM I got up three minutes before my alarm. I went through my usual morning routine; oatmeal, coffee, constitutional, and internet.

6:15AM All packed and ready to go to Pisgah I left my driveway to meet Luis and some others for a 9:00AM ride departure.

7:32AM The rain was rather heavy on the other side of Shelby, NC, but it cleared up as I got closer to the Pisgah National Forest.

8:29AM I got to the the Cove Creek group camp area, and I found Luis. We pondered on which hungover rider/camper/alcoholics might join us.

8:47AM I went around trying to rouse interest (and riders from their bloodshot dreams), and I did my best to increase our numbers for an all day ride.

8:53AM I found the Tomato’s tent home and the bleary eyed human vegetable said he was up for an adventure, but he had someone coming in at 10:00AM if we could hold off till then. Luis and I agreed to wait.

9:20AM More folks started getting up and hanging out over at Casa de Beefcake. I joined them in a group stand around and watched the slow moving activity.

9:34AM It started to drizzle.

9:39AM The sky opened up, and it started to rain. I got bored and decided I would stand in one place until the rain stopped or for five hours (whichever came first).

9:50AM I had to restart my standing-in-one-place timeline as my left foot was too close to the edge of the awning, and it was getting splattered with mud.

9:55AM I further adapted the rules to allow me to pivot on my left foot so I could see 360 degrees and watch the camp come to life in the rain.

10:32AM Everybody left me alone under the awning and went into Beefcake’s Diner for “breakfast”.

10:47AM The rain stopped, and the talk of a ride commenced.

10:50 AM I gave up my vigil after standing in one place for an hour and headed to my car to get ready. I had a theory that if I got ready then others would catch on. This was a theory, and if I said it worked I would be lying.

10:55AM Upon seeing that my state of readiness was having no effect on the other prospective riders I cracked my first beer of the day.

11:09AM A man with an impressive head of hair informed us that a car was stuck in the creek crossing along the entrance to the campgrounds.

11:12AM We saw Jody walking up the road with his hands in the air. Either he ran to The Gathering, or it was his car stuck in the creek.

11:20AM Happy helpers and trainwreck observers all made their ways down to see Jody’s car and remove it from it’s current moist resting place.

11:37AM We determined that towing the car out with a chain would probably rip some of the plastic parts off of the car, so the only option was to hop into the cold water and push it out.

11:43AM The car was pushed clear of the creek, and we all had a little chuckle (except Jody) watching the tailpipe drain for a few minutes.

11:50AM After realizing we were creating a traffic jam with our impromptu rescue party we pushed Jody’s car to a clearing and watched him pull his intake apart with a Topeak McGuyver tool. All the helper bees were offered a beer as a reward for our efforts, so I started my second beer of the day.

12:02PM Everybody who was gonna ride started putting on their gear, and it started looking like we were going for a ride.

12:34PM A group of no less than ten, but no more than fifteen started riding up Cove Creek Trail.

12:49PM Tomato, Dennis, Luis, and I all pulled over to wait for the others and to tslk about possible routes.

12:57PM We realized that either something happened down below or no one else was going on the same ride we were going on. I went back down a ways and determined that we were alone. We continued on into the mist as a foursome.

Times will be even more ambiguous from this point on as it seemed like time stood still.

2:12PM The three of us that remained continued on an ever changing route towards camp.

3:53PM Near the highest point of the day morale seemed very low as we were all wet, cold, and a little chuffed as we hadn’t had a whole lot of downhill yet, and the views were limited to ten feet during the entire ride so far. Luis voiced his thoughts of taking the quickest route back to the car, and Dennis was thinking about skipping the final planned loop.

4:45PM We made it down Black Mountain, Bennett, and Coon Tree without anybody dying in the low visibilty mist that obscured our vision as we came down the wet roots, leaves, and rocks with more caution than needed. It was obvious that the general concensus was “Let’s get down this without anybody getting hurt and making this any worse than it already is.”

4:52PM Dennis decided to go directly back to camp, probably to see if he needed to go Tomato picking up on the paved road. Luis had a jump in morale as we were now much warmer in the lowlands, so he and I decided to hit one more climb/descent before heading back to camp.

5:45PM We got up to the top of Cove Creek and descended in a fine manner. I rolled into camp, washed up, grabbed a beer, and headed over to the campfire.

6:30PM I had some BBQ and talked with Brado and Jut about the state of the world and the concept of “finer foods”.

7:15PM I felt a draw towards going home when I thought about The Pie and everything we’ve been dealing with as a family as of late. I packed up my crap, said “see ya” to Brado and Luis, and headed out around 7:44PM.

I had a weird but good time while I was there. When I woke up Saturday morning I woulda never guessed that the day woulda turned out quite the way it did. Sorry I didn’t stick around and take too much time to say goodbye, but I felt like I needed to be somewhere else that night. Hopefully the next Gathering will work out better for me, and more riding and imbibing will be had.

This isn’t every option, but I realized as I was throwing shit on the floor I was going to have to pick it back up.

I gotta once again decide what to carry and how to carry it when I start racing again in a few weeks. Even though I’m not gonna change the Meatplow I am always looking for ways to tote my shit in an efficient and unnoticeable manner.

Here’s the contenders for the “how”:

Pros:
*50 oz of water, which is just six more ounces than two small bottles
*I can carry everything I need in one place
*Comfy (for a pack)
*Easy access pockets to keep my goodies in
*Keeps the bike aesthetically pleasing

Cons:
*Harder to fill in a hurry/zipper and a cap
*The cap is not tethered so I always drop it in the dirt when I’m in a hurry
*It’s still a pack, and I hate packs
*Covers up my cool Twin Six jersey
*Looks funny on my small body

Cons:
*La Ruta put it on it’s last legs, lots of questionable stitchwork (mine)
*Can’t hold a real 29′er tube
*Still a saddle bag (ugly)
*I have to carry CO2 or a pump elsewhere

Pros:
*I can fit everything I need in it including two tubes
*Has my old bike shop’s name stitched in it (nostalgia points)

Cons:
*Noticeably heavy weight high up on the bike
*Ugly as all get out/I look like a randonneur
*I can’t get over how ugly it is

Pros:
*Allows me to carry a third water bottle
*I can wear a looser fitting jersey to allow free air flow
*I can ride shirtless
*It carries almost everything I need

Pros:
*Fits flat in the small of my back so I still look good in photos
*Veteran of countless 12/24 hour races
*Doesn’t flop around like the FPOD

Cons:
*Fanny packs are still gary (still without the R)
*Also binding around the waist
*Falling apart from years of use

That covers the “how, so now I’ll talk about the options for the “what” to carry.

I gotta carry two. Ever since I double flatted in two hundies in 2006 I decided I had to carry two if I didn’t want to run for miles on end. I can find plenty of ways to carry one tube without it being cumbersome or unattractive. It’s that second tube that causes me a problem. I know some folks who would just pull out the zip ties and duct tape and strap things to their bikes like gypsies going to the market. I can’t do that. The faster a bike looks the faster it goes, and I’m not riding something that looks like a mini yard sale on two wheels.

The other problem is what kind of tubes should I carry. Standard 29′er tubes are heavy and big. I roll my own to purge all the air and get then size down, but they’re still bigger than a cheap burrito. Lightweight 29′er tubes roll down smaller, but would pinch flat easier if I don’t take the time to get them up to the proper pressure (something I have done before in race conditions). I can carry a 26″ tube, but they do require a little more patience when installing them into a 29″ wheel, and I’m usually a little short on patience if I’m fixing a flat during a race.

I have never broken a chain on my single speed in over four years, yet I still feel the need to carry a couple quick links and a chain tool. I have a really bad-ass chain tool I borrowed from a lame Giro multi-tool from the nineties. It is built into the end of a tire lever, and it works really well. Why carry anything else? Well I have this cool little chain tool I made outta a piece from a Topeak Mc Guyver tool that I’m dying to carry. It’s no better than the Giro, and it is not connected to a tire lever, but I like it because I made it.

If I’m gonna carry two tubes I need to be able to provide enough air to inflate two tires. A 25oz CO2 has the inflation power to get one tire rolling and enough left over to blow dry my eyebrows, thus I need to carry two if I wanna make it outta the woods with two flats. One 25oz CO2 is heavier than one 40oz Big Air which is enough for two tires (in theory as I don’t want to waste five bucks finding out). The smaller cartridges are less bulky, but I think that’s just a plot on the part of Genuine Innovations to make my decision that much harder.

I also have a bad ass little pump from Crank Brothers. I’ve had a CO2 freeze up on me in the E100, so I don’t trust them as much as a pump, but since it takes about 4,000 strokes to fill a 29′er tire with this little guy I have a hard time using it as a go-to air source. The only nice thing is I know the TSA won’t hork it outta my luggage like they would a CO2 (if they find them).

I got a cool little mulit-tool from Park that I can carry. Thing is I rarely need most of the tools that are on it. Most everything on my bike can be tightened with a 4 or a 5 millimeter allen key. The “what if” scenarios play around in my head, but I just don’t want to carry crap like a phillips head screw driver if I don’t have one phillips head on my bike (yes, the bleed ports on my brakes are phillips head, but if I need to bleed my brakes in the middle of a race I might just quit).

I think that’s it. I realize I’m sweating some pretty small stuff, but if I wasn’t using my brain to make these kinds of decisions I’d have time to think about the war, the impending recession, the abuse of our finite aquifiers, all the styrofoam containers that are used everyday by our wasteful society, and all the injustice in the world.

I’d rather waste my time deciding if I am comfortable enough in my own masculinity to wear a fanny pack.

1) Laziness

I finally got all the worn out parts off my bike a few days ago. It was hardly a Herculean effort, but it was the kinda effort that I don’t like to put into bike maintenance more than once a year. If I went around swapping a bunch of parts I would actually be forcing myself into twice the trouble and toil as I’d have to swap it all back when I got back from the Cohutta 100. Just thinking about turning all those wrenches in the name of speed sounds awful. As The Wonderboy once said “I’d rather deal with the pain than have to work on my bike” (or something like that).

2) Fun factor

My bike is built with the “fun fit kit”. If my only goal was to cover a certain amount of ground as fast as possible I’d have to make a lot of changes in order to achieve the shit outta something. It would be more than tires, rotors, and a fork swap. I’m talking stem, spacers, cleat position, bars, not to mention moving shit around everytime a gear swap mandates a swing in the position of my EBB. If I change one thing in the name of speed it seems pointless unless I change everything. Fun has to be the name of the game, or the game ain’t worth playing. I do have to remind myself from time to time that I rather drag a heavy tire around for ninety-nine miles so I can go down one mile of challenging downhill with reckless abandon.

3) Vanity

The Meatplow just looks really good the way it is, and my bike knows it. If a 2.3 tire had a mouth it would say “I mean business”. If the eight inch rotor knew how to use semaphore it would signal to the world “This guy might get outta hand”. The steel fork? I’m just a sucker for the smooth aesthetics of a well built unicrown fork. I know it looks good, you know it looks good, so whatever. I can’t help it that the Meatplow and I will be the prettiest belles at the ball in 2008.

tomorrow I guess we’ll talk about that.

I finally got around to watching Into the Wild a couple of nights ago. I had read the book years ago after I was turned onto Krakauer’s more famous book Into Thin Air (sounds like he was doing an “Into” series, huh?). I know movies rarely do a book justice, but I think this time it worked out fine. I was moved.

There are times that I think maybe Christopher (or Alexander Supertramp as he called himself) was a bit tainted in the brain, but then there are times that I think he may have been one of the most brilliant humans to walk the earth in the last century. Chucking all the notions that had been fed into his brain for his most formative years he decided to live his short adult life in a manner in which he saw fit. As much as I try to live a less than normal life I can’t even come close to Christopher’s ability to walk away from comfort and seek experiences for himself.

Then again he did learn that experiences are best when shared with others. Unfortunately that revelation came a little too late. Sharing means compromise, and he didn’t really compromise much when it came to chasing his dreams. I wonder what he would have managed to achieve had he made it out of the wild, found someone to share his life with, and continued on his life’s journey.

If you liked Into the Wild, but have not read The Last American Man do yourself a favor and get a hold of a copy. It’s the story of Eustace Conway, a man who decided to take the road less traveled and then walk right off of it into the woods and live his life. Part Lewis and Clark, part Shackleton, part Ghandi, and part Les Stroud; he is today what Chris McCandless probably would have been if he had ever made it back from Alaska. When he was young he burned bridges and kept on the move living his life on ideals, berries, and dumpster dining. He stuck with it long enough to learn that he needed to compromise to continue his ways and to share his way of life with others. While I don’t agree with everything he’s ever done, I still admire him and his efforts to keep the NC wilderness alive.

The best way to appreciate the moment you replace something is to wait until the last minute to do it, or even a few minutes past the last minute. When I got ready to head out the door yesterday morning I remembered that my go-to SPD sandals had a broken cleat that I discovered while chasing Nia around the yard on the Meatplow. No problem. I’ll just run my back ups, and it won’t be a problem….

I had forgotten that my back-ups were not the go-to sandals for a reason. The cleat was worn out on the left shoe, and it was apparent as I rolled outta the driveway as my left foot kept coming off the pedal. Shit. Back to the house for *gasp*… shoes.

I tend to do this with everything I own that wears out over time (except chains). I like to run shit into the ground so when I finally make the swap it’s like the second coming of the gear Jesus. Over the weekend I put new tires and grips on the Meatplow. I had been running a Rampage up front with more than a year of riding under its knobs. I had plenty of scary moments this winter riding in the slick Pisgah Mountains this year. My Rampage had become a fading reminder of what a real tire should look like, and it was time to put it to pasture (prolly the front of my fixie machine when I get it together). When I was replacing the grips I noticed that the old Ritchey WCS foam grips were about half as thick as the new grips I was installing. They looked so different at first that I thought I had bought the wrong ones. To say that this coming weekend’s inaugural ride of the fixed (repaired not geared) Meatplow will be an eye opener to its true performance capabilities would be a definite understatement. I’m as excited as a little school girl (which is an odd statement as I now have a little school girl in my house, and she never seems that excited about education).

BTW: I looked at this image that I posted yesterday off and on throughout the work day.

When I got home I was greeted with a big brown box. The Meatplow was back in the house, and after removing it from the box I was stoked to see a fresh spit polish and decal set on my new front end. Since I got back home late Saturday night I woke up early Sunday morning so I could ressurect the Meatplow from the parts scattered on my bike room floor.

I couldn’t find my home-made headset press (a threaded rod with washers and nuts), so I went to searching for things in my bike room that would suffice. Once again I have to thank my dad for giving me the ability to see things for not what they are, but for what they could be. What you see is an Azonic Headlock, an old stem, a Mavic 819 rim insert tool, and a Park Y-wrench. It worked out brilliantly, and I think with some tweaking this could end up replacing my home made press (assuming I ever see it again).

Other than that the build went smoothly. I took the time to re-lube my EBB, throw on some fresh tires, grips, and chain, and install the FRO Race Face carbon post/Assgrater 2000 combo.

I wish I could take better bike glamour shots.

Pre pink cage installation/gratuitous garage door photo

I can’t really say I haven’t “ridden a bike at all” in the last five days, as I played tag with Nia on the freshly built up Meatplow. She’s fast, but not quite marsupial fast (yet).

Oobla dee, oobla da.

The sock on the left is the Swiftwick Naturwool Low. I have to admit that I have been a wool snob for awhile now, so the idea of using any wool-blend sock didn’t appeal to me at first. I gave them a whirl anyhoo since I prefer low cut socks, and low cut wool socks are hard to find. I have been using them all winter long, and they have been my go-to 30 degree sandal commute sock and my golly it’s cold and my Sidis are well ventilated sock. To be honest I can’t tell the difference between my 100% wool Woolie Boolies and the Naturwools, except the Swiftwicks have a cushier bottom. Go figure.

Well the temps are going up, and I’m now trying out the totally not wool by any means Synpro Jut (the sock on the right). It’s got some weird but welcome compression element on the top which makes it feel like an angel is giving my foot a soft but firm hug. The thing that makes this sock different (that I notice the most) from my other poly socks is the padded bottom. When you’re a single speeder and hike-a-bike is a big part of you repertoire having a little cushion between your feet and the nasty hard sole of your Sidis is a very welcome attribute.

I have plenty of sexy wool socks from Twin Six. They get a lot of use, but for some reason when it’s time to race I want low cut socks. I’m not sure if it has something to do with my Mike Tyson/warrior connection, if it’s because of the heat of the summer, or if it’s just that everybody’s wearing tall socks now and I hate everybody. Prolly the Tyson thing. I do have wear the Twin Six socks when I do stage races because I simply do not have enough high quality, thin, happy socks, and I have no intention of buying more socks. I have enough socks in my drawer now to keep my feet warm till I move to Florida to retire (assuming it’s not underwater by then).

Why move to Florida when I get old? Have you seen my tan (or lack thereof)?

I’ll be out of the office after today. I’m sleeping in tomorrow so I can do my best to make the drive to see my dad in one push without stoppping somewhere overnight. Feel free to send big dollar sponsorship proposals while I’m gone, and I will be sure to get back with you when I get back on Monday.

Since I doubt my inbox will be entirely full of proposals I have one other thing to put out there. I will be at The Burn 24 Hour Challenge because The Boy signed up for solo again. Since I’m going to be there anyways I would be interested in racing or doing something productive with my time to keep from just drinking beers for 24 hours. I’m open to suggestions, and willing to do whatever as long as I can ride fast and have fun. Hit me at teamdicky at hotmail dot com if you got think you got something for me to do.

Sorry that it was impossible to look at my blog for a large portion of yesterday. Just a fine example of my blog dollars at work. I’m starting to think blog.com is a division of Haliburton. 

My sponsorship proposal multi-media style:

Not too much to say about the weekend. I decided on Saturday that I will be driving up to Ohio/PA to see my dad and the rest of the family after work Wednesday. A trip to the mountains seemed in order Sunday to clear my head and get one of those head clearing experiences that only a ride in the mountains can provide.

After The Wonderboy no-showed us in my driveway Big Worm and I made our way out to Wilson’s Creek in the pre-dawn hours. I wanted to hook up with some other Charlotteans in the woods, but we were on the family guy schedule, so there was a good chance we were going to have to head out as a pair.

Once again I didn’t give the temperatures the respect they deserved. I was wearing all the riding clothes I had brought with me, and it wasn’t enough to keep the chill off. We climbed past where the other guys woulda been, but the parking area was empty so we rolled up the dirt climb to the silly long climb up the paved 181.

Our route was basically up in the air in order to keep the family guy mountain agenda alive. On the way up the paved road I spotted an entrance to the trail that went all the way back down to the parking area the other guys were going to be at (which was also less than a mile from where we started). It was counter intuitive to give up the progress we had made going up to see if they would be there since we would be there over 40 minutes after they said they planned to show up, but why not give it a try in the name of camaraderie.

It was refreshing to be descending so early on a ride at Wilson’s Creek. Most of the time that we ride there we start with an hour plus climb before we get to the good stuff. Oddly enough when we got to the bottom there were Blair and the two Robs just getting ready to head out. That kinda thing always happens at Wilson’s Creek, but then again it’s a magical place. It’s almost 200,000 acres of mountains, streams, valleys, trails, and dirt, but you bump into people like you’re at the neighborhood grocery store.

The ride was the perfect medicine for my head. Good people, good trails, good times. I am never happier than when I am in the mountains. Be it climbing, descending, or just tooling along on a riverside trail… it’s as good as life gets for me.

My headset was loose again. While I was working on my bike I had a revelation of sorts. I have a fair amount of friends who smoke the devil’s cabbage when we’re out on big rides. I don’t have anything against it, and truly think it should be as legal as beer, but anyways…. These folks tend to use a lot of euphemisms for the activity. Saftey breaks, getting their head straight, and sometimes headset adjustment. That got me to thinking. As I was tightening the preload on my headset I realized that in some bizarro world I should refer to the activity I was engaged in as “smoking weed”. That should keep the world in balance.

What do people do if they don’t ride mountain bikes? I dunno.

When I got into the third neighborhood my memory got a little fuzzy. Charlotte’s urban dwelling areas are not very well thought out, and the connectivity suffers. So many roads dead end or just end loop around, so planning a route is quite useful. Problem was I couldn’t remeber my route, and in very short order I was lost. I was less than three miles as the crow flies from my own refrigerator, but I had no idea how to get out of this neighborhood. Since the sun was still below the horizon I couldn’t even use it as a reference to navigate my way towards the big buildings. I started to wonder if I was going to be late for work. My options were limited as there really wasn’t anyone out and about to ask for directions, and I can’t imagine how The Pie would feel if I called home to wake her up so she could google map me back to happiness so close to home.

Eventually I found a street name I recognized. I wasn’t sure if I should go left or right, but I went with a gut instinct and got lucky. I found my way outta the labrynth, and started my journey towards the big buildings. I read about guys going on 100 mile gravel grinders and doing crazy exploratory training rides in Spain, and there I was lost in my own zip code. Moron.

My brain has been quite prolific in the production of introspective and philisophical thoughts. The reasons for deep thought are obvious, but still my brain is getting a little crowded. I do not consider myself a shallow man, but under normal circumstances I tend to think a lot of shallow thoughts throughout the day. The topics my brain is usually cluttered with include:

bikes
food
work
family time
beer
sex
bike parts
bike riding
bike part acquisition
sex with bikes*
36″ wheeled mountain bikes
What time is it?
weekend plans
the drought
Is there really an island of discarded plastic in the Pacific Ocean?

* That was just in there to see if you were paying attention

Like I said, shallow thoughts for a person who is slightly deeper than then end of the pool that’s roped off for the kids. I know I have a good life, and it’s definitely times like these that should serve as a reminder to make the most of the time we have.

And for just a little more visual distraction here’s a picture of me and Jut Rut (I’m taking bad grammar back) from the Bike Love party in Asheville. I just realized the relevance of the Matrix as Jut chose the blue cup, and I went for the red. Guess I wanted to see just how deep the rabbit hole goes (it looks like I’m searching for the answer).

Yes Virginia, there is no such thing as TOO much beer.

The first thing I did when I saw him was hand him an envelope with the quarter in it, and oddly enough he handed me an envelope back. Inside was the silver medallion. It was a weird coincidence that makes me shake my head every time I think about it.

I didn’t know what to do with it for the first few months. It sat in the cupholder of my Dirty Little Box until I was preparing to go the 24 World Solo Championships in Conyers. I realized that since my dad was there for my first Worlds I would bring him with me in spirit this time around. I put it on a cord, wore it around my neck, and as the story went I won the Worlds.

I’ve been meaning to put it on a real silver chain at some point, but I just never made time for it. Yesterday morning I went over to Brownlee’s Jewelers in uptown Charlotte. I’ve used them for the last decade to take care of a few things (who knew rings needed maintenance), and even though they are located in the heart of Banktown USA I trust them not to screw me. I told the salesman what I wanted done, and long story short there were some tears and a very understanding jeweler sharing stories about his father who also had cancer. He had me sit down, and minutes later he popped out of the back with my necklace. He charged me a nominal fee which probably covered the cost of the chain and maybe a small chunk of his time. I left crying but very happy. I have something worth nothing but worth everything at the same time.

Yesterday’s post was more of a cathartic exercise. I felt better after putting it out there for the world to see, as I’ve been keeping a lot inside for weeks now. Thanks for all your kind comments, emails, and support. It means a lot to me. I am blessed.

On a good note I finally got to use a big heady word like “cathartic” on my blog. If you remember my blog has an elementary school reading level, so I need to do something to pull up my grades. I recently plugged my blog address into another blog analyzer and found out that I have an R rating. Obviously I am limiting my audience by using dumbs words and a filthy vocabulary, so using words like “cathartic” should help even things up. I’m certainly not going to use the words “penis” and “shit’ any less.

Yes, it’s back to funny business.