YEAR OF THE TIGER

The dawn of a new decade.  2010 rolled around two weeks prior and although it was just another day starting as the ball dropped like a guillotine on 2009, many (including myself) chose to mark this as a fresh beginning.  A clean slate, if you will. Change, renewal, and rebirth seemed less novel and suddenly tangible as you hung up that new calendar depicting cute puppies, sweaty firemen, or lighthouses from around the world.  Perhaps you loaded another grocery bag full of resolutions you’re already struggling to fulfill in your daily life.  How triumphant it must have been to even think of them, let alone attempt their manifestation.  Don’t give up hope.  Not just yet.

Personally, 2010 IS one of those years for me.  I have yet to implement some glossy 12-month calendar depicting people, things, or places I’d rather be with, at, or in, but I’m gunning for the “clean slate” approach full boar, starting with a new place that my girl, Jessie, and I are holin’ up in come Friday.  A new physical home, a new neighborhood, fresh living with my lover of 2 ½ years – man, things are great!  In addition, goals have been set and WILL be achieved.  But then there was last night.

All was well as I loaded up my belongings in truck load #2 of the evening.  Darkness is everpresent, the precipitous clouds are on the verge of overcoming their constipation, and it’s an anaerobic race against time, hefting furniture, boxes, and anything in my periphery into the bed of the truck.  I first rolled out my bike, took note that it would be best fit on top of the load, and set it aside.  It’s a black bike, and again it was dark outside.  Before you know it I’m on the road heading to the new pad.  Halfway through the unloading process, I take a moment to reflect and then it hits me like an ungrateful pimp.  “Fuckin’ A!  The bike didn’t make the load.  Spaced it. Shit!  Get back home, pronto!”

My worst fears were materialized as I pulled into the driveway and didn’t see my DH steed.  Eddie must have moved it inside, being the awesome landlord he is.  Spoke to Eddie and he didn’t move a thing, hear a thing, or see a thing.  Fuck! Mount the road bike, scour the neighborhood for leads, and then realize it’s Oakland.  That bike is probably already stripped and on Craigslist by now.  I called the police, am told that they’re too busy to send someone out, and direct me to file a report on line.  So I did and now I’m here, assessing the mistakes I made and also confirming that faith in humanity, our fellow neighbors, is out the door.  So keep yours locked.

I didn’t sleep well last night knowing I was ripped off.  In this new sea of change I saw all the good and began to neglect even the possibility of the bad.  Much like riding bikes, you’ve eventually gotta pay to play in the game of LIFE, whether it be in the form of financial, physical, and/or mental expenditures.  This learning lesson provided me with an update that I’m safe, it’s just a bike, and there’s so much worse that could have arisen.  But man, bikes are an extension of my self and I honestly felt like a piece of me was amputated.

If  you spot a 2006 Iron Horse 7 point 7 with a custom parts spec., black, medium, super Gucci condition……drop me a line.  I’m my own vigilante task at this point as a result of Oakland’s overworked police staff.  But then again, you’re probably too busy checking out that cuddle little Golden Retriever on the August 2010 page of that calendar.

Where it’s at >

Merry (belated) Christmas to you all and an (early) Happy New Year!!!  Hope your extended weekend with family and friends was as enjoyable as mine.  Four solid ones for me.  Christmas Eve and Christmas Day proper were spent in my home away from home hitting up the early season backcountry.  Castle Peak with Cole on day 1 and Hidden Peak on day 2.  Choice.  Hidden Peak held great fluff for  two well-earned laps with Gregg, Meghan, and Flash the Dog, who had his first BC experience.  He charged and we had no choice but to do the same with the pillowy goodness in front of our sticks beckoning all to indulge.  Family fun, great holiday fixins’ and a nice long run rounded out the weekend.

Two more days of work and then it’s off to Montana to ring in 2010.  Keep informed by following my tweet.  Not really.  Tweeting is gay.

Brrrrrr……

Toes like skin-wrapped ice cubes and breath not only visible, but denser than air.  Escaping my mouth and nose, the steam begins to rise and then falls fast before dissipating,  Ear lobes a crimson red as a 10% grade descent makes them more brittle by the second.  Avoid touching them, imagining a Van Gogh / Leper-like result.  Sprinting up each small climb, grabbing gears to coerce blood flow through the flood gates of each limb and muscle group.  Perhaps a day better spent revolving the cranks in monotous, indoor fashion, but this can only make me stronger.

Layers and prayers will get me through the ride, heat and whiskey will get me through the night.  Godspeed…

“Just a bike race???”

Thanks go to DP for finding this

Windows

Not the Microsoft type. Or the ones on your house type. Nope. We’re talking about those of opportunity. For every action there exists a certain window of opportuntity and today I met it .

Washing the car and gettin’ it all tits took a good hour plus and I scraped bugs and sap of the Boob below blue skies and sunshine. Piddly-farted ’round for a few afterward and then suited up for a nice “anticipated” spin around Pena Adobe. 15 minutes into a not-so-gentle climb the horzion’s darkness catches up to me and starts to release a 80/20 mix of wet and ice. Novel and picturesque at first, however, these particluar first impressions wore out their welcome and I was both squinting to see through the downpour and standing to stay warm.

A quick dive beneath a recently fallen oak to tuck the Shuffle away and don my only remaining layer was enough to reinstate  high hopes and optimism that the ride wasn’t ruined. Then both lightning and thunder joined the party and got things really pumpin’. I decide to check how the descent was going to be, so about-faced.  This back-tracking was wise and I realized I had to GO, and go FAST, as the soil these trails are known for can turn to a plaster a paris and really ruin your day. Deep puddles, red clay rivers, and leaves cascaded down a soggy-slimy, dust on crust, junkshow of a trail as I mashed through it all. I ate mud, dirt, and plenty of rainwater stew to get me through until supper.

Popping out on the road I’m shaking, semi-miserable, and still in the storm’s grasp.  Not five minutes later I ascend my parent’s driveway and enter the garage.  As I peel off every gritty article of cloting like layers of a gutter cake I look out to the yard and it’s different.  The colors quickly brighten, the sound of rain stops, and instantly the climate is back to it’s bi-polar otherness.  Naked, standing there shivering, and filtering the sand through my teeth was when I realized how important these windows are.

Gobble, gobble, gobblin’ up my dayz off!!!

FYI, before grabbing a extra slice of pumpkin pie, take heed to where they come from….

Does pumpkin spice burn on the way out?

Sooooo, the long Holiday weekend is officially here @ 6:53pm on Wednesday the 25th.   Now there’s four whole days ahead to embrace freedom from work and share in the good times with friends and family.  I’ll definitely be giving thanks tomorrow for all the wonderful folks and events that have brought me to this point in my life.  And to show my appreciation for the ‘ol bi-cycle, gonna get in some good rides as well with a gathering of those kooky jive turkeys I call my friends.  Rockville Park on Gobble-Gobble Day @ 10:00 am in the parking lot.  Auburn on Friday for a nice long loop, and some even more epic-ness to round out the weekend on Saturday in Nevada City.  Word……  And to top it all off, perhaps a skate sesh on The Sabbath.

On the Edge

The Edge 305, that is.  And boy, how I dig new, techy shit.  Thought that getting one of these GPS rigs would help with the navigation aspect of epics, mapping new rides and routes, and for the sheer hell of it all.  Roughly 3 weeks into my ownership, I’m still learning the ins and outs, but it’s been nice being able to utilize as a training aid, as well as to review HRM, route, speed, and time data in a variety of ways.  The coolest has gotta be slapping a layer of trail beta over a Google Earth map and putting it all in perspective.  Actually, it makes your rides and runs look pretty meager unless you zoom in a bit.

Stats for days....

There’s a multitude of options out there for analyzing the data.  From Garmin, there was Motion Based, yet it  apparently has been swallowed up by Garmin Connect, which is their new proprietary software.  But I’ve also found other 3rd party players such as Sport Tracks, Ascent, Training Peaks, and Trail Runner.  They’ve all got their pros and cons, and for my Mac OS needs, looks like Ascent is where it’s at.  I’ll be doing my best to throw up routes and ride data on the site in the future, in hopes of shedding light on where you should be roaming with that rig of yours when trying to sniff out worthy trails in Northern California.  This long weekend should be a great opportunity to gather a collection of  Nevada City and Auburn’s finest dirt paths to two-wheeled freedom.  The more the merrier, so hit me up if you wanna rally out and work off that extra helping of apple pie.

Decisions, decisions…

They say we Americans make sometihng like 40,000,000 decisions a daily basis.  Well, maybe not that many, but I swear there’s at least two commas in the figure.  A lot of our decisions are meaningless, like color of underwear we grab out of the drawer or which two slices of toast we grab from the loaf.  But others impact the outcome of our days, weeks, and years ahead.  Today, I pondered my own personaldilemma that has been evolving and escalating over the past few months.  There’s a lot of great choices out there for the said dilemma.  Which fully sussed, tricked out rig I’ll soon be throwing down my hard-earned Benjamins on is no “Oh, I’ll just have mustard and heavy on the pickles” type of decision you make on the fly.  There’s criteria to fill, which in this instance is 140mm-ish travel all around, the ability to be ridden hard and put away wet, and to have a solid suspension design that eats both cross country rides and all mountain epics for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.  And in these trying times of recession crises and budget trimming efforts everywhere, it has gotta have a “fo sho” bang for buck ratio.  I’m not spending more than $4,000 and hope it’s more like $2,900.  Damn, that’s a toughie.

 

So the contestants that have advanced to the showcase showdown are the Blur LT, the Tomac Snyper, the Ellsworth Epiphany, and the Specialized Stumpjumper FSR.  A damn fine quiver of rides and I’m sure I’ll be happy with any of those as options.  But I wanna be happiest.  For financial consideration, I can get some “good guy” pricing on all of them BUT the Blur.  I even tried the friend of the friend thing with a Santa Cruz dealer today, and it got me no where.  Guess I need more friends….that, or better connected ones.  I ride with folks that got ‘em all.  They all seem happy.  I love the VPP on the Blur, the stiffness and acceleration of the Snyper, the clean, plush ride of the Epiphany, and the well-roundedness of the Stumpy.  The saga continues…..

The Glass Half Full

Well, ladies and gentlemen, fall is certainly here.  Colors are changing, darkness is overtaking the evening hours, and 2009 is on its way out.  At first I resisted the shortened days and gloomy skies, but then I relaxed and accepted it.  The rain has been great (especially for our trails and drought status) and now it’s time for exciting seat-of-your-pants night rides.  Cyclocross is here in full force with the BASP#2 this Sunday and before you know it the ski lifts will be running us up to much-anticipated powder runs.  Enjoy the change in seasons and perhaps even grab a beverage of your choice to sip in celebration of…….life, I guess.  Yes, you’ve been a resilient character in surviving the current worldwide crises’ and situations.  Indulge a little.  Unlike this guy who took it a bit too far.

You can’t spell torture without TRT

Friday. 6:14 pm.  Punch out from work, hop in the car, and get on the 80 heading East.  Whaddaya know? Traffic.  Pull off the freeway at the first exit and opt for an early dinner while traffic simmers.  It’s Chipotle.  It’s only okay.  Things shape up around 7:30 or so and I am finally at cruising speed.  Three and a half hours later I’m creeping into South Lake, welcomed by the familiar scents of pine, fresh air, and nature’s nectar (not to be confused with baby batter….that smells way different).  Check into my room that’s already occupied by Mr. Mike Fine.  He’s sleeping and I’m quick to follow. Different beds.

Wake up call the next morn @ 4:50am.  A poor night’s sleep interrupted by Mr. Fine’s gas and an uncomfortable mattress was now a thing of the past and I quickly prepped my gear, lubed the chamois, and off we were to the Meyers golf course.  We dropped off our cars at this end point and hopped into Rann and Meghan’s behemoth of a truck who were waiting patiently with their toddler twins in tow.  An hour later we’re at Mount Rose Meadows.  It’s quiet, dawn-like in all respects, and as we pull up alongside another truck surrounded with men, bikes, and testosterone, I knew the show would quickly begin.

Greetings were exchanged amongst the 9 riders, poops were deposited in their respective homes, and helmets were buckled.  A quick group photo was snapped and I only hoped we wouldn’t be referring to it 5 hours from now trying to determine who was missing and what they looked like.  Anyway, we hop on the TRT and begin our epic to Meyers.  60 plus miles with a gang of climbing (AND DESCENDING!), 9 riders, and 1 SAG vehicle meeting us @ Heavenly and then finally @ Oneidas.

The route was solid with minor room for improvement (no Marlette Peak and no Chimney Beach downhill, but my legs did thank me) and the crew was two thumbs up with a consistent pace.  I arrive in position 4 at the top of the 5 mile climb to the bench near Genoa Peak and no one’s there.  Erik and I have a quick bite and then rally down to Kinsgbury.  I love that descent like Mr. Miyagi loves rice.  SAG stop @ The Fox & Hound where I put away 2 PBJ’s and have a quick safaety meeting with those not yet safe enough.  Reviewed protocols, accident prevention, and then mounted our steeds again.

Mr. Fine still has some gusto half way thru...

Now is when my body and mind became two separate entities and both were vying for control of my attention, and ultimately, my trail chi.  The loose, sandy, windy climb up the pavement, onto the dirt, and up the stair steps to Freel Pass was like a scene from Groundhog Day.  After every turn, every revolution of the pedals, each deep breath taken I had to check myself with a, “I swear I just rode this part.  WTF?”.  Summiting the pass @ 10,000+ feet I then fully embodied a tortured soul and regretted those missed training days over the past few months.

The legs were soaked in Star Lake, more food was consumed, weary glances were exchanged amongst us first 5 riders to reach this point, and then it was showtime for a ripping downhill that quickly honed in that misplaced trail chi.  At the Armstrong trail intersection, Mike, Rann, and I bailed right and opted for the Armstrong/Corral option since we had a nice 3 hour drive back home that night.  Back at the cars @ 4pm on the dot brings my estimate to 8 hours in the saddle, 1 hour of the bike, and countless memories of an epic ride, an epic route, and awesome friends.  Thanks for rallying all that made it, props to Jared and his 50 lb Ellsworth/sandal/flat pedal combo, and for those who didn’t, these words are now worth a thousand pictures.

60 lbs, 60+ miles, 24" tires, 3" width