Leg bliss and the 5th dimension

I've been kinda quiet in the blog-land area of life, well, cuz I just ain't had too much worthy of (or appropriate for...?) sharing with the general public beyond my near-daily blips on Facebook.  Nothing that's been too inspirational, uniquely entertaining or incredibly useful - just life going on life's terms and me coming through it pretty damn well no matter how much I sometimes revolt.

In the last month or so, though, I've found myself stumbling back to a place I first accidentally discovered near the beginning of this 2012th year - a semi-euphoric state I like to call..."leg bliss".  I'll go ahead and claim this as my own original term, and maybe it is, but I doubt it's so original.  I mean, I didn't even attach this title to what I'm feeling until I lost it and got it back, but it does pretty exactly identify the wonderful space I find myself again savoring.

So...what the phug is"leg bliss"?  Quite simply it's when your legs just do whatever it is you want 'em to.  I, of course, mean this primarily with regards to bicycling, but that's just where I get it. You know, when you're on a ride and it doesn't seem to matter how fast, slow, long or difficult the ride gets you just keep going and enjoying cuz your legs don't care and keep moving you in whatever direction you desire?  That is leg bliss.  It's not just a matter of fitness, strength & speed, but a combination of miles/hours on the bike, you're overall serenity level, and where you set your expectations.

The leg bliss I enjoyed most of this spring (and eventually took for granted) lasted precisely until I expected it to continue and/or to deliver specific results - losing track of the exact core of the deal:  that it's based in enjoyment, not results.  It took an entire month off the bikes to even have a chance at it again.  It took getting my serenity back in the right place.  Most of all, though, it took some serious expectation house cleaning.  I'd lost track of the "what" and got my panties all wadded up about the "why".  Painful lesson - read back a few posts if you really need a re-visit...

Anyway, September has been a wonderful example of the renewed bliss-ness of my lower extremities.  From mellow rides with close friends to a high-tempo roadie 106 miler.  From accidental Strava "KOM" mountain bike rides that were more fun than anything to BMX practices & races with my 6 year old son.  From impromptu trials demo's to my first-ever cyclocross race just today - my legs are simply diggin' the jobs I continue to put in front of 'em.  More important, I'm attaching my enjoyment, happiness and satisfaction purely on the intangibles of the ride - not the results.

With today's endeavor into the mildly sick and twisted world of cyclocross, I now voluntarily practice 5 different varieties of 2-wheeled-ness that I can use to maintain this latest addiction:  road, mountain, trials, BMX and 'cross.  Wow...all different but all with the ability to get me "bliss'ed out" - effing cool, eh?  Hell, I even tried running this week (on purpose, without being chased or in danger! I know, right??!!) and I have to admit the legs seemed to adapt well to it...a sixth variety???  We'll see...

Right now my legs hurt, they are tired, but the body & soul as a whole are content.  That is "leg bliss", and since this is my 2nd go around there's a good chance I'll actually remember that this feeling IS the prize, the goal, and the best possible result.

Ride on.

What I learned from a $100 T-shirt

I've typed, deleted and re-typed this latest entry multiple times as it seems I'm just looking for a crafty, creative way to voice this update from the Department of the Obvious.  Some way to express my last 8 weeks of self-sabotage in a way more entertaining venue than the simple truth - I stressed myself right out of the fun of riding and taking part in an epic ride/race that would've surely challenged me in a rewarding fashion.

Damn...it's hard to be your own worst enemy.  I apparently have such a strong mind that I can drive my body to imitate symptoms of anemia, lactic acidosis, and/or some form of myopathy or even chronic fatigue.  Wow.  I really have to find a way to use this power for good and not evil, eh?

But instead, it took suffering through 35% of an Arkansas race my gut said I should've skipped, riding through the subsequent ailments that decision brought me, using another few weeks to suffer as I forced myself to ride when I knew I shouldn't, ignoring repeated, calm, sensible Big Worm advice of "you might be over-doing it - take it easy, relax, rest, and just ride when you feel like riding", and 3 vials of blood worth of medical testing to get me where I'm at.   Where I'm at is the happy owner if the $95.75 race t-shirt pictured above, included with the registration for a really tough race I signed up for 6 months ago under the honest and appropriate motivation of purely, "I wonder if I could do that???".  A race I didn't start because my mind had pushed my body to the point it pretty much stopped working.

What did I learn?  I can remove all the fun, enjoyment and reward from anything I make too important and take too seriously.  If anyone else put as much pressure on me as I put on myself, I'd have no option but to kick that sum-bitch's ass.  But, somewhere amongst all the fun of my first Felasco, first (and incredibly rewarding & enjoyable) 3 and 6 hour races, multiple 50 - 85 mile road & gravel rides, and numerous hours on the trail I lost sight of what I was enjoying and focused only on a "why" to do it.  Damn shame.

While exchanging Facebook banter with a friend in Boulder about all the symptoms and suffering I was experiencing a few weeks back, she offered her condolences, but more importantly included, "Perhaps there is some blessing disguised behind this." Yanno? I can really hate to be told shit like that when in the midst of stirring up a good pity-pot, but I'll be damned if she wasn't right.  Once I resigned to the fact I wouldn't/couldn't race, I instead started putting my efforts into the "where, what & when" of family activities to be enjoyed during our annual vacation in Colorado.

The last dose of irony and humility came on July 14th at 9:00am.  We'd built our trip around the Silver Rush 50, had the rental house in Leadville paid for, so, might as well pick up my race t-shirt and go and watch the start.  What I learned there was so basic, so elementary, so...obvious that it truly put chills up my spine - other than maybe 50-100 truly serious, hard-core racers, these were just 1,000 or so normal folks following through on their personal "I wonder if I could do that???" mission.  The very mission I somehow lost sight of.

Other than the temporary indications of pain and hard work, all the faces that passed by me on that (brutal!) starting hill appeared to be excited about the day.  Looking forward to the challenges ahead of them.  The chance to meet, reach or exceed some individual, personal goal.  Good for them.  And good for me to see and learn from...even if I did it the hard way.

I finally let myself off the hook.  I allowed myself to get back to just having fun instead of creating pressure to attain some result.  Who knew that a simple 9 mile train ride or an exploratory "mountain climb" with my boys would be as rewarding as they were?  I was able to enjoy the entire vacation with family and friends without concern for how sore, tired, or "behind training schedule" I was.  With the right mindset (i.e., that of 3 months ago), it would've all fit nicely into our vacation plans, but there was a blessing in it all - I'd put enough pressure & expectations on this race that had I taken part it would've ruined the rest of the trip.  That t-shirt was a bargain, all things considered.

Even better?  Somewhere around day 3 or 4 of our trip, nearly 3 weeks off the bikes, the "want to" started coming back.  You know, the "want to" - the only data that Garmin cannot collect for you.  The level of "I want to ride my bicycle" that is present before, during and after a simple bicycle ride.  Finally, I was missing my bicycles.  I wanted to just go for a ride, feel the breeze, enjoy the sweat, try to out-think a turn or obstacle in the trail and simply enjoy being in the quite world of pedal power.  I got that ride this morning and it was nice.  It was normal.  My legs worked just fine, like they haven't worked in over 2 months.  My mouth even did this weird thing...it smiled.

So, with that all-too-lengthy and several times way-too-painful learning behind me, I hope to return to just being a bike rider.  Maybe a bike rider with goals, but definitely one that doesn't take himself nor pay-for-participation events too serious to miss out on the fun.

Peace on dirt.

Note:  my apologies, gratitude and love for all the friends, family, Facebookers and Earthriders that have tolerated, supported, comforted and guided me throughout the last few months.  I think the ol' Tony is back - sorry for the deviation & drama.



I shoulda just made some Meth...

Some decisions truly seem to be no-brainers - the right choice is immediately obvious, at least so far as the immediate circumstance is concerned.  Like, when I found myself at the Pharmacy counter in the Manhattan, KS Walgreens Thursday evening:  "Sir, before I can sell you this Sudafed, can you sign here to confirm that this is only for medicinal purposes?" the nice Pharmacist asked me.  The pain and pressure trying to eject my eyeballs conferred ever-so-briefly with my nostrils that hadn't felt a breeze in days, who then checked with my eardrums feeling they were about to burst and all were in agreement that this tightly regulated medicine was my only hope of making through the next 24 - 36 hours.  "Oh, most certainly!!"  After a few days of head & chest cold, having just completed several hours of lifting/moving all of a close friend's possessions into a U-Haul, contemplating the next day's 8 hour drive to central Arkansas to take part in an eight-hour-plus mountain bike race on Saturday, there was no clearer "right answer".  Or...was there?  Enter Syllamo's Revenge.

There's surely more history to this event than I took the time to find out, but it was regarded as a regional, somewhat national, all-well-regarded "epic event" held in north-central Arkansas.  Held in the Midwest's "mountain range", there are two flavors to choose from:  the 50 mile Syllamo's Revenge and the Syllamo's 125 - "125" meaning 125 kilometers, or ~75 miles.  Given the geography, I knew that 50 miles was probably plenty, but that registration had closed...so...whathehell, 75 miles it is!  Besides, I wasn't (yet?) into it for race results, but simply time in the saddle on tough trails.  If I felt 50 was enough, then bail on the last 25, DNF, talk smack and compare times with the other "real" 50 mile participants.  I kept it all in good perspective - this is just another ride that some folks will be racing, but the only person I'm competing with is me.  In continued preparation I kept to riding when/whatever I could - off-road, gravel, even almost-nearly-hangin' with the "A" group on a couple local road rides.  The more I rode, the more realistic it seemed that I could complete 75 miles of trail and reviewing last year's results had me (for no good reason other than creating a goal) telling myself that 8 hours was what I'd shoot for.

We arrive in Fifty-Six, AR Friday afternoon in time to grab the bikes outa the truck for a little course "recon" and other general touristy-type wandering.  I wanted to see the start - one mile of uphill double-track gravel at 11% grade.  I needed to ride up it once just to get a taste, or a visual, or a sensory impression of what the first of 75 miles was gonna feel like.  To the legs?  I gotta say, it didn't feel all that bad.  The lungs?  They seemed to be functioning as they should.  But...why do I seem to feel all parts of my body...jiggling with every rock, root or lump my tires touched?  Having been hitting the water bottle or Gatorade all day (all week, actually), why is my mouth/throat feeling like I just finished smokin' a bowl???

It hadn't yet "clicked" that the relief that 2 doses of the little magic pill had brought me would soon be my downfall, but I decided to only take 1/2 of one the night before the race - didn't want to risk any "post-med haze" come the 7am start time.  Another good night's rest and it was go time - light breakfast, more liquids, dress, stretch, spin around, and then at 7:00 sharp me and 150+ of like-minded lycra-clad souls were off with a bang:  nuts-ta-butts, elbow-to-elbow for a brutal first mile of just...hell, getting somehow sorted out by the time we reached single-track.

I got to the top breathing loudly (like, people were looking at me kinda funny sort of "loudly"), but feeling as good as Friday's pre-ride.  The single-track was plain yummy, albeit rocky, loose, and seemingly all up-hill.  I wasn't out to set any records, tried to get into my own pace, but making a point of being sure that anyone who I let pass me on a climb felt my knobbies rubbing theirs on the next downhill.  "Drink before you're thirsty, eat before you're hungry" kept ringing through my head, and I did just that...but...very early on, things just didn't feel....right.  My legs were dead.  I seemed to keep blindly staring at the trail instead of surveying it to find the next best line.  It was 59 degrees, but within just a couple miles I'd filled the pads of my helmet with sweat that was now splashing about my face on each rough(as all hell!) downhill.  I kept feeling like "surely, my legs will 'warm up' annnnnnny minute now...?"

By mile 5, a quick inventory of all systems told me rather bluntly that 75 miles was out of the question - focus on 50 - some thing's not quite right.  I'm not that sick.  I've prepared well.  I got a great night's sleep - why do I feel so entirely whooped already?  Next?  Somewhere around mile 10 I realized I was no longer sweating.  Like...at all.  It was warming up quick, the trail damn-sure wasn't getting easier, my efforts remained the same, yet I had goosebumps all over me and only growing in actual size.

Between then and the first check-point (you get a different colored wristband as pictured above at each stop), the "oh hell no you're not gonna quit!  You're 15/50th's done with this mo-fo, and you're here to ride, dammit!" discussions were in full swing between my ringing ears as I re-filled bottle and inhaled a PB & J.  From there I started chastising the trail, out-loud, in as inappropriate verbiage I could muster as I watched my average speed steadily drop with each diminishing press of the pedals.  Mild panic-attacks would start to fester, thankfully interrupted by gnarly trail that demanded full attention.

Around mile 23 I reached the 2nd check-point and found my responses to the volunteers asking "how you doing, man?!?" involved way too many words, but none of them really clear to either of us.  I wanted to quit.  I mean, like, badly wanted to quit.  "You puss!  You're just about half way - suck it up, re-mount, re-lax, and keep moving" thoughts somehow won out over the "dude, swallow the pride and ask for a ride" chant growing louder and louder.  The next couple miles lasted forever.  We crossed a road shortly after 2nd check, and I stopped to ponder gambling which way might lead fastest to my truck.  More scared of being lost off the course than miserable on it, I continued on.  It took me an HOUR to cover the 25th mile.  Frequently stopping to second, third, 27th-guess my decision to leave the 2nd check, and/or my choice to continue on instead of hitch-hiking.

Two creek crossing later I find myself tucking the front wheel in about 10 inches of water, then promptly losing my shit - to the tune of hucking the ol' GT about 20 feet downstream, loudly cursing its existence much to the amusement and/or concern of passing riders.  Now, I'm soaked, seemingly physically broken, and...sobbing...literally!  To the "I just wanna go home!" type tantrum of a pouting/scared/hurt little kid.  "OK, OK, jeeezuz, OK - it's time to quit.  Frankly, it might be about 2 hours past that time to quit...but...now what?"  I crawled out of the creek and started back-tracking to check-point 2, pausing at length when I came back to that paved road crossing.  With the help of Garmin, I picked a direction, not willing to ride another inch of single-track, and headed Southeast on the pavement.  I set a time limit to my pedalling and if I'd not reached something familiar by that time, I was gonna sit, sob, drink more fluids and wave down the next passing vehicle.

Thankfully, about 3 minutes prior to "thumbin' time", I came back to the 2nd check.  I rolled back in, a little over an hour since I was last there, already wearing that stop's wristband - folks noticed and I'm glad.  "Hey...you OK?  Need some water?  How can we help?" shared a few nice volunteer-type folks.  Apparently my slurred responses (and goosebumps) spoke loudly to them and they pointed me to some folks heading back to the start/finish.  "Here's some ice in a wet towel and some cold water - have a seat".  "Oh, no, I'm just tired, I'm not hot at all" was my response.  "Umm...that's the problem - you're not even sweating, it's 90+ degrees, AND the skin on your legs look like sand-paper!"  I again, for some reason, offered additional explanation, "oh, I've had a head/chest cold all week, took some Sudafed the last couple days and was feeling better..." got interrupted about the time I got to "-dafed", as it was apparently world-wide common knowledge (except to me, of course, at the time I made said purchase at Walgreens) that any kind of "fed" would not only dry up my sinus, but also any and all of the hydration I tried to pack in as preparation or continue to ingest during the event.

I had mixed feelings of relief and complete idiocy on that ride from check 2 to my truck.  How did I not put 2 & 2 together?  How did I never connect the idea of "intentionally drying out parts of my body to relieve symptoms" with "this might have a real impact on my ability to take in/absorb/use fluids"...???  Seems so (pardon the Meth pun) crystal clear that my decision to still race when ill was only out-dumbed by then convincing myself that "just drink more" (another sort of "pun" aimed at those that know my whole drunk-a-logue) would surely overcome whatever impact some cold medicine might have on me.

All that to say...what seemed like a "no-brainer" decision really turned out to be exactly that, but not remotely in the way I thought it would be.

Nothing at all to do with bicycles

Ah, Mother's Day.  The 2nd Sunday of May (well, as observed in the ol' U.S. of A. and many/most countries) has done come and went.  It was a beautiful, damn near perfect day here in Kansas City - cool morning in the upper 50's, light breeze, sunny with blue skies all day, reaching near 80 degrees before cooling down for the night.  I'm not sure what makes for a "perfect Mother's Day" because, well...I'm not a mother, never have been, and it's highly likely I never will be. 

Frankly, I am sure I've viewed it too much like some manufactured-for-commerce-holiday, like Black Friday or as I feel Valentine's Day has become, for a large portion of my life.  One that told me I had to spend some right amount of money and/or do something extra special each year that I would then feel compelled to out-do the next year in order to prove I actually appreciated the mothers of my world.  Looking at it like that, it's pretty easy to defend my stance...I suppose.  I most humbly have to admit, though, this type "rationale" that has supported so many of my opinions over the years is...once again...flat wrong.

Mother's Day was easy as a young kid - a day to make something for Mom to somehow try and ensure you stayed in her favor, regardless of all the trouble you had caused or were surely to create.  You had no real concept of appreciating your Mom - just how to try and keep on her good side, get what you wanted/needed from her, and move along with your kid-ly world business.

I'm sure in my late teens and 5 or 6 of my college years there wasn't a card I sent, definitely didn't make her anything, and probably a year or two that I didn't even pick up the phone.  It wasn't because I didn't "believe" in the holiday, had nothing to do with how much I truly love my mother, but simply that I had all my own uber-important life stuff to tend to and was sure there'd be other opportunities to do Mom Day right/better/something.

Then fast-forward a bit and seemingly-all-of-a-sudden, my wife is now also a mother.  As a father I found myself with a front-row seat to what is actually required to be a Mom, and more important, what's involved with being a really good one.  No matter how the division of labor is managed in the household, somehow it's always Mom who keeps it all in order, correctly pointed, coordinated, planned and cared for.  She's not only mothering my son (now two of 'em!), but both directly and indirectly helping me to continue to evolve as a father.  Yes, I'm already imagining the crap I'm gonna get if/when my wife reads this, but this shit is true, and it will only surprise & amuse her that I'm "saying it out loud"...

Anyway, through this "window seat to motherhood", you start seeing every mother around you in a different light.  No matter how "good" or "right" you think they're doing on the Mom Mission, you just can't help but finally understand a bit of what they're dealing with and admire some part of their being.  They're a mother, and that's a tough gig, plain & simple.

I'm pretty damn fortunate - I've known some fantastic mothers in my time.  I'm closely related to FIVE that I'd vote as world class, Top-Notch-Momma's, each a fantastic example of mother-ness in their own unique circumstance.  Add to that the "back-up" Mom's I had in high school, my next door neighbor, some of my closest friends and several co-workers, and there's plenty good reason for me to pause, at least for a moment on a single Sunday in May, and be somewhat in awe of what the day should/does truly represent.

Now, all that said, I will not try to say that I'm by any means a model of how "to do" Mother's Day, but I do truly hope to continue to love, learn and listen to all of the Mom's that I get to share my life with today.  At the very least, that "damn near perfect" day I spoke of earlier?  It was exactly that, and a day that I spent more-than-usual amounts of time being thankful for what day it was.  The only thing that'd made it truly "perfect" would be not having to explain just how long it took me to get there...

Must be the weather

Holy shiz-nit, it's been a while since I really let my fingers do the talking...I've just been too phuggin' busy with a lot of good stuff!  Spring 2012 has me all kinds of whacked out, and 94.73% in a good way.  So much going on, so much to do, work toward, enjoy and reflect on.  Yeah, something sure has "sprung".

April has just about blown through, but it's been packed with a lotta "firsts" (or "damn-near-firsts", and/or "first-in-a-really-freakin'-long-time"'s).  I started the month by taking my first-ever, solo "stay-cation".  It was "take a week off work to avoid quitting or getting fired" motivated, but what I actually got to do with the time made it worth a whole lot more.  I even created some goals, like:  ride a bicycle for 20 hours, do all of the school drop-offs/pick-ups of Da Boyz, knock out a buncha chores around the house, and...well, nap.  The idea behind those 9 days off really focused on giving attention to all (and only) the stuff I wanted to give attention to.  Mission accomplished in more ways than one, for sure.

The "20 hours in 7 days" idea launched on Sunday with my first-ever "gravel-grinder"...and "just" 82 miles of it.  A gravel-grinder is a clever way of saying "bicycle ride on gravel roads", and such rides were my motivation to recently purchase a cyclocross bike.  I jumped in with some hardcore dudes, but at the end of the day I was feeling proud, accomplished...and tired...and sunburned.  The normally-a-work-week kicked off with mowing, lawn chemicals, irrigation fine-tuning, and errands before another spin on the road bike.  Next day was several hours on the mountain bike capped on both ends with some fun with my sons.  Mid-way point of the week was very intense - very NAP intense.  Hey, I did say that napping was one of the goals!  83+ paved miles then on Thursday that started in mid-40 degree mist/rain and ended in 60 degree sun.  Friday included laundry, errands and a weird phone interview followed by some 'cross bike exploring and the usual Friday Family Movie Night.

Saturday was both a "first" and a "first-in-a-really-freakin'-long-time":  I took part in my first 3 hour mountain bike race, which was my first race since the calendar year started with a "2"!  As if I wasn't re-hooked on bikes enough this year, that 3h 3m of sufferin' sunk the barb even deeper (8th outa 24 results didn't hurt, either!).  It also allowed me to reach my stay-cation goal:  20h 02m, 279 miles composed of three different disciplines of pedal-power in seven calendar days. 

Needless to say (but I'm gonna say it anyway?) - for 9 days I was absolutely, positively living the dream.  I was a "kept man", a "stay-at-home, part-time Dad", a "spoiled rotten middle-aged kid" - call it what you want, but I'll bet you $1.00 of your money that you're envious!  Could I do that full time?  Hmmmm....oh HELL yes!!  Do I continue to contemplate doing just that and review the family budget and cash flow to see if it's actually possible?  For damn sure, I do!  But there's gotta be a middle ground there....somewhere...don't you think?  I gotta find it if there is.  Anyway, I've since returned to work, have gone two weeks without getting fired or quitting, and seem to somehow be enjoying my bike riding, my chores/responsibilities, and most of all my family just a little bit more than ever.  Seems the stay-cation did what I'd hoped, and then some...a lotta "some", actually.

A couplefew other things seem to have come into season along with the uber-green grass and 'bout-perfect weather.  First and foremost - my kids.  What the...???  Maybe all parents experience it, and if not I sure hope they get to, but my 5.5 & 6.5 year old boys somewhere in the last 20-30 days have turned some kinda corner.  They've always been great kids, but they've taken it to another level - with their growing affection for each other, their exponential growth in knowledge, reading, humor, and their ever-increasing size, strength and physical abilities.  My sons are just cooler than ever to hang out with!  I've loved 'em all along, I've even liked 'em almost all the time, but I find myself now nearly in awe.  This is exciting shit!  They're working their magic on evolving from little boys into little men and doing a fantastic job.  Being a Dad is cool...

So...1/3 of the way through Spring 2012 and everything I'd hoped to sprout is growing far better than I could've imagined (OK, including my apparent employment allergy....?!? Eh-hemmm).  My focus on bicycles is proving rather rewarding as I've now competed in 2 mountain bike races - the second being a 6 hour solo ride to 4th in class - and enjoying a level of fitness I've not known since my "I want to go to the '92 Olympics" era of the mid '80's!  I've registered for a 75 mile off-road race in May and feeling more and more confident in my chances of finishing (and growing conviction to "finish respectfully") the Silver Rush 50 in Leadville, CO in July.  I find myself being known now-a-days as "one of the fast guys" by the KC area bike folks - something I've never been before.  Oh, I've often been the "well, he does have some skills" guy, and for many years was known as the "pretty fast for a big guy" fella, but now at 41.8 years old, it seems I have finally arrived...ha ha.  Funny to say it that way...but I don't really care.

OK, well, that's about as much babble about nothing inparticular that I've got in me.  All that to simply say - working or not, I am living the dream and it seems to just keep getting better.

***  Special thanks to Big Worm and Big Jim for they're part in helping kick my latest bicycle era into high(er) gear as well as their continued input and advice on how to make the most of it  ***

What's in a name...

It has been a looooooong time since I crashed on a bicycle.  I don't mean some slow/no-speed, no-brainer, spode type get off or shin shot that is instantly laugh-able even though it hurts a bit.  I mean the kind of crash that as soon as things start goin' south, life goes into slow-motion and you have time in the midst of it to distinctly say to yourself, "well, shit...this is not going to end well."  And to be more accurate, I could say it'd been a long time until, oh, about 9:45 this morning.

I enjoy a certain amount of confidence and even take a fair amount of pride in my bike handling skills.  Also, unless I'm on the trials bike or riding a wheelie, I much enjoy keeping my mountain bike tires on terra firma.  Sure, if there's a way to launch off a root or rock to avoid the next 2 or three, I'll do it, but generally any of my "air time" is with the sole purpose of finding the smoothest, quickest line on the trail.  Me and my 29er hard-tail bike ain't much for "hucking" nor search out the thrill of big drops, etc., or at least hadn't done so until last weekend.

2 hours into a nearly 4 hour ride I hooked up with some full-suspension bike riders for a pretty playful couple laps of an area trail that includes some 2 - 5 foot drops as alternate lines.  Lines that aren't any faster or more direct, really, but lines put in simply for the thrill of over-coming fear and lettin' fly.  I got a bit curious.  Curious enough that soon I found myself ready, willing and able to roll my skilled azz off anything those with shocks on both ends were willing to.

This...is FacePlant:    http://www.flickr.com/photos/1eyedz/5826341347/
(***sorry, the only good pic I could find of it is copywrited, so, this is all I can give ya***)

FacePlant is the name of a section of this KC area trail.  Seems all trail sections have names - Rancho-d-lux, Nate's Section, 8 Pin, Marci's Playground, to name a few.  I really don't know that they have any meaning other than whatever was in the namer's mind at the time it was built.  FacePlant, though, was named for a very specific reason - you don't commit to the 4-ish foot drop of this cluster of rocks, you will end up on your face. 

Technically, it isn't that difficult - it's not a matter of speed, or impending danger, really - but you gotta mean it.  This ain't a half-ass gig.  The first few times I did it I was pleasantly surprised to confirm this, finding it only necessary to relax, maintain trail speed, and shift your weight back a bit.  I must've done it close to a dozen times last weekend, much to my own enjoyment and even some notoriety as "the guy on the hard-tail did it?!!??"  I still in no way consider myself one who seeks out such things or cares to do anything bigger, badder, whatever-er, but proud that I showed FacePlant just whatizzup.

This morning's goal/plan was to simply ride steady for 3+ hours.  I wasn't there to hammer.  I also wasn't there to look for the next "big thing" to conquer.  I was just there to put time on some tough trail into my body, pure and simple.  Of course, with last weekend's "awakening", I didn't always take the smoothest, fastest, most-direct lines, either.  First time to/through the FacePlant section I did exactly what I'd done before - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling.   About an hour later I came to this section again with legs/body all warmed up, riding a good-but-notably-faster-than-first-lap pace.  Time came to choose which line to take - off or around the FacePlant drop - and I didn't think twice about sticking to the same line I'd ridden the first go 'round.

The moment my front wheel left that clump of rocks, though, I realized I should've chosen more wisely.  Just after the usual landing area, the trail bends to the right.  Not instantly, but definitely goes a direction that is not exactly "in line" with the take-off of that lovely rock.  "Shit!  I should've slowed down just a bit and/or aimed a bit more to the right" sped through my head before the slow-motion "uh oh" self-comentary noted earlier kicked in.  That slo-mo self-comentary, though, was dead-on.

I'd landed a good 3-4 feet further from the rock, and past the intended transition, than I had in any previous attempts, front tire meeting the softer, damper dirt just to the left of the trail.  Bottom-out fork?  Check.  Front tire "pushing" as it tries to grab hold?  Check.  Trail continuing to curve to the right without me?  Check.  While a major "whoops", it seemed for just a split second I was gonna get by with just a humbling low-side...until that "pushing" front tire reached a just-big-enough rock to stop its search for traction, but not my forward momentum.  Oh, that tire damn sure stopped, hard enough that 6 inches of the tire bead got pulled out, but me and the rest of the bike weren't hardly even slowed up.

It gets a bit fuzzy and painful from there, but as me and the rest of the bike got flipped over the stopped front wheel, it really was like being grabbed by the ankles and being swung over some one's head and toward the ground where I landed on my....wait for it.....wait for it.....face.  Yup, while it was thankfully on dirt and not one of the area's gazillion rocks, the left side of my face felt like the unlucky side of a rubber-band snapping.  I damn sure pinched my legs, skinned my shins/calves, and thoroughly soiled all my clothes in the rolling exit from the bike that followed, but my focus was stuck on "I can't effing believe I just did a face-plant...off of a phugging rock they named 'FacePlant'".

I then gathered myself, did a quick check of body & bike inventory and eased on back about a mile to my truck and supplies/tools therein.  It took about 15 or so minutes to straighten out the bike and stop some bleeding, but nothing on me or bike was serious.  The largest discomfort was the result of the substantial blow to my ego.  The goal remained un-satisfied, though - I still needed at least another 90 minute of riding, and I headed back to the trail to get it.  It included a good dose of "the hair of the dog that bit me"...yeah...I once again picked the same line at FacePlant - just rolled up, relaxed, dropped off, and kept on a rolling.  Other than that earlier substantial mis-judgement, it was a fantastic ride...

I do have to say, though, that I am terribly grateful that the section named "Jaw Breaker" was ridden several times without any similar name-sake type repercussions.

The "re-visit"

I had a long-term girlfriend during my first attempt at college.  We were together well over a year when...well...it seemed to me it'd run its course and it was time to move on.  We truly had a blast together, enjoyed amazing chemistry, but something just didn't fit so far as "forever" kinda thoughts, yanno?  Did I mention the amazing chemistry?!!??!?

Five or so years later, we were living 250 miles away from each other, but due to a work engagement (and that fact we both found ourselves single...well, single enough), I ended up staying at her place for a night.  And wow, what a night it was - intense, familiar-yet-brand-new, electric, and...well, I'll say it again:  amazing!  One of those connections that had me thinking "oh my GAWD, how or why did I let her go?  What the hell was I thinking???  When can we do this again??!!??"

We pretty quickly coordinated the next rendezvous, still a-buzz from the first, I think both of us wondering "could we make 'us' work again....?"  This 2nd "re-visit" escapade, though, just...wasn't that good, frankly.  I mean, it was pleasant, it was comfortable, it did the basic "trick", but the passion, the goosebumps, the pure thrill of the initial re-acquaintance just wasn't there.  I think we parted ways both thinking it was still way better than doing it alone, but I doubt "I can't wait to do that again!" was on either of our minds.

Encounter #3 came along I'm pretty sure out of mutual boredom, no real enthusiasm, but purely, "eh, what/who the hell else have I got to do...?"  And that is pretty much exactly how it went.  We mighta still jumped in the sack, but only cuz we'd gut-bombed ourselves at the buffet and it was time to sleep!  That planned weekender quickly got cut down to a single evening-through-morning "date".  The disappointment was obvious - no anger, no blame, no fault, just plain ol', "damn...that was hardly worth the trip."

Why do I share this wonderful, deep, emotionally mature story to the whole flippin' world? (OK, that "whole flippin' world" bit is a mild over-statement, but you get my drift)  Simply because it near-brilliantly illustrates my recently failed relationship with a love of the internal combustion persuasion.  Life changes of the past few years (foster care, adoption, dusting off a couplefew bicycles) had me experiencing that same "it'd run its course and it was time to move on" feeling. 

Then came Dr's okay to re-mount the dirt bike and that first ride was, well, intense, familiar-yet-brand-new, electric, and amazing. I was BACK, I was fit, I was fast, I was billy-bad-ass!  Let's do that again!!!  Until the second ride, where, it was still better than sitting on the couch, but wasn't near the thrilling, fist-pumpin', rock-and-rollin' groove of the first.  Finally, based on a very similar "I got a kitchen pass and there is a race today...might as well go" rationale as the third ex-companion engagement, I loaded up the gas-burning 2-wheeler and headed out...only to also get that same "damn...that was hardly worth the trip" result.

So, the above picture is from Thursday's garage clean-out/sell-out to a good friend willing to take it all for a price we both felt was a good deal.  All this may just be further proof that I'm a slow learner that has to live everything twice, but there's also a more interesting (or at least entertaining) commonality:  my romance with dirt bikes was at its best between my first and second era of pedal-power.  That ex-girlfriend "re-visit" was between my first and second marriage to the same woman.  Purely coincidence....right...???

I'll always consider some "what if's" about the KTM, dirt biking, and off-road motorcycle racing, but hopefully I will now always know it just ain't meant to be.  My memories of it all will be rather fond, no doubt, but much like that girlfriend it is a passion that simply could not be recreated.

You just gotta...

Ah, a picture is worth a thous....er....at least three words, ain't it?  Kind of ironic that the best picture of what I was thinking be plastered on bicycle, but the gut feeling I continue to fight is actually with the bicycle's cousin:  the off-road motorcycle.

I shared  (babbled, pondered - whatever the appropriate "blog-lingo") not too long ago my mild dilemma regarding having more 2-wheeled interests than I really have time to enjoy, and it's a theme that might be coming to a jumping off point:  I'm afraid that one of these things just doesn't tickle the ol' fancy like the others...

After some time off my big, beautiful Orange girl, the first ride back was all kinds of fun just a few weeks ago.  The second ride...?  Eh, great company, but not quite the body-to-bike-by-throttle-hand connection I was hoping would follow up the first.  Last weekend?  Wasn't ready (or was just too pissy) to risk any bad moto-mojo, so, knobby never touched dirt.  But then it was really time to start getting ready for the first harescramble (motorcycle speak for 2 hour off-road race) of 2012 and that's when the mixed messages started.

I'd been planning on this race for a while, looking forward to it, and the elbows and fitness both seemed to agree that I was ready if not more than ready.  My plans hit an early stumbling block mid-week when the wife became worried that her work-week duties would likely over-flow into the weekend.  "Hmmmm...", I thought, "...and a weekend I was really hoping to double-dip with some pedal-miles, too...??"  Knowing the commitments of the leg-powered kind I'd already made for this year, I moved forward with the Saturday morning pedal-plan cuz 4 hours away from home & family is far easier to make work than the 9 hour day (plus pack & clean-up) that goes with a dirt-bike race.

That was the first (albeit mild) "sign" that I wasn't really into the moto-thing.  The next couple signals weren't so mild, like, the fact that the later "all clear" from the wife somehow gave me more stress than relief.  That was followed by a then-unrecognized resistance to commit to car-pooling to the race with friends.  Then this race morning started with three attempts to pull out of the drive-way (30 minutes off-schedule, already) before I remembered everything...except cash;  three stops to find an ATM I was willing to pay for the privilege to use;  then missing the ONE exit of the ~2 hour trip I was supposed to take in order to get there in a timely manner.  I'm thinkin' I should have turned around then...

Fast-forward a bit to me realizing that nearly every conversation I had with the moto-folk upon arrival included something along the lines of "eh, I just really don't feel the 'mojo' today...hope that passes".  The distraction of thinking "man, the conditions are perfect, this trail is gnarly-sweet...why am I not having more...fun???" dominated my first practice lap.  The 2nd lap I was far more on form, but over-run by the lack-luster feelings of the first one combined with discomfort of considering battle with the ump-teen others in my class on such terrain.  Not the best mindset, wouldn't you agree?

Back to the truck for PowerBars and Gatorade, and to find out the start is delayed, then hoping that extra time might help me get my race-face on while/but continuing to consider, "why am I here???"  The rider's meeting finally took place, but included the announcement of another short delay, and that was finally the "sign" I gave up trying to argue.  I rode from the rider's meeting straight up and into the back of my truck and had my clothes changed, truck packed and Diet Pepsi in hand before my buddies had their helmets buckled up to head down to the start.  In typically-Tony fashion, my attempts at mild humor to explain my pre-mature exit, when cognitively hog-tied, failed along the lines of "my life is too effing tightly scheduled to allow for such delays", "I shoulda brought my mountain bike", and "consider my entry fee a voluntary donation to the AA class purse".

I pulled outa there both mildly pissed off at the waste of time I brought upon myself and like I just got dumped by a hot chic - yeah, quite the combo.  The next hour or so of silence in the truck was as much mourning as embarrassment, I guess.   Grateful I didn't force it, cuz like it or not, you're head's really gotta be in it to make such racing a remotely safe endeavour, yet torqued that I'd ignored the first 1/2 dozen "signs" that already tried to tell me exactly that.  The remainder of the drive home was consumed by complex calculations trying to determine how much an "EVERYTHING must GO!!!" sale should include as a price tag, and how much repair vs. disclosure of items needing attention would work out best.

It was nice to surprise my family with my early arrival home and have no truly bad news to explain it.  It was a rather relaxed mode I got to enjoy when un-loading the truck and washing the bike while being pleasantly interrupted by my son's random questions.  I'll admit, a sort of mental inventory of the garage with the idea of above sale was tallying up in my little brain as I then changed shoes and put on gloves to ride BMX bikes up & down the block with my boy, but it didn't (doesn't YET) feel urgent or panicked.  It does feel like something that needs to reach a decision point soon, though, and one that I must carefully contemplate so that I don't (again, I know!) find myself trying to un-do it all this time next year.

Still kinda cool that such a weird, mis-understood & somewhat frustrating day came to an end which included beautiful weather, laughter, calm, and riding bikes & sharing chicken wings with my kids.

More soon, I'm sure...

Squirrels, pearls and ego...

"The squirrel cage" is an interesting, affectionate term I often use to describe the useless activity occurring between my ears that does nothing more than transport me out of the right-now.  Maybe "The Gerbil Wheel" is a more realistic term, but the mixed up image of a squirrel trapped in a cage is really far more accurate.  If that damn squirrel gets to a spinnin' around in there, it's just a matter of time before my focus is on the past or trying to get into the future - neither of which can do a guy like me any good.  Even worse, once that freakin' rodent gets a good rhythm going it's a substantial effort to restore any kind of peace or serenity to the area.

What fuels this lowly squirrel?  Well, it both craves and is fiercely allergic to doses of ego, and a side-dish of fear really kicks it into high gear.  It loves to supplement this diet by feasting on regrets, and uses that malnourishment to build up some substantial expectations.  I'm never sure at all where in the hell the fuzz-ball is trying to get, but the more bound it feels by the extremes at each end of its cage, seems the faster that little phugger goes.  All that ever really comes of it is...well...noise.

So?  Too much freakin' symbolism have you needing more tangible examples?  OK, you might have recently heard of me speak about my return to cycling and the fitness that it's bringing.  It's been good for my health and well-being, but also has improved my self image to a certain extent...maybe even just a wee bit too much.  Like, to the point that I had myself convinced that I was surely ready to jump on the wheels of a couple hard-core roadies (one a Cat 1, the other a RAAM finisher) for a long Saturday ride.  Whoooo-boy, the squirrel tucks in its napkin and gets ready to chow down...for all of the 10-15 minutes I am able to ride with those guys.

Now, with a full tummy, that little bastard is ready to rock:  "well, that was embarrassing, Tony - how fit you feel NOW?";  "bet those guys are chuckling at you riding away with your tail between your legs";  "didn't 'the data' show that you were getting fitter/faster?  Ha!  Guess the data LIED!";  "who did you think you were fooling, there, 'Mr. Ride Indoors' man?"  Actual fact:  those riders were basing their pace off me, and my ego was blowing up my legs trying to show I could stay with 'em, too proud to simply ask they ease up a bit.  But the squirrel don't care about no stinkin' facts - he's got all he needs already to get his gyro-scope in full swing.  His transitions around, back & forth his confined space also become more extreme - the "should've"'s and "could've"'s of the past are stacking up on one side.  The "you won't"'s and "you can't"'s grow in a pile at the other end of the cage that points to the future.  Can you hear that?  Pretty amazing clash of static, ain't it?  Makes it impossible to retain any focus on the present, and that is exactly what Mr. Squirrel was hoping for.

Don't get me wrong - this little bike-ride-gone-bad is just a single example, but damn near anything can get this furry little fiend into action.  I showed my ass (not quite literally, but close enough) just two days later at work using the exact same formula:  pride/ego, expectations, fear, regret.  Thank God at least there's a pattern...?  I was steamin' mad, (f-bombing wildly and loudly, of course), and found myself with one foot planted firmly in the past while the other foot stomped into the future so that...well...I basically found myself pissing all over the "right-now". 

That leads me to some other "pearls of wisdom" that have been shared with me that I eventually use to quiet the noise that puffy-tailed turd has created only in my head:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery - all you've got is today, and that's why they call it "the present"

Don't compare your insides to other people's outsides

What other people think of you is really none of your got-dam business

The power others have to annoy me, I give to them

Per my two sons after my bad day at work, regurgitating Mommy & Daddy lessons:  "just take a deep breath", "be careful with your words", and the real stinger - "you can only control you"


Now, all THAT to arrive at the fact that...hell, I dunno.  Maybe it's just my way of sharing TM-phuggin-I.  At least my way of communicating, "inside my head is an...interesting place to visit, but no one should really have to live there"...?  Or a really long-winded way of expressing that I've still got much to learn about living right, but the journey is never dull.  Maybe a way to acknowledge to myself (and the damn squirrel) that I'm making some progress in living in the now, leaving the past as it is and letting the future come as it will.   I'm definitely learning that the less I focus on the past or try to control the future, the fuller and better the right-now gets.  Yeah, I like that.

Double-vision

Several of you may have heard me remark before that I'm a slow learner.  The specific context of that statement is rooted in the fact that it took me two attempts to squeeze a degree out of college, didn't get lasting sobriety until the 2nd bounce...hell...even had to marry the same wonderful woman twice to truly "get it".  Maybe I shouldn't be so proud of such facts, but I do love identifying such...patterns.

While loading the truck up with a pair of bikes Sunday morning (one GT mountain bike, one KTM motorcycle) I found myself nearly overwhelmed by all the "2's" in my life.  More specifically, how many things that I find truly important to my very being that have come in pairs.  Now the fact I was combining two disciplines of riding into one trip is an easy entry on the "2's" list, but as any OCD fella on a 45 minute solo trip in 11 degree weather would do, I felt it only right that I keep compiling the list. 

As noted above, both of my marriages to my current wife rank at the top.  I do not recommend this approach to marital bliss, but it's what makes ours what it is.  I also make my affection and gratitude for a certain fellowship represented by two capital letters pretty well known.  It's rather obvious that anything with two wheels gets my attention, always has.  This love of two has been with me in some combination or variety for 37 of my 41 years.   But what else?

How about...my two sons?  Yes, without a doubt, I loved Benjamin (truly more than I really thought was humanly possible) the moment he arrived, but something about the addition of Thomas seems to have completed this family.  It's not just a "black & white" thing (or, "chocolate & peach" as we say at home) but way more complicated.  They are SO different, but so much the same and near-always complimentary in a wide variety of ways.  Somehow each of them makes me love the other one even more...and...vice versa.  I'd love either one if they were my only child, but having two is far more than double the love.

From there my mind went far broader, more general, and maybe much shallower:  What other things only work "by two"?  Night & day.  Asleep & awake.  Good & Bad.  Left & Right.  Other life couplings that came to mind?  Mom & Dad.  My sisters, Debbie & Stephanie.  Passed away pets, Henry & Lucy.  Other pairs that make my daily life as complete as it is?  1) Diet 2) Pepsi.  1) Moose 2) Tracks.  1) Rainbow 2) Sherbet. 

As I approached my riding destination, I was amazed how quickly the windshield time passed with this "quest for pairs" topic bouncing between my (two!) ears.  And dammit, putting the words "pairs" and "bouncing" in the same sentence leads us right to a totally-Tony-appropriate thought to end this topic:  boobs  =)

Anyway, reading back over this tells me it may just be an unintentional waste of two things:  my time typing and your time reading.  Oh well...

Perfectly un-planned

This is what complete satisfaction can look like. 

Unlike yesterday's babble about "things not going at all as I had planned", today just kinda...happened.  I guess the lessons of life continue, indeed.  A late night text from a buddy (who'd just bought his new ride in the background) threw out the random, wishful idea of bookin' it 2 hours South and playing in/on/around the wet rocks of southern-ish Missouri.  Hmmm...Dawn seemed agreeable, (other than my apparent mis-understanding of when I was/agreed to be home - sorry honey!!), the forecast seemed pretty reasonable, only three weeks until the first race of 2012...."Hell, yeah!  Let's do it!"

I'd been pretty seriously pining to throw a leg back over this thing for a while, even if it was just to prove that the love couldn't be re-kindled, dirt-biking was no longer that much fun, and/or most of all:  the tendinitis-ridden old man elbows couldn't take it any more.  The good and the bad news is...I was wrong on all accounts.

Fantastic riding, great fellowship, happy elbows and the cracked radiator shroud along with the strange, colorful knot on my thigh were prices gladly paid.

Signed,
Yes, I'm limping with a big-ol' grin

Going all directions

Watch out for this reckless sum-bitch...my thoughts and feelings covered the spectrum this week...

From the twisted satisfaction of two nights of 85-90% MHR extended efforts to the "jeeezuz I wish I'd just crap myself to get past this gut-ache".  From 65 sunny friggin' degrees the 1st of February to 38 & rain-to-slush-to-snow forecast tonight.  From work feeling like more a pain in my ass than they bought from me to the guilt of taking two days off sick.  From loving my PT Dr(s) and what they've done for me to "OK, enough already - we done here?!?! Am I 'fixed' yet?!!?"  From enjoying the diversity my kids represent to never wanting them to socialize again...at Burger King. 

I think the last illustrates it best.  Now...I'm somewhat a tough Dad and we run a pretty strict household complete with "Family Policies", schedules, rewards, consequences - the whole gig.  (Stop chuckling...I know, hard to believe, but true).  My Saturday tradition is to take Benjamin & Thomas to either McDonald's or Burger King for lunch & fun...and usually an injury or tantrum.  We live in an area where the make up of either establishment's play area is diverse, interesting, hell sometimes flat Jerry Springer-amusing - that's part of the attraction - let 'em rub elbows, smell farts, push, chase, sneeze on and fight kids of all racial, social & economic backgrounds.

For some reason today, though, albeit still stinging from the "hangover" this week seemed to leave on me, I was twitching to get my kids out of that place!  Dirty tables, weird kids, fugly parents - it musta been some kind of Reject Retreat going on.  But then it kinda hit me - where did I get the idea that I wasn't right where I belonged...?  What made them the rejects...? I'm just a pretty-good-paid specimen of white trash, myself...with two different colored kids...living as a recovering drunk...with a giant pinch of dip in my lip...you feel me?

Seems the theme, or the lesson, of this week is/was = perspective.  I've been suffering most from a mild case of...Tony.  Lost every bit of track of what I can (and should) control, what I can't, and/or telling the effing difference.  All said and done, it wasn't such a bad week, but I damn near missed it simply because it wasn't going at all how I had planned.  I got in three rides, was productive at work which then afforded two days of (some of the best, un-interrupted) sleep to recover from un-diagnosed, wicked nausea, and a chill day of enjoying being Dad. 

Good thing the learnin' don't stop...

What was I thinking?!?!

Well, specifically in this picture I was prolly thinking, "man, I miss Layne Staley" as Alice in Chains pumped through my ear buds, or "RPMs at 95 - good; HR @ 70% - good", or even "that damn sessy KTM 250 XC over there keeps giving me 'the look'", but I digress - what I mean is, what was I thinking when I registered for the Silver Rush 50 this week - a 50 mile race, off-road, starting at over 10,000' elevation, climbing another 8k feet throughout?

I guess I was thinking, "Hell, I made it through 62 Florida miles, I feel great...I think I could do this! Yeah, yeah - I wanna go for it!" for whatever reason...or hell, just the right combination of reasons.  I've spent 4-10 hours per week "riding" as shown above for much of the last year, 60-100 minutes at a time.  While I do my best to actually ride outside, on real pavement or dirt whenever I can, this is probably 65% or more of my saddle time (at night, in the garage, after kids go to bed).  It's probably as close to meditation as I get, frankly, and for that reason as well as the intended physical benefits it just flat makes me feel good.

Yanno what else makes me feel good?  Becoming willing to risk failure while working toward something I want.  Don't get me wrong, I'm sure most earth people feel this way, but it's something that has taken me many years to get in the proper perspective.  Sure, I've always wanted to accomplish stuff, but I will intentionally fail to disclose just how many of those "somethings" were never attempted because my fear of failing dwarfed whatever reward may have been possible.  Phugging sad.  Just days after registering, I'm scared shitless of the beating I'm gonna take in Leadville in six months, but I'm finally more attracted to the prize of completing it than distracted by the fear of not.

Now, I've taken on a few major challenges in my life fueled by this same fear-based motivation.  I lost 65 pounds after receiving a bike that belonged to a friend who died unexpectedly.  Not because I thought his bike was cooler than mine, but because it took that tangible realization that I wasn't guaranteed time "later" to take better care of myself.  I only gave up the booze by reaching the point it was really my only option - I am/was too much a puzzy to take it to the bitter end.  I didn't quit drinking because it seemed like the right thing to do, or because I thought "golly, I think I drink too much and my life would be oh-so-peachy if I could put a plug in the jug."  Nope, I found myself afraid of dying drunk, or even worse, living through my life going to complete shit because I continued to put a Bud Light to my head and pull the trigger. 

So, with all that in mind, why should I fear challenging myself with just a bike race?  What's so intimidating about putting some thorough planning and effort into preparing for something 6 months away that may only leave me broken, disappointed and/or tired?  I think I'm realizing that the benefits of being willing to take it on will far exceed any race results.  It motivates me to ride more, train smarter, manage my time around all of life's responsibilities better - to not be paralyzed by the fear of it not going exactly how I'd like.  None of that sounds bad at all, does it?  My only risk is what?  Not winning the Silver Rush 50!?!?  Ha!

It's only been in recent years I've gained any appreciation of this - weight loss, sobriety, & fatherhood have all been exceptional teachers.  I hope to continue being willing to improve on all fronts, even if "all I get out of it" is the effort.  I realize more and more that I also have to continue to be patient and willing to accept all results as they come - I can only control what I put into it and what I expect to get out of it.  Dammit man...that is actually pretty cool.

As for what I'm thinking right now?  Well, mainly "jeezuz that head-band looks gay!" combined with "ewe, that jersey makes me look FAT!"  OK, so, I've still got plenty of work to do between the ears, eh?  Otherwise, I've so far got a 5.66666 month schedule roughed out that includes continuing the anaerobic-threshold-improving spin classes twice a week, maybe a couple/few early-season harescrambles, two "easier" endurance ATB races, a couple 100+ mile road rides and a lot of life to worry about between now and July 14th, and for that I'm pretty damn grateful.

Enjoy the journey...

Now what? No simple answer...

The "buzz" of my first, totally successful and satisfying Tour de Felasco is slowly fading, but I'm now battling all kinds of new demons.  How do I follow that up?  What does/did/should this undertaking tell me might also be possible?  That ride has been my focus/encouragement to get hours on bike for a while now, and with it behind me I can't help but search for a new...target.

Without sounding like I'm just here to stroke my ego in a public way, what these past 18 months have resulted in is something pretty damn foreign to me - I'm actually fit!  To borrow a line from a fad-nastic, "just 20 minutes a day!" commercial: "I'm 41, and in the best shape of my life!"  Weird, but true...and I've received no compensation for saying it...dammit.

Anyway, the best part of completing the full 100km of Felasco is that I didn't spend much time, if any, worrying about being dropped or unable to finish.  I spent my day enjoying the company, surroundings and knowing I was finally one of the "fit ones".  I felt good, managed my efforts and rode with confidence that my legs and lungs were where they needed to be.  They most definitely were...for that RIDE, at my own pace, with no real pressure to go faster or farther.

As many/most/all know, though, mountain biking is one of "only" six 2-wheeled disciplines I enjoy.  I've juggled all six pretty well over the past year or so, but frankly, I'm feeling more like "jack of all trades, master of none" than ever.  So?  What am I to do for 2012?  I'm still a father of two, a husband, an employee, and a "friend of Bill's" - those things continue to require the same amount of effort and time as they always have, sometimes more.  Can I continue to improve my fitness, skill, abilities on all fronts?  Or is it time to thin the heard and focus on just one?  Oh, that last bit sounds...sad, just typing it...

I won't lie, this week's buzz has me already contemplating The Silver Rush 50 mile mountain bike race this summer in Leadville, CO.  A similar test as 62 miles in Florida I suppose, but a whole different animal.  It'll require more true training, not only more "just riding along".  Realistic?  I haven't actually taken part in a bicycle race since...10 years and 60 pounds ago.  Not the best memories to reflect upon.  Surely this would be different, but I have to consider the difference between "ride" and "race".  Do I have the mind toughness to go with these new-and-improved (albeit older) legs & lungs??

On another front, it's just over a month from the kick-off of the 2012 off-road motorcycle racing season.  I've had mixed luck there, granted - from life flight to a win, to 6th place season standing in 2009.  I have to believe that my higher level of fitness can only have a positive impact on 2-hour harescrambles...but then again...I haven't been on that damn KTM in four months. I'm a bit obsessed with pedal-power, lately, but what if this pre-mixed fire re-lights?

Then comes BMX season that I'm rather excited about taking part in with my younger son, Thomas (who is freakin' gifted on 2 wheels...l'il turd!), but his interest varies depending on the day.  What about a road century?  Or at least rides similar to the MS 72 miler I stumbled onto and loved, last May?  Trials comps and demo opportunities will also come with the arrival of the Midwestern Spring - where's the time for that practice, setup, coordination?

All of that babble to say...is 2012 the year of the bike?  Bike racing?  Endurance-type stuff?  On road or off?  Or both???  Put in a solid, season-long effort  and go for moto success before I get too much older?  Or once again dabble in all the above with the realistic hope of just enjoying them all regardless of any competitive results?  Then gotta factor in what works best for the whole family unit - time, money, risk...?  I'm pushing the limits of at least two of those factors at any one time...how far is too far?

For now, I'm gonna do my best to simply be grateful for such a dilemma.  It's a pretty fantastic combination of life and life events that have me in a place where the above questions and concerns are the most stressful part of my life...ain't it?

Ride on...whatever it is you ride...

Felasco - I now "get it"

I'm sure that 10 years ago I was at least privy to the hype, interest, & curiousity leading up to the inaugural Tour of San Felasco.  I'm near positive that many in the extensive cycling community I was then part of in Tallahassee, FL even tried to include me.  But for the life of me, I cannot remember a single damn ride report, funny story, or an origination of the annual "cult-ing" this ride has evolved into.

Ten years ago I was just about at the end of my successful-yet-brief bike shop owner/operator career.  I was on the back-side of many years being known as "that big guy with mad bike skillz".  The closing of Big Tony's Treads allowed me to fine tune my promising amateur status of "exceptional beer drinker" and ready myself for the transition to "professional drunk".  Guess it's getting clearer why I don't remember the evolution of Felasco...

Fast forward through the move to Kansas City, the six-month drunk that followed, getting dried out and sustaining sobriety, becoming a father, near-death harescramble crash, stumbling into an exceptional IT career, adding another kid to the mix and BAM...I'm 40 freakin' years old and had been off bicycles for nearly 7 years.***  Bike riding now seemed like something new worth checking out after years off and it was exactly that - a fresh start.  Fell in love with human-powered two-wheelers much like I did when I was 4 years old.  Mountain biking, road biking, night rides, trials - hell, even BMX has snuck in - all felt wonderfully familiar, but totally new.

Re-connecting a wee bit with some of the ol' Tallahassee crew as a result of being a "born again cyclist" soon put Felasco on my radar.  Wasn't ready for and/or simply couldn't make the 2011 edition, but I was up at 5am CST November 1st to make sure I committed to taking part in 2012 (thanks again, Big Jim!).  Hot damn - I'm in, and most all my old buddies are, too!

I went to Felasco as Big Worm's bitch - I'll do what Worm does, however fast, slow, far or crazy.  If he says it, I will do it.  I'd kept in shitty contact with this man over recent years, but dammit, I've never trusted anyone more when it came to anything bike-related, plain and simple.  He'd given me lots of his veteran tips and as the substantial Bike Chain gang I was now part of rolled out, I was full of utmost confidence that this would be epic.  I was in no way disappointed.

It's an interesting environment this Felasco thing - everyone seems to know each other, all stories and comments stem from previous years, yet what this day holds is not at all certain.  We get in a good sized train and begin enjoying some suhweet, grooving singletrack while barking out random insults and inappropriate comments among our little self-contained, 15 rider "pack".  It's cold, or at least Florida-cold, and all Wrecking Ball comments aside the humidity made it cut through this Kansas City skin.  My legs felt good, but like they'd never fully warm up.  "Relax, Big Worm says you're ready, you'll be fine - just relax, ride, and enjoy" kept ringing through my head.

Just soaking it all in - the place, personalities, tasty goodness of the trail - had the first 10 or so miles fly by and it was time for a PB & J at the first sag stop.  Wasn't really a "stop", but a "slow down enough", and that was all it took for Big Jim to politely bid farewell.  I'll admit, watching him ride off from the rest of the Bike Chain gang effed with me a bit.  I wanted to chase him.  I coulda hung on his wheel I'm pretty damn sure, but the urge to prove it quickly faded.  Maybe next year.  For now, it was more entertaining to stick with Big Worm and enjoy riding the coat-tails of his...celebrity ?  Notoriety?  Legend?!?  Seemed no matter what group of riders we came up to and worked around (sometimes smoothly and politely, other times a bit more elbow-esque), people knew who he was, who we/Bike Chain were, and they allowed us our own rights to the trail.  Cool.

At the 2nd sag stop I could feel myself twitching a bit.  I didn't really wanna stop for long and cool down enough to have to re-warm up.  Didn't really wanna shoot the breeze in a stationary manner, but I was a virgin to this deal - I felt good, but maybe taking your time a bit was what made the whole 62 miles possible.  The trail and the mo-jo continued to impress as we worked our way to lunch.  The group thinned out and re-grouped by lunch where I again found myself a bit anxious to simply slam more food and get back to pedalling. 

In the next "section"/miles I let my legs (and various wisdoms bestowed upon me by the Worm) guide me and found myself riding away from the group a bit on the wheels of some folks I never used-ta-could hang with (Little Ball and whatever Darien goes by).  Felt good, but kinda like I was cheating on Big Worm, Human Wrecking Ball and others.  That feeling dissolved when we stopped just long enough at the 3rd sag to re-hydrate & urinate & see the rest of BC folks ride on by.  Now, I got to chase 'em back down!  When we caught back up to Big Worm et al, Darien disappeared to do Pilate's or stretch, and Little Ball checked out.  Big Worm quickly (and thankfully) let me know that if I wanted to do the full 62 I'd better jump on Little Ball's wheel as no one else felt they needed more than "just" 50 miles.

As me & Little Ball reached the "Extra Credit" 12 mile loop, I was second-guessing my decision to leave the safety of BW's company and/or whether or not I had the gumption for 62 miles, but that quickly faded with another PowerBar, PowerGel and gulps of Heed to wash it down.  Little Ball eased me into and through the first few miles while my legs came back around.  2nd wind?  37th wind?  I dunno, but I nearly felt guilty how good I got back to feeling.  This section of trail was spec-fugging-tacular!  I'd say even the best of the day.  Seemed kinda unfair that it was only for those willing, able and on-time enough to do it at the end.  Somewhere along the way L'il Ball said "why don't you lead, now?" and that was about the last I saw of him.  Did I mention I was feeling good?

The remaining 10 or so miles were a mix of perfect rythym, pride, and talking out-loud to myself kind of crazy as I was truly all alone and still tired enough to wonder if I'd not missed a turn somewhere.  Pride and satisfaction were near over-whelming as I got glimpses of the crowd of people, bikes and cars at the finish.  I did it.  I fugging did it - 62 miles on a mountain bike in right around 6 hours rolling time. 

It all gets kinda fuzzy from there to/through the brief road trip back to Tallahassee -  Diet Pepsi injections, packin' a fat dip of congratulatory Copenhagen (yes, ironic, I realize), group feast at local joint, too much picking on Wrecking Ball, post-ride flatulation in Big Jim's F-150  - through all of it continuing to relish the thought that "I finally got to do Felasco.  Got to do it with 84% of the ol' crew.  Felt good doing it.  I get it, now".

*** some, many or all of these "fast forward" topics will surely be touched on again later, some day, in some way ***

WTF?

I don't even really know exactly "what is blogging?", but I have much-trusted and admired friends (Big Worm, Big Jim, Wrecking Ball and more) that do it.  I rant too much random info to really fit FB, and my awkward thoughts are aimed far broader than e-mail, so...maybe this is the perfect venue...?

Topics will vary.  Political correctness is not much of a concern.  Spelling may suck out loud and many words will be completely made up.

You've been warned...