Un-Big Tony

You just gotta...

2012-02-26T19:34:00.001-08:00

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...

2012-02-22T21:42:00.000-08:00

"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

2012-02-12T20:14:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-05T19:03:00.000-08:00

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

2012-02-04T21:07:00.000-08:00

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?!?!

2012-01-26T19:59:00.000-08:00

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...

2012-01-21T12:25:00.000-08:00

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"

2012-01-19T00:31:00.000-08:00

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?

2012-01-17T19:28:00.000-08:00

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...