Fun in the Sun

Robin and I have been enjoying a very nice holiday in the Catalina Foothills of Arizona. We've had much wine, beer, bike riding, and even some new books. Still, I am looking forward to returning to the snow and some skiing.

Full trip report, complete with hiking photos and biking videos, to follow. Happy New Year!

1 to 7?

This is the range of ice and/or snow that we could get tonight. I find it simultaneously frustrating and comforting that no one really knows anything when it comes to weather.

Last night I got an easy ski in with Steve. They had groomed the snow out at Ashton, which made for some iffy conditions on the classic skis. Still, we figure at least ten people were out skiing on it yesterday, one with quite the headlamp.

So now it is a very packed down course with a little bit of grass and some sporadic dirt mounds. Local groomer Wayne F. says that it should help us keep a nice base up regardless of what falls from the sky tonight. Lets hope he is right, because the Iowa City Cross Country Ski Time Trials are abrewin and should happen soon, so we need our snow.

Now Just Waning

Both the moon and the snow. And I couldn't even get a shot of the full moon rising because of the thick snowless clouds.


I went back out to Ashton for some skiing Friday evening. Since it has been so cold lately the conditions were rather unchanged from Tuesday. Part of the tracks on the upper west side had some more grass poking through, but the other side of the trail offered some decent coverage.

Still, I spent most of my time on the south end of the course working on my double poling. Occasionally I could get some kick, but I pretty much had to time that perfectly and get a little lucky.

Today and tomorrow are supposed to be quite warm with some non-snow precip, so we will not be skiing for a little while. I think next week I'll either suffer through some frigid townie rides or possibly set up the rollers in the basement.

Because tomorrow there will only be grass.

Waxing and Waning

On our Tuesday ski, Steve and I spent some time talking about wax. Apparently Brian E got some new skis and sent them in to get some serious wax work done to saturate the bases. The Rock says it can take up to a full day of waxing to really get a new set of skis going (and he's Canadian, so that has to be right). Other than easy application waxes, I had never put any kind of wax on my skis, and I could see the pasty white dryness on the bases. Not healthy.

Thankfully my wonderful parents helped fund my continually developing interest in all things nordic by contributing to my new birthday wax kit (tea not included).

Tuesday night was the first time I put it to use. I cleaned up my skate skis. Then I put a thick layer of base prep down,

scraped,

wiped, brushed, and wiped again.

Already I could see some improvement as the bases took on a dark sheen. So I then added a thick layer of cold blue wax (good for 21 to 10 degrees), completed the whole process, and followed that up with some purple (28 to 18 degrees). I figured any wax was better than what I had going, so I tried some exploring.

I had many reasons for my combo. Multiple layers would allow me to practice, and multiple layers of different waxes would prevent me from using up all of one type. I knew Wednesday's temps were supposed to be in the mid 20s, so I thought that the purple wax would be just right. The only problem was that we really didn't have much snow. We had more ice than snow. So I put down the layer of blue wax because it is a much harder (and hopefully sturdier?) wax.

I think the skis were the fastest they had ever been. And that was on some pretty awful conditions and with some iffy technique. The first skate session of the year with fast skis on icy terrain is not something I would recommend. But I only crashed once.

As it got dark I had some trouble seeing the super rutted out trail. So instead of skating some more I just worked on my double poling in the frozen classic tracks that people have been making all week. The new wax kept me sliding really fast, but just because it felt fast doesn't mean it was easy.

For twenty minutes I double poled back and forth along the nicest track on the course. As my triceps and abs burned all I could think about was a moment in Bill McKibben's cross country ski book Long Distance. On a trip near Yellowstone National Park, McKibben and a friend decided to ski over to some hot springs. I forget if they were 25 kilometers away, or 25 miles, but either way it was far. And the track was solid ice that provided no kick whatsoever. So the two of them double poled the entire way there, and the entire way back. I could barely last the twenty minutes I did, and I doubt I even covered 2 K. I am sure as my waxing improves I will no doubt be able to double pole amazing distances as well, but first I just have to get over some soreness.

Editors Note: The waxing pictures are a recreation of Tuesday night's waxing session. And the skis seen here are, in fact, Robin's.

Desperation

Anticipation can only last so long. I guess for me it is about 10 days or so. In that time we have had many near misses in the storm department. Many of the weather reports talked of nice 2 to 3 inch snowfalls, and one even suggested as much as 5. None of those really happened. One day we got about an inch and a half. That was certainly enough to get started. I skied on Thursday and Friday and saw many people out enjoying themselves.

The snow continued to harden a bit with the dropping temps, but it was holding up well enough. Then last night we had some misty frozen rain for many, many hours. I wasn't too concerned as the weatherperson once again said we should get about 2 inches. I think we ended up with maybe a tenth of an inch. I sat at work watching the storm system swing east of us.

But in the afternoon Steve sent an emailing asking if I was up for skiing. He mentioned that the Eppens were a definite. Well that changed everything for me. If others were interested in seeking some awful conditions then so was I.

It was mostly ice with grass poking through, but a couple of the track sections allowed for some decent kick and glide. So it was better than it looked. And I got to work on my double poling quite a bit, which is good, because it needs a lot of work.

All in all we trudged through the ice for an hour. It was my fourth ski of the year. Not a great ski, but it will have to do. And since the forecast does not hold anything promising in the near future, I just might have to go back tomorrow and see how the skate skis do. We'll see how hte motivation holds up.

Anticipation

It is the reason I love winter so much. For me, there are no other seasons where I must wait and watch the weather in hopes that something will happen so that I can get out and do a specific activity.

One can ride their bike in any weather. It is not always the most comfortable thing to do in rain, sleet, or snow, but it can be done. However, it is nearly impossible to cross country ski without snow. I've seen some pictures of people doing it on the beach, but that doesn't really count. For a real kick and glide one needs snow. And tonight we have our first winter weather advisory of the season. We could see up to 3 to 5 inches of snow fly, and I'm pretty ecstatic about it. Last year I received nearly 4 inches of snow on my birthday (December 6th), and Robin and I were able to get out the very next day. If this particular storm comes we could be on skis a week earlier than last year.

Of course, the snow might not come. And I will actually be alright with that. Because as much as I love the snow, I almost love the anticipation of the snow more. And if we don't get it tomorrow, then it will be that much better on Wednesday. Or whenever it comes.

P.S. Sorry for the lack of posts. In the fall I usually take a break from the bikes, and that somehow corresponds to taking a break from the blog (despite the fact that I've been enjoying lots of beer and books). To make up for it I will leave you with some of my winter pics from the past.

The view out my back window in Flagstaff, Az after a 3 foot snow storm back in January 2005.

Our bedroom window here in Iowa City on a frigid January morning in 2007.

The beginning of a surprise 8 inch dump that came last February after Steve and I skied on the Reservoir due to sparse snow coverage.

Me, after many of my ski days from last year.

She said, "yes."

I said, "will you marry me?" Well, I said some other things, too, but you get the idea.

Big FAT Disappointment

At least in the race department.

The rest of the trip was grand. Robin and I enjoyed a beautiful drive on quiet Wisconsin roads as we watched the fall colors creep into the trees with every mile. We had a quiet, cute, and clean hotel room. And we enjoyed two great dinners (and beers) at the Angry Minnow Brewery, the first night with Steve and Cody, and second with the Eppens (Tandem Champions! Again!). And to make things even nicer, the drive home was significantly faster than the drive there.

As for my race . . . well, I can think of three significant changes to make before next year.

First, I will not eat a big greasy breakfast. I knew the race would be long and hard and due to my predisposition towards bonking I felt I should fuel up with things I know I like. Eggs, potatoes, and toast always work well for me, but the Northwoods style breakfast did not sit well. I had some nice burning acid reflux until just after OO. Yuck.

Second, I will wake up even earlier to get my bike on the start line. In '01 I scored a great spot a little after 6 am. This year I was there at about quarter to 6 and there were already a few hundred bikes on the line. And that didn't include the preferred starters. I saw the sign saying when I could put my bike down, so I will be there that early next year.

Third, I will ride my mountain bike more. I had lots of plans to do this and I have a number of silly reasons for not doing it, like getting Poison Ivy and being lazy about finding the right gear ratio to run. For the most part bikes are bikes, but rigid single speeds do work some special muscles, and right now it hurts to bend over and tie my shoes.

I had a really great time between about mile 15 and mile 30something. I felt strong on the hills and rolled well with some fast, small groups, even taking some pulls on the fireroad climbs. My gear choice felt pretty good, too. At least in those miles it did. I did a lot of "running" in the last 8 miles or so. But I do think this was the year to be on a single speed. The rain, sand, and puddles really wrecked some drivetrains, and in the final few miles I watched one poor young soul look down in bewilderment as his chain sucked the derailleur right off his frame. So at least I didn't have that to contend with. And I shouldn't next year either.

Perhaps I will have some more thoughts later, and if I'm lucky some photos. After perusing the plethora of photos available already I can say that being a mediocre finisher is not a good way to get your picture taken. It seems the documenters all reloaded their camera cartridges when I went by, so I'll either need to speed it up or slow it down to get some photo love next year.

Final Preparations

This was the last weekend before the big

hugely rolling

and super fast

photos from www.cheqfattire.com

Chequamegon 40 mountain bike race. I have been spending the last few rides on my singlespeed to get used to it. I should have done this many weeks ago instead of days ago, but oh well.

I got some lighter and faster rolling tires for the race and also put a big 36-16 on the 1x1. I'm hoping it is not too tall for me, but other Cheq vets are telling me I should go bigger and just prepare for some running over the crests of the hills. Ouch! I think I'll stick with what I've got. It feels good on the hilly gravel routes I've been testing it on. And I also don't have any bigger options.

Today I met Steve and Jim for some nice riding out at Sugar Bottom. Steve is also doing the Fat this year, and we spent many miles convincing Jim to give it a go next year. Others decided to take a more secretive approach to their final preparations and not accompany us to Sugar Bottom. I have no idea what those secret preparations entail, but they will no doubt involve some fancy razor work.

also from www.cheqfattire.com

The trails were in much better shape than the last time I went in late July. There was still poison ivy everywhere, though. Hopefully I steered clear of it. I pre-medicated and post-medicated, so that could make a difference, too.

The ride was nice and relaxed in the beginning and then picked up a lot when we ran into big Todd on his singlespeed.

photo from Skinnyski

I was worried about pushing a large 36-17 on the twisty, hilly trails today, as I am used to running a 33-17, but it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. I hope that means I'm ready for the race.

Friday Night Threesome

Robin and I decided to go visit Steen after work today. She normally goes during the day when I'm at work, and I usually tag along on a Sunday here and there. But tonight we decided to have a relaxing Friday night ride and hoped we would have the place to ourselves. And we did. Not a person in sight, just a few little Japanese Chins.

This was my first real ride in the outdoor arena, and it was pretty fun. Steen was OK with having me on his back as long as he got to do some inconsistent figure eights close to the herd. After awhile he got used to me and then explored some more.

Robin rode after I did. She is much faster than me.

Someday I will get faster, too. Tonight I held back, though, for tomorrow is the fall ride of rides to Amana and the brewery. It should be fun and a little bit painful. Hopefully the Iowa Pale Ale will help dull pain on the way back to town.

The First Day of School

And the first day that I have not had to go to a first day of school in well over twenty years. Sure, work was busy, but it was no school.

Paint Night Date Night

As many of you know, quite a few weeks ago I joined the ranks of people who spend a large portion of their days in an office. As offices go, mine is pretty nice. I have a nice chair, some shelves, and plenty of cabinets for food, tea and coffee fixings, and I guess some files, too. The only thing my office lacks that I can't really do anything about is a window. But windows come with time, and I can easily get up out of my chair and walk to all the windows I could want. And I enjoy the excuse to stretch my legs frequently.

But still, the office is pretty drab. Beige-ish walls, light wood shelves and cabinets, and a light gray speckled desk top. I knew I needed some art, but then I remembered that I'm picky and poor. So I thought that maybe I would just get some blank canvases and paint them three different colors. I consulted my favorite artist, and she thought it was a fabulous idea. And it was a good thing she did, too, because while I am pretty good at coming up with ideas like this, I am not too excited to commit ideas to paper. It seems so permanent. And my lack of art skills was not helping me get started.

Thankfully, mixing paints and putting a solid color on canvas can be very forgiving and easily changed. So after a cool crisp pale ale, Robin and I went into the basement studio and got started.

I had a vague idea of what kind of colors I wanted, but I really only felt strongly about two of them. So we got started on a sage-like green and decided to see where that took us. For each canvas we (mostly Robin) would mix the color, apply one layer evenly over the canvas, and then mix a very similar color and add a second layer on top with varying brush strokes to create the texture.

After the green we moved on to a blue that was, and still is, my favorite.


For the third canvas I really didn't know what color to do. I originally thought something in a burgundy, and Robin was feeling deep brown. But as we looked at our first two colors we realized we wanted something more bold. So we leaned towards orange.

A lightning fast brush stroke is a sure sign of a competent painter.

And the finished product. I will send an update when I get them into my office.

On Disappointment

After finishing Frank Conroy's extremely enjoyable Body & Soul, I was left with a desire to read something with a European feel to it. Perhaps it was all the classical music, or the small sections of the book that took place in London, but I really wanted to cross the pond for my next book. But I only ended up going back and forth, and in the beginning, that was all right.

I settled on Zadie Smith's On Beauty. Zadie is a young, popular British novelist who has received much critical acclaim. On Beauty is loosely based on E. M. Forester's Howard's End, takes place in London and the Boston area, and was shortlisted for the Booker Prize in 2005. So it met many of the criteria I had for my next book.

Unfortunately, I cannot recall the last book that left me so disappointed. I think I can say that Smith is a good writer, and the story was captivating enough early on that I felt compelled to finish it. She also does a good job of asking large questions about race, gender, social action, and the nature of an individual's beliefs. However, none of those questions reveal any new insight, and in the end they are drowned out by unbelievable chracters, cliched academic jargon peppered throughout the novel so as to appear smart and witty, and increasingly unlikely coincidences that are necessary to move the plot forward. If you like books about wacky academics, both Francine Prose's Blue Angel and Richard Russo's Straight Man are much better. And if you are interested in social commentary on race, gender, and social action, well there are too many good ones to list.

On a not disappointing note, Robin and I had a fabulous date night where we enjoyed the smoke free atmosphere of George's and for the first time tried their much talked about burgers. They were simple and not much to look at, but for some reason they just tasted so good. We will definitely be back.

Iowa State Road Race

No, I didn't race it. But when I showed up to the Thursday night group ride Hopson and Nick Martin roped me into driving a follow car. I was too nice to say no. Since most people on the ride that night were trying to take it easy for Saturday's race, I decided I'd try to be a little less nice on the bike.

My plan worked out a little bit. Coming into Lone Tree it was only Heath and myself trading off hard pulls. About a kilometer or so from the town limits sign I decided to come through hard. Not attack, just put my head down and see how long I could keep the pressure high. As I did this, Heath somehow pulled out of his pedal as he was trying to stay on my wheel. I heard lots of "Oh Shits" from the group. When I looked back I had a big gap, and everyone was still upright. I moved to the side of the road to keep anyone from sneaking into my draft and hammered for the line. I won. No check or anything, but I guess it was my own little State Road race. The rest of the ride was nice, and for most of it, it was Heath and I on the front with a few other non racers coming in to play, too.

The weather for Saturday's race was supposed to be super hot and muggy with temps into the 90s. But Friday evening a cooling trend came in and Saturday turned out to be a very nice day. Still warm, but not uncomfortable.

I was the driver of the wheels truck for the Women's Cat. 1, 2, 3 race. All six of them. West Branch Ford provided the trucks. So there I was, sitting in a gigantic F-150 pickup with two sets of wheels in the back. I felt more than a little silly. I was excited to volunteer for the local race and all my friends, but driving 81 miles in an ugly pick up truck just doesn't seem to fit with what bicycles should really be about. There is no support like this in mountain bike races, but I suppose that is mostly because there is no pack and there aren't really any vehicles that can easily follow through tight, twisty single track. With the nature of the pack in road racing, self supported races might not work too well, but so much of racing is gambling anyways, so maybe self supported races would just force people to be more careful with wheel and equipment selection before a race. Just a thought.

All complaining aside, it was a pretty fun day. I ate a nice lunch of pb&j, grapes, cookies, water, and gatorade while I watched the race from behind. The first lap was pretty uneventful as no one was excited to attack and no one wanted to get dropped. Towards the end of the lap I could see all the ladies chatting and next thing I know they were pulling over into an empty road maintenance parking lot. They had decided to all take a neutral nature break. This suited me fine as I also had to pee. So there I was, peeing on the side of the road next to a ditch with four other women scrambling to get out of their bib shorts. It was highly amusing.

On lap two Kim Eppen and Robin Williams (not my Robin, and not the actor either) started pushing the pace on the big hills in the crosswind. The first casualty was Andrea from Bikes 2 You. Up until that point she had been one of the strongest riders and was almost always on the front. Shortly after Andrea came off one of the two Punk Rock Cycling ladies slid off the back as well. After a few hills she managed to drag herself back to the group. At this point, no one wanted to work, but to get through the race they eventually settled into a fairly even rotating paceline.

This lasted through lap 2 and into most of lap 3 where Robin again attacked on the big climb out of the Cedar River Valley. Only Robin, Kim Eppen, and one Punk Rock racer were able to keep the pace. They continued to ride hard with Robin making lots good attacks. The Punk Rock racer rode a rather smart race as she forced Kim to chase almost everytime. With just over 1km to go Kim attacked hard and only the Punk Rock rider could follow. Kim gave everything she had to try to shake her from her wheel, but it was not to be. On the final hill miss Punk Rock came around and poor Kim was out of gas.

It was a fun event, and I think the promoters did a good job with what looked like a very demanding course. I hope it is here again next year, because I just might want to try my own chances in the race.

High and Dry

Yesterday I came home from work a little groggy and very unenthusiastic about the group ride. This often happens to me. It is difficult to sit around all day and then try to get geared up for what is almost always a couple of painful hours. Of course, it feels really good when it's over. Especially while sipping beer with my legs up in the recliner.

While trying to decide whether or not I should go on the ride, the sky outside was getting darker and darker. We have had a lot of quick and violent thunderstorms this summer. When I checked the radar it looked almost OK. But I had been burned by this in the past. Finally at around 5 o'clock I remembered those other days that I went out and got pummeled by thunderstorms. The rides turned out just fine, but there were always a lot of worrisome moments and plenty of thoughts like, "this is stupid. Why are you riding your bike into a storm front?"

So I decided to stay home. I felt much better once I made this decision. Instead of riding, I made tea and sat down to read Frank Conroy's Body & Soul. I had started it the day before when I foolishly left my other book (Margaret Atwood's The Handmaid's Tale) at work. I was somewhat resistant when I started Conroy's story, as I was really curious about what was going to happen to Offred. But after only a page or two I was sucked in.

The protagonist is a young boy named Claude who has a natural talent for music. He goes from teacher to teacher learning everything from scales and posture to theory and composition. It is very well written and I find the music parts fascinating. They are extremely detailed, but not at all tedious to a non-music person like myself.

There is something simple about the story, too. About a hundred pages in I found myself thinking that it was really nothing new, that there was really nothing special about this book, but I liked it anyways. It was also around this time that the boy's only consistent tutor told Claude that his story of growing up had been told countless times, and that he really wasn't all that special or unique. I love it when authors are aware of these things and share that fact with their readers.

But the real reason I have been enjoying this novel (I'm not finished with it yet), I believe, is that I love the Bildungsroman genre. I have long said that I prefer the beginnings of stories to the other parts. The way the characters are introduced, come together, slowly encounter problems and begin to work through them. I find it all very exciting. And inevitably the feeling changes as the story progresses. But with the bildungsroman, I think the beginning feeling is prolonged just a little bit more. And for some reason I appreciate that.

Returns (Sorry, it's a long one)

I know, it has been awhile since my last writing. In this time things have been both extremely busy and wonderfully quiet. A few weeks ago I went to Geneva, Il for my sister's wedding. It was a hectic weekend, but both Robin and I maintain that it was one of the most fun weddings we have ever been to. Good food, good drinks, lots of dancing, and good company.

When we returned we did a little housesitting for an awkward pair of shelties. This was a little bit of an uncomfortable week. I think I might have a slight dog allergy, as I was very cloudy in the head every morning that week. Thankfully, the gig paid well, and Robin eloquently declined the invitation to sit again.

In this time I have also done a little bit of riding, but nothing to write home about. I have mostly been working and reading books in my free time. When I announced my departure from Ph.D-dom back in May, I suggested that it would give me much more time to read for fun and leave me more excited to talk about what I have read. In that time I have only talked about one book, Chabon's The Mysteries of Pittsburgh (which I still think is great), but I have actually read many books these last few months.

When I first stepped away from my studies I was excited to immerse myself in some guilty pleasure reading. Robin and I are both fans of the epic sci-fi/fantasy adventure genre, and she particularly enjoys listening to books of this sort on tape (well, ipod, really) while at work. I suggested that she give Stephen King's The Gunslinger a try and told her that, if she liked it, there were dozens of hours of listening that could follow.

I started reading the massive Dark Tower series when I was a teenager. The first four works delighted me, as had many other stories of King's. But then he took a break from the Dark Tower and I went off to college and started reading different things. When Robin listened to the first book and I saw how much she enjoyed it, I knew I had get back into the series myself. And rather than picking up where I left off, I decided to start over from the beginning.

The epic tale did not disappoint. But after reading the first five books in succession, I realized I needed a little break from the massive story and yearned for some more character-driven tales. Around this time Steve had mentioned that he started re-reading David Foster Wallace's Infinite Jest, a gargantuan story of tennis, drugs, terrorist politics, and pretty much everything related and not related to those three things. I had forced myself through this dense work (it's a thousand pages and has probably 300 or more intensely detailed footnotes) in the summer of 2005. For the most part, I enjoyed it. But I did not get everything out of it that I should have. And listening to Steve recount the amusing happenings at the Enfield Tennis Academy sparked my interest to give it a re-read, too.

Unfortunately, Infinite Jest is not a great substitute for a seven volume epic story. I read the first hundred pages, and for the most part really enjoyed them, but I had to put it aside. I think I will still re-read it, but it will probably happen in chunks.

Instead I looked to our rather large bookshelf and started pulling things off that I acquired long ago and never read. In quick succession I read two Pulitzer Prize winning novels. Although the major prizes have their problems (I think Sinclair Lewis's explanation for why he refused the Pulitzer is a nice place to start. Although, it should be noted that five years later he did accept the Nobel Prize for Literature), I generally find that they are good reads. Indeed, many of my favorite books and authors are Pulitzer Prize winners (Kavalier and Clay, Middlesex, Jhumpa Lahiri, Willa Cather, and others).

So I sat down to two rather interesting tales of the decline of American values and icons--Phillip Roth's American Pastoral and Richard Russo's Empire Falls. Both have a strong postmodern undercurrent that leaves one grasping for some kind of stability in life. The former does so with a more serious tone of regret and violence, and the latter is a little more flippant and carefree. I am happy I read them both, but I preferred Empire Falls.

This morning, though, I found myself bookless. Well, not completely, there are others on the shelf that I have not read, but none of them called out to me. So I spun on down to the library and returned with Mohsin Hamid's The Reluctant Fundamentalist. It was a finalist for the Booker Prize last year, and I am yet to be disappointed by a Booker. It is a short, powerful book set in Lahore, Pakistan in which the Pakistani narrator recounts his life in the United States to an American traveler. The entire book takes place over the course of one sitting, and I think it is best to read the story over the course of one sitting as well. Hamid manages to convey many details through his sparse prose, and the narrator is a fascinating mix between a wealthy Pakistani interested in American cliches and a brilliant, highly educated financial analyst. I highly recommend the story.

While I have no intention of being a book reviewer, I will try to write about my readings with a little more frequency. And if I don't wait so long before I discuss them, I might be able to say more interesting things about each one. But as always, no promises from this blogger.

Lesson Un-Learned

A few weeks ago I wrote about a crazy ride I had with Steve. We set out under nice skies and were then treated to tornado and hail warnings and some of the scariest looking clouds I have ever seen in my life. This afternoon I saw some not so pleasant colors on the radar, but I was optimistic that the group ride would be able to skirt around them. On my warm-up ride down Sand Rd. it was sunny and sticky. on the way back I could see some dark clouds approaching from the west, but I still figured that we could avoid most of it.

When I rolled up to the park Brian Eppen was on his rain/winter bike. An old mountain bike with slick tires, fenders, and a top gear of 42-12. Hmm. Rick Hopson was busily checking his blackberry or i-phone and excitedly showing us pictures of the doom that was headed our way. Of course, all we really had to do was look up.

Despite the impending soaking, the group ride was still really large. We rolled out south on old 218 as many riders had pointed out that the Hill's police have been cracking down and shelling out $75 tickets to cyclists who cross the closed bridge over the river. Catching the group ride would make their summer.

On the way out of town the group was light hearted and joking, but I'm sure it was just to cover up the fact that we were all somewhat uncomfortable being there. I personally clung to the silly cliche "safety in numbers." As if a tornado would have any more trouble with 25 riders than it would with 2.

I took my first pull early on the long-ish hill just south of town. The pace was relaxed and steady. But when we crested the hill we could see the crazy storm was just to our right and sprinkles had just started to fall. I don't know who was on the front at that point, but they drilled it. Hard. The group immediately started splitting into gaps. I leap-frogged a few riders and caught up to the second group only to come to the front and realize that I was in the third group. Shit.

I put my head down and pulled us up to the second group and felt better when I saw that the first group only contained 3 people. We caught them when we turned west and crested the overpass. Right as the skies really opened up. The roads had water running everywhere, and the county had just dropped a lot of chunky black tar to seal up some cracks. This all made for some semi-sketchy rotating. I took a few pulls early on, but then I had to sit in, I was worried about getting dropped in the storm and riding in alone.

But as we crested round-barn hill, the skies started to clear up again and I noticed that our group only contained 11 people. We were now riding a hard, but manageable pace as we continued on to Fry Town. When we hit the Turnpike, though, things lit up again. I followed some wheels and witnessed Eppen make one of the craziest jumps to mark an attack I have ever seen. I came over the final big hill at the front and pulled down the descent. After a little jockying for position the the Bikes 2 You boys took off. Adam Price worked to close the gap but couldn't make it (no one takes more pulls on the group rides than Adam Price). Feeling bad for Adam's suffering, I came around as hard as I could and worked to bridge the gap, making sure that Adam was on my wheel. I brought him and a few riders almost all the way there, but it wasn't enough.

It was enough, however, to earn my a hearty Brian Eppen pat on the back approval. And that made it worth it for me. Plus the Bikes 2 You duo had ridden so hard they pretty much just blew up and were never seen from again.

Onto Black Diamond Rd. and we were looking at the back of the storm that had soaked us. We briefly worried about getting wet again, but the storm had no problem pulling away from our rotating paceline that held steady at 29 mph. I hung on and took as many pulls as I could all the way down Rhoret, where I attacked way to early for the sprint. Again it was OK as I finished the ride in a rather select group of 7 and earned another semi-compliment when Jim Cochran twice accused me of doing "secret training."

Nothing secret this time, though. Just consistent riding. And it led to the best group ride I've had since I left Iowa City five years ago. Of course, I didn't "win" anything, and I couldn't ride away from anyone, but maybe if I start implementing some "secret training" I can get there. And hopefully when I do, the weather will be a little bit better.

A Manure Barrel!

While Robin is in sunny, hot, and dry Arizona for the week, I told her that I would check up on Steen. I had a wonderful 4^th of July weekend that involved multiple BBQs and nice bike rides, so on Sunday I was more than happy to take an easy ride out to see Steen and maybe even ride him.

The ride out was nice, a little warmer than the past few days, but not bad. Changing into jeans and boots out of wet cycling clothes was not that much fun, though. After that I just couldn’t stop sweating, and my glasses were sliding all over my face. I thought it best to just go outside and get Steen.

He was in the biggest pasture and hanging out in the second farthest corner from me. He picked his head up immediately when I called his name. He then took a couple steps towards me. But that was it. I had to go in and get him. Despite his unwillingness to meet me halfway, he was still happy to see me and had no problem with me putting his halter on and leading him out of the pasture.

After walking out the gate, through the owners’ yard, and up to the barn entrance with no problem, Steen just decided he would go no further. I had never encountered this in a horse before; easy and congenial following, and then staunch refusal and pulling back. And there was no way I could out pull him, any shake of his head brought me stumbling back. So I made him do some backing, just gently pushed on his chest and said ‘back.’ You know, just to show him who’s boss.

And he went back fine. So apparently I was only the boss sometimes. And I could guide him in all directions but forward. At this point I was feeling silly and thinking that I would have to return him to the pasture without any grooming or ground exercises. And right when I was feeling silliest a cute, young horse person comes out and smiles at me. Great.

I explained that I was the novice horse boyfriend trying to work with the experience horse girlfriend’s Paint. She took pity on me and asked if I needed help. I handed her the lead rope. Steen continued to give her a hard time and I didn’t feel so bad. But slowly and patiently she led him up to the door and let him sniff the piece of farm equipment that was sitting near the entrance. A small, insignificant little barrel (compared to a horse) that apparently isn’t always there. That is what freaked Steen out and I didn’t notice it at all.

After that Steen was great. He was still on edge, but he conceded to my slow and clumsy grooming and even picked his feet up before I asked him to. That was rather amazing. I saddled him up and we went into the arena to do some groundwork. After the manure barrel fiasco, I had decided that it would be best not to ride him that afternoon, so we did a lot of walking and trotting exercises. Occasionally Steen would get a little worked up at various noises, but for the most part he was really calm. And when I unsaddled him and took off his lead rope to let him role in the dirt (which he loves), he would only follow me around.

Even though I didn’t get to ride him, and felt silly much of the time having a horse drag me around, it was still really good for our relationship. Despite being nervous(Steen, that is. Well, mostly Steen), he did everything I asked him to and was really happy about it. And when I turned him back out into the pasture, he was semi-reluctant to leave me. What a softy. I only hope on Wednesday the manure barrel is gone so that neither one of us is nervous and we can ride.

Reconciliation

A few weeks ago the ASO and various teams selecting their Tour de France rosters snubbed all Iowa riders. This was a big blow for many of us dreaming to go. A number of Iowa's top riders have even stopped giving it their all on the group rides as a result. One anonymous rider was quoted saying, "what's the point? I mean, I trained all winter long and I've been doing workouts like 31 repeats on 'the wall' [on Sugar Bottom rd.] to simulate Alpe D'Huez, but now I don't even feel like riding at all." Others could not be reached for comment as they were seen turning around shortly after the start of recent College Green rides.

But other riders kept fighting. Most notably was CSC's super domestique Jason McCartney. When he found out he wasn't going to the Tour, he kept doing the rides and he kept taking his pulls. And at least someone took notice. This morning, USA Cycling announced that Jason McCartney, from Coralville, Iowa, was named to his second Olympic Road race team.

So keep taking your pulls people. They just might get you a trip to the biggest races in the world.

A Labor of Love

Robin has been producing some fine jewelry in her basement studio lately. One year ago she promised our friends Autumn and Efrain matching silver bracelets for their one year wedding anniversary.

For practice, and because she loves me, she made a silver bracelet for me. I have never been one to wear jewelry. There has been no real reason for this, other than perhaps because I did not have any. A little over a year ago, though, Robin gave me a jade stone in the shape of an infinity knot. I have not taken it off since. A little while before that, she made a silver bracelet for her brother, Jesse. Like my necklace, he does not take it off. So when Robin said she wanted to make me one, I was very excited. And I'm also excited with the outcome.

This is not the greatest photo (too much shadow and shine), but it gives you an idea of what it looks like. Plus, it is not completely finished. It needs a little more sanding and TLC. But Robin and I were too excited to wait, and on Thursday she shaped it for me. I find it quite comfortable, even for riding around town on my bike. I'm not sure if it will be a permanent fixture upon my wrist (I neglected to wear it on my ride today), but I imagine it will be there more often than not.

World Class Wheel Sucking

At least for awhile. I was only able to maintain it for about 80% of the night's College Green group ride. It was better than I expected, though. I had not done a group ride, or anything fast paced, in about a month. So I guess the easy spinning I was able to do 8 out of the 9 days over my surprise vacation was just what I needed.

Tonight I left my house just after 5. I had recently put on a new (well, practically new) Selle Italia Flite saddle on my Teesedale and I needed to make some minor adjustments. As I rolled around the neighborhoods there was a light sprinkle, but the skies looked promising for a nice and dry ride.

When I got to the park there was a small, amiable group of about 10, and that made me quite happy. But as the minutes went by we were joined by the Eppens on their tandem (ouch), Jim Cochran, Ryan Neninger, and finally, Jason McCartney, who was looking very, very tan. In the end, I think we had close to 30 people there.

The roll out south of town was nice and comfortable and I was pleased to see my former teammate Lee was back in town for the ride. We were able to ride together in the paceline for awhile and catch up on things. And then he prodded me into going for the first sprint of the ride, and for some reason I did. Of course, I'm not sure anyone else really wanted it since I got a gap fairly easily.

As I coasted into the left turn and tried to get my breathing under control the tandem train rolled through and dropped the hammer. And here is where my wheel sucking began. For the next 15 miles or so I was able to stay near the front, take the occasional pull, but mostly I just stayed in a spot that allowed me to spin as comfortably as I could.

This was actually not at all comfortable. Though it was a great vantage point to watch Jason roll between the back and front of the group, hands on top of the bars, looking around and smiling like he is on vacation. Though, I guess this is actually his vacation.

A few miles after we turned west into a semi-tough crosswind I lost it on a long climb. Lee kindly gave me a push back up to the group, but it wasn't enough. I was content, though. I made it farther than I thought I would, and I was able to catch up to a few of the other stragglers in the final miles. Maybe if I don't go for any silly sprints on Thursday I'll be able to finish the ride. Maybe.

Biking Against the Apocalypse

Sorry for the lack of updates; it is not because I have been on vacation. Though it appears that I have an unexpected vacation of sorts next week (perhaps I'll have time to get around to that Dirty Kanza report). As you all probably know by now, the rivers in Iowa are unified and rising up against, well, against everything. On Friday we all heard that the University of Iowa would be closing early and that we were not to report back to work until June 23rd. Crazy.

Although that Friday was a gorgeous day, the Iowa River was still rising quickly. So I changed into my grubby clothes and went down near the library to set up some sandbag walls. After three hours, my arms were done, so I came home and had beer.

The next morning was equally beautiful and the river had risen almost two feet in the night. So I went back down to the University to help out. It was hectic. A score of us were right on the water rapidly building a wall to prevent the Facilities Building from getting soaked. And we got it up. Hooray for us. After nearly four hours of solid work, though, my body was very tired.

I figured I had earned an easy bike ride, so I called Steve, who had also spent the last two days volunteering to save some much loved local businesses, and we decided to ride some gravel roads. Just before we left a large consolidated storm was developing north of Iowa City. No biggie, it looked like it would stay north (and the weather people said it would, too) so we went south towards the sunshine.

The storm slowly followed us, though. We would occasionally feel sprinkles, and then ride out of them. But we never really reached that elusive sunshine that was oh so close. And after 35 minutes or so of riding south we turned west and saw that the clouds were actually closer than we thought and looked downright tornado-ish.

Our thoughts were confirmed when Robin and Cody called almost simultaneously to inform us that big hail was falling from the sky and the tornado sirens were blasting. Robin urged us to go inside, and while I agreed that it was a good idea, we were kind of on the wrong side of the river to get to any sort of shelter. But since we were on bikes we decided to check out the closed bridge into the town of Hills anyways. As we rolled towards it the fields on either side of the road started to turn to water. They became veritable lakes, and we were only on a tiny stretch of pavement. It was at this time that I saw a series of puffy clouds coming down from the dark blue sky towards the ground. I asked Steve if that is how tornadoes form. He said maybe and brought up that moment in the blockbuster hit Twister when they were driving on a road similar to ours and saw some things in the air that should have been on the ground.


Lucky for us, there was no flying debris. And double lucky for us, we were able to cross the bridge into Hills. Once there we re-assessed the situation and decided to go into Iguana's for Negra Modellos and chips and salsa. It was a nice break, and the beer certainly calmed my nerves.

As the TV weather stations showed the storm moving east-southeast, we decided to ride west a bit before turning north and riding back into Iowa City. For the most part, the storm did not look quite as ominous as it had earlier. But that didn't last long. The wind seemed to be shifting, the temperature was dropping, and we were getting farther and farther away from the friendly blue skies and fluffy white clouds off in the distance. When we turned north we resigned ourselves to the fact that we would get very wet. Not a big deal, but when large bolt of lightening came down a short ways in front of us, we turned back around to re-think our plan.

None of our new plans were very good, though. And we had no idea if any of the bridges we normally ride over would even be open. Thankfully in the few minutes while we stopped to rest and discuss, the storm moved quite a ways to the east. So back north we went. As we crested a hill we saw not only a dry bridge, but also the universal sign that everything would be OK.

From this point on the roads were wet but we could see our shadows. This made us happy and we rolled into town as fast as our tired and somewhat out-of-shape legs would carry us. To aid in our momentum we rolled through a few stop signs and crossed Highway 6 before the light turned. Our luck, or good deeds, or karmah, or whatever, had run out, cuz the cops caught is on that one. Or was it? Steve took care of the smooth talking while I tried to sit and look pretty. And though the cop knew running lights was bad, she didn't really seem to understand bike laws. We decided not to push it. I got home still a little jittery from the whole event and decided another beer was in order.

I snagged these photos from the Press-Citizen and Des Moines Register websites, both of which have been doing a wonderful job of covering the flood. None of the pictures were taken near where Steve and I were, and none of them look quite as bad as the skies above us did, but they give you an idea.

The Bike

I spent much of Monday morning working on the bike I will ride in the Dirty Kanza. It was not all that fun, as I had not worked on this bike in years. But the outcome feels good.

As bikes go, it is not a very exciting bike. But since I like reading about other peoples' bikes, I figure I should post mine, too.

It is a pretty straight forward cyclocross bike. For the race changes, all I did was put on a (relatively) new 12-27 Ultegra cassette, a new chain, a new 38tooth chainring, and new 32mm Ritchey Speedmax tires. Oh, and I changed the shifter cables and added new brake pads.

For the race we are required to have taillights and headlights, the power level of these is up to us. Since my plan is to finish in the daylight, or just after the daylight ends, I am going with the minimalist approach. So on my handlebar I have a small LED Cateye and an itty bitty, but very bright, Trek light that I got for free from the Bike To Work Week ride. Hopefully that is enough.

My body is feeling good, too. The two weeks of rest and light rides have made my legs feel very refreshed. On today's ride the hills and wind were easy and I felt like I could have kept going for a long, long time without much difficulty. Hopefully I feel the same way on Saturday.

Relaxing

That has been the theme of the week. Robin's sister Meryl is in town and we have all had lots of quality hang out time. We've played lots of cards, drank lots of wine and beer, and ate some really good meals.

My legs were super tired from all the dirty centuries and group rides of late, so this week I relaxed on the bike, too. On Tuesday's group ride I turned around after an hour so I could spin home on my own. And on Wednesday I did a very slow reservoir loop and was lucky enough to run into Steve and Cody at the end. They invited me over for a beer and I could not refuse. We talked about many scary bike moments, good books, and of course, the fast approaching Dirty Kanza. I think I'm feeling ready, and I hope all of this rest will do me good. Unfortunately, the bike is not ready. But hopefully before the weekend is over it will be.

Today it was wet in the morning and dry and cool in the afternoon. I wanted to get out for another easy spin after work, but instead I took a nice long nap on the couch. But I guess that is good for recovery, too.

Tomorrow we go to Chicago to take Meryl to the airport and celebrate my Dad's birthday. So I have at least a couple more relaxing days ahead of me.

Assault and Century

On Saturday morning I woke up in the dark before my alarm went off. I felt good, despite having one too many beers once again on a Friday night. At 5:30AM I pulled on my bibs and put sunscreen on while I ate cereal and toast with peanut butter. The crunchy stuff. It was still chilly so I went with arm warmers, but no knee warmers, as I thought the day would warm quickly. Plus I also had two jerseys on. I decided to test the "six pockets, no bags" approach that I got from Steve. And I think he said he got it from Ira.

I rolled out the door a few minutes before 6. I briefly stopped by the public library to return some DVDs and then rolled east toward dirt. I got a little twisted around leaving town and ended up riding the shoulder on Rochester for a mile or so. I didn't think this was a good sign, but the sun was already shining on my face and there were no cars out, so that felt good.

I turned north and followed the same route as last weekend for awhile. Instead of looping east and over to West Branch, though, I decided to keep going north. I got near Sutliff and found myself on a bunch of gravel roads that I had never been on before. These were beautifully treed roads and they were very, very hilly. Not as hilly as the route I will encounter in Kansas, but the hills were large enough that I had to settle into a climbing rhythm on a few of them.

After tacking on a short loop up north I turned west and headed into the strengthening northwest wind. This road was much flatter and took me almost directly to Ely. Ely has a Casey's, and I have really come to rely on these for food stops. I quickly filled my bottles with water (no sugar, bad for the tummy) and downed an egg and sausage pizza before getting back to the gravel.

I continued to ride west and occasionally a little north. I skirted around the Eastern Iowa Airport, found lots of more new gravel, and finally turned south for some nice tailwind into the Amana Colonies. The Casey's in Amana was disappointing. No pizza. So I got some caffeine in the form of a sugary and fatty Starbucks drink and loaded up on cheesy crackers. When I checked out the clerk looked at me, sweaty, salty, helmeted, and holding crumpled bills in my gloved hands, and asked, in all seriousness, if I had any gas too. I was confused and could only reply with, "uh, no."

The gravel back towards Iowa City was sandy and bumpy. This is where I hit a little bit of a low point. My legs and lungs felt great, and my average speed was still going up. But I was grumpy. I just kept swearing at all the bumps and hills. I figured it was best to just keep eating, so I did, and I think that helped. I also had a big rise when I scored this sweet road prize:

I had just started riding on pavement as I finished my 80+ miles on gravel, so the pavement and beer find were definite bonuses. I'm not really a light beer kind of guy, but I sure wont turn them down.

I came in on the oh so popular IWV. Just a couple miles out of Iowa City a beige Ford Taurus buzzed me quite closely. Closer than I had been buzzed in years. His mirror was inches from my handlebar. I flipped him off after he passed to let him know that I did not appreciate his driving style. Normally I am a fan of the smile and wave approach, but this time I was tired and frustrated.

He slowed down and found a place to pull over on the next hill. I was not really in the mood for a rules of the road discussion, as I had about 96 miles and 6 hours in my legs. He stepped out of his car and came rushing at me in the middle of the lane screaming about how if I flip him off I better be able to back it up physically. This was definitely not going to be a discussion, but I proceeded anyway, telling him how buzzing me with his car is playing games with my life. In truth, I didn't really have time to get that out before he swung at my face with his right hand.

Thankfully I had taken Tae Kwon-Do as a sophmore at the University of Iowa. And even though I was tired and that class was 8 years ago, I quickly leaned back and to the right and threw my left arm up in the classic block move. My forearm pushed his punch wide and his fist barely struck my shoulder.

At this point I dropped my bike, jumped into the low ditch on the side of the road, and ran up the other side onto some poor woman's lawn. I had my cell phone out and was dialing 911. This irked the old man and he just kept screaming and then picked my bike up, raised it over his head, and threw it down into the ditch. He did not chase me anymore, but he did throw some dirt at me. He missed.

When the very friendly Sheriff showed up my assailant had already fled. I spoke with the officer and so did a very nice person in a truck who saw the whole thing and gave me his card. He is a defense attorney. I doubt anything will come of it all, but I will be sure to keep you posted if/when I hear back from the Sheriff.

After all that excitement I rolled home with a wobbly front wheel and the lovely Robin had lunch waiting for me. She is so wonderful. I was still a little shaken, but I quickly ate and showered and we were off to Chicago to see my family and pick up Robin's sister Meryl. This post is getting a bit long, so I will have to cut it short, but I will end with a map of the ride. Since many of the roads were new to me, I don't think this map is completely correct, but you get the idea.

Oh yeah, the ride was just barely over a century. 100.3something. It took me 6 hours and 20 minutes of riding and about 7 hours with the whole assault thing.

Ph Imbalance

Some of you have probably noticed that the "books" portion of booksbikesbeer is horribly under represented. And usually when it has come up, it has been in regards to some brief comments about my job as a graduate student. A job that really has not made me very happy these last couple of years. I have been lucky to spend those years in a nice department at the University of Iowa with some very cool people, but after lots of thinking I have realized that the profession is not right for me. Or perhaps I should say that I am not right for the profession. It is always difficult to tell in these situations.

So I am now a Ph. D-rop out and have taken an advising position at the University's Academic Advising Center. It started this week and I think it will be a really nice fit for me. Even though I will not have a real summer, I am ok with it. I have already felt much better about my increased every-day free time and this new found separation between work and not-work.

In this new free time I have, of course, been riding my bike a lot. Last night's group ride was a fine time. We did the ever fast Eden's Loop and I took all my pulls and made it to the home stretch with the group. At that point I eased off, as I really did not want to ride myself into the ground this early in the week. Steve and I rolled in easily and then had a beer at Robin and my house. It was nice.

And I have also gotten back to fun reading. And it has been great. Even during my breaks from school I was not doing much fun reading these last couple of years. But now it is back. A few weeks ago I read Michael Chabon's The Mysteries of Pittsburgh. It is his first novel and is a wonderful tale of that time in your life when you are between being a kid and an adult and really have no responsibility. The characters are fascinating and the adventures, while generally things I wouldn't want to do personally, were very enjoyable to experience vicariously. It is a quick, enjoyable read. When I neared the end, I really didn't want it to stop. I often get excited about finishing books, because then there is the exciting period of choosing the next book to read, and so I tend to read a little faster. But with this one I definitely slowed down. I have my own tattered used bookstore copy, so thankfully I will be able to re-read it whenever I choose. Mr. LaRue re-reads it at the start of every summer, and that might not be a bad rule to follow.

Two Down

Yesterday morning I woke up at seven with a slight hangover after having one two many beers at Steve and Cody's fire. Thankfully it wasn't anything a little juice, coffee, and food couldn't take care of. While Robin enjoyed her early morning coffee in bed with her book, I went into the basement to set up my computer on my cyclocross bike. After that I got dressed, ate a cheese and egg sandwich, and rolled out the door at 9:15, only a few minutes later than I had planned.

The morning was cloudy and cool, but the wind was light/non-existent from the east. So I took the most direct route to gravel I know, and then more or less followed a path that Steve and I rode last November when I tried to follow him on one of his 100 mile gravel rides. I got a little turned around once, but it worked out in my favor as I just got to add a few more gravel miles to the ride.

The route was beautiful. Everything was green and lush. There were also lots of little purple violets and bright yellow dandylions and plenty of other things that I don't know the names of. At this point it started raining on me. I guess May showers are needed to maintain the May flowers. It wasn't hard, though, just a steady sprinkle, but it lasted for almost an hour. It cleared up a bit shortly before I rolled into West Branch for a pizza and fluids stop. And the sun even came out. I felt great here at the halfway point, I had 49 miles in and 45 of them were on dirt.

After lunch I rolled north a little ways before turning back south. I decided to start eating again almost immediately, even though I wasn't really hungry, and I think this was a good decision. It kept my tummy happy and the winds started to pick up, so I was definitely riding harder at this point. At first it was mostly a crosswind, but after I had skirted Iowa City and continued south a ways the winds picked up dramatically and were coming from the east and the south.

This area had also received a lot of fresh gravel. Combined with the headwind, this made for a very frustrating section. I spent most of it riding all the way to the side of the road, half in the grass at times, trying to avoid the deep sections of chunky gravel. I had originally planned to ride east towards Lone Tree and ride some of the nice roads I remember liking that are south and east of there. But that direction had more fresh gravel, and I wasn't up for it.

So I took a break and got some road miles in. I had hardly ridden any pavement since Iowa City. I decided to continue south towards the Tri-County Bridge and then Riverside. It seems I have been going there a lot lately, but that's ok. When I turned off the pavement the loose gravel and wind were still annoying me, but that ended as soon as I crossed the bridge. My speed and my spirits lifted as I rolled back north on the hard pack dirt I enjoy. Thank you Tri-County Bridge!

Nearing Riverside I was almost 90 miles into the ride and I was having no stomach problems. This excited me. I had almost no sugary drinks on this ride and I ate more food, so perhaps this is the way to go. I was quite starving when I pulled into the Casey's there. They were out of pizza, and this bummed me out. But when my eyes saw a bag of potato chips I realized those salty fats would be fine, too. So I grabbed a bag and a chocolaty, milky, Starbucks coffee drink and headed back to the bike.

The ride back into Iowa City was nice. I had a tailwind almost the whole way and I did a bunch of it on pavement. I ended up with just over 82 miles of gravel (I stopped counting at 80, but I know I got at least two miles in after that). The total ride ended up being 104.5 miles. My on the bike time was 6:40 and the total time was around 7:10. I also had some luck with me at the end, because when I pulled my bike into the porch I noticed the rear tire had about 50psi or less in it. And sure enough, this morning it is flat.
After a shower, some food, and some lounging, Robin and I went over to Cody's art opening. It was very fun. The mural was being painted by so many enthusiastic artists that I was happy to hang back, drink beer, and enjoy some great conversation with friends. I was a little dazed at the end of the show, so Robin and I skipped the after party at the Fox Head and strolled home in the rain.

A Tisket, A Tasket . . .

My town bike has a basket.

After ordering the thing many months ago, I finally made it into the shop to pick it up. It is a great size (will hold almost exactly 12 bottles of beer) and is also fairly light. Of course, that means I shouldn't load it up too heavily, but I think it will be just perfect for those shopping trips where I can't quite fit all of my items into my messenger bag. Also, the front end of the Kuwahara is not exactly designed to bear a lot of weight, but as long as I drink most of the beer after the ride I should be alright.

While the beer bottles look nice in the basket, they might not be the best thing to put up there. They were a little on the bouncy side. In the upcoming weeks I'll experiment with using the nylon grocery bag I carry around and putting the normal food items up there and the liquids on my back. I think they will be easier to secure.

Back to the beer now. Even though it is almost May, today was around 40 degrees with a stiff northwest wind and semi-frequent flurries. I thought the stout season came to an end a few weeks ago, but I figured I might as well sneak a few more in before moving on to the crisp and refreshing pale ales and pilsners. Cheers.

Horsin' Around

On Saturday Steve and I met for a medium length mixed road ride. The only goals we had were to ride around four hours and stop by the church in Sharon Center to see some of the Iowa City road race action, and we easily accomplished both.

It was a beautifully sunny day, but unfortunately the winds were blowing out of various westerly directions at about 30+ mph. I actually managed to bring a camera on this ride, but I never took it out. I thought about it a few times, but I generally needed two hands on the handlebar. There were even a few moments where I thought I just might get my bike blown out from under me. But we managed to keep it upright. And I have my lack of pictures to prove it.

We rolled through the finish line ahead of a few dropped riders from an unknown category. We gave the full salute and were welcomed by both fans and officials. We didn't have "official" numbers, though. So don't look for us in any results.

After chatting with a few people and watching Jim Cochran sprint to a second place in the masters division, we enjoyed a healthy dose of tailwind and made our way home.

About that time Robin was buying a horse. Yes, a horse. His name is Steen and I got to go see him today. He was a little nervous in his new place, but I think we all bonded nicely.

Steen wanted to run around, but I was a little tired from yesterday's ride and decided to just snap a few pictures.

Coming into Some Form

This morning I woke up with a crazy allergy/sinus headache and the sound of our windows rattling as a rather large thunderstorm passed over us. The rain ended shortly thereafter, and with some coffee, breakfast, and a short spin to class I was feeling better too.

The rest of the day was downright gorgeous. We have now had three days in a row of beautiful, sunny, warm, low wind days. So it was no surprise, then, that tonight was the biggest group ride of the year. A long string of us in shorts and short sleeved jerseys headed south and west of town for the Fry Town loop. It was quite controlled early on and there were some frustrations in a few riders as no one seemed to want to play. But after some persuading from Hopson we got it going.

I did my best to stay near the front and take my pulls. Unfortunately, after one big stop ahead sprint I got gapped off with Duethman. We chased hard and had the group in sight the whole way down Black Diamond Rd. So I didn't quite make it with the group, but a lot of people were behind me, and two days after my dirty century I am feeling rather pleased with my ride.

Throwing My Hat Into The Ring

Yesterday morning Robin and I drove over to a little town called Blue Grass to look at a young white quarter horse. He was big and friendly and I liked him. The recent rains made their pasture way too muddy to ride him, so Robin was a teeny bit disappointed, but he could still be the horse for her.

I was certainly curious to see the horse, but I was also happy to have Robin take me fifty some miles outside of town and let me ride my bike all day. I had briefly looked at some maps and figured I could get myself to Lone Tree. From there I would figure out what to do.

The ride started off very cloudy and foggy. It was a little bit cool too. And the part of Iowa I was in was dead flat. I saw no cars, dogs, or people for over an hour.

As I neared Lone Tree the sun was coming out. And there were more hills. That was nice too. The super flat is a little bit boring. I stopped at the gas station there for some cheesy crackers and looped south with intentions of riding over the ever-popular Tri-County Bridge.

It was grand. The B road just after it was a little less than grand. Slick, soft mud greeted me at the bottom of a steep hill. I didn't think it was too bad, and it wasn't at first. But as I kept grinding it got softer. I had a lot of wheel slippage, but I persevered with the spinning and made it without a dab.

I jumped onto some pavement (up to this point there had been almost no pavement) and rolled into Riverside, the future birthplace of Captain James T. Kirk.


I grabbed a coke and a piece of pizza at the Casey's and refilled my bottles.

It was about two in the afternoon, the wind was still light, and the sun felt great. I couldn't have felt better. With close to sixty miles of gravel in, I decided to keep it up. So I went back south and worked my way west and south and south and west through the little town of Richmond and on towards, but not all the way to, Washington. It was a nice figure eight loop that brought me back to Riverside.

At this point my stomach felt less than ideal. On the last long ride I blamed the sugary sports drinks, on this ride I had less sugar water, but still some. And my stomach was not as upset as the last ride either. So perhaps I should cut back on the sugar water even more? Still time to see.

Anyways, I had a banana and drank some water and pointed my steed towards the hilly dirt roads south. When I got to Hills I knew I had plenty of gravel behind me so I took the pavement in. There were cyclists all over the road and I got lots of smiles and waves.

In the end I was a hair shy of 101 miles and 81 point something of them were on gravel. It took me 6 hours and 45 minutes to do it, including my three brief stops. Sounds kind of fast, but I had a lot of gentle breeze and a lot of favorable tailwinds thanks to Robin letting me take my bike on the horse viewing trip.

Here is a map for those of you who like maps.

So now I have one dirty century complete. Eleven more will get me one of these:

Tired

I rode a hundred miles today. Most of it on gravel. It was fun, but I'm too tired to write the report. You will have to wait until tomorrow.

The No Sleepies

I find myself unable to sleep tonight. Perhaps I have a mind full of stuff. Or maybe it is because I have been riding a lot these past few weeks, and then did almost nothing for four days in a row.

Tomorrow is supposed to be nice, though. And I'm going to follow the lovely Robin to look at horses and then hopefully get a nice long bike ride back to town. I hope I am very tired afterwards.

Weekend Update (long version)

It has been a truly tremendous weekend. After an extremely wet week, I managed to ride my bike twice, hang out with friends, and not do any homework. How did I manage to skip the homework you might ask? I will just say that my method for getting work done is not advised.

Yesterday morning we woke up to a very chilly and cloudy day. The weather people said there was a good chance for snow/ice/rain mix later that afternoon, so I spent some time convincing myself that I should go out and ride early. By the time I finished my breakfast and got dressed it was half past nine. And as soon as I stepped outside snow pellets were falling on me. Shit.

But it wasn't raining, and I spent so much time finding my warm cycling clothes and putting them on, so I decided to ride anyways. This was the right decision to make. The sky continued spit frozen stuff off and on for the duration of my two hour ride. Despite this, I had a wonderful time and saw three other riders who looked like they were having as much fun as me. One of them was Steve. We rode together and chatted for a few minutes, but I was on my way in and he was heading out, so we parted ways.

The afternoon was nice and relaxing. I read all the pre-race coverage for Paris-Roubaix as I watched the snow and ice fall outside. Later, Robin and I rode down to the Bike Library to look for a front derailleur and hang out with Steve and Cody. We scored a slightly used fd and made plans to meet Steve and Cody at the Red Avocado for dinner. From time to time we let them borrow one of our cars. They like to repay us with a nice dinner. We think this is slightly unfair, since we are not put out at all by them using our car and because we have so much fun at dinner.

When we got home Robin and I were excited to try some Sherry. Port is one of our all time favorite adult beverages, so we decided to give Sherry a shot too. They do have a lot in common, but if you really love Port for its complex mix of sweet and dry flavors and a wonderfully full bodied aftertaste, then you might not like Sherry. I would say Sherry is more like cough syrup. Only sweeter. There will be no more Sherry for us.

Sunday brought nice sunny weather when I woke up. It was cold, but the lack of frozen rain was very nice. I was meeting Steve at the park at 8, so I quickly ate breakfast and read the live updates for the first 180km of Paris-Roubaix. There were some crashes, of course, but most of the favorites were at the front and making it exciting.

Steve and I had a decidedly easier ride. We hit a couple of gravel sections, but mostly rode pavement. We encountered a few reckless drivers, but we made it back safe and sound. And Steve even scored a nice yellow-handled screwdriver. I was slightly jealous, as I actually spent much of yesterday's ride looking for road finds.

In the afternoon I enjoyed some really good coffee, read about Boonen's very exciting second victory at Pari-Roubaix, put up a very exciting gift from the wonderful Robin (read about it here). And tonight we are eating chicken enchiladas with red sauce, made more as a casserole. Steve and I decided blogs are much better with pictures, so if you've read this far, here is your reward.

Ok, so it isn't really that exciting. But I can tell you that the reward is better tasted than seen.

I Am One Year Old Today!

Booksbikesbeer has been around for a year. And a good year it has been. Books were read (though I didn't write much about too many of them), bikes were ridden, and beers were drunk.

I decided to celebrate by sleeping in a little bit and then enjoying some nice coffee while reading the live updates from de Ronde Van Vlaanderen. It was a truly exciting race. There was sun, rain, snow, hail, tons of crashes, and the biggest race in Belgium was won by the current Belgium Champion.

Stijn Devolder, powering his way to a solo finish in the Belgium Champion jersey. It doesn't get much better than that.

After the race and some breakfast Robin and I went out for a nice hilly loop on our road bikes. We made sure to hit some brick streets to keep the spirit of the classics alive. It was mostly sunny and very windy and we thoroughly enjoyed it all.

So, a big thanks to those who read this. I have had fun with it, and I hope you have too.

Cheers,
bbb

First Century of the Season and Past Racing Memories

Yesterday morning I was pleasantly surprised to find an email in my inbox telling me my outrageously long take home quiz for my seminar class was canceled. I decided to celebrate by riding my bike all day long. The temperatures were supposed to be in the mid 50s, but it was very windy and closer to 40 when I left the house a little before 11. So I made sure to bring some extra food and my wind jacket.

I started riding north and west out towards Oxford. It was slow going and I felt sluggish, but I just kept spinning and eating. From Oxford I continued on to the Amana Colonies via the "Highway 6 Trail." In the middle of a weekday, the traffic was not bad at all, but how it got the description "trail," I will never know.

I went through main town Amana (skipping the brewery this time) and continued on north. I had never ridden this way before. Highway 151 was a little busier than Highway 6, but it had a much bigger shoulder. I only rode it for a few miles before turning back east and enjoying a wonderful tailwind. The sun was also feeling warmer and I was finally able to unzip my jacket.

I was on the main road heading into Swisher and then Shueyville, and after a few miles I came across the mile markers from the time trial Conn Day holds out there. This was the sight of my very first bike race. It happened way back in October of 1999. Lee Venteicher had befriended me on the Iowa City group rides and gave me a ride to the race. On the ride up, I distinctly remember him saying, with all seriousness, that I could possibly win the race. I don't remember what my response was, but I do know it included a very puzzled look, as I was yet to finish a group ride with the actual group.

In the out-and-back 20k time trial, I had one of the middle start positions. I was riding hard in the beginning, mostly to warm by body up, and I was feeling pretty ok. But at some point before the turn around, when I was shifting from the big ring into the small ring, the chain fell off the ring to the inside of the frame, was snagged by the big ring and looped all the way around the crankset, finally jamming into the chainstay. I know it is hard to picture, but the chain basically made a figure eight. It took me about ten whole minutes to wrench the chain free. Luckily the frame only received a few minor scratches, and I was able to finish the race. Needless to say, I did not win.

Thankfully it was one of those three-part Conn Day races, and we still had match sprints up a big hill and a circuit race left. I remember being very pleased with the hill sprints as I made it into the final four. In the circuit race I finished somewhere in the top 10. I don't remember my overall race placing, but I do remember that Lee won.

With Friday's strong tailwind, I was probably riding into Swisher faster than I was in that race. It was a good feeling. But I was starting to get quite hungry, and I had eaten all of my bars. I took a left at the Shueyville intersection hoping that it led to the Casey's (and pizza) that I remembered. It did not. The Casey's must have been in Ely. So I just continued north and looped around to hit Ely while heading back south. This, incidentally, was the loop of the only road race I have ever won.

Also a Conn Day production, the Ely Road Race was an all category race of maybe 40 miles. It was sometime in the Spring of 2001, and my Cannondale-Midwest teammates and I decided to ride out from Iowa City. On the ride to the race, Lee, Thad, Josh, and Jim all decided that I would be the team leader for the race. This was a little surprising, since all of those guys were faster than me, but they pretty much left me with no choice.

The first lap started off at a hard but doable pace. After a couple of miles someone attacked and got a good gap. I felt pretty good and, having no idea what it meant to be a team leader, decided to bridge up to the lone breakaway rider. I made without anyone following and we were actually able to extend our lead over the next few miles.

But as we were nearing the end of the first lap I noticed that my front tire had a slow leak. As this was a small race with no support, I drifted back to the pack to see if my teammates had any bright ideas. We figured I could make it to the next corner, and hoped that some kind of wheel would be there.

And right we were. One woman came thinking she might race but decided to volunteer instead. I rolled up to her and begged for her wheel and she was more than happy to donate it. Lee, being the extraordinarily unselfish team rider that he is, decided to wait with me. Trying not to panic, I changed the wheel, and we proceeded to chase.

It took a few hilly miles, but we were able to get back on. At this point, my teammates proceeded to launch attacks. One by one they would jump away from the pack, and the rest of us would wait for someone else to chase them down. This was usually Jim Cochran. With a few miles to go Josh got caught, and I jumped very hard and got a good gap. I was able to hold it, but just barely. I won by about 8 or 10 seconds and I was followed by Thad and Lee, making it a 1-2-3 for our team.

But on Friday there was no rush, so I just cruised through the finish line and opted to forgo the victory salute. I had just finished some pizza and a coke, the sun was shining, and I had plenty of miles to occupy the rest of my afternoon. I took a detour through Lake McBride State Park, rode out to Sutliff and its 111 year old bridge (again, I skipped the beer), and then headed back home through Solon and then good old Sugar Bottom Rd. 101 miles and 6 hours of reliving the past.