chollaball.net

My commute to Paypal is 5 miles, and sadly i have done it less than 10 times in 6 months. I rode in once my 2nd week, just to hit that, then i was so busy onboarding for a month, then Beckie started traveling for work, and then they did renovations to the shower. These were mostly excuses. Mostly i didn’t like all the overhead for 23 minutes of riding. Until i had to rrrrrreally start grubbing for riding time, and sampled the new locker room with complimentary toiletries. I am frugal, i enjoy the sensuality of q-tips and mouthwash, free hot water and body wash are worth at least $65 extra a year, and i won a $25 ebay giftcard as an incentive for the mandated Maricopa Country Trip Reduction Plan. Its 5 miles! Tired, weary, hungover, hungry, hot, cold, sunburned, stressed, addled, over-caffeinated, fat-saturated — Genevieve did it with me once — its 5 pathetic miles!

Once i put it onto the project plan at the scrum meeting, i easily did 3 days in a row. But here i am all kitted up 2x a day, and nowhere to go? Possibilities are intriguing for easy brick workouts with minimal overhead: 45 – 120 min CX or XC to the office and back, 20 min of freeweights, 20 min of pilates, 45 min at the gym, 2 miles jogging, runzeheunding, or picking the kids up from school.

Today was the bi-annual bike-to-school day. We locked G’s new ride Hawkeye up in the morning, i rode to work, home, then back with the trailer. From back in the day…G got a free ride across her campus, and experimented with gravity.

G remembered our route from Alana’s school to her school to the golf course, and wanted to lead. Fearless she is, even after she ate shit twice in gravelly transitions in the dark. It didn’t phase her, just motivated her to pick a new spot on the fairway for us to romp. The only 20 feet of rope on the course becomes Angry Birds, pigs popping while little girls tumble down the links.

Alana is such a girly-girl, so tender and so moody. Her idolatry of G pushes her beyond any positive or negative reinforcement i’ve failed to provide. How does an offspring of mine refuse practical shoes? At least she knows barefoot is better.

Insistent on these clothes, which somehow match

dirty girl is happy, she may yet become core

i had no hand in this, Genevieve posed it

The Beatles – Here Comes The Sun

One can actually live on work, obligations and beer for 4 straight days!

96 hrs online, on the kids, or drunkspinning workfinishing. sleep arbitrated with laundry and dishes and feeding the masses. crossfit parenting, dulled to the perfect edge for trudging.

We 3 launched with purpose by sleeping late on Tuesday, an executive decision to power nap, everyone still tired from the zoo and dreading mommy gone. Leisurely breakfast and play with binoculars over a babyblue Valley morning a bon voyage for them, skipping agroSnotsdale school traffic godspeed for me. Why do stay-at-home-moms bristle at the term ‘unemployed‘? I won’t use it, if you won’t drive like you’re late to a meeting.

Wednesday was my monthly volunteer day. I helped kids with math. I went to PE and did aerobics with G. it was the best part of my day, even better than Bagel Day, which is inevitably pockmarked with co-irkers. I spent 30 minutes commando in Fresh&Sleazy, and somehow did not eat any of it til 3 days later. Why would a child complain about a quesadilla? Melted kiddie plates forgotten in the oven looked like Dali clocks, late sittter, sidewall slice at 2 miles in to a 1hr window dodging crap-ass minichunk, spunk dry, forgot extra sealant: white people problems. It is dark and calm and 60 degrees over a babyblue Valley night. I jogged home, ran back out with the dog, took a staff meeting on IST time, drank heavily. Doing it the next day and the next.

I’ve seen a lot of blogs from parents. The women writers gush and whine and take 4x too long to get to the fucking point. The men act disdainful, then redeemed, then make bad fart jokes. I am disinterested in their little monsters and blogspot subdomains. I don’t want to wallow in pearls of wisdom, i just want it to be quiet for another day pushing a boulder up a hill.

I try to find a sparkle every day, something remarkable to testify. Some days the kids or the dog or the sunset provide, some days its a chore and a bore and i slice sidewalls. Some days i can’t even enjoy rubbing one out cause i can no longer imagine any conceivable narrative where stripper-hot women would be interested in me. So omnipotent is my lameness, it suspends suspension of disbelief, even in a porno.

Its 65 and sunny everyday of an AZ winter. Annnnnnnnnnnnnd its trainer season! Monday – trainer! Tuesday – trainer! Wednesday – sidewall slice, and then…trainer!!!

Since i clearly don’t ride anymore, i made myself happy the next best way, and bought gear. Thanks Fish! Then i fought with my kids and kicked Alana’s bike down the street, cause i’m good at ruining a day like that.

Maad gave me a charity fuck and drug me out at 3pm Friday around the Gateway Loop. The start of the weekend was so beautiful it stung, but i could only wheeze and wallow over spanking Alana that morning, even though she so had it coming. Maad bitched about needy bitches and their booty calls interrupting his training sleep. FML. Personal best time on Paradise Wash – 7:32.

50 minutes is not a ride, so i made myself happy the next best way. Kila and i picked the girls up from school.

G showed off her bike by riding around the gym at Kids Club. i asked her if she thought Alana would remember we fought that morning. G figured no, and Alana couldn’t be happier to see us and the bikes. We took the long way home through the golf course. The kids rolled down hills and romped in the dark til they were dizzy. We showed Alana a swamp we’d found the week prior, formed where the golfcourse’s irrigation settles. Reeds and lush trees sprung out of the ill-planned source at the lowpoint of fake greenery interweaved with bands of desert. Hundreds of small black birds chittered in the reeds, quieted as we approached, fled to the high branches as Kila sloshed through the muck, then dropped like beads in a lava lamp back down to the reeds.

I’m so sick of lame-ass obituary drivel about ‘he died doing what he loved.’  I hate dead-legged interminable uphill slogging cold-sweating cramping fileting by catclaw and wondering how my wife is gonna rip me a new one cause i’m so late to NYE festivities. That would have been a horrible — terrible — death, and in my final moments of breathless frustration i would have screamed and cursed the Heavens and wondered why i was not at home playing Wii with the best little girls in the world.

The AZ Trail from the Picketpost TH outside Superior, to the Gila River and back. 41 miles, and we thought 7500 vf.  Turns out it was 9k, that extra 20% all stuffed into 10 miles on top of another 2500 vf., and about 3500 before that. I was doing great through the first 5 miles of the climb.  Easy reliable 15 min miles that steadily rolled off me. The last 5 punctured all reserves and left me completely and utterly shattered. I haven’t had my ass handed to me so badly in a couple years. The climb just kept going and going, and going. All I could think was ‘i have to get out of this canyon! i have to get out of this canyon!‘ When I finally did, my left leg locked up both ways. It cramped extending and it cramped contracting. I couldn’t spin out the cramp or be still with it. I flopped over on a switchback, trapped in cramps extending and contracting, and writhed on the trail for 20 seconds until i was able to grab my foot and pull my leg bent, whenceforth it cramped again and i had to stand up to prop my leg extended, whenceforth… This continued for 2 hours.

Other than all that, it was a primo day on primo trail

The trail is holistic, and follows the contours of the terrain so seamlessly i often couldn’t guess where it went around the next bend. Its surface blended the landscape. Some sections are bench cut, others over embedded rock, through rock gardens or stream crossings or narrow lines on exposed pitches. There were no freebees.

out to the dropin at mile 14 and back would be a great long day without being totally brutal. ~5 hrs, but not so much that you lost the joy of the engagement on the trail I averaged just under 11 min\mile out to mile 14.  A bit faster on the return. It was flowy and snug, but i was so broken the last 5 miles i appreciated very little.

y

the change in tree color marked the Gila River

strange bedfellows

I rounded a corner and saw Doug rolling through this on the far side. It reminded me of a sequence i took of Beckie in The Canyon, the distances and scopes were similar.  can you see him?

lemme help ya out with that

two handbrakes, rear deraileur, squishy and too long. A dirt ride covered in her bigger bad-ass pads and new jersey allowed saddle time and gentle falls. G did so well already!!!

Last day of 10 to enjoy the family outta town, i headed to Tuxson to ride something new and pretty with a new friend who offered to show me around.

I made brownies.

so psyched was i

What a POS is my camera. but if trends continue, one of my kids will break it within 6 months. You’ll just have to use better imaginations to appreciate all the lush chunky violence of the terrain. The backside of the Catalinas is dense, bouldery and tight. Thicker with cactus than anything here in the Valley.

The loamy soil was still moist, and offered outstanding grip even in the many transitions from rockface and back. Flowy traverses, bermed descents, and punchy climbs kept the ride exciting and the heart rate up. Any bike will handle this trail, but stoked for techy opportunities, the Bird was the perfect choice for me.

i gots da last Rage DH jersey, suckas!

lots of b-lines. we were having too much flowy fun on the Lower and Upper Chutes to take many pics. I hit most of the alternate trials and jumps, but not this one.

wadding…

wadding…

booyah! wadded up!

So tell me people, what is the right technique for these long steeps?? I managed on 3-4 other ones out there by creeping in gently and massaging the rear brake down. I just didn’t want to try this without watching someone else go first…twas the night before xmas, I’m not going to the ER. :nono::yesnod:

I could not bear to put the Heckler in the recycle bin, we’d been through too much together. So I took it out to the desert and gave it a proper burial.

with a great view

rain brought out all the ghetto-tubeless residue, and set the tone for ceremony

bottle opener on the frame still works

i made a toast

and poured some out for my homey

All killer, no filler.

Up Bell from the Scottsdale side, down Bell and Windgate to East End, up East End to Tom’s Thumb, down TT to Windgate, back up and over Windgate to Bell, down Bell to Parasdise. No nimby HOAs, no dodging herds of slack-jawed hikers around Sunrise and Lost Dog, no horrible dirt road, no push up Sonoran Trail to give back 500 vf coming down a sidewalk.

Nowhere as bad as one might think. There was 15 min of HAB near the top of Bell, and 25 HAB to get up East End. We relaxed and took pictures.

up Bell?

drizzly day in the Valley

the fountain is still shooting in Fountain Hills

up East End let us study all the switchbacks for the next descent

we hid from a snow flurry inside the oft-photographed boulders atop Tom’s Thumb

Maad caught in the act of blogging about his radness

The rain made for hero-dirt, I dabbed once on the descent. Maad also nailed switchbacks better than any prior run

20 miles, 3.5 moving time, and my best time ever down Paradise Wash 7:53! Stats show almost 5500 vf.

More pics on James’ site.

Rage Halloween Ride! Sitter and my number 1 Ho, what more could you ask for?

checking my makeup, not bad for using the front window of Fresh&Sleazy as a mirror after a 12 mile ride

Peter

Dan

Big Pimpin Cballs

Mikey and Kim

Donna

A-ron and Kim

Mo

KennyB

Scottsdale night life

Dixon

Beckie, Maad and Amy

Curley

BC

Shunk

undead peloton

last stop TT Roadhouse

Tobias!

Aaron

James throws a massive tailgating party every year for his beloved Sooners vs. Longhorns game. The one and only upside of Beckie traveling 3-4 days a week for work is that I can cut out guilt-free. The game started at 9am on Saturday, the brisket had been baking since the day before, so I rode out 30 miles to East Mesa at 9pm Friday, arriving in time to partay mostly non-stop til the next afternoon when Beckie and the kids picked me up. and ate, and swam, and tailgated themselves.

Long night rides across the Valley are deep and dark and mind-opening, stealthy spins across the grid and the grain of your angst and issues. When I finally landed at James’ I looked like Tron and felt peaceful.

On McDowell road near Val Vista in Mesa (a decent neighborhood),i got tagged by a couple dooshbags in a lifted light-colored pickup. I heard a loud rumble and realized i was not hurt and watched cups roll off my shoulder and into the street. Good shot fellas, you nailed my helmet.  Seriously, thank you for hitting my best-protected spot. My next reaction after  was ‘cool a car actually saw me!’

I never thought about catching them cause it was pointless, and other than a little wet i wasn’t hurt. I laughed, i suffer so much on a long ride and have so many injuries from falls…90 minutes in and a little ice didn’t even make me lose cadence. As i spun on i thought what if i caught up to them or i was packing, and then realized in AZ its just as likely the other guy is packing too.  If I’d been hurt I probably would feel differently, but all I wanted was to get off the road, cause i started thinking now they’re emboldened and might come back. Fighting a car-full of dudes was equally stupid.  I passed a Mesa cop 3 miles later and told him what happened, thinking maybe they will still be in the area. What else was i gonna do?  jic the jerks picked up their pace as the night went on…maybe he’d see the truck and be aware of them. Mostly i’m glad that in all my years riding this is the worst I’ve had yet.

I arrived to a beer and a shot and The Man in full swing. Apparently the Meat needs towel service.

I woke up 8am, i have no idea when we slept, i was so disoriented and drunk i grabbed a bloody mary and jumped on the bike for a 45 min sanity spin around Las Sendas. I repeated later when the game became a blowout and my rhythm got antsy. Mid-day golf-course tresspassery, the Valley in the background, James’ absconded bike in the fore, Security chasing me on riders’ left. They’re hard to see in the pic, but they are there . dumb slow fockers .

. fo

Finally, The Meat was ready.

Sunday i was very weary. Beckie schemastizized, and it was brilliant. All of us with Kila on bikes to the Library, Horizon Park, Cold Stone, then home.

Kila enjoying Tuc Fxs Leftovers.

Climbing on the Bird is finally less-than-utterly-pathetic. My legs and balance are coming around. There are ~10 big ups on Somo from Javalina to Buena Vista, and each ride for nearly 10 years their ticks have located a climbing performance meter in my head. I think i got 4 last ride, which was 3 more than the first time on the Bird. Coupled with a vigorous pace chasing Chongoman up the mountain, i declared myself a winner!  40 minute sprints up the McDs and 2 days at Rancho are paying off in enough balance and strength to power over challenges, and enough confidence to commit to finishing them. Each of the last 5 rides have been better than the one before it. Descending is so copacetic it hardly merits the attention to type. I’m developing a trust in the big fat fork and the stiff sticky rear end, learning to jump safely jump into chunk. I got the s-curve on 24th St. for the first time in far too long, and on Highline let the bike take me down through danger by going faster. Paradise Wash time trials are pushing me into new comfort zones of speed. Last run was 7:59; descending the AZT in Flagstaff was a rainbow of emerald and olive and moss and malachite.

I’ve started again picking the girls up from their school(s) with the bikes and Kila. I slam a beer on the ride over, its like happy hour, where fatigue and anxiety slip away in adventures with my pack. G’s climbing gets stronger, less sprinting and more spinning. Sometimes she zig-zags lazily up the hill while we talk about her school day.  She too unwinds, kindergarten happy hour on 2 wheels. At the Hill Park she followed me down a 5-stepper. She stopped and asked before trying it — can i do it? When i told her no problem, and reminded her how, her body language spoke her understanding to unweight the front and trust gravity. Summer PT days have sharpened and relaxed her to  ride out the momentum.  She can climb every table at Rage and knows which to avoid at McPump, absent are the out-of-control backward flops, finding her comfort zone between attacking and retreating from a big up. She finishes our sessions filthy, shweaty, unscathed, and starving!  The last time rolling home from the Hill Park she shot off the front, stopped and looked at every intersection, and then pulled out of sight on the long descent. I half-expected to find flashing lights and twisted metal at the bottom, but I found G waiting for me before crossing Thompson Peak, just like she knows to do. A 2o yard skidmark led up to the intersection. She said she made it on purpose. Gnar junkie unleashed, the downhill is what inspires her to climb.

Alana can barely reach the pedals, has no balance, and the slightest shift of the front wheel knocks her over, but she can’t wait to ride bikes. Sometimes riding means dressing up in helmet and pads, sometimes its cheering wildly from the back of the trailer, sometimes its standing around holding her bike and admiring the fresh set of streamers that to a 2-yr old make it all seem brand new.  It seems fanboy and voyeuristic, but its not her fault she can’t fit the 12 incher yet. She’s still 6 months ahead of where G was on that bike. She’s happy to get propelled around the pump track, barely a dozen laps for me hurts a lot more after pushing Alana around another 15 times.  She cheers and squeals and diabolically giggles when a tumble almost happens. Someday she will pedal, sometimes she goes down the street and back, her psych is the triumph that presupposes all the others.