frankly, i’m mortified i invented this.
i blame Major League Baseball.
Month: January 2008
Quadruple Bypass 2
This ride absolutely destroyed me last year. it was, at the time, the hardest ride i had ever done. Other rides were comparable, but none had ever made me implode so utterly. Last year, i finished in 8.5 hrs, with about 6.5 moving time. the stats did not tell the story of how badly i got my ass handed to me. It was my first big MTBR ride, about 40 people, some real studly riders…going out fast with the lead group, then huge lactic-acid-buildup-inspiring breaks…no idea of the route so every hidden uphill (of which there are about 3) was a sucker-punch…no appreciation for how rocky the entire route would be as it sapped my momentum. i cracked going up Sunrise so completely, almost every subsequent uphill stretch became a total effort of will, which i abandoned on Sunrise’s false summit along with whatever pop my legs had. i flatted my tubeless tire before the last climb , of which i pushed 90%.
it wasn’t pretty.
so it was an understatement to say i approached this year with some trepidation. i would also wear the same shirt.
by all accounts this year should go better. I’d done 3 Double Bypasses, a couple times up Sunrise and once up Windgate. Not to mention more endurance rides, better skills, better brakes and seriously upgraded bike. More than anything though i figured the mental comfort of knowing the trails and what i was getting into and knowing i had completed it once with none of these advantages made me surprisingly relaxed going into the ride.
we started with 13, almost half that i knew and was pretty friendly with from other rides. Sam (U2metoo), Bob (Chongoman), Walt, AZ Mikey, and others i would get to be buds with before long . up Windgate was good, tough but good, and a few minutes faster than last year. good chatter, some introductions, down the other side and up Bell, more the same. So far so good. but i knew we had realistically only completed 2 of the 7 climbs. We chased AZ Mikey down Bell — it was rocky and loose and sketchier than before, but the balls-in-your-stomach rush was worth it. down Paradise, and then we got ready for the first hidden climb through Scottsdale up to Sunrise.
I’ve done this about 4 times since last year, and the knowledge made me calm, and i cleared the whole crappy climb up to the Taliesen Overlook. A sample conversation with one of the Tucson riders John (he was on a single speed, I wanted to help him):
Me: You ever do this climb?
John: No
Me: its utterly unredeeming. not pretty, not epic…
John: just shit?
Me: just shit.
But it was all still rolling well and i felt good. several of us donned headphones for the start of Sunrise. as for me, this would be the real test. and as the talk revealed, the same monkey for most of the others. I can get everything but one lift on one switchback going up Sunrise when I am fresh, and was chasing Jim whom i had been yo-yo’ing with for about 2 hrs…my mind was right. and apparently, so were my legs. got the first half on everything but the one lift, and the 2nd summit everything but one or 2 steeps. one section a couple senior women were walking and it was a down into an up so I wanted to bomb it — i waved them on, then explained, “i need to build speed here, trying to do that with y’all there wouldn’t go well for any of us.” they laughed. it was pretty good actually all day the hikers in Scottsdale were quite polite and made the trail sharing easy. the funniest — as we were chilling at the top of Sunrise, she goes “did you guys ride up here?” um…duh? but it was so amusing because i really couldn’t believe that my legs still felt so good. but i didn’t want to ruin it, so i talked no shit, and just rested and hydrated and had a Cliff bar. Off on the horizon i could feel the bonk, but i felt like i could keep it at bay if i just didn’t panic and focused on hydrating.
i jumped off down Sunrise in front of the pack. not that i was the fastest, but i wanted to be in my own space and not run up on or get run up on. it would make the descent better. and it was awesome as usual – that has to be the best pure descent in the Valley, even better than Mine Trail cause its longer and steeper and more genuinely dangerous. there is one nasty switchback with a big saguaro growing right on the inside and lots of rocks built up on the trail edge all at a pretty major pitch – nailed it! did i say what what? yeah i said nailed it. nailed everything! had a wonderful ride down.
we all synched, refilled, then pushed off up the dirt road. it was…the word that shall not be used [slog – which i expressly forbade Walt from using at the top of Windgate, and i think by removing that crutch made us all stronger]. but i hung in there. its tough, enough to burn you down, but not enough to put me over the edge. for that I was waiting for Dixie Mine.
i rolled up Dixie Mine ahead of the pack. we had gathered, and it was a bit antisocial for me to push ahead. one thing that made this ride so fun was that our group was all in the same neighborhood of each other for speed, so we mostly hung together all day. its pretty hard to make that happen with a group as large as 13, but we were really lucky. the best climbers were not the best descenders, so the median was pretty near everyone. it was a big enough group to be a ton of fun, but small enough to be awesome. fun, social, positive. by the end i knew everyone, and it felt like a team.
still, i was totally into my own zone by now. i needed to be, to handle my own struggle. i figured the other guys would be the same in their own ways. irregardless, they would all understand if i wanted to do my thing and not be social, they were bikers, and if they didn’t, they weren’t gonna catch me to whine. i just needed to see the Finish getting nearer and get into my own quiet place. I got all of Dixie Mine, then a brief rest at Coachwhip. Shawn caught me, and we nodded each other into committing to the final 30 minutes of climbing. the legs were still there, which by now far exceeded my expectations of making it to Dixie Mine before cracking. whatever happened next, today was a victory. 
so i was pumped, and my next goal was the 2 miles up Coachwhip. I felt good, and the solituded allowed me to not be distracted, so i just kept going. 17 minutes to the sign saying .9 miles to the top of Windgate.
i have never rode up Windgate; i have in the PEE and Quad 1 been crushed. i knew i would hit a lot of it, i had no excuse since i got all of Coachwhip. with barely a mental groan i knew i had to be good for like 1/3, since i was not yet dead. this was comforting and abhorrent all at once, since i realized anything less than 1/3 of the climb would make me a wussy. so off i went, and Shawn passed me, then i passd him, then Jonathan passed us both, and i took my cue from him and if he could ride it then thus it could be ridden and he will never know how much he helped me that climb. 2/3 to 3/4 of Windgate ridden: a new PR 
Jonathan, Shawn and I had a good moment of silence together. then i started to think about how strung out we could be, and Walt’s nearly Byron-esque ability to calf-cramp, and how it would be much nicer to sit in the parking lot with a clean shirt and a cold beer than here getting belted by the wind and starting to tighten. Bob arrived, we hit fists, then i bid adieu and it was cool cause everyone knew about the “in our own place thing”. and were excited by the prospect of me having beer waiting.
Windgate down is nasty, not gnarly, but nasty and sneaky and some DIY-trail maintainers have been digging 2-foot wide troughs at all the micro-saddles to try to help drainage. and while they will only create spillways and wider ruts, they have done a phenomenal job of making momentum-holes on the way up and endo-pits on the way down. i handled em no problem but the combination of pumping them, jumping them, and ploughing threw them got tiring. the back wheel felt sluggish and loosey in the corners, but i re-focused and dug my music and soon was out. the last 5 miles in 30 minutes sure felt good.
Todd, who had dropped on the jeep road through Fountain Hills, was waiting at the cars. I filled him in, then bolted for the Bashas (we were parked in their lot at 104th St.). the post-ride beer at the cars does not happen enough in biking. in Ultimate, it was de rigeur to have a beer and transition between the battle you just fought and your return to civilization. and it was the way teams bonded. So it became important to me to get beer, not just cause i was thirsty, but because i have always been a guy who brought a lot of beer. i was, if i may so humbly say, proficient in the art of winning the fields. And bashas had Deschutes Porter and New Belgian Tripel for $6 each. Perfect. i’m good like that.
We had some beers and such and it was good. another fantastic day on the bike. 34 miles, 5:15 spinning, 2 resting, 7500 feet. weather – more or less perfect. terrain – more or less perfect.
a really great write up and photos from David (Rockcrusher): http://forums.mtbr.com/showthread.php?t=377480
and another sweet vid from Sam: http://u2metoo.blogspot.com/2008/01/quadruple-bypass-mcdowell-mountain.html
Rainy Day Walk
it rained all day today. it is hard to get upset; the contrast of a grey, moist day is quite wonderful. as is the subtle joy in knowing life and the land is replentishing. but it sucks for a dog and a baby to get out to play.
Beckie wanted to run, i wanted her to run. i was tired from yesterday’s Quad Bypass. but she opted for the gym, and it really was only fair that i take this one. So off i went to the Las Sendas park with G and K.
i had hopes of going from the park to the store, and for about the first 4 minutes G seemed to be listening to me about staying out of the water and how riding the slides would not be good. then the diaper fell down around her ankles…how? I am not sure. it was wet…with p, or rain? I am not sure. i realized i had a spare diaper in the car, and our trip to the store would still be a go, til i noticed her pants completely wet. with p? I am not sure. the point is, the trip turned into a rainy-day free-for-all with a 3.5 minute guaranteed drive home to dry pants! 
So G slid, and G ran in the grass, and we splashed on the basketball court, and she stomped on the baseball field. suffice it to say not one but several swings were swung. some would call this terrible parenting, others would call this exemplary parenting; one way or another, my daughter will know about terrain and weather. but i am a good dad, and know that upon the cessation of running a tinyHuman has approximately 3 minutes of warmth until she gets cold, which is almost exactly the time it takes for Daddy to carry her from the ballfield to the car that is equipped with an exceptional climate-control system.
a triumphant return home!
and in her apres-ski wear
then truly the best part of my day came! i did not think it would be so, i really wanted to be lounging by now. but again, the Quad Bypass\Beckie-at-Gym & Only Fair thing came into play. and G was in such a good mood, that so was i! we went to the store, we had pleasant conversation, we ate cookies, and upon returning home i looked for music. “where is our music G, where is our mp3 player?” and while i searched, she vanished, and then returned with her cymbals.
that is a smart fuggin baby!
so i grabbed a half-empty soda bottle and a spoon, and we jammed.
I am just so friggin entitled
lately i can not escape the notion of entitlement. it is most focused for me in the context of riding and commentary on MTBR, and then once seeing it, I see it everywhere.
it goes something like this: the rules are X, so i can do whatever i want up to the edge of the rules, and pray-to-god for the people who i see going a shred beyond the edge of the rules. rules, after all, are rules! in real life, the edge of the rules are a gray areas that is worked out by social mores and interpersonal contact and just generally not getting so bent about stupid shit. this typically works out pretty well. But in anonymous situations, where everyone views themselves as isolated and deontological and rights-bearing privileged Americans waving the Bill of Rights in one hand and a silver-spoon in the other, this is horrible.
where is the line between what you should do, what you can do, and what i should tolerate? DUH! its right where i say it is. its an even finer line on a greasy slick slippery slope between where your sense of entitlement to do what you so-rudely-want-to-do intrudes on mine.
In a short span when conceiving this post, i encountered 5 unrelated yet completely related incidents. and it seems the longer i take put these thoughts together, the more examples i stumble across.
- coming down the saddle into Buena Vista, i had a less-than-graceful stop avoiding a hiker on a blind turn.
- in Rocky Point, a guy who had been tear-assing his quad around the neighborhood all weekend was revving his quad at 9am on Sunday right under our balcony.
- a guy cutting in line in front of us at security at the airport.
- a woman hanging her jacket over my seat in the airplane.
- a guy with giant truck, parking intentionally at an angle so as to take 2 parking spaces, while parked closely to the entrance. and whom i had seen do the exact same move just days earlier at the library.
Each situation was a rule, a violation, and a notification of the violation based almost wholly on a sense of entitlement. no one was hurt, no one would have been (and if they maybe might have been it was basically avoidable with simple politeness and conversation) yet each situation was such a glaring violation. why we have such a sense of entitlement i think is fundamentally wrapped up in the safety, liberty and successfulness of American culture. its such a noble thing to be free and independent, and we are so fat and happy, that we have to encrust each of us and our piles of stuff in brittle shells of perceived carte blanche, with prickly and acid-laden exteriors. the Mexicans in Rocky Point don’t get offended if you do a bad job parking, hitting your door on their car will probably improve their car. Americans are so quick to get so angry. when so many battles can be fought over so little, and who really knows why, the conflict is meaningless. it really becomes more about me, and about whether i shall find conflict.
i have strived as i have gotten older and wiser to avoid conflict, to think before throwing my fist into something, and mostly i have succeeded. there is a person i know from work who just bristles for arguments, he’s always involved in pissing someone off. and while he is a nice guy, he is kinda a dick, and i kinda avoid him. who wants to be a dick? but whether you censure yourself, there is still the way i am wired. some people find bother, some people sail above it. i am by nature the former, aggravated by an early training in the annoying jewish tendency of nagging about everything and generally being a pain in the ass about things. it is mostly an act of intellect that makes me avoid conflict.
Byron mentioned a speaker he saw who espoused positive thinking. It sounded hokey when he described it, but the core idea is so simple and so easy: its only a problem if you let it be, you control your mindset. It kind of smacked me in the head when he said it, cause it makes the challenge of your nature totally controllable by your alleged mighty intellect. sure you can be smarter than some idiot who encroaches on my space or who foolishly thinks i encroached on his, but can you will yourself to be smarter and happier?
I believe i can. and i believe if i can’t, then i best stop blathering on about the ability and willingness to learn being the most cardinal of the cardinal virtues, and that i deserve every argument i get. its like where Ultimate was in the late 80’s and teams had callfests all the time; the game stopped being fun because you were always arguing and it took over whatever playing took place between the arguments. and eventually it stopped because people decided to avoid the negativity. Players learned ways for resolving their issues without callfests — warn someone what you think is a foul, give him what he gave you without all the baggage, or just shut up and play.
you can’t avoid thinking someone overstepped what is acceptable, but you can keep it in perspective. the key is mindset and coping tools.
but the fact is, sometimes there is legitimacy in your sense of entitlement, and confrontation is a coping tool — politely, in measure, with words that leave everyone an escape — but to deny that someone has pissed you off and swallow the anger into passive aggression will just as surely make you miserable. So I apologized profusely to the hikers and explained how i was in control just surprised and have a nice day; i yelled at the guy after 30 minutes “would you do that somewhere else please?”; i said to Beckie quite loudly so my voice was unignorable “boy, you must be in a real hurry, huh?”; “you may not want to hang that there, my daughter is quite messy”; and then lastly, in light of finding a satisfying way short of breaking a mirror, just walking away. cause its about me avoiding conflict, not about the entitlement.
a walk i remember
we had the most wonderful time in the park the other day. so much dialog! so much decision-making!
i sprung it on her when we were leaving daycare: “Want to go to the park?” then nothing but “park. go park. yeah park” til we got there. we parked in the pullout on Recker about a quarter mile away. G recognized where it is in relation to the park, for the first time that i’ve noticed. and we flawlessly navigated a 50-yard sprint til she said “why the fuck am i wasting all this energy now?” and promptly put her hands up to be carried.
tick tock tick tock very patiently riding in my arms until we neared the parking lot and the truly pythonesque squirming began. its cute, cause its smart. and she is warm.
we played, we ran, we did normal park things. the direction and coaching was impressive. G has a plan, and though it changes whimsically, i must go along, which is easy since she makes it very clear what we shall play on and how we shall play and when we shall move on to the next activity.
and then, of course, she told me to carry her back.
Drama at the Gym
a man collapsed at the gym today, about 15 feet from me. i heard some yelling, and at first it seemed like someone urging someone on for more reps, or then a couple people maybe doing sets together talking about things. the man was in a leg lift machine, and i quickly saw about 5 people all pulling at him and the machine. i thought maybe he couldn’t hold the weight and was pinned, and by the time i thought to put my dumbells down the machine was crawling with people. there was a lot of yelling, headphones, commotion, other people crowding around. then people started lifting him out of the machine, and i helped lower him onto the ground. He was maybe 50, big, heavy, and through all this i felt oddly calm and detached. someone started giving him CPR, gym staff came over and assisted. and about a dozen other people stood around not finding anything much useful to do other than get out of the way. People on the far side of the floor kept on their treadmills, some didn’t even notice. Paramedics showed up in probably less than 5 minutes, and unlocked the double-fire door next to the quad sled i had been using. i asked a couple people to help me unrack it, and we quickly moved it out of the way, then asked each other if we should go on working out? his wife wandered over, probably drawn by the noise, and realizing it was her husband on the ground, started losing it. then the paramedics went to work and the staff asked everyone to clear the floor. I picked up G from daycare as they were hitting him with an IV and looked like getting out the defibrulator. his wife was leaning out the double doors next to my car crying into a phone.
i feel pretty detached about this whole thing. it wasn’t eery, or nightmarish, or stressful. it just happened, i was there, and i pretty much did what i should. and then left like i was asked.
clutching
G clutches onto things. she grabs things and holds them, she says things and repeats them over and over again. she says the alphabet and i believe enjoys saying it as she finds comfort in the expected. she counts to 10, over and over again, proclaiming with joy the number 10.
i think i do the same. the patterns are more complex, more self-chosen, closer to the heart, but my hanging onto them for comfort is just the same.
the dog does it, her patterns are just very very simple. the rest is filled with happy-dog fog. G can not amuse herself for 5 seconds without needing something she really really needs or saying something familiar. Kila can stare off into space for hours, but woe be unto any interloper into the space she is guarding for hours on end. and don’t get me started on Jo and her desperate clinging to her comfort zones.
G’s grasping for familiarity is cute when she’s happy, but quite awful when she is cranky. cranky and fluid are not two words that can be used together around G, unless by fluid you mean p. i’m afraid she likely gets this from me, or i’m just interjecting my relevance into her being bitchy. either way, i am at my worst about routine when shit has got me down. if i am stressed, i really don’t like, say, not being able to find the remote, to the point of letting that bother me more than the stress that led to it. the hard things i have to handle, so the little stuff receives all my angst. it can make me quite sour. G at least does not have this personal failing; everything to her is OF COURSE vitally important. she, however, has not had to survive the last 2 years pissed off about every burned out light bulb cause of the burden of a tinyHuman.
1/711th…
…of my tiny life ago, this shirt was perfectly clean.
tv addict
somewhere in the very recent past, that monkey from Baby Einstein gave way to Dora the Explorer. and i have been praying to the non-existent god for his mercy ever since. i hate it, i seriously seriously hate it. Baby Einstein was awesome, like watching fish to soothing music. just today in the gym i spaced out on the elliptical for like 20 minutes with Animal Planet on the tv. except that i had a much more Squizz\Ethel\The Joint soundtrack. and there were sharks eating baby alligators, and salmon hurling themselves against rocks and then having their corpses eaten by the cast of Baby Einstein.
but this Dora shit has just enough plot to be un-ignorable, but it does things over and over again, and its soooooooooo slow…so slow a 2 year old could figure it out. its like the anti-Bourne trilogy, with annoying voices. i’m going to kill myself.
what makes it all even worse is that G is demanding to watch it non-stop. its seriously making me feel inadequate in that i can not compete. realistically, however, i get bored shitless entertaining G non-stop, cause…cause she does the same 3 things over and over again. Dora is a perfect match.
A sampling of her conversation, while i write:
“beach! park! my mommy. wanna go home. wanna go school. ah beach! wanna go beach. daddy! <some babbling> whatsat? wanna go beach. ooh my mommy. whodat? i wann go beach.”
beckie let’s G watch a lot at night, and by then its often too exhausting to try to keep up with her. So we certainly have fed her obsessions. But the more i think about it, the more i’m convinced G’s been a tv addict all along. it didn’t seem so bad when it was Baby Einstein and mostly just eye candy, but even then it was like heroin for her. She did not learn to like tv, its simply a compulsion to watch, and what is a tinyHuman to do? Makes you realize what a truly evil device the tube can be.
Trickle Down Bikeonomics
the fix to beckie’s derailleur was temporary, and resulted in a snapped chain. No surprise, actually. So we had to decide what to do. Bill at Adventure basically said “if you are keeping the bike, replace the whole drive train.” Its 6 years old so no crying, and the cost from the shop would be about $400, not including the shock.
i wasn’t worried about the money, but i felt like this was a job I could almost do by myself. all the work i’d done over the last few months on the Heckler and the Blur made this something that was within my abilities as a mechanic — it’d be a stretch, but i wanted to learn. but i wanted it done right!!
Enter Rick!
My buddy Rick is a mechanic currently between jobs, and doing wrench work on the side. so i proposed that he serve as a consultant for me on this project, charging me for time and advice, and then help me hands-on with the assembly to ensure it will be done right. Took a few emails but the parts list came together. Hopefully next week when Brown Santa arrives we can do the build!!
| Item | Option | Price |
| 2008 Shimano Deore XT M772 Shadow Rear Derailleur SGS | Long Cage | $79.98 |
| Shimano LX M580 Crankset w/Bottom Bracket | NA | $139.98 |
| 2007 Sram Powerglide II PG 980 9-Speed Mountain Cassette | 11-34 | $54.98 |
| 2007 Sram PC 971 9-Speed Chain w/ Powerlink | NA | $22.98 |
| 2007 Avid Straight Jacket Cable Set Shifter | Shifter | $13.98 |
| Superlight/Juliana Propack | NA | $23.00 |
| Answer Swinger Air | NA | $99.00 |
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The bills came out to abou $450 with shipping, plus ~$50 for Rick’s fee. i of course added a few parts i needed to the orders. I spent about $20 extra on a new-style shadow derailleur which promises to not dangle out in space so much and get bashed. otherwise its a very solid and affordable LX\XT kit. Didn’t make sense to spend $80 for the XT cranks just ot drop 3oz, this is going to feel so much better for Beckie anyway and be a lot lighter. I feel a little bad i stood up Adventure, but its not about the money so i’m not stressing it — i actually think the guys there would understand why i wanted to do this on my own.