Day: March 23, 2008

Speeches on Racism

/ chollaball / 2 Comments

Obama’s speech was noteworthy. Some things he said, I have only thus far seen said on “The West Wing”. I think it was a good speech, a very good speech, but I was not as moved by it as Beckie was. Mostly i saw his words as just common sense, and not sure it really requires explanation if you are a normal color-blind civilized person. Some people hopefully will open their eyes because of it, but i think those are many of the same people you can’t get through to in the first place.

I think more important than what he said, it reveals his character and allowed him to deliver an emotional roundhouse to the voters that no candidate other than he could have thrown. I’ll bet his campaign has been saving this bombshell for the right time. So its surely political. The man gives a good speech, no doubt, but I am still not convinced he’s not just another stupid democrat, or even a smart guy who will be unable to escape the stupid democrats around him. Which is not to say that McCain won’t also have his hand forced by all the idiot Republicans.

The speech led to an interesting conversation with one of my co-workers, who is a good friend and a lot like me in his politics and common sense, and also a native from Puerto Rico. Our discussions are usually good ones, since we like and trust each other and don’t get offended by straight talk about race. It was news to him that Hispanics generally are voting away from Obama due to racism. My friend’s experience is of a person who had an active family and education and goals when he moved here. I can’t say how typical this is, but he and his sisters and their families seem just as middle class as anyone. Which means they are pretty much sans-color-nee-religion-nee-stupid-ethnic-hate. It is surely different from the Mexican who comes here to work as a day laborer, and who views blacks as competing with them for jobs.

In some ways it was no surprise people are not dialed into this voting trend of brown v. black, for the press certainly does not talk about it. And if they do it is always in the most arm’s-length of terms. Beckie calls it code. I noticed much the same seems to be the case with Jews sucking onto Hillary like lampreys cause she once ate a kinish at a deli. Just like the press won’t say how the hispanics fear blacks, they won’t talk about how irrational Jews can be about Israel. It got me thinking about how I was raised, and the dogma pushed on me.

From the 3rd grade onwards, Hebrew school pumps kids all full of Israel: sell candy bars to raise money to plant a tree in Israel, vote for Carter cause he made peace with Egypt and Israel, your most noble goal is to go visit Israel, blah blah blah. Fact is, every kid I knew who went to Israel came back some militant mutherfuggar, at least for a few months. Fact is, the Jews can be as crazy and rascist as anyone – from the pro-Israelis-bullshit to the forever-hate-the-Germans to having a not-so-subtle distaste for blacks. Its hard to see when you are seeing it in the fabric of your day-to-day, and sometimes it takes the reflection in macro voting statistics years later to really understand what someone tried to sell you when you were too young to know you were being mindfucked. But even then, I did know I was being mindfucked. I surely remember my grandfather not speaking to my cousin’s black boyfriend, despite how Jews wear the ACLU on their sleeves. and I remeber how the synagogue’s flea market proceedings in part went to Israel. And i remember the hebrew school teacher who screamed at the class that the Holocaust was the worst atrocity in human history. While this is arguably true, screaming anything at 6th graders surely reveals something about the warts in your character.

I’m not trying to blame anyone or hate on the Hebrews. That the religion was not for me should not take away from my ability to critique it for its platform and its training. Some of the things it imparted are good – passion for education, willingness to question and think, appreciation for the power of knowledge, and an awareness that being a dentist is better than being a ditch-digger. Why is it ok to praise what is praise-worthy but deny the equally true doctrines that should be criticized? We all know some of stereotyping is true, and every group does really have their own hatreds. Little future Jewish lawyers like to be the alpha-geeks in 4th grade math class, just as much as they snicker at the shvartzes who were bigger and meaner than them growing up in Brooklyn but could kick their butts in gym class. These traits evolved out of history and are passed down. The Jewish religion managed to survive almost 6,000 of hatred and exile by evolving a survival technique and utilizing it. Gibbon called the Jews know-it-alls in The Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, and Nietzsche railed against the slave morality because it was real and it was powerful. It should not be taboo to acknowledge these things in their context and with respect. Like Obama said, to reject it is to reject oneself.

But to take it too seriously is to be one of lemmings taken in by the absolutism. I sit comfortably on my high-horse, remembering the real lessons taught by my rabbi.

Spring Fling, 2008

/ chollaball / 3 Comments

Every year, a bunch of AZ riders get together to put on a bunch of rides in Tucson, Phoenix, Sedona, Prescott et al. It attracts people from all over the state, and from out of state too. I was gonna do some new rides, meet some people I’d only talked to, have some monster days, and help out with the Somo rides.

Thursday March 13: Bugs Springs-Prison Camp-Milagrosa: down Mt. Lemon in Tucson for several thousand feet and much gnar. I can’t believe I lived for years in Tucson for 4 years and 11 years in Arizona and have not experienced this. it was one of the most amazing big-world days ever!! 20+ miles, 3k climbing, 6500 feet descending in 3 hours of looking out at the valley before you or back at the 10,000 foot peak behind you and and saying “holy fuck this is a big world!!”

Some mtbr action and I was hooked up carpooling with Superstition (Rick), Poi Boy (Jason) and Helimech (Mike) who was my bud from the Prescott Monstercross. I have to say, I am glad we were so efficient with spreading our carbon footprint, and it made for a fun relaxing ride down in Rick’s Honda Ridgeline. We rolled at 6:30am from Tempe, arriving at the base of the Catalina Highway at 9. Shuttles were organized, pisses were taken, trucks ascended. We started from a long ways up Mt. Lemmon around 10:30.

Alas, my Tucson years feel wasted – Tucson has become an amazing riding town with some XC, epic AM, roadie, and so much more than I ever knew when i lived there. I would kill to be able to ride out my door and 25 miles up Mt. Lemon and down into Oracle and back in a 5 hr day, and that is much what I had from our little house on Willard St. And equally before me was to descend Mt. Lemmon for 9000 feet of trail and terrain and all that is the earth until we reached the Valley floor. But i was not the rider then that I am now, and many of the trails did not exist. Today I would have to satisfy many buried nascent urges, and today indeed I would.

The ride jumped into an immediate 10-minute hike-a-bike, and the elevation hit my still-sickly quads with a slow oozing ache. But we soon jumped onto some steep, loamy switchback and ridgeline descents that looked like we were plunging right into downtown Tucson.

The first few miles were a blur, and since I had gotten ahead of many people on the climb and was slower than the fast guys on the descent, I was alone for a lot of it. It just kept coming – more turns, more ridges, more sweeping descents, more knots in your gut not knowing what the next corner held.

We rolled some flowy, rocky, xc into Molino Basin where Max (our ride leader) had staged some cliff shots and water. Then it was up a big hard 10 minute climb. Turns our Beckie and I had done this years ago, when we knew shit about riding and even less about the trails on Mt. Lemmon. We hated it at the time – an hour hike-a-bike up, a terrifying descent, then turning around before we got too far into trouble or managed to have much fun. This time, the climb was still hard but it rode considerable easier and faster. And it was fun as our group was whooping and huffing up the trail seeing who could get each trial only to get off and push again at the next challenge. There was a great view at the saddle.

All was grand until the descent down the backside, where I hesitated for no good reason over a rock-slot and went otb. As I was going over, I was conscious of Perry (the rider behind me) going “oh…uh oh…oh no!.” It was amusing hearing his account of the crash at the bottom, as he recollected his thoughts and I was in fact able to confirm that yes he did say exactly that. My bike and body were mostly fine, but my palm still hurts and i have a bruise on my groin that looks just like my shifters. You can almost see the logo “Avid” on the inside of my yellow-and-purple thigh. And the next day at Somo as I was introducing myself to someone, he said”yeah you’re the guy that went Superman yesterday.” Yeah, nice to meet you too, dick! Winker

more down, more down, and still more down. with slots and rocks and exposure all combining into a wave that I continued to feel in bed that night — a sense of rushing downhill but not falling more like flowing down endlessly and sensually and full-body but never getting to relax. Kinda like snowboarding, but more intense because of the fear and the rocks and the falls and the many things with thorns.

Milagrosa’s Waterfall – I tried it after most everyone else cleaned it, but couldn’t get past the drop in. Next time!!

a more humble conquest

The terrain changed to rockier and more desert-like, and the swoopy ridges were replaced by fractured rock mixed in with tight desert. Once I had to duck a century plant draped across the trail. It felt a little like Porcupine Rim with the long epic descent, but so much better for reasons I can not pinpoint– more isolated, more wilderness, maybe closer to home? A moment of silence for my missed opportunities while living in the Old Pueblo.

Rick went up to get the truck while Mike, Jason and I spun 5 miles towards town and a mexican restaurant. A long ride home that between shuttling and bike loading and carpooling took forever, a hard sleep, and back up the next day for more before barely 7 hours gone.

Friday March 14: National C2C2C: Back at Somo at 9 to lead whatever would be of the A ride. 50-odd riders were hanging around the North Ramada, but all but a few left for some of the other group rides. Meanwhile I discovered a unique armor-based tan line.

After some delays, I collected my riders. Those I did not know i tried to tactfully ask if they were prepared for the A-ride — this was tricky since I am capable but surely not the best of those who were there and i didn’t want to come off as cocky or dismissive of anyone. But I would feel incredibly guilty if someone got up on National and was not ready for what it would throw at them and got hurt. One woman rider snapped back at me “are you asking cause I’m in a skirt?” Turned out she was very friendly and just playing with me, but it made me feel really embarassed and for a rare occasion I was at a loss for words. Heyell no i don’t care what you are wearing, my wife can eat the flesh from my bones on some hikes, i just don’t want your blood on my conscience. PS – bitch! naah it was cool she and I laughed about it after.

Not sure exactly who was part of our group and who just wanted to climb to BV, but after up National by the Waterfall it dropped to me, Max, Chad, Dave and Darren from DC. This, practically speaking, seemed like a Murderers Row to me. Max, Chad and Dave are all monsters, good guys and what-not but still in another league from me as far as endurance, and i feared they would weary of my slow weakness and eat me thus to keep themselves strong. Darren was by his admission out of shape, as its winter in DC. but i rapidly concluded when in shape he is one of them! Thank gawd for rocks and tech and gnar and a well-set-up bike. Up National, and while i was not the fastest i believe i got the mostest. Max and Chad led, the rest of us flew in their wake.

I was the slowest, but come the gnar descents about 3rd, so never totally got freaked and demoralized at being the slowest, and that eased my self-image and allowed me to enjoy hanging out with everyone. I had about the best stretch i’ve had from BV to Telegraph, and if it was because i did not want to get dropped I will take that. Hiked up out of Telegraph and all the while I was making notes on where to ride and where to walk and how I should pace myself to be ready for The Squealer next week. Slow is ok, but not learning is the curse of me, so at least next week I would be that much more ready for the race. Back into 5th place on the slow climb, and then finally we topped out amidst the ridge that ran through all of Phoenix. Cool!! Back into 3rd, and pushing to keep up, and flying past the loose gnar gnar where I crashed last year at the Squealer, and down to the bottom and gasping for air. indeed I will be faster at this year’s Squearler, and now have the demon of that bad crash off my back.

The road, and again I was immediately dropped. Dave told me they went from the Y intersection to the BV parking area (4.5 miles) in about 23 minutes – wow! Its challenging to look at yourself and know how horrendouysly others dropped you and yet still say “i rode and did not stop, and i gave it all i had.” I sucks, and the more i try to justify it, the worse it smells. I have got to get back on my roadie. At least there was beer at BV (courtesy of Cactus Joe and his brother Chris) and they did not seem to mind waiting for me.

Down out of BV, I felt cool and loose and glad it was a descent. Chad kinda wanted to follow me to see some lines, but he is faster, and it didn’t much work out. But at the Waterfall, Max waited on the edge and i said “you want me to go first” and he said “I’ll follow you.” And by that, he meant he would indeed follow me right on my wheel. and thusly Max rode the Waterfall. WOW! Humility again returns, and so does a passion for a sport where you can be good and bad and still just find good people. A fun fast group that i felt privileged to hang with, and glad for the challenge, we finished about 3pm. 1 flat, a few minor bumps, a near-disastrous seat malfunction, 1 Guinness split at BV before the last descent.

i’m even more amazed seeing this photo

I leisurely made my way to the party at the ramadas off Central Ave by way of work and the grocery store. I was still only the 2nd one there, so Dave C and I hung out and had some good times drinking beer and eating his insanely hot guacamole. Then a swarm of bees came by. It was freaky, normally you see a beehive, you don’t just have a swarm come by you. I’d read about this happening in Phoenix lately, and after I realized what was going on, I just sorta froze and watched the cloud and hoped it would move on. It did, so we drank more.

Others arrived, some people I knew and some I got to meet. The Yeti guys in particular were great to meet, Joe and Anthony. And they had a seemingly unlimited supply of Balvenie Doublewood 12 year scotch. It was quite simply the best liquor I’ve ever had, and I had quite a lot of it. It gave me the proper mindset to give out raffle tickets for all of our door prizes. And JB and I had a good time playing Santa, and drinking more scotch from the Yeti’s giant flask.

that giant muffler-looking thing was The Flask

JB got too buzzed to drive, and it seemed wrong to make his wife come all the way out from Gilbert to Somo with a toddler and an infant after all he did to put together such a great Somo day for everyone, so I sobered up a bit and gave him a ride home. It was a good solid, he deserved it, and he hooked me up with help on the Blur a few days later. Good times.

Saturday I slept in and watched G, and more of the same Sunday morning. I hoped to get out early, as the Yeti guys were doing another demo session behind the Walgreens at Hawes. But unfortunately I showed up just as they were closing up the van. Dang, no ride on the AS-X today. But they did give me beer and more scotch, which pretty much guaranteed that any hopes of a recovery ride for the day would be replaced with a doggy freestyle ride. And that my next XC bike will likely be an AS-X. We all went to the park, Kila and I jumped off the culverts and tried to ride the bleachers. G rode the slides. Good times.