Day: March 26, 2008

The Easter Egg Hunt

/ chollaball / 1 Comment

Thank gawd for Beckie!

She had a childhood full of presents and candy and largess, and her influence is a perfect complement to my rationalism and spartanism.

We counted out 36 plastic eggs full of candy, and hid them throughout the yard. We didn’t know how G would handle this concept, if she would understand questing after the eggs, but she’s a bright human and she likes candy so we were optimistic. Most eggs were pretty visible. Some were placed in pots, on the rocks around the pool, in plants, in the basket of her bike, in her swing, the sandbox, etc etc etc. We used virtually the entire yard, so at least G would get a lot of exercise as she was stuffing her face full of chocalate. Beckie emptied out a wicker basket, and with it in tow we were ready to engage!

G had no trouble understanding that she had to get the eggs. This part took about 10 seconds to convey to her, and while I’m not really sure how exactly she figured it out, bright shiny things with candy in them carry their own message.

These photos, generally speaking, suck. Very hard to get a good shot of the tinyHuman when she is moving in random directions, requiring frequent course corrections, or dropping her basket to stuff her face with jelly beans.

This conveys the chaos much better. M&M’s and Stockyard Stout make all things better.

My Birthday!

/ chollaball / Leave a comment

Great day today! Filled with my favorite things!

it started with the Squealer.

I had carefully noted on the way out in the morning our dire beer siteeation consisting solely of a few cans of Beast, and knew i wanted to have some for when i got home. Beckie gladly traded off 30 minutes of me watching G for me to run to Trader Joe’s on the way home from the race, and I cleared them out of all their $5 Stockyard Stout. all of it. every 6-pack.

some quality time with everyone, a shower, a nap, and G and me and Kila rode off to the park for some typical park goodness. i was so tired and faded and willing to do just about anything other than work hard at resisting my tinyDemon that the 3 of us had a jolly time. G got up on top of a 5 foot boulder – this felt sketchy, but i made her hold my hand, and while it would have saved her life it still would not have been pretty had she fell. But G definitely respected the threat in her surroundings, so it was a good sampler of baby gnar; I’m highly optimistic. The roll up the hill from the park sucked and only my new-found commitment to not being a slow fatass kept me from rolling in the little ring. that, and some power-assist from the dog. G ate while I cooked in case we decided not to do dinner, then a bath. Excellent times. Did I mention i was carrying a really good buzz?

We rallied to go to dinner at Red, White and Brew. Its been about 6 months since we tried a nice dinner with G – just not worth the effort to fight against her and ruin an evening. But she was in a good mood, and I wanted some basil pesto tortellini for my birthday, and we brought crayons. Things went surprisingly well, G was a monster, but she was our monster. And she mostly kept her voice down and her spills to a minimum. Her shirt may need to be burned, but food is meant to be played with if it keeps her quiet.

Back home and it was time for cake and presents. Well mostly a present to myself (which does not work with many Shimano pedals, another reason to hate Shimano), and a safe (yes, a small safe) that beckie wanted for herself.

present to myself

cake with very tiny gauges left from very tiny fingers

G wanted to open my presents. She doesn’t understand that sometimes presents are given to others and not t her, but since i bought myself my own gift i was not going to split hairs and argue. So she did me the favor of unwrapping, while I had cake and ice cream to look forward to. G wanted to blow out my candles too, which i was slightly irked by until i realized that candles are effectively an infinite resource, and wishes are bullshit anyway. So we lit the candles, and she blew them out. And we lit the candles, and she blew them out. And we lit the candles, and she said “blow Daddy.” and we lit the candles, and she said “blow Mommy.” and we lit the candles and took turns blowing them out one by one.

birthday.

The Squealer 08

/ chollaball / 2 Comments

WOOHOO! time again for The Squealer. This year on the Heckler, this year having ridden more of the trail, this year knowing many more of the riders. And a vast improvement it was.

G and I again went to the pre-ride meeting in the backpack, and again she drew stares while i colored my number, but this time it was from a lot of friends! Kathleen, Landon, Mike H, Doug and a bunch of others i had ridden with or met before. Its hard to describe what this did to the vibe, but it was all good…I was so fired up for this year already, and now it would feel like a big hardcore group ride where we could party at the end, a community feeling of me and 80 or so of my buds. Its reasons like this that i got so into MTBR as a replacement, in its way, for the Ultimate scene.

Number 22 this year, not much better seeding that last year’s 19, but i hadn’t proved shit to anyone so this was a challenge to come out hard.

And of course, i could not sleep the night before.

The morning was chilly especially in a sleeveless jersey, and in the car ride and the parking lot i tried to soak up every moment of chill I could. It quickly vanished with my pads, long-fingered gloves, gear and helmet.

I parked at my office, since the race organizer (Jim) had been asked by the Rangers to have us park elsewhere to ease the parking shortage at Somo. A small consolation for having our race there, but odd for an underground race to not be so underground. The Rangers were also there at the start and the end, apparently to just make sure things “went smoothly.” Which they did, and while the Rangers were all very normal about things and mostly bored with our good behavior, it was a strange but minor detraction to the mood of day. For my part, I was extra polite to all the hikers, as were almost all the other riders I heard from. I figured being near the front of the pack, every effort I could make to be nice would help the folks behind, and was glad that I was successful there.

Up the hill and up the fireroad, getting loose and dialed in during the 3 miles and 15 minute warmup. Geared up, a nice morning buzz, a nice BM, and my fatigue from lying awake in bed all night vanished. Ready to launch at 6:36am.

Off I went, riding hard but conscious of the spots where riding would be more work than walking. So i walked many of the parts up the initial ascent that I knew I could ride under less intense circumstance. I had no pangs of conscience about walking like I did last year, and instead focused on pacing and not over-revving but not slowing down. I passed a few people, and yo-yo’d with some others. I ran up on Kathleen shortly after the Mormon-National split. She had told me how she had blinged out her stem to match her bike, so I yelled out “hey nice stem” while still behind her. She said hey to me, and as I passed I noted just what a nice stem it really was!! Urban camo colors to match her seat and her number plate. She said “great job” as I got the big lift just after the split, and I got another little boost of good camaraderie to carry me forward for a while.

I pressed steadily onwards to BV, knowing every bump in the trail, and doing whatever it took to be expedient rather than pretty. I was looking forward to this stretch ending, as it would signify about 1/3 done as well as the entry into less-familiar territory and the novelty of the race. I saw BrianC just where you cross the road past BV, and he graciously let me keep my momentum and fly up the hill in front of him since I was due to pass any moment. As I worked through the mile of XC rollers before the next section of gnar, I noted a rider behind me who had been trailing me since before the Waterfall, and asked him if he wanted to pass. He was more XC oriented, and said no since I was dropping him on each rocky section, and that he kinda preferred following me through the technical stretches. Thus began a little back-and-forth between he and I that lasted for another hour. After the race I introduced myself to him, and i think his name was Dave, but since I don’t recall for sure I will refer to him as “Orange Jersey” I dropped OJ hard in the tech sections out to Telegraph, even though fatigue made me sloppy and I had to dab a few stretches I’ve ridden several times. I made it to Telegraph in about 1:07, 8 minutes better than last year, and was feeling tired but good.

I plowed right into the hike-a-bike, not even bothering to try to ride til I neared the top of the ridgeline, and sucked down a Cliff shot to hold off the fatigue I started to feel. OJ caught me near the top of the ridge after I hadn’t seen him for about 20 minutes, and again we went back and forth with him stretching out on the dh’s but closing on the climbs. As we were rolling the ridgeline, I heard him flat out, but didn’t look back. I would later hear he actually endo’d off the flat, and had I heard him crash I would have stopped to make sure he was ok. Before leaving him in a heap. Nothing personal, but i was kinda glad to have dropped him – its hard to explain, as he was a really nice guy we had a few good laughs after the race was over. But when someone is hanging around, sometimes you need the feeling of separation and the validation of beating another rider to inspire you. I didn’t gloat on this, cause karma has a way of getting back at you, but it did give me a boost for a few minutes.

I rolled up on Carmen, a woman I had ridden with a few times and was friendly with, and she let me go by and again I got a smile from seeing a friend. But soon after I felt my front tire burp. SHIT! Shit shit shit!   The night before I had noticed a little softness in the tire, and also in the morning. I figured it was just a slow leak which would seal once i started rolling. stupid stupid stupid!!! This is exactly what I did a few weeks ago when i eventually had to put in a tube on the Catwalk. First time…ignorance, 2nd time…er, i’m going to call this learning the exact nature of tubeless conversion tires. When they start to lose air, the shit hits the fan fast!! and its such an easy thing to fix – the next day in my man-cave it took me less than 5 minutes to fix this: pull the valve core, squirt in sealant from my convenient 2oz bottle, refill the bottle from my big jug of spunk, replace valve core, pump, ride. I AM NEVER GOING TO MAKE THIS MISTAKE AGAIN.

Meanwhile, i had to stop and pump, and Carmen passed me. Then i passed her. This too would go on several more times. I also saw Doug, Mike and Landon roll on by while i was the tire. I wondered what happened to OJ, and in the back of my mind hoped karma did not have a hand in my burping.

We were approaching the gnarly downhill, and still hadn’t found the spot to go hunt for our eggs. Last year the hunt consisted of a steep 5 minute hike up a small peak, and this year would be even sillier. There is a very small cave to the south of the trail just before it gets nasty. Its maybe a minute to pick your way down the rocks and into it, and lo, inside were dozens of brightly colored and numbered eggs! It was nice and cool in the cave, and the bunnies — random female volunteers who generally favored tank tops and other flattering garb — hovered around. It kinda reminded me of that scene in the Holy Grail where Galahad must resist temptation from the women of Castle Anthrax. But I too had a quest, so the flirting would have to wait! I refilled my tire, thanked the bunnies for the good cheer, and headed down the gnar.

I sucked. The tire was sloshy, my rhythm was off, and the bike was not responding well. The next day, I realized I was probably running on less than 20psi compared to the 35 i wanted. So, I tried not to fight it and just kept the end of the race in sight and gave in to having to pump another time or 2.

The last 20 or so minutes of the race were un-noteworthy. I finished in 2:20, which was still 13 minutes better than last year. I figure the tire cost me 5-10 minutes between pumping and slowing down, so I was pretty happy with my improvements. A little better fitness, and I can close in on 2 hrs for this race eventually.

We all collected at the San Juan gate, exchanged some tales, did not have a smoking lounge due to the presence of the Rangers, and then mobilized for the ride on San Juan Road to Spokes. Mike and Landon were talking about heading around the front of the mountain instead, or as Mike put it in his usual eloquent manner, “fuck fucking San Juan fucking Road.” The idea was a good one, San Juan road is boring and indirect, but I realized quickly how tired I was and how my tire was a lot more worry on the trail than on the road. We rode about 2 miles of trail, and while faster than me, both Mike and Landon wanted to be done soon too. So when the trail ended, we gratefully rolled the street downhill for a mile or 2 until we hit Dobbins and 30th Ave. 30 short blocks to go, ie, 3 miles. Tire, slogging, getting dropped, stopping under a nice tree at the Animal Shelter at 15th Ave, and eventually arriving just as the party was in full swing at Spokes. Fabulous timing, I was among the first arrivals last year and frankly there was no point.

The beer was flowing, the burrito bar was open, and I had wisely packed a pair of light reef shoes in my camelback so I could take off my bike shoes. Doug had wisely pack himself a hat. I envied his hat, he envied my shoes, we found a table and a pitcher and began inhaling mass quantities. Eabos (Mo) showed up and had lunch with us and Mike and Landon, and it was a grand ole time. I went to refill the pitcher, and by a bizarre twist of fate the bartender gave it to the bunnies who were hanging out at the bar. Ahh karma has returned to me, and with not the least bit of an awkward come-on line I found myself hanging out and drinking beer with a circle full of hotties. Sometimes its better to be lucky than good, but for some players, luck itself is an art .

BrianC and Doug joined me, drawn by the bunnies and the pitcher, and Brian told us he had hurled twice before even reaching BV, and was revelling in the fact that he managed to finish. That took some balls, as I probably would have packed it in if I was feeling so poorly that early in the day. So we drank to that, got a fresh pitcher, and went to watch the awards ceremony. Some excellent times were turned in by some excellent riders, and despite their talent, everyone was super-friendly and humble. What a great thing about mountain biking!! The awards had lots of cheering, photos, jokes and generally good times. It put an excellent cap on the day. Its why i loved this event so much the first time, and why i can’t wait already to do it again next year.

Back to the bike and more pumping, but this time with a fresh beer to get the right attitude for a slow ride back to 48th st. Under-pressured would be the theme for this ride, and it was the only way i was ready to enjoy the 5 mile street spin to the office. Doug wanted to jet, and between my buzz and fatigue and tire i told him i was going to take my time. Brian was feeling slow too, and I’d offered him a ride from the office to his home at 48th and Ray, so we set off on a slow pace. I’d met Brian a few times but never much hung out with him, and was glad I did he’s a really good guy. So we spun slowly down Dobbins, past Geronimo, and onto the canal. Brian was rallying, and decided he was going to finish the day by riding the 4 extra miles back home. Good on ya! Nothing like the chemistry and symmetry of riding door-to-door, the mtb gods look favorably on such things. His rally became my rally, and we both ended our day feeling great about it.