in addition to being the mtb world’s foremost expert on Rocky Point (a fact confirmed when some local roadies had no idea the things i was riding, but invited me to join them for a 40 miler along the coast), and also a B-List celebrity in the burgeoning field of ghetto tubeless, I am also the only person to do all 5 Quad Bypasses. This is a title i will likely surrender next year.

I had negligible desire to do ride this, and only a sense of duty and having executed my workout week for a big Saturday ride got me out the front door. I was *this* close to hopping in the car and riding all of Hawes.   short on time, full of disdain for the course, weariness of the McDs, pissed off i left my helmet in the parking lot of Somo, launching 30 minutes after everyone, and having eaten way too much post-holidays clearance-sale xmas candy: my mindset was bitter. I knew it would be a sufferfest as soon as I blew up ascending Windgate, hammering to catch the pack.   A better description was a grudge fuck.

It hurt me right back. I pushed a lot. I was alone for most of it. I broke a spoke. I pushed a lot. And I still equaled my best time. 5:50 moving and 20 idle, vs ’09 when it was 5:10 moving and an hour resting. there is a lesson here, but i don’t know what? Maybe its that i am not getting faster, just more numb to the pain of crap-ass minichunk.

I was so not-into the ride, and so into the slog, that my mind wandered and went blank and came back again, and again, and again. Studying and breaking down and reforming over 6 hours of steady unpleasantness. Someday someone will invent a voice-to-text module that can take notes onto your mp3 player, and while i hate gadgets, i would be so all over that. What a wonderful way to blog about my radness.     so, with the help of some open mic time on FB, my new 5 minutes:

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They say eskimos have 300 words for snow…mountain bikers have 300 words for dirt:

tasty
tackalicious
loam
red planet dirt
velcro
kitty litter
crap-ass minichunk
lightly creamy on top
pulverized ash
undulating skickrock
cake mix
flour
silt
sprinkles
rash hash
grit
uniform volcanic bits
river rock
sludgey and surfable

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• why do hikers say stupid shit like “you’re almost to the top“?   I know that, i have 2 gps and a cell phone.
• why do hikers say stupid shit like “that other rider blah blah blah…‘   Are you with every other hiker, in a hiking club?
• why do hikers say stupid shit like “i didn’t think a bike could ride that?” I didn’t think you could walk that slow, or react to me more languidly, but here we are

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What do you like in a riding friend?

• when they inspire you
• when your success is all about you and not about them, no matter what kind of day they’re having
• when their success is all about them, no matter kind of day you’re having
• learning stuff, about bikes, and stuff
• hot girlfriends
• hot (i’m not sexist, i’ll ride with anyone)
• you are confident enough in them to risk a fall

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if I was U2, this b-sides album would go multi-platinum. i’m working through a PodfordBlock, where the very act of developing a personality and becoming so incredibly interesting has shriveled up the little blossom of time i have to blog about her radness. i’m so busy dealing with the actuality of her Podfordness. i thought that up on the ride too. Windgate still sucks ass.

my new beer run is .3 miles, at a gradual downhill grade. This originally inspired me to carry a 30-pack back to the ManCave. It was awkward, hurt me in the pilates, and honestly only the total radness or rolling home with a 30-pack justified the effort. anywhooo, i started using this. its strong, light, collapses well, and gives easy leverage. call me an alcoholic, i’m not driving on my b-double-e-double-r-u-n. and the dog and i are spending quality pack time together. give me some licky, sweetheart.

this was a grinding blister-rubbing week. i’d like to block all the annoyingness from my mind, and with a few more beers i probably…no, vow…to do so. i even feel better just saying that. workouts were rapidly sliding under on my 48-hour forecast. I ducked and bolted at almost 8pm for some fast and spurious with a pack full of sketchy batteries, got stuck by a palo verde trying to do a wall ride in a totty neighborhood, then buzzed along at about 85% for an hour and a half through the dark corners of a self-inflated zip code. I sunk into my tunes, and figured out how to write ‘dick’ backwards, i think i can do it with chapstick on a rear window before someone texting will notice.

i saw no reason to ride a swath of dirt and asphalt when i came out onto the Westworld trail towards the end, and mapped the cart path through the golf course in the darkness. oh sweet greens and artificial lakes, Kila and i have missed thee.I was so pumped i went back and got her. i should have done this sooner.

The 2 mile approach was easy for The Rocket in winter, she ran spiritedly along the greens for another mile, and dove into the lake while i celebrated happy hour. Wow that made me feel better. Turned into a tidy sum of mileage for the evening.

We are putting on a birthday party for the girls tomorrow. i have no idea how it will go. They have no friends, just a bunch of kids at school. i feel like this is a failing of my parenting, of where we’ve moved them, of how we let her watch tv instead of get involved. it should be a fun party, lots of entertainment and snacks. i uncovered the pool table, and played a game for the first time since moving in. I discovered another cool little feature about the new house: the laptop is at perfect standing height.