Monday, July 21, 2014

Thursday, July 17, 2014

That time I didn't run into Ben King in Dyke

A couple of weeks ago, I was out on a lunchtime ride in the heat.  It was about 90, I guess, and I rode up the south side of Brokenback and came down the naughty steepness from the tippy top into Blue Ridge School, hit the rollers, and then cruised out onto Bacon Hollow Road for the ride home. It's a 1.5 hour loop that I can usually do in about 2 hours in my current state of aerobic disrepair.  So anyway, I pulled past the store in Dyke, I looked over, and who do I see but Ben King there coming out of the store, two fresh bottles in hand, obviously on a big training ride on his road bike.

Instantly, I was confused.  In hindsight, I'd like to say that it was the heat.  But why the hell is Ben King not in Europe, I thought to myself?  And he pulled up alongside me and said hey, and we chatted it up for a moment, him on his road bike barely soft pedaling and me with a cooked brain on my Pivot just trying to make sense of the situation. Like, wasn't he supposed to be racing the Tour De France and training at altitude?  And why was he wearing this Hincapie Development Kit and riding a Felt?  And what were his race plans for the rest of the year?  And how was his form?  And on and on for about 5 minutes or so, until I realized that, in fact, I was talking to Jake King, not Ben.  Not sure if you're noticed, but little Jake is a man now.  And he looks a lot like Ben, but taller and meaner.

Certainly fast though.

Sorry about that, Jake.  Having lived my entire life in a sort of DNA-based co-existence with my own older brother, I know what it's like to be mistaken for someone else and play along so it's less awkward for everyone involved.  So thanks for that, Ben.  I mean Jake.

And you know what?  Good for you.  I think you've got a pretty good pedigree when you can be mistaken for your professional road racer older brother, have a 5 minute conversation with a stranger about what you're doing all the way out here, and what your plans are, and how your season's going, and most of the conversation that was supposed to be about him still applies to you.  Also, that makes it less weird for me.

My main point here: Jake King rips.  Watch yourself you aging, whiny pro racers that think you're entitled to a spot in the Peloton based upon what you did 10 years ago.  This kid's gonna knock your has-been 180 max heart rate right through your pampered underpants, and the general public is looking forward to watching him do it.

My other point, SPOILER ALERT: On Tuesday, Ben King is going to win stage 16 of the Tour De France out of a breakaway.  My apologies for ruining the suspense.  Social media is difficult like that.
Ben King (Garmin-Sharp) hangs on for third
Up, up, up.

Tuesday, July 1, 2014

Worlds.

95 degrees and humid for Tuesday worlds today.
I haven't been to worlds in 3 years, since before my kids were born.  But, in my imagination anyway, there's no time like the present.

The reality, of course, is way, way different.  But that's 6:00 Dave's problem, not mine.  And that guy sucks, and he whines a lot, and he gets dropped before things even get stirred up.  So count me in.

When in Pro, do as the pros do.
image.jpeg
Chipotle, anyone?
  Up, up, upchuck.


Monday, June 23, 2014

You don't know (Lumber)Jack Shit.

At the risk of appearing to be some kind of media outlet that is reporting actual news, I've waited two days to report the following:

Qwadsworth pretty much had his way with the Lumberjack 100 course on Saturday. 

In a real display of timeliness, I've beaten both Cyclingnews and Velonews to the punch with this, so I'm pretty proud of that.  I'm also proud of Qwadsworth, though that pride carries a certain amount of envy that I can only shake by photoshopping pictures of him into various cheerleader poses and posting them onto the big blue facehole in the sky.  So I'm waiting on Cyclingnews to get their shit together, post a podium shot that I can use as such, and feel better about myself for being such a fat, no-talent, bike blog jockey without actual bike talent to back it up.

100 miles in 6:45 on a singlespeed.  Damn.  1st SS, 3rd overall, and only 8 minutes from winning the whole damn thing which is funny because most of those guys are using these new inventions called "gears" when the race gets all steep and hurty.  What in the incredible fuck.

In a similar timespan on Saturday, I ate a sleeve of Oreos and washed most of my bike clothes.  Most of them.  I couldn't quite get the last ones onto the drying rack (my bike) before Qwadsworth crossed the finish line and I had to take a nap.  But I came pretty close.  So yeah, it was a pretty solid day for both of us, I guess.

Sunday, though, I got out with Lester and a crew for a few hours and lamented just how fast Qwadsworth has become together, and that made it better - the riding, I mean, not the lamenting - just like it makes most things better.

Then Lester took a shower with his bike and I took pictures of them.  Dirty.  But clean now.
Photo

Plus, we were out riding in amazing weather while Qwadsworth was driving the 187 hours back from Michigan.  With his gigantic ax-trophy and paycheck.  So yeah, it was a pretty solid day for all of us, I guess.
The only actual news I have for you is night ride news, like usual, except this week I'm putting two night rides into one notice.  Here we go:
1) Night ride this Thursday, 6/26.  Flee the oppressive heat, good people of the northside, and charge your shit.  We'll keep it pretty close to the epicenter of the Northside.  Probably a 2 hour ride.  Singlespeed friendly.  A one-beer-ride, I would imagine. 

2) But next week, the 3rd of July, if you're not racing the Tour De Berg (good luck Kurland, Kyle, and Frank) we'll do something a little more extravagant.  Big John and Hiser have both given their verbal commitments, and there might be fireworks to see from on high, so that's where we'll be. 

For both rides let's meet at 8 PM at my house. 


Pack a snack.  

Giddyup up up.  

Monday, June 16, 2014

She's out there...

She's out there:



And for $150 (with the tertiary benefit of amazing, illicit, barely ridden singletrack) I'm committed to finding her.
Up, up, up.