Entertainment

Yeah, it's like that around here. 

But since Memorial Day weekend is rolling in faster than all these thunderstorms, it would seem no one is really hanging around town to figure if Coleman could use those guns to also make the Rivanna trail stop.  And that's probably OK.  The world will have to wonder. 

It's Thursday.  Chances are that if you read this blog at work, you're currently dreaming of victory at the Burn, Giro D'Ville Glory, or some kind of long, slog of a road ride before the heat sets in on Saturday and summer is finally, yet unofficially, here. 

Some meantime entertainment:

"Strength in numbers" will fire up on the Trek website at about 3 PM:

http://www.trekbikes.com/us/en/strength_in_numbers?dl=video&type=movie&id=strength_in_numbers

Those of you familiar with Incredibox, there is now incredibox 2.0. 

Those unfamiliar, prepare to re-prioritize a significant portion of your otherwise outdoorsy weekend in favor of finding your own, perfect jam. 

www.incredibox.fr

In summary, work is cancelled today due to dreams of racing grandeur and hours of entertainment.

Make it a hot one.  Make it a good one. 

Burn the house down if you have to. 

That is, if you still remember how. 

Up, up, up.

  

Dreams

On the subject of me poo-pooing your dreams of one day racing pro, the mailbag brimmed with fervor and righteous indignation  Most of it was illiterate garbage.  But, in every pile of garbage, there is a snippet of brilliance, and this time that snippet was Dan:
www.thedanplan.com

I stand corrected.  Despite the fact that you are in your thirties, have never raced before, don't even know the rules, and, in the big picture, are without any meaningful amount of natural talent, you can still score a Nike sponsorship if you hate your job enough to just quit and give your dream a try.

A Dream, some hate, 10,000 hours to kill, and the Internet; apparently, the right combination thereof can take you a long, long way.  Most 30-something men in America have at least 3 of the 4.  Perhaps it's time you started figuring out what you're missing. 

thought provoking

Conveniently, the next 4 days will be of the sort of surreal, beautiful, introspective variety that you might just find yourself wondering about that anyway.  As your attorney, I advise you to rent a very fast car with no top.  And of course you'll need to track down Danny Flow, whose local popularity, van, and limited time make seeing him feel sort of like seeing Bigfoot:  unusual, fleeting, and with creepy, gigantic feet.

Naturally, I'll have to go with you, which blows my whole weekend.  But that's my commitment to you. 

I used to have a van...

Maybe your dreams are a tad smaller.  For example, Kev29er wants to be able to survive the SM100 and still be the righteous dad that he is.  So he's making time for it, and that time is very, very early.  Shawn has a notion to ride the Southern Traverse in the dark so we can't see the looming thunderstorms.  These are stellar ideas, albeit less of a stretch than beating Tiger Woods at his game, but for those of us without 10,000 hours to burn, they're at least a little closer to home. 

What I'm saying is, I'm in. 
Charge your shit. 


Up, up, up. 

Batman vs The Joker

In anything you do, particularly racing bikes, you can be the Joker or you can be Batman.  Batman has his shit together, the right gear, double checks his PSI, monitors his heart rate, sucks wheels, obsesses about tire selection, shows up with a clean bike, generally behaves like a roadie, and, on most days, he wins.  Preparation and training will do that for you. 


This XX gripshift stuff is my jam. 

Then it rains one day, and the race rolls anyway, and the Joker, who embraces the chaos of that sort of thing, drops Batman up the first steep, dirty climb, laughing the whole way, puts a minute and a half into him on the first downhill, and, cackling,  never looks back. 
Batman DNF's, catches a sag back to the start/finish, only to find the Joker won, and he drank all the beer and ate all the scud fries, then he drank the ketchup, and he left already, probably riding home. 

Batman wins more races.  The Joker has more fun. 
Good vs Evil.  Plastic vs Soul.  Or, if you're a fan of Point Break, Patrick Swayze vs Keanu Reaves.

"he's a searcher, maaaaan, just looking for the ultimate ride."   

Regardless of how you feel about those two character types and which one you think you identify with, it matters very little because you can't be either one of them, you can only be you.  And you, placed on a conitnuum between Batman Anal and Joker Whim, fall somewhere between the two ends.    Thus, self discovery, not self-improvement, will allow you to reach your maximum potential as an amateur. 

If you're going pro, however, it stands to reason that - no matter who you really are as a person - you'd better start dieting, stop having fun, and buy yourself a Batmobile.  That's the safe bet. 

Just don't be surprised when you hear that awful laugh, deep in the rainy mountains one race day, and you've flatted for the third time and you're out of ultra-lite, latex race tubes.  Somewhere in the fog out there, the Joker you suppressed out of yourself is a little tipsy, shirtless, ripping down Kaylor's, or Black Mountain, or Tussey,  or Torrey, or whatever badass ridgeline you don't like subjecting your $2800 race wheels to, and that throaty cackle you're hearing is your own. 

Why so serious?

Be who you are.  It makes the tough decisions easier, like, for example, do I want to ride the Mach 4, or do I want to ride the Firebird. 
The answer is in there. 

Up, up, up. 

Foxfield traffic

Not such a bad place for a quick spin on the TT bike.