Text from last night...

From Big John in the RIC:
"Went for my fit. Procal broken. Mach 429 ordered."


I was actually thinking he just needed a setback post to accommodate his massive, enlarging hammies. Turns out, like with most things, I didn't know what I was talking about.

But, in a lot of ways, I feel that text message embodies the best kind of BRC customer experience. Admittedly, it's a little sad, as Big John's old whip may have been the last remaining of the fleet of BFR-colored procals that railed Virginia singletrack from D.C. to Danville. Lots of laughs and a few wins on those things. Still, life has a way of getting better and better, especially when it comes to $2500 suspension platforms, lateral rigidity, and generally badass engineering, and eventually the time has simply come.

Congrats, big John. Your life just got a little faster.

And, not to throw Pivot all the love on a beautiful Friday with rally in the forecast, but Trek will be here at the BRC test track in t-minus...well, shoot, looking at the window they're already here. 
http://www.fitforwomentour.com/region.php?region_id=10

Sunny, light breeze, chance of rally: 100%.

Seize the weekend. 
Gotta get up to get down. 
up, up, up. 

It's a Thirsty sort of Thursday

At least it is if, like me, you've:

1) eaten 5 sloppy joes in the last 24 hours

2) ridden your bike for 3 days in a row

3)  been stress-preloading for a Saturday jaunt around the RIC in the 90 degree heat with BigJohn who, likely, is going to ride you into the ground.

Oh yeah, though, I've been training.  Training, and sweating all over my camera. 


holy shit these things are heavy.

 The treachery. My, how the tables have turned

Speaking of the tables turning, hearken back for a moment to the sad day when Nolan left town. Nolanpalooza # 1 was a bittersweet rolling of the pararidetheridge loop (that being a luscious sampling of singletrack from both the BRC test track here at the Rancho Relaxo and the race course at Blue Ridge School.) Thoughts that day were somber, and there was talk of trying to bang off the loop in under 3 hours to keep the tears at bay. Instead, we BBQ'ed, and C- Ham blubbered like a baby.

Well, the tables have turned, as they're apt to do, as I said before, and Nolanpalooza #2 will be held in early July to celebrate the triumphant return of Nolan to the Foof, now leaner, meaner, and faster than when he left.  Like war, I reckon Pisgah will bring those changes about in a man. 

Details are still forthcoming and, as you might have presumed, those details are certain to be extremely vague anyway. 
Beardcicles will be involved.
Bring it. 

What else? 
Well, as long as I'm talking about Blue Ridge School and the various derelicts that have come and gone from those hallowed halls, I'd better mention Captain America's gigantic 400 mile, 45 and half hour jaunt around the newly propositioned Allegheny Mountain Loop ITT.  Officially, the high water mark has been set.  This might be old news to you (April 12th, to be exact) so if it is, just scroll down and savor, once again, those Charlie Manson eyes. 

Ahh, the fringes of what's possible, somewhere out there well past sanity and logic.   Makes you want to dip in and see what you're worth, eh? Congrats, Cap'n. 

Well, before I get out of hand and start waxing nostalgic about the Man-Child, Mr. Zirkle, God forbid, I suppose I'll trail off and just say that I've successfully pieced together a new singletrack section for the once-ridden, twice-cancelled, transcounty ride.  By "successfully" I mean, I didn't get shot while poaching it.  And that's good enough for me. 

A few pictures from yesteryear:






Perhaps Nolanpalooza #2 can take on a new shape, something more appropriately sized for the kind of man who's been hardened by the mountains of North Carolina.  I'll stock up some freeziepops. 

Up, up, up. 

PS - heal up soon, J-man!

Rides Like Danny Devito

Short.  But fun, thick, and with many layers.

What I'm saying is, even if you've only got 20 minutes to ride, that 20 minutes is better than nothing; and sometimes that 20 minutes is better than an all day jaunt.  I had a larger, more detailed analysis on that notion forthcoming, part of which surrounds the theory that 3 - 20 minute rides are approximately 2.5 times more satisifying than just one 60 minute ride, but the math on that has gotten a little chaotic, and I dozed off, then woke up staring at half-naked pictures of Danny Devito on the internet, and I lost interest. 

What I'm saying is, despite the deficit of time we've created in our lives, ride anyway.  You might be dissapointed by only 20 minutes, but probably not.  Most of the pyschological benefits are still there, rife with endorphins, poise, and added clarity about life in general.  You barely broke a sweat, but the enduring sensation of a rally will stick with you to just about the same extent as a full 2-hour effort.  You walk back in the front door, breathe a deep one, buy back into life, and the washing machine dings that the 22 minute cycle you started on your way out the door is complete. 

1st place:  You, 21:07
2nd Place:  Maytag Washer/Dryer, 22:00

What I'm saying is, when in doubt, rally.  It might not be perfect, but mountain biking in its most basic sense is a flight from perfection anyway.  Get yourself dirty.  Slide through the turns. 

If only for a few minutes, shake life up, up, up. 

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.