Whoo! I'm tired. Need a beer.
Monday, December 1, 2008
Decorating for the holidays
Its that time of year again when we are coming to terms with how many pounds we just packed on during Thanksgiving and are working up the motivation to begin the Christmas decorating. We all enjoy showing off our personal touch and spend lots of cash to add a little extravagance to show our Christmas spirit during this special holiday. And, the misses and I are not to be left out.
Whoo! I'm tired. Need a beer.
Whoo! I'm tired. Need a beer.
Saturday, November 29, 2008
First flight
When I first started flying lessons, I knew it would be an ongoing battle to justify the expense with my better half when we could put the money toward other items and necessities. The only way learning to fly is cheap(er) is if you own your own plane, and one that meets the requirements to fly in all airspace up to "B" classification, i.e., the busiest airspace like around Atlanta. Well, my 1938 Aeronca is about 50 years behind the technology curve and is still in need of a lift strut in order to return to flight so it wasn't a choice.
After several years and countless dollar bills thrown at meeting the FAA's private pilot requirements, I earned one of the things I wanted most: a license to soar on the wind among the clouds and see the earth from above. Its pretty cool being able to go hop in an airplane, take-off to fly in 3-dimensional aspects, and go nearly anywhere you want. What's even more cool is taking the one you love along.
On Wednesday November 25 at 10:25 am, I was able to take Diana up for our first flight together without the need for another licensed pilot along to make it legal. It was just us on a cold, crystal clear day with light winds. A perfect day to fly because you can see several hundred miles in every direction and it wasn't too bumpy. For me, it was pretty special and it was my hope that she would feel the same. Although she was fighting off a cold, I guess she enjoyed herself during our short flight.
We didn't go anywhere in particular like the beach, mountains, or to visit anyone in far off places, but I did take us on a aerial view of a house we're interested in buying. It sits on 21.5 acres, has hilly enough terrain to justify building a mountain bike trail, and it just happens to have a short grass strip of just over 1,100 feet that might have potential to be lengthened.
Here's a view of the house and property from above:
After several years and countless dollar bills thrown at meeting the FAA's private pilot requirements, I earned one of the things I wanted most: a license to soar on the wind among the clouds and see the earth from above. Its pretty cool being able to go hop in an airplane, take-off to fly in 3-dimensional aspects, and go nearly anywhere you want. What's even more cool is taking the one you love along.
On Wednesday November 25 at 10:25 am, I was able to take Diana up for our first flight together without the need for another licensed pilot along to make it legal. It was just us on a cold, crystal clear day with light winds. A perfect day to fly because you can see several hundred miles in every direction and it wasn't too bumpy. For me, it was pretty special and it was my hope that she would feel the same. Although she was fighting off a cold, I guess she enjoyed herself during our short flight.
We didn't go anywhere in particular like the beach, mountains, or to visit anyone in far off places, but I did take us on a aerial view of a house we're interested in buying. It sits on 21.5 acres, has hilly enough terrain to justify building a mountain bike trail, and it just happens to have a short grass strip of just over 1,100 feet that might have potential to be lengthened.
Here's a view of the house and property from above:
Upon return to the airport, my landing was less than perfect and Diana was reaching for an "oh-shit" handle when I performed a slip on final approach, but we were able to walk away and the plane can be used again. Mostly.
It was a good day. Maybe not the justification needed, but that'll come soon enough...
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Catching up a bit
It has been a long while and a lot has happened in the between. Reading my last post reminded me of how angry and bitchy I can get, but in the end not much has changed except the anger is gone.
I've not ridden many miles due to laziness and additional responsibilities at work, but isn't that the way life goes. I'll get back to riding eventually, but the passion isn't there anymore for racing. Endurance events......maybe.
I've gotten into Autocross racing the wife's Miata the last year or so after being introduced to this sport by a few friends, and I really enjoy it. I've attended two Evolution racing schools ( http://www.evoschool.com/ ) with friend, John Hofmann, and in my opinion it is money well spent if you decide to get into Autocross events and want to get fast quick, or your into it already and need to shave a few tenths. John just got a Z06 'Vette that sets you back in the seat like getting kicked in the chest every time he dumps the clutch and showers down on 505 horsepower. I guess it's just a man thing but cars that accelerate like that and sound like demons growling in anger when you really get on it makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over. Guess you gotta experience it. Anyway.... No-one has been competing in my class on the local scene so I'm not really able to compare times or know if I'm getting faster. What I have done, however, is concentrate on being smooth while trying to match the times of cars/drivers in other classes that are faster than me. Considering the fact I'm running on tires that are your average street drivers and not specialty compounds for racing, I'm doing ok I guess for now. Plans are in the works, however, to be a tad faster next year so I might be able to qualify and run at the SCCA Nationals. Probably get my ass handed to me properly, but it'll be cool to compete against the best in the country and learn from them. If I can get a few more tweaks done to the Miata, I might just be able to make it.
On a different note I did finally get my check-ride completed, so now I'm a private pilot. Writing that and thinking about it still sends a shock of reality through me since it has been nearly 33 years in the making. I can't say the check ride was not stressful, but in hindsight it was practically a "non-event." I was over prepared and had worked myself up into a froth worrying about it. Yeah, I blew a fuse regarding my flight instructor and I don't need the "I told you so" speech because I've already heard it and acknowledged it to my flight instructor. We're still friends, we still trust each other, and I wouldn't learn from anyone else if given the choice. He's too much like me in expecting more from his students. I think Mallie's dad wrote to me to keep in mind that something that has built for many years "carries a lot of inertia with it" and that has been on my mind everyday since I read that. Truer words have never been spoken.
As far as my check ride.....
The weather was not the best that day with moderate turbulence and lower ceilings than were ideal. I had to stay below 2,000 feet to stay out of clouds and had to go slower due to moderate turbulence on the one hour flight to Douglas, Ga. The Macon VOR was having problems and one NOTAM stated no radio service from Macon ATC on the regular frequency, so I had to communicate on one frequency while listening to another. Well, evidently no-one in Macon wanted to communicate with me so I couldn't activate my flight plan nor get radar notifications of traffic. So, here I am at a low level altitude running 115 knots with no communication from ATC. Did I say how much I love GPS, because that Cessna has one of the best to get you where you want to go. No worries except if something happened I had no altitude to work out options/solutions and no-one to tell "look for me here." Oh, and just so everyone knows: buzzards like to circle at about 1,700 feet. Avoiding those bastards at least made my flight fun in a weird kind of way since they'll go straight through a Cessna 172 easier than a hot knife through butter and I had no helmet. I did get to think a lot about what I was about to do and what I wanted to say to the man who inspired me to pursue flight.
A few miles out from Douglas Municipal airport, or DQH, I announced the "who, what, where, and my intentions" to all in the area as required. I could also see that shortly after my radio call someone walked out onto the front deck of the building I was supposed to arrive at in less than 8 minutes. My check pilot was already at work evaluating my performance. And, it was a "greaser" of a landing. I've performed only 3 landings that were perfect by my flight instructor's judgement, and I couldn't tell when the gear touched down each time. This day I performed two more when it mattered. After securing the Cessna, I walked up to meet, again, Bob Harless.
"Nice landing," was his first words as he stuck out his hand. "Thank you, sir," I said as I returned a firm handshake. The man before me may have appeared to others as someone in his twilight years that was an obstacle to overcome in order to get the FAA's approval to fly a plane, but that was not the case for me. To me, he was that same pilot that took me up on my first flight in his C-47 (DC-3) over 33 years before and laughed when I stood at his side asking so many questions while he was busy flying the plane. We exchanged introductions, and then briefly discussed the weather conditions for the day. My first notice this would be a quick, but extremely intense check ride at lower altitudes than either of us would like to have.
After the prerequisite questions the FAA mandates, I got down to the business at hand of planning our flight to Savannah, Ga. Something important in any situation is knowing a little about the person you're dealing with. Bob Harless was a Korean War vet. He views flying through military airspace as not a viable option for non-military aircraft, so I planned a longer flight path to avoid the MOAs and restricted airspace over Ft. Stewart, Ga. He liked my flight plan but questioned me as to why, and I answered per the FAA rules to put a check in the box of my exam. He was happy so we went flying.
The weather was not looking good and thunderstorms were gonna start popping soon. During my engine run-up and aircraft check list, Bob gave verbal instructions of items he wanted me to accomplish and wanted me to perform them in order. And, I had to begin each task immediately after completing the previous without hesitation. Task saturation - a normal environmental condition to stress the pilot. Trying to remember over 12 flight maneuvers in a specific order while navigating and communicating is difficult enough, but when you have a FAA check pilot with you tossing other miscellaneous items into the mix during all this you can get a bit flustered. And I got flustered and hesitated after the 10th item on the list. I couldn't remember a frequency and didn't think to look on my knee board where I kept it in case I forgot. Pilots must remember specific frequencies irregardless, and I realized that I just found my saturation point. I recovered, however, and continued as required. You have to move on and not worry about what you screwed up. It was a sickening feeling realizing I was a slobbering baby at that point and continuing on instinct alone. Instinct that my flight instructor had hammered into my head in countless hours of training. After completing my last maneuvers, we headed back for what I hoped was a "good enough" landing because I was mentally and physically done at that point.
I made my 5th perfect landing, out of over 180 attempts at such by the way, and again I got a compliment. A blind hog can find an acorn once in a while. When I secured the aircraft, we discussed what went right, what I thought about each situation I was put into, and what I should do better. That signalled to me that I had failed the exam and would be coming back in a few days to try again. Now I felt completely drained. All I could envision was the dreaded pink paper copy that is the FAA's version of "your fired, but come back tomorrow to work again." I didn't want to see the pink failure slip. What Bob said next gave me hope. "You got farther than others have in the flight aspect, and you should be proud of that. You've been trained well, and you did better than expected." We walked into the main office of Harless Aviation and I grabbed some coffee to perk up for the flight back in hopes it would be as a private pilot.
Bob asked for my logbook and then told me to sign my initials and name on two forms he put before me. Both were white copies. I'd passed my check ride.
There's no way to describe how relieved I was, how energetic I felt, and how much I needed to say in appreciation. It was at that point I finally explained who I was and how long I'd been on the journey to earn a pilot's license. Bob was surprised and couldn't believe I'd not stated so earlier. The next hour and a half was spent discussing the last 30+ years of our lives. I thanked him for instilling in me a fascination with aviation, whether he knew it or meant to do it. It didn't matter, because I felt like that young boy who was on his first flight again in a machine flying on the invisible substance of the heavens guided by a man who knew how to control what I couldn't fathom. For many years, he was bigger than life to me....and he still is today. We parted that day with a firm handshake, an agreement to not let this be the last meeting, and a wish for good flying.
The flight back was the third most exciting flight of my life. The first was my first flight, and the second was the day I soloed. That is of course, until I had to avoid those damn buzzards again............
I've not ridden many miles due to laziness and additional responsibilities at work, but isn't that the way life goes. I'll get back to riding eventually, but the passion isn't there anymore for racing. Endurance events......maybe.
I've gotten into Autocross racing the wife's Miata the last year or so after being introduced to this sport by a few friends, and I really enjoy it. I've attended two Evolution racing schools ( http://www.evoschool.com/ ) with friend, John Hofmann, and in my opinion it is money well spent if you decide to get into Autocross events and want to get fast quick, or your into it already and need to shave a few tenths. John just got a Z06 'Vette that sets you back in the seat like getting kicked in the chest every time he dumps the clutch and showers down on 505 horsepower. I guess it's just a man thing but cars that accelerate like that and sound like demons growling in anger when you really get on it makes me feel warm and fuzzy all over. Guess you gotta experience it. Anyway.... No-one has been competing in my class on the local scene so I'm not really able to compare times or know if I'm getting faster. What I have done, however, is concentrate on being smooth while trying to match the times of cars/drivers in other classes that are faster than me. Considering the fact I'm running on tires that are your average street drivers and not specialty compounds for racing, I'm doing ok I guess for now. Plans are in the works, however, to be a tad faster next year so I might be able to qualify and run at the SCCA Nationals. Probably get my ass handed to me properly, but it'll be cool to compete against the best in the country and learn from them. If I can get a few more tweaks done to the Miata, I might just be able to make it.
On a different note I did finally get my check-ride completed, so now I'm a private pilot. Writing that and thinking about it still sends a shock of reality through me since it has been nearly 33 years in the making. I can't say the check ride was not stressful, but in hindsight it was practically a "non-event." I was over prepared and had worked myself up into a froth worrying about it. Yeah, I blew a fuse regarding my flight instructor and I don't need the "I told you so" speech because I've already heard it and acknowledged it to my flight instructor. We're still friends, we still trust each other, and I wouldn't learn from anyone else if given the choice. He's too much like me in expecting more from his students. I think Mallie's dad wrote to me to keep in mind that something that has built for many years "carries a lot of inertia with it" and that has been on my mind everyday since I read that. Truer words have never been spoken.
As far as my check ride.....
The weather was not the best that day with moderate turbulence and lower ceilings than were ideal. I had to stay below 2,000 feet to stay out of clouds and had to go slower due to moderate turbulence on the one hour flight to Douglas, Ga. The Macon VOR was having problems and one NOTAM stated no radio service from Macon ATC on the regular frequency, so I had to communicate on one frequency while listening to another. Well, evidently no-one in Macon wanted to communicate with me so I couldn't activate my flight plan nor get radar notifications of traffic. So, here I am at a low level altitude running 115 knots with no communication from ATC. Did I say how much I love GPS, because that Cessna has one of the best to get you where you want to go. No worries except if something happened I had no altitude to work out options/solutions and no-one to tell "look for me here." Oh, and just so everyone knows: buzzards like to circle at about 1,700 feet. Avoiding those bastards at least made my flight fun in a weird kind of way since they'll go straight through a Cessna 172 easier than a hot knife through butter and I had no helmet. I did get to think a lot about what I was about to do and what I wanted to say to the man who inspired me to pursue flight.
A few miles out from Douglas Municipal airport, or DQH, I announced the "who, what, where, and my intentions" to all in the area as required. I could also see that shortly after my radio call someone walked out onto the front deck of the building I was supposed to arrive at in less than 8 minutes. My check pilot was already at work evaluating my performance. And, it was a "greaser" of a landing. I've performed only 3 landings that were perfect by my flight instructor's judgement, and I couldn't tell when the gear touched down each time. This day I performed two more when it mattered. After securing the Cessna, I walked up to meet, again, Bob Harless.
"Nice landing," was his first words as he stuck out his hand. "Thank you, sir," I said as I returned a firm handshake. The man before me may have appeared to others as someone in his twilight years that was an obstacle to overcome in order to get the FAA's approval to fly a plane, but that was not the case for me. To me, he was that same pilot that took me up on my first flight in his C-47 (DC-3) over 33 years before and laughed when I stood at his side asking so many questions while he was busy flying the plane. We exchanged introductions, and then briefly discussed the weather conditions for the day. My first notice this would be a quick, but extremely intense check ride at lower altitudes than either of us would like to have.
After the prerequisite questions the FAA mandates, I got down to the business at hand of planning our flight to Savannah, Ga. Something important in any situation is knowing a little about the person you're dealing with. Bob Harless was a Korean War vet. He views flying through military airspace as not a viable option for non-military aircraft, so I planned a longer flight path to avoid the MOAs and restricted airspace over Ft. Stewart, Ga. He liked my flight plan but questioned me as to why, and I answered per the FAA rules to put a check in the box of my exam. He was happy so we went flying.
The weather was not looking good and thunderstorms were gonna start popping soon. During my engine run-up and aircraft check list, Bob gave verbal instructions of items he wanted me to accomplish and wanted me to perform them in order. And, I had to begin each task immediately after completing the previous without hesitation. Task saturation - a normal environmental condition to stress the pilot. Trying to remember over 12 flight maneuvers in a specific order while navigating and communicating is difficult enough, but when you have a FAA check pilot with you tossing other miscellaneous items into the mix during all this you can get a bit flustered. And I got flustered and hesitated after the 10th item on the list. I couldn't remember a frequency and didn't think to look on my knee board where I kept it in case I forgot. Pilots must remember specific frequencies irregardless, and I realized that I just found my saturation point. I recovered, however, and continued as required. You have to move on and not worry about what you screwed up. It was a sickening feeling realizing I was a slobbering baby at that point and continuing on instinct alone. Instinct that my flight instructor had hammered into my head in countless hours of training. After completing my last maneuvers, we headed back for what I hoped was a "good enough" landing because I was mentally and physically done at that point.
I made my 5th perfect landing, out of over 180 attempts at such by the way, and again I got a compliment. A blind hog can find an acorn once in a while. When I secured the aircraft, we discussed what went right, what I thought about each situation I was put into, and what I should do better. That signalled to me that I had failed the exam and would be coming back in a few days to try again. Now I felt completely drained. All I could envision was the dreaded pink paper copy that is the FAA's version of "your fired, but come back tomorrow to work again." I didn't want to see the pink failure slip. What Bob said next gave me hope. "You got farther than others have in the flight aspect, and you should be proud of that. You've been trained well, and you did better than expected." We walked into the main office of Harless Aviation and I grabbed some coffee to perk up for the flight back in hopes it would be as a private pilot.
Bob asked for my logbook and then told me to sign my initials and name on two forms he put before me. Both were white copies. I'd passed my check ride.
There's no way to describe how relieved I was, how energetic I felt, and how much I needed to say in appreciation. It was at that point I finally explained who I was and how long I'd been on the journey to earn a pilot's license. Bob was surprised and couldn't believe I'd not stated so earlier. The next hour and a half was spent discussing the last 30+ years of our lives. I thanked him for instilling in me a fascination with aviation, whether he knew it or meant to do it. It didn't matter, because I felt like that young boy who was on his first flight again in a machine flying on the invisible substance of the heavens guided by a man who knew how to control what I couldn't fathom. For many years, he was bigger than life to me....and he still is today. We parted that day with a firm handshake, an agreement to not let this be the last meeting, and a wish for good flying.
The flight back was the third most exciting flight of my life. The first was my first flight, and the second was the day I soloed. That is of course, until I had to avoid those damn buzzards again............
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
Genetics - gift....or a curse?
Sometimes destiny is put on hold for reasons I can't quite comprehend or fail to see logically. Is it my fault, a smattering of events that happen to collide at the wrong time, or just the way life goes? I'm still lost in trying to reason the how but events are still a quandary escaping clarity.
In the last throws of accomplishing a life-long goal, the meeting of different attitudes has squelched my desire to continue presently. If at all.
Requiring only a few menial tasks to complete the fulfillment's of higher authority and satiate the thirst, desire, and need that has been part of me for 30 years, I find myself in search again for a path to succeed. But, I will succeed regardless in nearer time than lengthy excursions for naught.
In recent years I've managed to maintain my composure when boiling internally beyond reproach if one word was uttered in deference, but I could not find the strength to retain my anger Monday night on my last flight before my scheduled check-ride Friday. I'm not sure if my instructor was having a bad day - perhaps I was taking too much of his precious time (as I made a point of saying to him) at $40 an hour plus airplane rental on top of that - or maybe I was Forest Gump incarnate and doing as stupid does. Sure, I was tense with a check ride coming up in 3 days time on top of doing night take-offs and landings Monday at 9pm, plus a little instrument flying to fill in the gaps during our evening excursion, but a lobotomy had not been performed on me prior to this flight as my instructor apparently viewed the situation. He informed me three times that I'd "failed" already before having the airplane even ready to taxi for take-off but the only mistake I made the entire evening was not bringing a flashlight. Big Whoop since there are two kept in that aircraft all the times and they were functional since I checked, but no need for them during "run up and taxi" since battery and engine power were available. Flashlights are a back-up if you loose power and can't read the instruments, charts, etc.. These were only a few very small things versus others I won't mention that raised my adrenal excretion rate and that made it impossible for me to continue safely without anger or distraction.
So, I expressed myself by shutting the airplane down before we even took off, pulled my gear out of the airplane, and asked just what the F*#$ his intentions were. Was he having a bad night? Was I taking up too much of his precious time at $40 an hour? Was there a nice piece of delicate pleasure I was keeping him from spooning with presently?
And, the coup de grâce was when I was scolded like a school boy, "Careful what you say, because you can't take it back."
Holy shit!!!!! REALLY?! AWWWW, I've done it now, huh?!
Yep. Done with him and will be discussing with him Friday the refund of payment I've made in excess of what I've completed. At least by Friday I should be calm enough to act rationally. Right now, however, I'm not in a happy place. At all.
I've been blessed my entire life with good genetics in athletic ability and somewhat in reasoning ability, but maybe the balance of it all is a curse of not having great success in controlling my temper. I've been good the last 20 years or so with only an occasional blow up (blow outs more like it), but Monday night brought back too many feelings of "happy anger" that needed to be expressed in all the wrong ways. And the damnedest thing is I'm still riding that "high" and can't come down. Not sure were to go from here, but I think caffeine and alcohol are off the dietary intake for a while and perhaps more bike time is needed to work out this bad energy.
Lots of biking...........
In the last throws of accomplishing a life-long goal, the meeting of different attitudes has squelched my desire to continue presently. If at all.
Requiring only a few menial tasks to complete the fulfillment's of higher authority and satiate the thirst, desire, and need that has been part of me for 30 years, I find myself in search again for a path to succeed. But, I will succeed regardless in nearer time than lengthy excursions for naught.
In recent years I've managed to maintain my composure when boiling internally beyond reproach if one word was uttered in deference, but I could not find the strength to retain my anger Monday night on my last flight before my scheduled check-ride Friday. I'm not sure if my instructor was having a bad day - perhaps I was taking too much of his precious time (as I made a point of saying to him) at $40 an hour plus airplane rental on top of that - or maybe I was Forest Gump incarnate and doing as stupid does. Sure, I was tense with a check ride coming up in 3 days time on top of doing night take-offs and landings Monday at 9pm, plus a little instrument flying to fill in the gaps during our evening excursion, but a lobotomy had not been performed on me prior to this flight as my instructor apparently viewed the situation. He informed me three times that I'd "failed" already before having the airplane even ready to taxi for take-off but the only mistake I made the entire evening was not bringing a flashlight. Big Whoop since there are two kept in that aircraft all the times and they were functional since I checked, but no need for them during "run up and taxi" since battery and engine power were available. Flashlights are a back-up if you loose power and can't read the instruments, charts, etc.. These were only a few very small things versus others I won't mention that raised my adrenal excretion rate and that made it impossible for me to continue safely without anger or distraction.
So, I expressed myself by shutting the airplane down before we even took off, pulled my gear out of the airplane, and asked just what the F*#$ his intentions were. Was he having a bad night? Was I taking up too much of his precious time at $40 an hour? Was there a nice piece of delicate pleasure I was keeping him from spooning with presently?
And, the coup de grâce was when I was scolded like a school boy, "Careful what you say, because you can't take it back."
Holy shit!!!!! REALLY?! AWWWW, I've done it now, huh?!
Yep. Done with him and will be discussing with him Friday the refund of payment I've made in excess of what I've completed. At least by Friday I should be calm enough to act rationally. Right now, however, I'm not in a happy place. At all.
I've been blessed my entire life with good genetics in athletic ability and somewhat in reasoning ability, but maybe the balance of it all is a curse of not having great success in controlling my temper. I've been good the last 20 years or so with only an occasional blow up (blow outs more like it), but Monday night brought back too many feelings of "happy anger" that needed to be expressed in all the wrong ways. And the damnedest thing is I'm still riding that "high" and can't come down. Not sure were to go from here, but I think caffeine and alcohol are off the dietary intake for a while and perhaps more bike time is needed to work out this bad energy.
Lots of biking...........
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Passion......and the payments
The house is almost done with a bit of painting and sanding left to do, so I've been flying quite a bit of late. Flying is not so much a hobby, like cycling, as it is a passion I've always had and can finally fulfill. On the down side are the "payments" required to keep up with the desire.
Having owned a 1938 Aeronca Chief the last few years and while working to restore it to original condition, I've discovered the best way to make a small fortune in aviation is to start out with a large one. But the end result will be the ability to go fly when the weather is good and the mood strikes me. Airplanes are also a bit of an investment in that most appreciate in value if you get the right one, and I own one of those that are becoming more rare with each passing day.
The other payment you have to make with flying is the time necessary to recover mentally. I'm not the sharpest tack in the drawer but I can handle the stresses involved of staying ahead of an airplane going nearly 140mph while navigating using pilotage, radio navigation, and oh-yes the "I want one of those for my plane" Garmin 530 GPS that'll show you exactly where you are when you get lost. Oh, and don't forget the communications for weather services for airport conditions where you're going and the PIREPS (pilot reports) you give for weather conditions you encounter en-route, listening to the location updates of other pilots and planes in your area/flight path, and paying attention to air traffic control folks while keeping time between checkpoints, calculating ground speed en-route in case you have to update your flight plan you have on file and activated, and the biggest one I almost did yesterday: DO NOT VIOLATE RESTRICTED AIRSPACE OVER A MILITARY FACILITY. They get pretty pissed when a Cessna gets close to the restricted area even though the ATC dip-shit was emphatic in telling me to turn to a specific heading and yep, I followed his "suggestion" until I came to my senses. Pilots can disregard ATC's instructions if safety is an issue, and this time it was my ass that was in jeopardy because I almost went into the airspace around Ft. Benning, GA on my cross-country flight yesterday. You can get time in jail these days and can kiss you pilot's license good-bye FOREVER.
In a few days, all this time and money invested will come full circle with a bit of history in my life. Some 32 years ago, a man named Bob Harless gave me my first airplane ride. It was a DC-3, or what is also called a C-47 in military version. That flight lit a fire that has been smoldering ever since. It was also the weekend of July 4th when my first flight took place. After that first flight, I pestered Bob to take me up every chance he got and would wash the planes and be gopher around the hangar to earn every ride I got. I think he flew me in everything on the field we lived across from to include a Stearman he used to crop dust.
Well, one week after July 4th next week I'll travel south to Douglas, GA to have Bob Harless do my pilot check-ride since he is the FAA check pilot I'll go to. He doesn't know who I am because I have only seen him once since we moved when I was 10. I plan to wait until after my check-ride to do two things: I plan to thank him for not only the check ride but for introducing me to flight, and when he looks at me funny before asking "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I'll explain who I am and why I'm so grateful.
Mushy?
Not at all. It's not often you actually get to see someone from your past that set you future in motion, and thank them.
My "office" on today's flight to Auburn-Opelika, on to Talladega, and back home to Robins Air Park.
This was the GPS when I was nearly home and pretty bored from flying in a straight line for 134 miles.
Having owned a 1938 Aeronca Chief the last few years and while working to restore it to original condition, I've discovered the best way to make a small fortune in aviation is to start out with a large one. But the end result will be the ability to go fly when the weather is good and the mood strikes me. Airplanes are also a bit of an investment in that most appreciate in value if you get the right one, and I own one of those that are becoming more rare with each passing day.
The other payment you have to make with flying is the time necessary to recover mentally. I'm not the sharpest tack in the drawer but I can handle the stresses involved of staying ahead of an airplane going nearly 140mph while navigating using pilotage, radio navigation, and oh-yes the "I want one of those for my plane" Garmin 530 GPS that'll show you exactly where you are when you get lost. Oh, and don't forget the communications for weather services for airport conditions where you're going and the PIREPS (pilot reports) you give for weather conditions you encounter en-route, listening to the location updates of other pilots and planes in your area/flight path, and paying attention to air traffic control folks while keeping time between checkpoints, calculating ground speed en-route in case you have to update your flight plan you have on file and activated, and the biggest one I almost did yesterday: DO NOT VIOLATE RESTRICTED AIRSPACE OVER A MILITARY FACILITY. They get pretty pissed when a Cessna gets close to the restricted area even though the ATC dip-shit was emphatic in telling me to turn to a specific heading and yep, I followed his "suggestion" until I came to my senses. Pilots can disregard ATC's instructions if safety is an issue, and this time it was my ass that was in jeopardy because I almost went into the airspace around Ft. Benning, GA on my cross-country flight yesterday. You can get time in jail these days and can kiss you pilot's license good-bye FOREVER.
In a few days, all this time and money invested will come full circle with a bit of history in my life. Some 32 years ago, a man named Bob Harless gave me my first airplane ride. It was a DC-3, or what is also called a C-47 in military version. That flight lit a fire that has been smoldering ever since. It was also the weekend of July 4th when my first flight took place. After that first flight, I pestered Bob to take me up every chance he got and would wash the planes and be gopher around the hangar to earn every ride I got. I think he flew me in everything on the field we lived across from to include a Stearman he used to crop dust.
Well, one week after July 4th next week I'll travel south to Douglas, GA to have Bob Harless do my pilot check-ride since he is the FAA check pilot I'll go to. He doesn't know who I am because I have only seen him once since we moved when I was 10. I plan to wait until after my check-ride to do two things: I plan to thank him for not only the check ride but for introducing me to flight, and when he looks at me funny before asking "what the hell is that supposed to mean?" I'll explain who I am and why I'm so grateful.
Mushy?
Not at all. It's not often you actually get to see someone from your past that set you future in motion, and thank them.
My "office" on today's flight to Auburn-Opelika, on to Talladega, and back home to Robins Air Park.
This was the GPS when I was nearly home and pretty bored from flying in a straight line for 134 miles.
Monday, June 16, 2008
Time in a bottle........
Making a living has pushed cycling aside the last few weeks and I haven't been on a bike for almost 3 weeks now. Fat and slow is how I roll now. Coinciding with this is four items that tend to crush my motivation to ride at all: 1) a late season, "mild" flu bug with a killer headache that took nearly 2 weeks to get over and then, 2) temps turned up 15 degrees, which is typical Georgia weather, in addition to 3) we've been putting in a lot of time after work during the week and every weekend getting the house ready to sale, and 4) I've been teaching 2 consecutive A&P short courses the last 2 weeks that has me getting home after 10pm most nights. Thankfully, the short courses are now over and I have my evenings to once again work on the last few odds and ends with the house - like changing the light switches and wall socket out for newer ones while the power is still on, which results in getting the piss knocked out of me when I slip up. Then, "stupid is as stupid does" I don't turn the power off but certainly go back for more. And hell no, alcohol was NOT involved and no I did NOT eat paint chips as a kid. I don't think, anyways.......'bout the paint chips........
To be quite honest, I've considered giving up on cycling for a while (if not permanently) since I've lost my interest due to the road rides going over the same damn roads week in and week out. B-O-R-I-N-G!!!!! I'm also pretty tired of doing maintenance on trails and have been neglecting Thomson trails both riding and maintaining wise. If anything, we've made the trail less reliant on maintenance, which takes hours to make a difference but some folks think we've "dumbed-down" the trails. Un-hook your brakes and lets see how easy it is smart asses. I may need to squat the next time I pee if I keep bitching like this...........
Whining won't get me motivated so I plan to just do my own thing as I've been wanting to do since the winter road training rides went to pot this past winter when a few riders got pissed at me at how things were going. I really hate that it happened, but I had to move on then just as I'll do now.
Right now the important thing for me to do is relax during my three weeks off from work and really re-charge my batteries. This past quarter I had some of the most involved classes I teach out of the nearly 30 classes in the curriculum: aviation regulations, mathematics, electricity and electronics, and physics. Brain strain for everyone involved when you shove a full college course of physics at the students in 7 days, and at the end of an already intense quarter! "Drinking from a fire hose" is the correct metaphor I guess. But regardless of the student's ability, each one learns in my classroom if they are willing to put forth the effort.
I've got some flying to do this week and next to finish a rating, and I'm looking forward to taking the wife up in the air and cruise the altitudes for a brief period to show her what $6,000 was spent on. It should serve as motivation for us both to pursue the repairs on my own airplane, which is sitting in a hangar begging to "slip the surly bounds" once again. Although flying is one of the most mentally challenging hobbies I've ever pursued, it is also the most exhilarating. The first time I soloed, I got out of the plane sweating with wobbly knees wanting to puke, I had a smile from ear to ear because I felt like I'd just had the best sex of my life, and I was so mentally fatigued I could barely remember my own name. And the damnedest thing is that I couldn't wait to do it again!!
In a few days, we're going to Ft. Mountain with friends to camp for a week, ride a few trails, go over to Hogpen Gap so the wife can conquer her desire to hurt like no other time she'll ever spend on a bike, take a tour of the North Georgia wine country while taking in some of the finest wine these lips have ever tasted, and pass the time as slowly as possible because we may never pass that way again.
To be quite honest, I've considered giving up on cycling for a while (if not permanently) since I've lost my interest due to the road rides going over the same damn roads week in and week out. B-O-R-I-N-G!!!!! I'm also pretty tired of doing maintenance on trails and have been neglecting Thomson trails both riding and maintaining wise. If anything, we've made the trail less reliant on maintenance, which takes hours to make a difference but some folks think we've "dumbed-down" the trails. Un-hook your brakes and lets see how easy it is smart asses. I may need to squat the next time I pee if I keep bitching like this...........
Whining won't get me motivated so I plan to just do my own thing as I've been wanting to do since the winter road training rides went to pot this past winter when a few riders got pissed at me at how things were going. I really hate that it happened, but I had to move on then just as I'll do now.
Right now the important thing for me to do is relax during my three weeks off from work and really re-charge my batteries. This past quarter I had some of the most involved classes I teach out of the nearly 30 classes in the curriculum: aviation regulations, mathematics, electricity and electronics, and physics. Brain strain for everyone involved when you shove a full college course of physics at the students in 7 days, and at the end of an already intense quarter! "Drinking from a fire hose" is the correct metaphor I guess. But regardless of the student's ability, each one learns in my classroom if they are willing to put forth the effort.
I've got some flying to do this week and next to finish a rating, and I'm looking forward to taking the wife up in the air and cruise the altitudes for a brief period to show her what $6,000 was spent on. It should serve as motivation for us both to pursue the repairs on my own airplane, which is sitting in a hangar begging to "slip the surly bounds" once again. Although flying is one of the most mentally challenging hobbies I've ever pursued, it is also the most exhilarating. The first time I soloed, I got out of the plane sweating with wobbly knees wanting to puke, I had a smile from ear to ear because I felt like I'd just had the best sex of my life, and I was so mentally fatigued I could barely remember my own name. And the damnedest thing is that I couldn't wait to do it again!!
In a few days, we're going to Ft. Mountain with friends to camp for a week, ride a few trails, go over to Hogpen Gap so the wife can conquer her desire to hurt like no other time she'll ever spend on a bike, take a tour of the North Georgia wine country while taking in some of the finest wine these lips have ever tasted, and pass the time as slowly as possible because we may never pass that way again.
Monday, May 12, 2008
How bad did it hurt?
True, suffering has reality in it.
Who denies it?
But the transcendence of suffering
Also has reality in it.
Who can disbelieve it?
~Sri Chinmoy
This pretty much describes last Thursday's ride. I've felt a lot worse many times before, but its when you know you can go but your body just won't cooperate with the desire to do so that the suffering becomes more than just physical.
Eddie Hudspeth joined our Thursday group ride and he is always a welcome sight on our rides. It means we have someone there that can hand our asses to us if we get too froggy, but most importantly it means that we have someone that will help us get better in every aspect of cycling. He always encourages us to work together as a whole to push ourselves to the limits. I listen to him and put his knowledge to good use. Sometimes people can't meet the challenge of these hard rides, but that is not Eddie's fault. Riders have bad days or just can't hang at the pace we want to go when a faster rider is amongst the group. No excuses. You just have to push if you desire to get better on our "training pace" rides.
I felt pretty good at the start but the legs just wouldn't get me where I needed to be. I was pushing way too hard to maintain the pace we were doing the entire ride. Not that it was any faster than most rides. It was just a mediocre day on the bike for me, and the wrong day for it to happen. HR was through the roof. Legs ached like fire ants were devouring them and my bones felt as if they were composed of rubber. I was in my own personal sufferfest and Eddie was the only one that recognized it. I guess my poker face didn't fool a veteran racer. My body was telling the tale long before Eddie told James D. that he knew I was working way too hard today. Back-bone swaying like a Willow tree in the breeze. Tension reined in my shoulders, arms, and grip on the bike. Calves were tense the entire pedal stroke. Jaw locked down and open trying to scoop more air to feed a desperate engine. No, I wasn't relaxed at all and all I felt was pure misery. But you can't give in............ever.
The good that came from this was proved in Eddie's topic of discussion at the beginning of our ride: "a racer must have a the desire to push beyond the pain, his limits, and sometimes good judgement to be better." Not that I'm a racer, but I have the desire to get better, faster, and stronger. Nearing 40 years, I know my limits aren't far off from where I'm already. I'm also a bit on the ignorant side to give up on the ride and go easy. I've done rides where I've dropped to the back where no-one can see me hurl, sprint to get back on the draft, and do it again the next rotation. I can rest when the ride is done. One thing this last ride told me is that the plateau I'm at as far as ability is nearing the end and I should make a small step up in strength and speed the next few weeks. We'll see what happens.
Who denies it?
But the transcendence of suffering
Also has reality in it.
Who can disbelieve it?
~Sri Chinmoy
This pretty much describes last Thursday's ride. I've felt a lot worse many times before, but its when you know you can go but your body just won't cooperate with the desire to do so that the suffering becomes more than just physical.
Eddie Hudspeth joined our Thursday group ride and he is always a welcome sight on our rides. It means we have someone there that can hand our asses to us if we get too froggy, but most importantly it means that we have someone that will help us get better in every aspect of cycling. He always encourages us to work together as a whole to push ourselves to the limits. I listen to him and put his knowledge to good use. Sometimes people can't meet the challenge of these hard rides, but that is not Eddie's fault. Riders have bad days or just can't hang at the pace we want to go when a faster rider is amongst the group. No excuses. You just have to push if you desire to get better on our "training pace" rides.
I felt pretty good at the start but the legs just wouldn't get me where I needed to be. I was pushing way too hard to maintain the pace we were doing the entire ride. Not that it was any faster than most rides. It was just a mediocre day on the bike for me, and the wrong day for it to happen. HR was through the roof. Legs ached like fire ants were devouring them and my bones felt as if they were composed of rubber. I was in my own personal sufferfest and Eddie was the only one that recognized it. I guess my poker face didn't fool a veteran racer. My body was telling the tale long before Eddie told James D. that he knew I was working way too hard today. Back-bone swaying like a Willow tree in the breeze. Tension reined in my shoulders, arms, and grip on the bike. Calves were tense the entire pedal stroke. Jaw locked down and open trying to scoop more air to feed a desperate engine. No, I wasn't relaxed at all and all I felt was pure misery. But you can't give in............ever.
The good that came from this was proved in Eddie's topic of discussion at the beginning of our ride: "a racer must have a the desire to push beyond the pain, his limits, and sometimes good judgement to be better." Not that I'm a racer, but I have the desire to get better, faster, and stronger. Nearing 40 years, I know my limits aren't far off from where I'm already. I'm also a bit on the ignorant side to give up on the ride and go easy. I've done rides where I've dropped to the back where no-one can see me hurl, sprint to get back on the draft, and do it again the next rotation. I can rest when the ride is done. One thing this last ride told me is that the plateau I'm at as far as ability is nearing the end and I should make a small step up in strength and speed the next few weeks. We'll see what happens.
Wednesday, May 7, 2008
Back to normal
Things are getting back to normal after the BAF fiasco. Or at least as normal as things get around here. The temps are up to the mid-80s, the pollen counts are getting up there as well, and we're starting to see an occasional thunderstorm every other week. All signal that spring is full throttle and summer is looming like a fire breathing dragon waiting to pounce.
I've been working to get my leg speed and power back since my so-called training for the BAF meant long steady miles with very few excursions into my heart rate "red zone." It will take a while since my body responds better to building strength first with leg speed a distant second. Around 90-95 cadence is optimal for me to remain comfortably breathing without going beyond my lactate threshold for most rides. Right now I'm stuck at these variables seen when I'm at the front of our group rides pulling with flat terrain: 25 mph for 10-15 minutes, 174-180 HR, and 90-95 cadence. The speed is not the critical thing here, but the HR and time spent at this exertion level is. I use those two as the gauge of how fit I am, and right now I'm no where close to where I want or need to be.
The last few rides have been enjoyable since the weather has been fantastic and there has been a very balanced group doing the A route on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I was worried since the number of riders in the A group had actually fallen to about 3-4 a month ago, but it has picked up of late. Last night's total ride numbers was impressive to say the least with around 20 folks starting and about 9 making the cut to stay in the A group once we reached the second Powersville hill. My legs took forever to finally come around, but I started feeling good about 15 miles into the ride.
I can't express how nice it is to have a group that works well together and takes a turn at the front. No one was shirking responsibility last night and there was only a few times that people had to drop back to rest a bit instead of taking a turn on the front. They did it right, however, by pulling out of the line and falling back instead of rolling off the front without pulling at all. We did the extra loops adding two more climbs into the route and re-grouped each time to keep the pack together. I turned off once we reached Lake View road and headed back through Powersville to go to Kat's house to meet Diana. I finished the ride with averages of 20.6 mph and 154 HR for 42 miles.
Another great ride in central Georgia.
I've been working to get my leg speed and power back since my so-called training for the BAF meant long steady miles with very few excursions into my heart rate "red zone." It will take a while since my body responds better to building strength first with leg speed a distant second. Around 90-95 cadence is optimal for me to remain comfortably breathing without going beyond my lactate threshold for most rides. Right now I'm stuck at these variables seen when I'm at the front of our group rides pulling with flat terrain: 25 mph for 10-15 minutes, 174-180 HR, and 90-95 cadence. The speed is not the critical thing here, but the HR and time spent at this exertion level is. I use those two as the gauge of how fit I am, and right now I'm no where close to where I want or need to be.
The last few rides have been enjoyable since the weather has been fantastic and there has been a very balanced group doing the A route on Tuesday and Thursday nights. I was worried since the number of riders in the A group had actually fallen to about 3-4 a month ago, but it has picked up of late. Last night's total ride numbers was impressive to say the least with around 20 folks starting and about 9 making the cut to stay in the A group once we reached the second Powersville hill. My legs took forever to finally come around, but I started feeling good about 15 miles into the ride.
I can't express how nice it is to have a group that works well together and takes a turn at the front. No one was shirking responsibility last night and there was only a few times that people had to drop back to rest a bit instead of taking a turn on the front. They did it right, however, by pulling out of the line and falling back instead of rolling off the front without pulling at all. We did the extra loops adding two more climbs into the route and re-grouped each time to keep the pack together. I turned off once we reached Lake View road and headed back through Powersville to go to Kat's house to meet Diana. I finished the ride with averages of 20.6 mph and 154 HR for 42 miles.
Another great ride in central Georgia.
Monday, April 21, 2008
Tuesday, April 15, 2008
Lost and found
Spring has arrived, the flowers are blooming, the pollen is flying, and I'm still in winter hibernation mode as usual. Motivated like a herd of turtles stampeding through peanut butter I am.
I've got the Bike Across Florida event going on this weekend and the weather is looking great. I'm planning for us to visit Kennedy Space Center on Saturday, go to Ron Jon's among other shopping sites, and kick back on the beach for a while before hitting the sack early in preparation for a 6:30am start Sunday. Winds are forecast to be at our backs the first 100 miles but may turn a bit into our faces the last 70 miles or so. If I can remember to 1) put on sun block before I begin the ride, 2) eat correctly during the 36 hours leading up to the event, and 3) eat and drink steadily but with moderation during the ride I should do well. How well is relative to the perspective of riding 170 miles in less than 11 hours with no one at all that I know riding with me except the wife driving my personal SAG vehicle somewhere within a few miles of where I'm at on the road. This will definitely test the iPod's battery capacity and my stomach's ability to absorb Aleve and Ibuprofen.
Although I have only done shorter training rides in preparation, I believe I can do this if I'm disciplined enough to stay within my limits early and ignore my body's wishes to give up.
To catch up a bit-
Diana and I participated in the auto-cross race in Cordele this past weekend and had a great time. I distinctly remember being told by the boss to put on some sunscreen before leaving home, but being the typical dumb-ass male I thought: "I don't need no stinking sunscreen!"
Class, today's descriptive phrase is: "cooked lobster." Can you say, "cooked lobster?"
Nothing like having a thorough sun burn 7 days before I'm about to spend at least 9 hours on a bike...................... in the sun............ in Florida.
Diana has lost the agressive driving mentality she'd gained a few months back when we were auto-crossing more often, and her times were a bit slower than she could have done. A couple of things had an affect on her driving, however. She watched the first run group I was in run the course, and needless to say it was an extremely fast design with a few folks not able to pass the "greased BB test" after spinning out, which is always impressive unless you have to run from the path of the car. Diana told me during the change over that she was scared, but I assured her to just have fun and if needed just put both feet into the brake and clutch and let the car come to a stop instead of trying to steer out of trouble. Didn't help her much, but she improved as the day went by. She did have fun and her driving skill improves each time out.
I've pretty much figured out this car and have it running at the limits of the "stock" classification. I did order some sticky tires and wheels this morning, so maybe my times will improve a few seconds at the next race so I can compete for time of day against some much faster cars and drivers. I can state, though, it is fun to have equal or better times than other cars that should be spanking my ass like a new born baby. No-one else was in C-stock class with me so notch up a default win for Sunday. Whoop-T. A few more folks asked what kind of tires and set-up I was running on the Miata, and most looked at me like I was full of shit when I told them street tires and factory specs. Oh-well. The car was factory built specifically for this type of racing, so I'll see what the sticky tires do in a few weeks.
The Porsche Club held its annual autocross event at the Macon Centreplex two weeks ago as part of the Cherry Blossom Festival and it was fast, fun, and cold as a well digger's ass all day long. The Miata didn't like the surface at all and tire wear was beyond belief, but it did get me first place in C-stock class with some faster times at the end of the day. This little car surprised not only me but several of the regulars who race at the same events with me. More than a few drivers inquired about the tires on the car, and all were surprised to discover the tires are Good Year F1 GS-D3 Ultra Performance street tires. I was about 2 seconds off time of day with some really fast cars out there. The biggest lesson this car has taught me is to go slow in and fast out of all turns, and the car will do the rest. I guess it was worth the trip to Jacksonville, Fla. afterall.
Need to paint the helmet to match the car.....
I've got the Bike Across Florida event going on this weekend and the weather is looking great. I'm planning for us to visit Kennedy Space Center on Saturday, go to Ron Jon's among other shopping sites, and kick back on the beach for a while before hitting the sack early in preparation for a 6:30am start Sunday. Winds are forecast to be at our backs the first 100 miles but may turn a bit into our faces the last 70 miles or so. If I can remember to 1) put on sun block before I begin the ride, 2) eat correctly during the 36 hours leading up to the event, and 3) eat and drink steadily but with moderation during the ride I should do well. How well is relative to the perspective of riding 170 miles in less than 11 hours with no one at all that I know riding with me except the wife driving my personal SAG vehicle somewhere within a few miles of where I'm at on the road. This will definitely test the iPod's battery capacity and my stomach's ability to absorb Aleve and Ibuprofen.
Although I have only done shorter training rides in preparation, I believe I can do this if I'm disciplined enough to stay within my limits early and ignore my body's wishes to give up.
To catch up a bit-
Diana and I participated in the auto-cross race in Cordele this past weekend and had a great time. I distinctly remember being told by the boss to put on some sunscreen before leaving home, but being the typical dumb-ass male I thought: "I don't need no stinking sunscreen!"
Class, today's descriptive phrase is: "cooked lobster." Can you say, "cooked lobster?"
Nothing like having a thorough sun burn 7 days before I'm about to spend at least 9 hours on a bike...................... in the sun............ in Florida.
Diana has lost the agressive driving mentality she'd gained a few months back when we were auto-crossing more often, and her times were a bit slower than she could have done. A couple of things had an affect on her driving, however. She watched the first run group I was in run the course, and needless to say it was an extremely fast design with a few folks not able to pass the "greased BB test" after spinning out, which is always impressive unless you have to run from the path of the car. Diana told me during the change over that she was scared, but I assured her to just have fun and if needed just put both feet into the brake and clutch and let the car come to a stop instead of trying to steer out of trouble. Didn't help her much, but she improved as the day went by. She did have fun and her driving skill improves each time out.
I've pretty much figured out this car and have it running at the limits of the "stock" classification. I did order some sticky tires and wheels this morning, so maybe my times will improve a few seconds at the next race so I can compete for time of day against some much faster cars and drivers. I can state, though, it is fun to have equal or better times than other cars that should be spanking my ass like a new born baby. No-one else was in C-stock class with me so notch up a default win for Sunday. Whoop-T. A few more folks asked what kind of tires and set-up I was running on the Miata, and most looked at me like I was full of shit when I told them street tires and factory specs. Oh-well. The car was factory built specifically for this type of racing, so I'll see what the sticky tires do in a few weeks.
The Porsche Club held its annual autocross event at the Macon Centreplex two weeks ago as part of the Cherry Blossom Festival and it was fast, fun, and cold as a well digger's ass all day long. The Miata didn't like the surface at all and tire wear was beyond belief, but it did get me first place in C-stock class with some faster times at the end of the day. This little car surprised not only me but several of the regulars who race at the same events with me. More than a few drivers inquired about the tires on the car, and all were surprised to discover the tires are Good Year F1 GS-D3 Ultra Performance street tires. I was about 2 seconds off time of day with some really fast cars out there. The biggest lesson this car has taught me is to go slow in and fast out of all turns, and the car will do the rest. I guess it was worth the trip to Jacksonville, Fla. afterall.
Need to paint the helmet to match the car.....
Sunday, March 23, 2008
Testing parts
After many weeks of patiently waiting for my legs to come around after having the flu, I believe I've gotten them back near 100% strength. Endurance-wise I'm still a bit off the mark but should peak the week of the Bike Across Florida.
I've been pushing my bottom bracket and chain to the limits trying to get the most out of them before putting on new ones for the BAF. Thursday night's ride should have been the last ride on the original bottom bracket but the new one I've ordered didn't arrive before Saturday. The Thursday ride was an easy pace but we did ramp up the effort a bit on the big climb. The bottom bracket started creaking and popping, however just to let me know it was time to replace it. 6,200 miles is a pretty good distance to go on a BB since I went through about 4 bottom brackets in 2 years with the TREK 1500. The life expectancy of a chain is a different story. I'm not sure if I'm cleaning them too often, which is once a week, and not getting enough lube back in them what. Each chain is stretched out of limits in about 900 miles if I'm lucky, but I have no idea what other folks are getting since they probably don't change anything out until the ghost shifting gets too aggravating and the gear rings and cassette are toast.
Yesterday was a planned ride of at least 130+ miles that is one of the last two stepping stones in my preparation for the BAF. I headed out of the Perry Welcome Center about 9:15 with James D working with me to pull the regular group (of only 3 folks) back. We caught them before the big climb in Hayneville, and I crunk up some Rolling Stones on the iPod and headed on solo to Hawkinsville to continue my 7 hours of fun in the sun. After Hawkinsville, I turned South on 129 towards Abbeville and toward my first store stop.
There is one way to draw the attention of every single living sole in a small town like Abbeville that advertises a "Wild Hog Festival" on the Welcome to Abbeville sign at the city limits: show up on a bicycle (some looked at it like it was from outer space), in spandex (actually saw someone taking a pic on a camera phone) with the accompanying full cycling attire, and then enter a store. You will have EVERYONE's undivided attention whether you like it or not. People actually stopped what they were doing to stare. I like being the center of attention sometimes, but not this time. I didn't hear any banjos playing, but I departed rather quickly anyway.
The next leg was 30 miles into the wind toward Cordelie, Ga. It was uneventful except for the fact I notice I was getting tired way too early into the ride. I'd only covered about 54 miles of the 75 it would take to get to Cordelie, but It felt like I couldn't push the gears with enough energy. When I finally turned my iPod down enough to hear the real world, it was more than evident what the problem was: the bottom bracket had given up the ghost several miles back and I couldn't hear it with the music blaring in my ears. My feet were numb from pushing the pedals for so long and I couldn't feel the popping going on in the BB. A broken coffee grinder was what I had and apparently the heat generated from pedalling non-stop for a few hours was making things worse. It wasn't enough to make me stop and call for help, so I pushed on to Cordelie.
In Cordelie I finally phoned Diana to ask her to start making her way toward me on Hwy-42. I'd stopped, removed the chain from the front gear, and then turned the crank by hand to see it only turn 3/4 of a revolution before stopping. Not-a-gooda.
"Houston, we have a problem."
I continued up Hwy-42 at the same effort as before to get in as many miles as I could, and Diana met me about 3 south-west of Unadilla. I still managed to put in a solo effort of 88.7 miles, a 19.1 mph average, with a heart rate average of 155 bpm on a bottom bracket that was making this a real training session. Not the full 130+ miles I'd planned, but enough to re-assure me that I'll be ready for the BAF where it will be flat as a pancake and I'll have people to draft behind on occasion to save some energy.
Next weekend will be another tough one with 140+ miles on the agenda. We're doing the Peach Blossom ride in Byron, so the initial plan is do the route with the "group" and then do it again solo. I can ride home from Byron which should give me about 145 miles total. The only problem is that there are no stores along the way for the second go-round.
I've been pushing my bottom bracket and chain to the limits trying to get the most out of them before putting on new ones for the BAF. Thursday night's ride should have been the last ride on the original bottom bracket but the new one I've ordered didn't arrive before Saturday. The Thursday ride was an easy pace but we did ramp up the effort a bit on the big climb. The bottom bracket started creaking and popping, however just to let me know it was time to replace it. 6,200 miles is a pretty good distance to go on a BB since I went through about 4 bottom brackets in 2 years with the TREK 1500. The life expectancy of a chain is a different story. I'm not sure if I'm cleaning them too often, which is once a week, and not getting enough lube back in them what. Each chain is stretched out of limits in about 900 miles if I'm lucky, but I have no idea what other folks are getting since they probably don't change anything out until the ghost shifting gets too aggravating and the gear rings and cassette are toast.
Yesterday was a planned ride of at least 130+ miles that is one of the last two stepping stones in my preparation for the BAF. I headed out of the Perry Welcome Center about 9:15 with James D working with me to pull the regular group (of only 3 folks) back. We caught them before the big climb in Hayneville, and I crunk up some Rolling Stones on the iPod and headed on solo to Hawkinsville to continue my 7 hours of fun in the sun. After Hawkinsville, I turned South on 129 towards Abbeville and toward my first store stop.
There is one way to draw the attention of every single living sole in a small town like Abbeville that advertises a "Wild Hog Festival" on the Welcome to Abbeville sign at the city limits: show up on a bicycle (some looked at it like it was from outer space), in spandex (actually saw someone taking a pic on a camera phone) with the accompanying full cycling attire, and then enter a store. You will have EVERYONE's undivided attention whether you like it or not. People actually stopped what they were doing to stare. I like being the center of attention sometimes, but not this time. I didn't hear any banjos playing, but I departed rather quickly anyway.
The next leg was 30 miles into the wind toward Cordelie, Ga. It was uneventful except for the fact I notice I was getting tired way too early into the ride. I'd only covered about 54 miles of the 75 it would take to get to Cordelie, but It felt like I couldn't push the gears with enough energy. When I finally turned my iPod down enough to hear the real world, it was more than evident what the problem was: the bottom bracket had given up the ghost several miles back and I couldn't hear it with the music blaring in my ears. My feet were numb from pushing the pedals for so long and I couldn't feel the popping going on in the BB. A broken coffee grinder was what I had and apparently the heat generated from pedalling non-stop for a few hours was making things worse. It wasn't enough to make me stop and call for help, so I pushed on to Cordelie.
In Cordelie I finally phoned Diana to ask her to start making her way toward me on Hwy-42. I'd stopped, removed the chain from the front gear, and then turned the crank by hand to see it only turn 3/4 of a revolution before stopping. Not-a-gooda.
"Houston, we have a problem."
I continued up Hwy-42 at the same effort as before to get in as many miles as I could, and Diana met me about 3 south-west of Unadilla. I still managed to put in a solo effort of 88.7 miles, a 19.1 mph average, with a heart rate average of 155 bpm on a bottom bracket that was making this a real training session. Not the full 130+ miles I'd planned, but enough to re-assure me that I'll be ready for the BAF where it will be flat as a pancake and I'll have people to draft behind on occasion to save some energy.
Next weekend will be another tough one with 140+ miles on the agenda. We're doing the Peach Blossom ride in Byron, so the initial plan is do the route with the "group" and then do it again solo. I can ride home from Byron which should give me about 145 miles total. The only problem is that there are no stores along the way for the second go-round.
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Pardon me, I think I've been pooped on...
Warning: Language is guaranteed to offend so hit the "Back" button now.
Recipe to piss me off:
Choose a topic that you're ignorant about...........like the laws of the road pertaining to cycling.
Take 3 parts of moronic opinions from lazy, never gonna even glance at a piece of exercise equipment, gravity challenged fat-ass, I know more than you and can prove it so "watch this y'all" from the shallow end of the gene pool.
Ensure 3 parts stupidity is not measured in appropriate quantities for the tasks at hand.
Take 1 part Type-A personality that is more prepared for discussion than other 3 parts ignorance.
Ensure that 1 part Type-A personality is at "full throttle" from the caffeine in his loving wife's "this will put your blood pressure over the limit" coffee before stirring the pot.
Ensure that you stir 3 parts "who the hell is Darwin?" accordingly with phrases such as: "Cyclists should be restricted to certain roads because I have to slow down to go around them on a double yellow lined, blind curve that is uphill" and the favorite No-Shit!! line of them all, "when 3-thousand pounds of car meets cyclist, the cyclist always loses" to make Type-A personality rise. Oh and don't forget to stir briskly for 1 minute with Type-A personality's favorite: "you should have your dumb ass in church instead of riding a bike" after you turn around, block the lane in front of me, and spout this divine knowledge on a Sunday no less through Tammy Faye Baker war paint that cracks as you speak.
Now toss 3 parts of sacrificial but ignorant lamb fluff onto Type-A personality while you smile and think 1)this is gonna be the funniest shit on the planet and 2)Ron White wasn't right about fixing stupid. All this while thinking you're making a valid point and feeling good about yourselves, but in the mean time you've actually closed the cave entrance behind you with a mean, hungry bear that just woke from a gentle 5 year slumber of taking your shit.
Wait one nano-second as mix comes to a boil.
"Cover your ears darlin..."
DING!!
Dinner is served.
The Queen's English was not used fortunately, only because I wanted to keep my job, but in less than 20 seconds the dish was served chilled and it got really, really quite in the office for the remainder of the day. I guess everyone enjoyed the meal of Crow since they definitely left full. I don't think the "what's this button for?" will be pushed any time in the future in my office while I'm working at this establishment.
All this before 9am. Luckily, I did not have students to enlighten afterward today.........
On more important cycling news, I was able to ride this past Thursday with the group as our regular weekly rides began again. We averaged a tad over 20 mph for 34 miles and was a good ride even though we took it easier than we could have done. Brian, a new rider and CAT3 racer that is here for a few months, wanted to keep his watts down before the Perry Roubaix race weekend so we kept the pace down a bit for us but what was easy for him.
Several of us volunteered to help out for the TT and Circuit race on Saturday, so it was stand around for 12 hours while cheering the racers on during each group event.
Sunday was the first "fun" century I road this year and it was in Dublin. It was a new course this time, and I managed to bring the wrong gear for all the short, steep climbing we had to do. I remembered it as relatively flat except at the end. My Polar said we only climbed 4K feet, but it felt like 10K since I had the 11-21 cassette on the rear and couldn't spin as much as I needed. Flipper had ridden the Tour de Pike the day before and was on his 2nd century in two days. That boy is strong for sure but is a tad thin for his height and maybe a little over-confident right now. It'll work itself out, however.
Tuesday night's ride was a good ride with a bit of wind. BK and I decided to do the 40 mile option but we had no takers to join us. I was surprised to see that several riders didn't come along, especially one who had bragged that he had "gotten in a break-away Thursday night and no-one could catch him." If you've never seen frog legs ripped from their sockets, you need to ride with us tomorrow night. He'll be the first one on the platter. Anyway, BK and I had a 16.5 mph average at the silos at the end of Bible Camp Rd., but we managed to crank it up to an 18.6 mph average for the ride. The last half was into the wind and sucked goats for sure, but we like to suffer and enjoyed every damn minute of it! We're both making good progress after suffering through this year's flu season while spending 3 weeks off the bike.
This weekend will be long, hard miles for me since I need to get in a 130 mile ride either Saturday or Sunday in prep for the BRAF April 20. My loving wife is gonna drive the truck solo while I crank the peddles for nearly 10 hours next month. Hope she finds some really good books-on-CD for the trip.
Recipe to piss me off:
Choose a topic that you're ignorant about...........like the laws of the road pertaining to cycling.
Take 3 parts of moronic opinions from lazy, never gonna even glance at a piece of exercise equipment, gravity challenged fat-ass, I know more than you and can prove it so "watch this y'all" from the shallow end of the gene pool.
Ensure 3 parts stupidity is not measured in appropriate quantities for the tasks at hand.
Take 1 part Type-A personality that is more prepared for discussion than other 3 parts ignorance.
Ensure that 1 part Type-A personality is at "full throttle" from the caffeine in his loving wife's "this will put your blood pressure over the limit" coffee before stirring the pot.
Ensure that you stir 3 parts "who the hell is Darwin?" accordingly with phrases such as: "Cyclists should be restricted to certain roads because I have to slow down to go around them on a double yellow lined, blind curve that is uphill" and the favorite No-Shit!! line of them all, "when 3-thousand pounds of car meets cyclist, the cyclist always loses" to make Type-A personality rise. Oh and don't forget to stir briskly for 1 minute with Type-A personality's favorite: "you should have your dumb ass in church instead of riding a bike" after you turn around, block the lane in front of me, and spout this divine knowledge on a Sunday no less through Tammy Faye Baker war paint that cracks as you speak.
Now toss 3 parts of sacrificial but ignorant lamb fluff onto Type-A personality while you smile and think 1)this is gonna be the funniest shit on the planet and 2)Ron White wasn't right about fixing stupid. All this while thinking you're making a valid point and feeling good about yourselves, but in the mean time you've actually closed the cave entrance behind you with a mean, hungry bear that just woke from a gentle 5 year slumber of taking your shit.
Wait one nano-second as mix comes to a boil.
"Cover your ears darlin..."
DING!!
Dinner is served.
The Queen's English was not used fortunately, only because I wanted to keep my job, but in less than 20 seconds the dish was served chilled and it got really, really quite in the office for the remainder of the day. I guess everyone enjoyed the meal of Crow since they definitely left full. I don't think the "what's this button for?" will be pushed any time in the future in my office while I'm working at this establishment.
All this before 9am. Luckily, I did not have students to enlighten afterward today.........
On more important cycling news, I was able to ride this past Thursday with the group as our regular weekly rides began again. We averaged a tad over 20 mph for 34 miles and was a good ride even though we took it easier than we could have done. Brian, a new rider and CAT3 racer that is here for a few months, wanted to keep his watts down before the Perry Roubaix race weekend so we kept the pace down a bit for us but what was easy for him.
Several of us volunteered to help out for the TT and Circuit race on Saturday, so it was stand around for 12 hours while cheering the racers on during each group event.
Sunday was the first "fun" century I road this year and it was in Dublin. It was a new course this time, and I managed to bring the wrong gear for all the short, steep climbing we had to do. I remembered it as relatively flat except at the end. My Polar said we only climbed 4K feet, but it felt like 10K since I had the 11-21 cassette on the rear and couldn't spin as much as I needed. Flipper had ridden the Tour de Pike the day before and was on his 2nd century in two days. That boy is strong for sure but is a tad thin for his height and maybe a little over-confident right now. It'll work itself out, however.
Tuesday night's ride was a good ride with a bit of wind. BK and I decided to do the 40 mile option but we had no takers to join us. I was surprised to see that several riders didn't come along, especially one who had bragged that he had "gotten in a break-away Thursday night and no-one could catch him." If you've never seen frog legs ripped from their sockets, you need to ride with us tomorrow night. He'll be the first one on the platter. Anyway, BK and I had a 16.5 mph average at the silos at the end of Bible Camp Rd., but we managed to crank it up to an 18.6 mph average for the ride. The last half was into the wind and sucked goats for sure, but we like to suffer and enjoyed every damn minute of it! We're both making good progress after suffering through this year's flu season while spending 3 weeks off the bike.
This weekend will be long, hard miles for me since I need to get in a 130 mile ride either Saturday or Sunday in prep for the BRAF April 20. My loving wife is gonna drive the truck solo while I crank the peddles for nearly 10 hours next month. Hope she finds some really good books-on-CD for the trip.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
Been riding much?
Nope.
Saturday was a great day to ride with a 54F start and lots of sunshine leading to a nice 68F finish temp. I got a late start and had to work to catch the group; however, since I left late from the house. It was more diet issue than lack of planning that led to me leaving later than planned, but I was able to "hold my own" during the ride thankfully. I opted to head straight out Russell Parkway and catch the group coming out that way since that was the direction I was told they would go, but apparently no-one else got the memo. So..., I had to push from the get-go at 22-25, into the wind none-the-less, to latch on in Byron.
When I finally got within 1/4 mile of Byron on Houser's Mill Rd, I could see the yellow seat of BK's bike but no-one else around. Can't say how much I enjoy riding with BK since we work well together, but today it was right when I needed it since my warm up had been in the HR red zone for 35 minutes. BK said the group was no more than 5 minutes ahead, and he sat on the front blocking for me until I could recover a bit. We caught the group a few miles later in the hills and from there it was an outstanding ride. BK and I worked most of the ride keeping the group as organized as it could be and we both spent a lot of time pulling stragglers back to the front. Kim was not feeling well but was a trooper for hanging in there to finish.
I wound up with just over 75 miles and a 17.6 average. Could have been much better, but it was more about the ride and the people with me than a training goal for this ride. I enjoyed it more than worrying about training for the BAF in April that is over 160 miles. If I've learned anything from all the hard rides I've done, the one thing that matters most is knowing how many times and how long you've gone into the red zone of your HR and knowing that it will take 10-15 miles of normal riding out of your legs each time you stay there for 10 minutes. At least that's what happens with me.
Today, I should have been riding since it was about 70F outside, a gorgeous clear, blue sky, and a huge ride event coming up in less than 7 weeks. But......alas I had to go to Cordele and race the wife's Miata in an auto-cross race. Heehee! BK actually showed up at the end of the race with Tonya since they were out riding the motorcycle and rode down to Cordele so she could see where we raced once a month. Diana was invited and encouraged to go with me as well to race today, but NOOoooooooo!!!!!!! She wanted to stay home, cut her hand while preparing her breakfast, go to the emergency room to get five stitches, and then go ride 30 miles on a bike with Dave and Carrie. And, she cut her hand AFTER I'd left and been gone for over an hour.
At this point, I should express how I feel like a piece of crap and should provide excuses for my not being there for the wife. But, she's tough. Hell, she's put up with me for over 15 years so she must have a higher tolerance for pain than a serrated steak knife can provide. Right?
Apparently, the bagel she pulled from the freezer and was attempting to slice in half required a tad more force since it was still frozen in the middle and she just had to separate it to toast it in the oven, so she held the bagel in her hand and attempted to slice it in half. I must be rubbing off on her 'cause only I do stupid shit like this. Glad to say that no tendons were severed, not fingers were lost, and Steve (owner of Prinnie-Mack Coffee Co. and CGC Club sponsor, and Physician Assistant) sewed her up in the ER and sent her out into the cycling world to conquer road and rogue canine alike. The wife called me to inform me of all this after she'd been sewn up of course.
When I arrived home from my excursion of tearing rubber from tires and sacrificing engine life for the good of my adrenal cravings, I discovered that the pain killing meds given to the wifey had worn off. Egg shells gentleman. Eggshells.
A raiding we will go, a raiding we will go. High-ho the merry-O a raiding we will go! Into the medicine cabinet of course for those happy pills we never take all of but never throw away since we may need them some day. Like...................today!! Vicoden, Oxycontin, drool inducing meds from the pharmacy that will make her sleep is what we need! BINGO. She's a-sleepin now for sure. At least until the happy pill wears off and I'm up stumbling over dogs in the dark to go find another one. For her.
I guess at this point it would be remiss of me to even state that I did fairly well at the auto-cross event and was able to post times better than cars/drivers that should be handing me my ass on a silver platter. Winning is great most days, but today, like yesterday, was more about the time spent enjoying what I was sharing with others than trying to piss an inch further than the next idiot.
Sometimes it's just about the ride and not about how you got there, or where you end up.
Saturday was a great day to ride with a 54F start and lots of sunshine leading to a nice 68F finish temp. I got a late start and had to work to catch the group; however, since I left late from the house. It was more diet issue than lack of planning that led to me leaving later than planned, but I was able to "hold my own" during the ride thankfully. I opted to head straight out Russell Parkway and catch the group coming out that way since that was the direction I was told they would go, but apparently no-one else got the memo. So..., I had to push from the get-go at 22-25, into the wind none-the-less, to latch on in Byron.
When I finally got within 1/4 mile of Byron on Houser's Mill Rd, I could see the yellow seat of BK's bike but no-one else around. Can't say how much I enjoy riding with BK since we work well together, but today it was right when I needed it since my warm up had been in the HR red zone for 35 minutes. BK said the group was no more than 5 minutes ahead, and he sat on the front blocking for me until I could recover a bit. We caught the group a few miles later in the hills and from there it was an outstanding ride. BK and I worked most of the ride keeping the group as organized as it could be and we both spent a lot of time pulling stragglers back to the front. Kim was not feeling well but was a trooper for hanging in there to finish.
I wound up with just over 75 miles and a 17.6 average. Could have been much better, but it was more about the ride and the people with me than a training goal for this ride. I enjoyed it more than worrying about training for the BAF in April that is over 160 miles. If I've learned anything from all the hard rides I've done, the one thing that matters most is knowing how many times and how long you've gone into the red zone of your HR and knowing that it will take 10-15 miles of normal riding out of your legs each time you stay there for 10 minutes. At least that's what happens with me.
Today, I should have been riding since it was about 70F outside, a gorgeous clear, blue sky, and a huge ride event coming up in less than 7 weeks. But......alas I had to go to Cordele and race the wife's Miata in an auto-cross race. Heehee! BK actually showed up at the end of the race with Tonya since they were out riding the motorcycle and rode down to Cordele so she could see where we raced once a month. Diana was invited and encouraged to go with me as well to race today, but NOOoooooooo!!!!!!! She wanted to stay home, cut her hand while preparing her breakfast, go to the emergency room to get five stitches, and then go ride 30 miles on a bike with Dave and Carrie. And, she cut her hand AFTER I'd left and been gone for over an hour.
At this point, I should express how I feel like a piece of crap and should provide excuses for my not being there for the wife. But, she's tough. Hell, she's put up with me for over 15 years so she must have a higher tolerance for pain than a serrated steak knife can provide. Right?
Apparently, the bagel she pulled from the freezer and was attempting to slice in half required a tad more force since it was still frozen in the middle and she just had to separate it to toast it in the oven, so she held the bagel in her hand and attempted to slice it in half. I must be rubbing off on her 'cause only I do stupid shit like this. Glad to say that no tendons were severed, not fingers were lost, and Steve (owner of Prinnie-Mack Coffee Co. and CGC Club sponsor, and Physician Assistant) sewed her up in the ER and sent her out into the cycling world to conquer road and rogue canine alike. The wife called me to inform me of all this after she'd been sewn up of course.
When I arrived home from my excursion of tearing rubber from tires and sacrificing engine life for the good of my adrenal cravings, I discovered that the pain killing meds given to the wifey had worn off. Egg shells gentleman. Eggshells.
A raiding we will go, a raiding we will go. High-ho the merry-O a raiding we will go! Into the medicine cabinet of course for those happy pills we never take all of but never throw away since we may need them some day. Like...................today!! Vicoden, Oxycontin, drool inducing meds from the pharmacy that will make her sleep is what we need! BINGO. She's a-sleepin now for sure. At least until the happy pill wears off and I'm up stumbling over dogs in the dark to go find another one. For her.
I guess at this point it would be remiss of me to even state that I did fairly well at the auto-cross event and was able to post times better than cars/drivers that should be handing me my ass on a silver platter. Winning is great most days, but today, like yesterday, was more about the time spent enjoying what I was sharing with others than trying to piss an inch further than the next idiot.
Sometimes it's just about the ride and not about how you got there, or where you end up.
Tuesday, February 19, 2008
Bugger....
A lot has happened the last few weeks and I've found myself strung out trying to do more than I've had the energy and motivation to accomplish.
A group of us traveled down to White Springs in January to participate in the IDIDARIDE, which is 50+ miles of mountain biking and well suppported each year. This year we had cooler temps than last and liquid sunshine to accompany our start and finish. We did enjoy ourselves as always no matter where we go and how high or low the temperature go, and for the first time I brought out the surround sound system to accompany our outdoor movie festivities. One camper stopped by to comment that we don't play when it comes to entertainment. That would fall into the "No Shit!" category from our side of things. And, we drank some of the finest beer Stone Brewery has to offer as well as ate home made lasagna to fill our growlers.
A few days after the IDIDARIDE, I developed one of the most aggravating colds I've had in some years. Started out as bronchitis, turned into a sinus infection, and then hung around for the next 2 weeks. It took 3 weeks to get over that crap, and unfortunately it is going around still. The good news is that since my body is steadily repairing itself from that cold of sorts, I've actually been able to get in some decent miles on the bike the last few days.
On Friday of last week, Diana and I went to Thomson Trails in the afternoon since I wanted to get in at least 2 laps of riding. I only got halfway on one lap before my body said "whoa boy". The next day, Jesse, Nikki, BK, and I did the Rolling to Roberta route. I rode from the house to meet Jesse and Nikki, and we took off to meet BK in Byron. I was surprised that I felt stronger than usual given I'd been off the bike for a long time except for the day before. Once we were about 12 miles outside of Byron, BK was getting a little tired so we eased up a bit and let Jesse and Nikki carry on at a decent pace. This was BK's first time back on a bike in a while as well, so there was no reason for either of us to hurt ourselves. I wound up with 71 miles that day and felt great. I think I could have ridden at least another 20 before getting real tired, so I was extremely pleased with how well my body felt. One thing was still lingering from the cold, however, and that was constricted bronchial tubes. It was like breathing through a straw, and not the 4-barrel kind McDonald's has.
Now the funniest thing that has happend to me in a long time occured the very next day as I ventured out once again from home to ride between 40 and 50 miles. The wind wasn't terribly bad at the start, the sun was shining, but neither Jesse nor BK made it out to join me. I decided to do the Tuesday A+ route solo, crunk the iPod up a bit, and enjoyed the ride. When I got to Bible Camp Road, life got weird for me and a mini-van driver. I'm tooling along getting ready to start the first riser on this road and notice a mini-van go by me in the opposite direction. Nothing strange there. Well, the driver turns around and goes by me, then stops 30 feet in front of me in my lane. Now I'm thinking trouble is brewing. After all, we've had some really strange stuff happen in this area with motorists. Being the experienced and defensive cyclists I am, I reach for my most full water bottle as I begin to pass the van. A woman starts saying something to me as I pass but I can't understand her since my iPod is running, so I stop to hear what she has to say and pause my iPod so I can hear her say:
"You should have your ass in church!"
"Excuse me?" I say.
"You ought to have your dumb ass in church instead of our here riding a bicycle!!" she says.
In an instant of looking at this Tammy Faye Baker wanna-be double-wide of a woman who is spouting good Christian advice and language at me, I just couldn't help myself. So I squirt water at her and give her the Signum crucis and say, "bless you." Not exactly the trinitarium formula as designed and perhaps blasphemy on my part, but IMHO it was tit-for-tat. At that moment she had the look of someone who'd been shot at and missed but shit at and hit. She was completely dumbfounded. I was laughing so hard I could hardly clip in and peddle away from what was surely to become a head-turning, green vomit ejecting, gargoyle of rage and hormone filled wrath. I was worrying she'd flatten me with the mini-van to be honest, but she never did and turned around to go pray in church for my dumb cycling ass no doubt.
Another important thing to make a note of is the song that was blaring in my headphones at the time I was being given advice on how to live the straight and narrow. It was the band God Smack.................... and the song was I stand alone.................... Now that is some kind of funny coincidence, or perhaps someone is trying to tell me something afterall.
A group of us traveled down to White Springs in January to participate in the IDIDARIDE, which is 50+ miles of mountain biking and well suppported each year. This year we had cooler temps than last and liquid sunshine to accompany our start and finish. We did enjoy ourselves as always no matter where we go and how high or low the temperature go, and for the first time I brought out the surround sound system to accompany our outdoor movie festivities. One camper stopped by to comment that we don't play when it comes to entertainment. That would fall into the "No Shit!" category from our side of things. And, we drank some of the finest beer Stone Brewery has to offer as well as ate home made lasagna to fill our growlers.
A few days after the IDIDARIDE, I developed one of the most aggravating colds I've had in some years. Started out as bronchitis, turned into a sinus infection, and then hung around for the next 2 weeks. It took 3 weeks to get over that crap, and unfortunately it is going around still. The good news is that since my body is steadily repairing itself from that cold of sorts, I've actually been able to get in some decent miles on the bike the last few days.
On Friday of last week, Diana and I went to Thomson Trails in the afternoon since I wanted to get in at least 2 laps of riding. I only got halfway on one lap before my body said "whoa boy". The next day, Jesse, Nikki, BK, and I did the Rolling to Roberta route. I rode from the house to meet Jesse and Nikki, and we took off to meet BK in Byron. I was surprised that I felt stronger than usual given I'd been off the bike for a long time except for the day before. Once we were about 12 miles outside of Byron, BK was getting a little tired so we eased up a bit and let Jesse and Nikki carry on at a decent pace. This was BK's first time back on a bike in a while as well, so there was no reason for either of us to hurt ourselves. I wound up with 71 miles that day and felt great. I think I could have ridden at least another 20 before getting real tired, so I was extremely pleased with how well my body felt. One thing was still lingering from the cold, however, and that was constricted bronchial tubes. It was like breathing through a straw, and not the 4-barrel kind McDonald's has.
Now the funniest thing that has happend to me in a long time occured the very next day as I ventured out once again from home to ride between 40 and 50 miles. The wind wasn't terribly bad at the start, the sun was shining, but neither Jesse nor BK made it out to join me. I decided to do the Tuesday A+ route solo, crunk the iPod up a bit, and enjoyed the ride. When I got to Bible Camp Road, life got weird for me and a mini-van driver. I'm tooling along getting ready to start the first riser on this road and notice a mini-van go by me in the opposite direction. Nothing strange there. Well, the driver turns around and goes by me, then stops 30 feet in front of me in my lane. Now I'm thinking trouble is brewing. After all, we've had some really strange stuff happen in this area with motorists. Being the experienced and defensive cyclists I am, I reach for my most full water bottle as I begin to pass the van. A woman starts saying something to me as I pass but I can't understand her since my iPod is running, so I stop to hear what she has to say and pause my iPod so I can hear her say:
"You should have your ass in church!"
"Excuse me?" I say.
"You ought to have your dumb ass in church instead of our here riding a bicycle!!" she says.
In an instant of looking at this Tammy Faye Baker wanna-be double-wide of a woman who is spouting good Christian advice and language at me, I just couldn't help myself. So I squirt water at her and give her the Signum crucis and say, "bless you." Not exactly the trinitarium formula as designed and perhaps blasphemy on my part, but IMHO it was tit-for-tat. At that moment she had the look of someone who'd been shot at and missed but shit at and hit. She was completely dumbfounded. I was laughing so hard I could hardly clip in and peddle away from what was surely to become a head-turning, green vomit ejecting, gargoyle of rage and hormone filled wrath. I was worrying she'd flatten me with the mini-van to be honest, but she never did and turned around to go pray in church for my dumb cycling ass no doubt.
Another important thing to make a note of is the song that was blaring in my headphones at the time I was being given advice on how to live the straight and narrow. It was the band God Smack.................... and the song was I stand alone.................... Now that is some kind of funny coincidence, or perhaps someone is trying to tell me something afterall.
Tuesday, January 15, 2008
Time flies when you're standing still.....
Isn't it amazing how January is halfway over before you're ready to let go of the previous year's goals and expectations? Can I get a time-out here?I haven't done anything to really prepare for the upcoming race season or the BRAF that looms in my deep conscience like the "duhn-duhn.............duhn-duhn......" with dorsal fin accompaniment, and yet I've somehow been able to maintain a cardio level equal to this time last year. My endurance is down for sure, but the old HR monitor is saying all is well for the short runs of 70 miles or less. As long as I remember to eat something along the way.
The last few weeks have seen lulls into near unconsciousness of boredom interrupted with days of blitzkrieg attacks on the cortex preparing for classes. 2 weeks of vacation is like Novocaine on the brain for me. I've managed to lurch into 2nd gear, however, while dumping the clutch and bouncing into another quarter of teaching subjects that are as near to second nature as it gets for me. I'm not complaining like the mean old bastard on the block most kids loved to hate when growing up, but it is puzzling how I'm so relaxed and carefree these last few months when I should be so gung-ho Marines would step back and say "DAAAaammmmmnnnnnnnn!" Might as well run with it.
One of our circle of friends has found himself a new squeeze and is as perky as Chihuahua on espresso of late. She is too. It definitely warms all of our hearts to see the sun shining within him again. He deserves it more than anyone. But, if he moves away we will take all his bikes away and feed him nothing but cheese and Bud Light for eternity. Just kidding, Flipper. Follow your heart, but use your head.
A group of us gathered this past Sunday to ride my favorite 100k loop, and it was a good ride even though several of us have not been riding like we should and didn't eat like we should have during the ride. It was a fairly casual ride from my perspective, 17.4 mph average, but then again my perspective is much different than some of the folks that joined us. Either way, I was glad to have everyone come out to share a day of sunshine, good roads, and good times.
This past weekend was also a time of preparation for this coming weekend's Thomson Appreciation Day at Thomson Trails, but it is with sadness and heart-felt sorrow that we learned during our Sunday ride that Mr. Ronnie Thomson passed away Saturday. Many of us have Thomson stems and seat-post on our bikes, but most never met the man that made them possible or road the trails that he allowed us to build, maintain, and enjoy on his property. He was a great friend and supporter of the cycling community and his life will be remembered and celebrated this weekend at Thomson trails with Ronnie Thomson Day.
This coming weekend will see many of us travelling south to participate in the Ididaride in White Springs, Fla. We will be missing Ronnie Thomson Day and the memorial service to honor Mr. Thomson, but each of us will remember him and think of him Saturday and we will make a toast to honor him. We will celebrate his life and the life we will be sharing with friends just as others will do at Thomson trails.
Peace be with you Ronnie......
"It is not length of life, but depth of life."
---Ralph Waldo Emerson
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Road Trips and laziness
Yes, another road trip has come to pass and we have many flavors of hops and barley to sample again. This time we didn't have to go far but the search was extensive to find the goods.
We traveled to Chattanooga, TN since it is the closest place to get any of the beer made by Stone Brewery. There is one thing that came out of California that I like, other than fake blonds with fake............nevermind.......... and that is Stone Brewery beer. The Smoked Porter is second on my favorites list of beers. I've sampled a lot of other smoked porters with most tasting like the liquid smoke flavoring you can buy at the grocery, but Stone's is exceptionally well balanced and is great with a wide menu of food choices. A few other beer flavors Stone makes that are currently in the fridge are Arrogant Bastard, Double Bastard (very good and usually one is enough), IPA, IPA Ruination (nice aroma but will make your tounge holla), and of course the Smoked Porter. All are over 6% and can only be purchased in liquor stores in TN but not with regular beer since the government has an old law on the books prohibiting the sale of alcohol content above 5% unless you have a liquor license. And, if you plan to sell both you must have separate buildings where access restricts the purchase of both at one sales point. I still want to try the Alaskan Smoked Porter since it is supposed to be the original, as the story goes: a brewer asked someone that was smoking salmon if he would mind smoking the hops he was to use in his next batch of beer, the guy agreed, and hence we have enjoyed "smoked" porter since then. Only a beer drinker, mountain biker, or combination of the two would come up with something that crazy and make it work.
I'm now deep into my second week of vacation --> that I've really needed to recharge. Unfortunately, I've taken time off the bike as well and have not de-assed the couch as planned to ride every day. It's just easier to sit in front of the TV and veg. Lacking motivation for sure of late, but I've been able to read some of the books and articles necessary for next quarter's classes. There's been a few days with good mileage but mostly just spinning on the trainer for an hour or more after morning coffee.
We went to see No Country for Old Men a few days ago and it was a cool movie. At least I thought so. One I'd like to see again. I'm kinda slow getting things unless I read it once, but this movie was drawn from more than the simple idea of "hey, lets have a psycho hit man snuff people in weird ways while chasing down a satchel of money." It has some biblical associations in the interactions of simple folk who are touched in a collision of fates. The ending is one that will leave you thinking "WTF?! Is that it?!" And, it took me a few hours to finally put the pieces together and have it all make sense. Slow I may be, but I've talked to others who just didn't get it until I explained a few things to them. Then the light came on and they were no longer disappointed in how the movie ended.
Right now the sun is shining, there's no clouds in the sky, and I have the roads all to myself since the world is returning to normal after the holidays. I should be out there spinning away with my iPod blasting "Indifferent to Suffering" by Chimaira, but today I'll chose the trainer instead of the 15-25 mph winds and 29F temperature we currently have as I write this. The high is supposed to be 39'ish and I had enough wind and cold yesterday on the New Year's Day ride blocking the wind for a few stragglers for 14 miles at the end of the ride. "What don't kill ya makes ya stronger...." Uhmmmmm............why risk it today? There's black-eye peas with ham and Smoked Porter in the fridge............what was the number for Jenny Craig again?
We traveled to Chattanooga, TN since it is the closest place to get any of the beer made by Stone Brewery. There is one thing that came out of California that I like, other than fake blonds with fake............nevermind.......... and that is Stone Brewery beer. The Smoked Porter is second on my favorites list of beers. I've sampled a lot of other smoked porters with most tasting like the liquid smoke flavoring you can buy at the grocery, but Stone's is exceptionally well balanced and is great with a wide menu of food choices. A few other beer flavors Stone makes that are currently in the fridge are Arrogant Bastard, Double Bastard (very good and usually one is enough), IPA, IPA Ruination (nice aroma but will make your tounge holla), and of course the Smoked Porter. All are over 6% and can only be purchased in liquor stores in TN but not with regular beer since the government has an old law on the books prohibiting the sale of alcohol content above 5% unless you have a liquor license. And, if you plan to sell both you must have separate buildings where access restricts the purchase of both at one sales point. I still want to try the Alaskan Smoked Porter since it is supposed to be the original, as the story goes: a brewer asked someone that was smoking salmon if he would mind smoking the hops he was to use in his next batch of beer, the guy agreed, and hence we have enjoyed "smoked" porter since then. Only a beer drinker, mountain biker, or combination of the two would come up with something that crazy and make it work.
I'm now deep into my second week of vacation --> that I've really needed to recharge. Unfortunately, I've taken time off the bike as well and have not de-assed the couch as planned to ride every day. It's just easier to sit in front of the TV and veg. Lacking motivation for sure of late, but I've been able to read some of the books and articles necessary for next quarter's classes. There's been a few days with good mileage but mostly just spinning on the trainer for an hour or more after morning coffee.
We went to see No Country for Old Men a few days ago and it was a cool movie. At least I thought so. One I'd like to see again. I'm kinda slow getting things unless I read it once, but this movie was drawn from more than the simple idea of "hey, lets have a psycho hit man snuff people in weird ways while chasing down a satchel of money." It has some biblical associations in the interactions of simple folk who are touched in a collision of fates. The ending is one that will leave you thinking "WTF?! Is that it?!" And, it took me a few hours to finally put the pieces together and have it all make sense. Slow I may be, but I've talked to others who just didn't get it until I explained a few things to them. Then the light came on and they were no longer disappointed in how the movie ended.
Right now the sun is shining, there's no clouds in the sky, and I have the roads all to myself since the world is returning to normal after the holidays. I should be out there spinning away with my iPod blasting "Indifferent to Suffering" by Chimaira, but today I'll chose the trainer instead of the 15-25 mph winds and 29F temperature we currently have as I write this. The high is supposed to be 39'ish and I had enough wind and cold yesterday on the New Year's Day ride blocking the wind for a few stragglers for 14 miles at the end of the ride. "What don't kill ya makes ya stronger...." Uhmmmmm............why risk it today? There's black-eye peas with ham and Smoked Porter in the fridge............what was the number for Jenny Craig again?
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