Over the last two years a growing family and business has supplanted my time on the bike. I ride less.
I also drink more. There could be a correlation but who can say with any certainty? Really?
Anyway, a Canuk winning the Giro and other recent interwebs events finds me thinking about being in the thick of a racing season and how far away I am from that now. The good news is it finally makes me want to ride.
I think that's the hardest thing about being an older racer (or just Olde) is that it's just so bloody time consuming and it impinges on everything else you do that it's impossible to sustain that into middle age.
That's a long, hard stare.
So here, in no particular order, are some of the Faux Pas I may have experience with. This list will certainly continue to grow.
Glasses inside helmet straps. I done it. Sometimes on purpose. There has been considerable sleep lost over this one.
Equal tire pressures in both front and back tires. Well, there's a red line on the gauge so I pump to there. If I needed two different pressures pumps would come with two adjustable red lines. Think about it.
A saddle bag. I hate packing my jersey pockets full of tubes, levers, patches, tire boot, spoke key and mini allen tools every time I ride to the 7-11for beer - I mean train. I lash that junk on my bike because if I put it in my jersey it's easier to see my spare tire. No-one wants that.
Recording my AVE SPD. I download a bunch of stuff from my PM but I have never made a special spread sheet to record my AVE SPD. Perhaps this is why I never went pro.
Aero bars. I wish I'd left them on my road bike. I only used them for a short while on my road bike until our TT bikes were ready but, since I am older and much slower now, I could be seeing time savings like nothing I've seen before. That stuff could be really paying off now!
Waving. I always wave. I don't care who you are. You're out for a ride and having a good time. I can muster a nod, wave or finger flick in your direction - accept for the tri-geeks. In all the years I've been riding not one has waved back. ****'em. I've had lots of folks who do tri's smile, wave, nod or flick back but not a single tri-geek has deigned to do so.
Carbon. I use it for everything. Frames, forks, bars, stems, rims, seats, posts, cranks and a bunch of component parts. I know it is a ticking time bomb and I must be delusional because I have yet to buy a CAAD 10 to use in the crits I don't do but this **** just keeps showing up at my door so I use it. This must be some sick kind of voodoo risk taking, gambling thing. I don't know. It's just not right because I know this stuff is just a bunch of plastic waiting to asplode and who knows how many I'll take with me.
I suppose it's my cross to bear.
Bents. I should really just own up right here. I'd love to try one but, to me they are like mopeds; They're both fun to ride until your friends find out. For the bents, I am ruined.
Mirrors-helmet or otherwise. I'm just to busy jammin' to my tunes on my iphone to bother with mirrors. They're too much of a distraction.
Bells. I had a metal bell with a solid spring and knocker on my FG/SS yellow Merckx with white full fenders that let out a single, crystal clear sound, that cut through traffic noise and carried for a block. I sold it with the bike. I loved the bike. I miss the bell.
I need a moment.
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Family. Show all posts
Friday, 1 June 2012
Sunday, 26 June 2011
Race Report - 26 June 2011
It rained pretty hard yesterday as some typhoon grazed our Island after killing a few people in the Phillippines. Pretty everyday stuff.
The good news is that today was the Tainan Parking Lot Race. I was pumped to ride and conditions were ideal.
I rolled to the start as it was very close to my house. I had an idea of what to expect and it pretty much played out as I thought it might.
We lined up to start on the pace was a bit sporadic. There were several sink holes to thoroughly inspect and many puddles that needed to be ridden through more than once.
In the end I finished 2nd in the sprint to an up an coming rider. Now I know who to watch for...
The good news is that today was the Tainan Parking Lot Race. I was pumped to ride and conditions were ideal.
I rolled to the start as it was very close to my house. I had an idea of what to expect and it pretty much played out as I thought it might.
We lined up to start on the pace was a bit sporadic. There were several sink holes to thoroughly inspect and many puddles that needed to be ridden through more than once.
In the end I finished 2nd in the sprint to an up an coming rider. Now I know who to watch for...
Wednesday, 28 October 2009
William Bubble Maker
My son is 32 months old and had, until today, been the chaser of bubbles blown by bigger boys.
On our way to the park and we stopped to get some new balls we could kick around. The selection at the store was not up to snuff so we settled on some bubbles. Then we made our way to the park.
It was a beautiful sunny, fall day: Leaves on the ground, crisp cool breeze and a playground.
There were a few other kids there for William to climb, swing and slide with but he was set on the bubbles from the start.
It is very difficult to get him to not try so hard sometimes. Once he applies himself he is single minded in his pursuit and nothing will dissuade him.
I have seen him drip with sweat while he tries to get the ball into the basket. He will run himself ragged, exhausted and stumbling until he can make that basket, kick the ball where he wants, get his bike going fast enough or positioned just right or hit that ball with his bat.
He had no problem opening the soap bubble bottle or working the wand around so it was good and soapy and then positioning it the correct distance and orientation from his lips. But when he blew it was too hard and the end result was soapy water running down his hand and a distinct lack of bubbles in the air.
"Not so hard, William. Easy, easy."
Blowing. Soapy hands and no bubbles.
"Easy...easy...eeee....zzzzz"
A bubble.
"Easy..."
More bubbles. Dip, dip blow. A stream of bubbles!
Dip, dip, blow. A plethora of bubbles big and small! Success! Triumph! Yet another piece of the universe brought under control.
More bubbles and smaller children chasing them. Big bubbles that would float up to the tress and smaller bubbles that would pop before they hit the ground.
No longer would William be the chaser of bubbles blown by bigger boys. Now he was William: Bubble Maker King!
Yesterday morning, in the park, all was right in the universe.
On our way to the park and we stopped to get some new balls we could kick around. The selection at the store was not up to snuff so we settled on some bubbles. Then we made our way to the park.
It was a beautiful sunny, fall day: Leaves on the ground, crisp cool breeze and a playground.
There were a few other kids there for William to climb, swing and slide with but he was set on the bubbles from the start.
It is very difficult to get him to not try so hard sometimes. Once he applies himself he is single minded in his pursuit and nothing will dissuade him.
I have seen him drip with sweat while he tries to get the ball into the basket. He will run himself ragged, exhausted and stumbling until he can make that basket, kick the ball where he wants, get his bike going fast enough or positioned just right or hit that ball with his bat.
He had no problem opening the soap bubble bottle or working the wand around so it was good and soapy and then positioning it the correct distance and orientation from his lips. But when he blew it was too hard and the end result was soapy water running down his hand and a distinct lack of bubbles in the air.
"Not so hard, William. Easy, easy."
Blowing. Soapy hands and no bubbles.
"Easy...easy...eeee....zzzzz"
A bubble.
"Easy..."
More bubbles. Dip, dip blow. A stream of bubbles!
Dip, dip, blow. A plethora of bubbles big and small! Success! Triumph! Yet another piece of the universe brought under control.
More bubbles and smaller children chasing them. Big bubbles that would float up to the tress and smaller bubbles that would pop before they hit the ground.
No longer would William be the chaser of bubbles blown by bigger boys. Now he was William: Bubble Maker King!
Yesterday morning, in the park, all was right in the universe.
Saturday, 7 February 2009
The Call
Let's just start by backing the truck up a bit here.
I stopped racing in late 2007. Stopped riding soon after that. Early 2008 I was going crazy and decided I wanted to start racing again.
I started training, got injured, got sick or had real life get in the way. Rinse, repeat. 2008 was a write off. But I had base.
Enter 2009. Consistent training over a few months and starting to feel a little frisky on my last few rides and at the last training race.
A regular job, a start up, a family and a nasty cycling habit makes for a pretty tight schedule. But there are times when things are ticking along nice and steady.
Then there's the call.
It took me back to the call I received when my father was dying. It was early afternoon and I was getting ready for a ride. I was on the next plane, taking off, 6 hours later. I traveled 24 hours straight to get to my father. He died when we were in the car leaving the airport on our way to the hospital.
The last time I touched my father's hand it was already cold.
This is what I thought of when the owner of the small company for which I work told me had had received the call last night and could I cover for him if he really needed to go home.
"Of Course."
I have a new team for 2009 and although it is a rather rag-tag bunch there are a few riders I like. I also I think I may actually see two diamonds who currently ride like coal. It could be possible to cook this unruly group down to 6 core riders for 2010.
There is a race in 3 weeks that suits my skills more than my fitness. This is good. The first 100km are rolling and flat and a bit technical. Then there is a 14 climb. Ok. So I'm out. But, there is another rider on our team who is riding well and is pretty smart.
I want to work to keep the tempo up (actually get others to do it for me) and then place him in the lower section of the climb. After that he needs help from someone else on the team or he's on his own.
It's early season so the real goal is to execute tactics. ANY tactics, as a group. A good result would be a plus but cohesion is the first step.
I've worked for a lot of people and I can't say it's been very often that I've truly liked the people I was working for. I think I'm very fortunate to consider my employer to also be my friend. And this was a friend who just got the call.
My father was sick for years. The doctors had him so heavily medicated and cross medicated that he would sleep away most of the day in naps or sometimes only get up to eat and watch a little TV. There were several things wrong with him but nothing that was terminal or immanent.
Once I was older and no longer lived in the same city as my family if the phone rang late at night this was the thought that jarred me from sleep. When I finally did receive the call it was daytime and it had pretty much the opposite effect; Everything that followed, for days, felt like a dream. They kept telling me that this was normal and it happened to a lot of people.
"Ok."
And then I was back home and back on the schedule and half a world away.
I remember seeing footage of Delgado climbing off of his bike while in yellow and getting into his team car. His mother had died and he just couldn't go on.
Even for the man in yellow real life gets in the way.
I saw a bit of all that in my friends eyes reflected back at me when he asked me if I could put in some extra time so he could go home: If he really had to.
"Of course."
The race will still happen. I will still go. I may have to hide in the bunch a bit more. Especially in the second 50km. We haven't raced together as a group but we should be able to place our guy in the front group when the selection happens if I can get one or two of the other team mates to pitch in when I ask them. If we can execute it will be a good start to a new season.
I've always felt that jumping right back in is good. It gets things going again. Gets the head back in the game. How you do is not so important.
The thing I remember the clearest was the strap in my hand and that when we were told to lower the casket I couldn't. I knew I was supposed to but my hands wouldn't unclench. My uncles and the funeral director had began to let the straps slide through their hands, and my fathers' casket inched its' way away from me, but my hands wouldn't let go. No matter how hard I tried and for the briefest of moments I could not let go.
Then a shallow breath and my grip slackened.
Results don't matter for this one.
I stopped racing in late 2007. Stopped riding soon after that. Early 2008 I was going crazy and decided I wanted to start racing again.
I started training, got injured, got sick or had real life get in the way. Rinse, repeat. 2008 was a write off. But I had base.
Enter 2009. Consistent training over a few months and starting to feel a little frisky on my last few rides and at the last training race.
A regular job, a start up, a family and a nasty cycling habit makes for a pretty tight schedule. But there are times when things are ticking along nice and steady.
Then there's the call.
It took me back to the call I received when my father was dying. It was early afternoon and I was getting ready for a ride. I was on the next plane, taking off, 6 hours later. I traveled 24 hours straight to get to my father. He died when we were in the car leaving the airport on our way to the hospital.
The last time I touched my father's hand it was already cold.
This is what I thought of when the owner of the small company for which I work told me had had received the call last night and could I cover for him if he really needed to go home.
"Of Course."
I have a new team for 2009 and although it is a rather rag-tag bunch there are a few riders I like. I also I think I may actually see two diamonds who currently ride like coal. It could be possible to cook this unruly group down to 6 core riders for 2010.
There is a race in 3 weeks that suits my skills more than my fitness. This is good. The first 100km are rolling and flat and a bit technical. Then there is a 14 climb. Ok. So I'm out. But, there is another rider on our team who is riding well and is pretty smart.
I want to work to keep the tempo up (actually get others to do it for me) and then place him in the lower section of the climb. After that he needs help from someone else on the team or he's on his own.
It's early season so the real goal is to execute tactics. ANY tactics, as a group. A good result would be a plus but cohesion is the first step.
I've worked for a lot of people and I can't say it's been very often that I've truly liked the people I was working for. I think I'm very fortunate to consider my employer to also be my friend. And this was a friend who just got the call.
My father was sick for years. The doctors had him so heavily medicated and cross medicated that he would sleep away most of the day in naps or sometimes only get up to eat and watch a little TV. There were several things wrong with him but nothing that was terminal or immanent.
Once I was older and no longer lived in the same city as my family if the phone rang late at night this was the thought that jarred me from sleep. When I finally did receive the call it was daytime and it had pretty much the opposite effect; Everything that followed, for days, felt like a dream. They kept telling me that this was normal and it happened to a lot of people.
"Ok."
And then I was back home and back on the schedule and half a world away.
I remember seeing footage of Delgado climbing off of his bike while in yellow and getting into his team car. His mother had died and he just couldn't go on.
Even for the man in yellow real life gets in the way.
I saw a bit of all that in my friends eyes reflected back at me when he asked me if I could put in some extra time so he could go home: If he really had to.
"Of course."
The race will still happen. I will still go. I may have to hide in the bunch a bit more. Especially in the second 50km. We haven't raced together as a group but we should be able to place our guy in the front group when the selection happens if I can get one or two of the other team mates to pitch in when I ask them. If we can execute it will be a good start to a new season.
I've always felt that jumping right back in is good. It gets things going again. Gets the head back in the game. How you do is not so important.
The thing I remember the clearest was the strap in my hand and that when we were told to lower the casket I couldn't. I knew I was supposed to but my hands wouldn't unclench. My uncles and the funeral director had began to let the straps slide through their hands, and my fathers' casket inched its' way away from me, but my hands wouldn't let go. No matter how hard I tried and for the briefest of moments I could not let go.
Then a shallow breath and my grip slackened.
Results don't matter for this one.
Monday, 1 December 2008
My Epic Sunday Ride.
The weather has been cold, windy and wet for weeks. There has been some decent riding but lots of misery, too.
The plan was to ride from home on Saturday, drive out to the in-laws Saturday night and ride 5.5hrs in the mountains on Sunday. The weather was shaping up to be great. I'd been off the bike for a bit and I really wanted to ride.
I did 3 hours from home on Saturday as planned. I'd been sick for a few weeks and had actually dropped some weight in the process. Not my original strategy but I'd take it. I was worried I'd feel the time off and that the infection might still be lingering. I felt a lot better than expected.
I knew the next day would be a harder ride so I held back a few times when all I really wanted to do was crank it up and see how long I could put out some juice. I wanted to know what was in the tank. I did a few jumps and a couple of 5min pieces but mostly solid, steady tempo. I was still itching when I got off the bike.
Went to lunch with the family, watched SpongeBob and was in bed by 8:00.
Brilliant sleep. I woke up at 8:00am and wrestled with my son while we ate breakfast. I filled some water bottles and pumped my tires. I went to the bedroom where I had all my kit laid out and then out onto the balcony to make my final clothing choices.
Wow. All the recent high winds and rain had cleared the air and the sky was deep, cloudless and blue. I could see two ranges in in the direction I was headed. It was 22*C and the flags were limp, with an occasional twitter just to let you know they were there. This was going to be epic.
Final clothing choices made (and accounting for at least 2, 15 minutes descents and 1, 30 min+ descent with altitude) I sprang into the bedroom. I laid out the Power Meter, HR strap, Powerbars, ipod, phone, apple, shoes, socks, vest, leg and knee warmers, shorts...shorts?...SHORTS!... AND JERSEY!
Damn.
I fumed.
I ate the apple.
I packed up my crap and carried my bag to the door. I put on my shoes. Then I picked up my son and handed him his ball and we went to the park.
We played soccer (this kid can run with a ball!), some basket ball, a game where he threw the ball down the court, chased it, then he picked it up and I had to carry him to the hoop and we watched some bigger boys play baseball.
Then we went to Toys'R'Us and I bought the first Christmas gift of the season.
I had a great ride on Sunday. Epic ride.
The plan was to ride from home on Saturday, drive out to the in-laws Saturday night and ride 5.5hrs in the mountains on Sunday. The weather was shaping up to be great. I'd been off the bike for a bit and I really wanted to ride.
I did 3 hours from home on Saturday as planned. I'd been sick for a few weeks and had actually dropped some weight in the process. Not my original strategy but I'd take it. I was worried I'd feel the time off and that the infection might still be lingering. I felt a lot better than expected.
I knew the next day would be a harder ride so I held back a few times when all I really wanted to do was crank it up and see how long I could put out some juice. I wanted to know what was in the tank. I did a few jumps and a couple of 5min pieces but mostly solid, steady tempo. I was still itching when I got off the bike.
Went to lunch with the family, watched SpongeBob and was in bed by 8:00.
Brilliant sleep. I woke up at 8:00am and wrestled with my son while we ate breakfast. I filled some water bottles and pumped my tires. I went to the bedroom where I had all my kit laid out and then out onto the balcony to make my final clothing choices.
Wow. All the recent high winds and rain had cleared the air and the sky was deep, cloudless and blue. I could see two ranges in in the direction I was headed. It was 22*C and the flags were limp, with an occasional twitter just to let you know they were there. This was going to be epic.
Final clothing choices made (and accounting for at least 2, 15 minutes descents and 1, 30 min+ descent with altitude) I sprang into the bedroom. I laid out the Power Meter, HR strap, Powerbars, ipod, phone, apple, shoes, socks, vest, leg and knee warmers, shorts...shorts?...SHORTS!... AND JERSEY!
Damn.
I fumed.
I ate the apple.
I packed up my crap and carried my bag to the door. I put on my shoes. Then I picked up my son and handed him his ball and we went to the park.
We played soccer (this kid can run with a ball!), some basket ball, a game where he threw the ball down the court, chased it, then he picked it up and I had to carry him to the hoop and we watched some bigger boys play baseball.
Then we went to Toys'R'Us and I bought the first Christmas gift of the season.
I had a great ride on Sunday. Epic ride.
Sunday, 13 April 2008
The center of the universe
This is my son, William. I am fortunate that he is healthy and happy and full of life.
I spend time playing with him every morning before work and every night when I come home. On weekends I take him for a ride on the bike (with baby seat) I built for him and he loves it. Maybe even more than daddy.
He gives me perspective on what's important and I can't wait to take him to see his first bike race.
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