Captphun's World of Bikes and Angst

Shortcuts

2010-11-01T19:59:00.010-04:00

Fall time blowing around the leaves & thoughts of old times past.

The cooling end of warm bike rides and the need for more clothes begins to creep in.

This time of year I wane the present and draw nostalgic.

Today with the crisp, dry air on my face I dreamed back to days of shortcuts.

The shortcut that reminds me of these days gone by is a small walkway behind my old middle school. The shortcut was a couple of railroad tie steps that led through an opening in the chainlink fence. Without this shortcut you would have to walk blocks to get to the connector street that the shortcut accessed. A perfect shortcut. A true timesaver, especially when you are only 13 and can't yet drive.

But if you really know me, the car is not my heartfelt mode of transportation. That pinnacle rests on trusty two triangles and two circles, the bicycle.

Once I discovered a shortcut by bike, my world got bigger and easier all at once.

Exploring by bike to find these shortcuts became an exciting adventure.

Travel up the dead-end looking Marion Ave and discover a small gravel cut that connects blacktop to sidewalk. When you are 13 years old and discover a whole new neighborhood, the discoveries just keep on growing. New streets look like foreign lands, both exhilarating and unknown.

Or travel up Belleview Ave and try to pedal the steep dirt path that connected to the high school saving a ride around the loop and a good 5 minutes time.

All these shortcuts, now 20 years old in my mind, are as fresh as the first day my old Nike's or old Huffy Sigma bike traveled over them.

So why the reminiscing about shortcuts? It could be that I have been talking to friends from 20 years ago and the fall time brought about two-hand touch football and the great times we had. Walking or biking to games as a group of best friends, shrouded in our beautiful ignorance of youth, not aware of what 20 years in the future would be like.

Or maybe the shortcuts I so cherished are a symbol to where life takes you. Sure, there are shortcuts in the game of life. Some truly timesavers, some leading to new horizons, some leading to dead-ends and a need to turn back around and reassess your position.

Some days I get lost in my thoughts of all those great years gone by. I think of getting in the car to travel back to my hometown Butler and getting on the bike to find my old shortcuts.

Of course I won't be travelling these roads alone. Like 20 years ago, walking in those old Nike's with my best friends Tom, Mike, and Rob, now I am also accompanied by my new best friend... and future wife. We'll cut down the gravel sidewalk, maybe have to hop a fence, and I'll tell her stories of fun times long past. I'll hold her hand while we walk up the steep dirt path by Belleview Ave.

I'll show her the old Butler High School and then walk on to the middle school. We'll walk around the building, and there it will be...the old railroad tie steps leading to the opening in the fence. The shortcut that brought all the memories back today. I'll smile and we'll walk the long way home, content in the thought that not all of life needs a shortcut when all you need is right beside you.

Sweet July

2009-07-30T09:40:00.007-04:00

A little over one day to go and July 2009 passes on into memories. Enduring this month of massive change has been my only goal and with less than 36 hours to go I think I'll make it through.
A quick recap:
Matt & Rhonda, my two bestest friends in Blacksburg move to Boston to start their careers (good luck ya chowda-heads!)
I spent an amazing week in london with Becky.
I spent 5 great days mountain biking with friends in West Virginia.
I spent over 3 great weeks with Nanda hiking and just chilling around town.
I had various weekend excursions to visit some friends and spend quality time talking and reconnecting.
I talked to friends from High School that I haven't spoken to in years.

All seems well and good, but yet as my Sweet July closes, I can't help but think how sad I am to see the times end with such dear friends. Yet I do not need to regurgitate all that was said in my previous post, instead I find it funny that my Sweet July has indeed been hijacked by my subconscious thoughts of Sweet November.

Over a month ago I watched Sweet November, yes, yes, that girly movie with Keanu Reeves & Charlize Theron. I can't believe I am admitting that in public, but sure the Capt. does have a soft spot for a sappy movie & and a good cry once in awhile. I can't always be the awesome ass-kicker I am, as I do have an emotional river buried deep inside, and only those with a special compass can find the way to sail down its caring current.

So with all the changes that July would bring, the joke was that this will be "Sweet July". Except I thought there would be role reversals & I would be Charlize Theron (man, if I was her I'd never get myself out of the shower) and Nanda & all my friends who are moving on in life would be Keanu, cause obviously like Keanu they must lack mental processing power since they are leaving Blacksburg and me! So like Charlize I would show them the errors of their life, shower them with love and good times, and they would by their own inclination, change their lives. OK, that's just a brief synopsis, really go watch the movie. (Maybe drink a bottle of wine, put on some candles, and get Enya on the music player; not that's what I do or anything. Just saying.)

So during the whole lunar cycle of July, my heart was slowly opening to the changes all my friends have shown to me. I became Keanu, except not as dumb, (though not by much), and maybe a touch not as sexy, but I'll leave that for you to decide; though I was quite the piece of eye candy when Becky & I went to Club Infinity, but that's a whole nother story. I have opened my heart to a even more sappier and caring side (what, how can this be possible you may be thinking, I mean come on, you were watching chic flics before you were "sappier", so now by that vein of thinking you are on the verge of getting your Man Card revoked).

True, True. But I still appreciate all I have learned. As much as I feel the need to vent that I miss my friends once they move on, that my heart feels like it is sitting on death row waiting for its excution at the end of July, I know that even though I may be losing the ability to see them in town, I can't lose the lesson.

My Lesson is simple, it's not anything new that has never been said before. It's simply tell the people in your life that you love them. That no matter how much you get lost in the sauce of the daily grind, their smile, their touch, their jokes, their laughs, their cries; they all truly mean something. Maybe not at that moment, but later someone will think about that moment and smile. Giving up control is what I learned. No matter how much I don't want life to change and people to move on, it's going to happen. I'm not saying its ever easy to deal with that loss, but remember don't lose the lesson.

Open the wine, get out the tissues, and have a good cry.

One Month and Many Lives Lived

2009-07-13T09:08:00.005-04:00

One month since I last visited this time waste called the blog. In a span of a month I went to London, Bruxelles, Blur Concert at Hyde Park, crashed on the pavement, bid farewell to my two best friends from Blacksburg, dorked out on a Scooter, spent 5 days Mountain Biking in WV, and other numerous activities I cannot dispel to the public. Yes, I've been busy & rightly slow. Going into it, I knew the month of July is going to be a test and so far I'd say I'm getting a solid "B-" on it in keeping my head above water.

The Test is keeping myself from sliding into a slump of self-pity over the pain of life's changes & how it hurts when friends move on in their lives. Already I've had to say goodbye to Matt "Stickado" and his wife Rhon"DD"a, my two best friends when they lived in Blacksburg. Now that they are gone, I feel a large piece of me is missing. I always knew that I loved both of them, dearly not queerly, and the day that they would move on in life would be a total suckfest. That day has now come and gone, and the suckfestness has become apparent. I miss you Phillipi'.

Seeing good friends at the 2009 Slatyfork Shuffle in WV is always a good pick me up. My buddy Pat helped put it all in perspective like only he can. We were talking about life changes (he & his wife just had a baby girl 16 months ago), about my relationships with women, and how I seem to be to emotionally focused on the lows, like I prefer the comfort of sorrow.

As we sat on a picnic table in the middle of the Monongahela National Forest drinking beers Pat, in his aged wisdom said:
"So let me get this straight Dan? You are a single guy that just got back from Europe. You have heart pains cause the women you like are not readily available. You have pictures of you smiling with beautiful women at all these amazing places you go. I'm not saying marriage isn't great, but really, be careful what you wish for."

And the way Pat lifted his one eyebrow as he said "be careful what you wish for" was the sign of a married man politely telling the young, single man, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU COMPLAINING ABOUT?!?!?! Touche' old friend, touche'!

Still, I do miss all those who I can not be with. This has been a great month and a month of growing changes. So to all my friends who waste 5 minutes of their lives to read this babble, I do think of you all & I love you all.

By The Power of Grayskull...

2009-06-15T16:12:00.006-04:00

I have the Power.
If you don't know where that's from, you are too young to be reading this!

Just like the homo-erotic cartoon that was He-Man, I too have the power, well at least for 10 seconds. I better be more clear, 10 seconds in cycling, not in the bedroom ladies, that's more like 44 second power.

Who Wants to Grab My Sword?

This weekend after a nice 3 day beer & tequila induced rest, I finally got my butt back on the road bike. Not to sound proud at all, but I have been feeling good on the bike. My diet has me hovering right at 150 pounds, full of leafy green goodness and fish & pasta. My natural fruit protein smoothies are a nice substitute for fat ass ice-cream & they taste oh so yummy. I'll share my power protein with you.

Buy 1 pound of fresh strawberries (about $1.50 fresh vs $4 for frozen strawberries). Freeze the strawberries. Once frozen add 5 ounces of fresh frozen strawberries, 1 cup of low fat Probiotic yogurt (whatever flavor you like), 3 ounces of Homestead Creamery Milk, and 1 scoop of Designer Whey Vanilla Protein. Blend in the Blender (add ice if you want more like an ice cream consistency) and enjoy! Pretty soon you'll have 10 second power capable of blowing by Cat 2 monkeys while still being an alcoholic Cat 4! Who says you can't have your cake & eat it too! (Well don't eat cake fat ass, you're supposed to be a cyclist, eat a smoothie). At least this way you can rationalize all the alcohol you drink.

So back to gay He-Man. I've been mountain biking a lot lately & it has helped my with my leg speed, spinning madly up muddy mountains. So this translates nicely to the road, spinning up those gears like you would in the forest on short power climbs were you still need to remain seated to apply even, fast pressure to the pedals.

So after 3 days of heavy boozing and one day of recovery, I managed to put out my highest 10 second power to date, 1182 watts for 10sec. Some lightweight "Climber" jokers would be happy to see 1182W as their instantaneous max power. My fat ass has now held that for 10 seconds. That's enough power to run a vibrator for 30 minutes *
*(not confirmed)

1339W max, 1182W 10 seconds... all the more reason to not tow my fat, wheel-sucking ass to the line.

No No, You're Doing it Wrong

2009-06-12T23:50:00.002-04:00

I may be going to Hell in a Bucket, but at least I'm enjoying the ride.

Tonight the Capt found himself back at the Floyd Country Store where clogging & flat foot dancing are the name of the game. All it takes is a big smile (fueled by booze) and you can meet all ages of nice ladies. I danced with a nice lady with questionable dentistry, Rhon"DD"a, and a nice lady who tried to undo my two left feet & teach me how to Two Step.

And then it dawned on me... I'm doing"it" all wrong. All the nights spent in downtown Blacksburg hitting on clueless college girls was wrong. There are plenty of good, old fashioned country ladies who can appreciate a cocky guy from NJ & the Marines. Seems to be a good combination of testosterone and sexual innuendo.

Yet, through all the clever banter and cheesy smile, I know at the end of the night I still am a semi old fashioned guy. So I go home and follow the Vincent Vega method of ending the night with some morals.

The Doors school of love

2009-05-19T22:38:00.005-04:00

After weeks of slacking I dragged my sorry ass back to yoga. My legs, back, shoulders have become so tight after not stretching for over a month & I have started to feel the ill effects on the bike. After a winter of yoga twice a week, I felt more balanced & stronger on the bike. But with the warm weather I wanted to ride more than before muscle maintenance & in one short month my body went to imbalanced hell. So I go back to yoga....and remember why the hell I liked going so much.

Sure the stretches & poses feel good, but thats not the reason. Nope, its the hot as girls and women in class. I finally spoke with my yoga dream girl, though the conversation was more a friendly formality than the envisioned coolness I thought it would be. Somewhere over the course of my aging 10 years, I lost the easy game I had back in school & college. Being schooled in the Jim Morrison school of love was much easier when I was carefree & young. My pick-up line was some stoner smile, rock n' roll, and booze. It worked quite well.

Somewhere responsibility, work, & maturity have sucked the fun out of the old Capt_phun. I used to not give a fuck, I still kind of don't, but not with the reckless abandonment & sexual prowess I used to purvey. Which leads me to some thoughts. I need to either:
A) start drinking more
b) start drugging more
c) hit myself in the head with a hammer till I have the mental awareness of the carefree 22 year old I used to be
d) start drinking more
e) just throw it out there with the ladies & stop fearing rejection
f) start drinking & drugging more simultaneously

I think I'll go with all of the above, minus C.

I know one thing. I need to go back to summer school, summer school of The Doors that fueled that confident romantic that used to be a charmer. Old friends from back in the day can attest to the drunken skills I used to have... so Jim where have they gone? I recall the easier days when the conversations were as simple as you told me they would be. Something along the lines of:
Hey what's your name?
How old are you?
Where'd you go to school?
Well, now that we know each other a little bit better,
Why don't you come over here and make me feel all right!

Oh Gloria, come on back...

You took me home, To your house.
Your father's at work,Y our mama's out shopping around.
Check me into your room. Show me your thing. Why'd you do it baby?
Getting softer--slow it down, softer, get it down. Now you show me your thing.
Wrap your legs around my neck, Wrap your arms around my feet, yeah.
Wrap your hair around my skin.
I'm gonna huh--all right, ok, yeah.
It's getting harder--It's getting too darn fast, etc.
Come on, now, let's get it on. Too late, too late, too late, too late, too late,
Make me feel all right! G-L-O-R-I-A!

doors gloria

Good news, Bad News

2009-05-06T17:15:00.003-04:00

Brain Changes and Bike Rides

2009-05-04T10:39:00.008-04:00

The weather has brought warmth, sunshine, and lush green mountains. It seems overnight the beautiful mountains that surround me on my rides have gone from a drab, lifeless brown, to a glowing green. The smell of flowers, cool moist breeze, and buzzing bugs reminds me of how beautiful the world is when in bloom. All is good on the pedals, and all seems good in the brain.

With all the talk of economic gloom, pig swine, and all the general bullshit the media pumps out, I have tuned it out and now focus on the good. I am happy to have a job that I can now ride my bike to, have good food on the table, a loving family, and a great circle of friends. This year has been a whirlwind of bad news, but keeping a positive outlook on it all is now the norm.

The bike has been enjoyable and I am looking forward to planning a weekend getaway out to Davis, WV for a nice mountain bike and beer chill out.

I think one reason for all my new found optimism is some great music recently discovered. Every year I like to think back & vote for my personal album of the year. This year, already in April I think I have found it in Band of Horses. Positive songs, nice vocal effects, and just the kind of melodic soothing tunes that I would sing on a way out to a mountain bike camping weekend.

Great song, though the title should be: "I go to the barn because I like the"

We Could Be So Good Together

2009-04-24T02:38:00.002-04:00

Sing it Jim, to the one who is there but doesn't believe it, though it is so true:

We could be so good together,Yeah, so good together,We could be so good together,Ya, we could, I know we could.
Tell you lies,I tell you wicked lies.Tell you lies,Tell you wicked lies.Tell you 'bout the world that we'll invent,Wanton world without lament,Enterprise, expedition,Invitation and invention.
Yeah, so good together,Ah, so good together,We could be so good together,Yeah, we could, know we could.
Alright!Do da do do do do do bup bup de day.
We could be so good together,Yeah, so good together,We could be so good together,Yeah, we could, know we could.
Tell you lies,Tell you wicked lies.Tell you lies,Tell you wicked lies.
The time you wait subtracts the joy,Beheads the Angels you destroy;Angels fight, Angels cry,Angels dance and Angels die.
Yeah, so good together,Ah, but so good together,We could be so good together,Yeah, we could, know we could.

In a Good Place

2009-04-21T23:35:00.002-04:00

No matter how crazily life has spiralled up, down, sideways, in the past three weeks, I have come to a calm. Its a good pace, in a happy space, especially when you sit on my face. OK, maybe not that last part. From a passionate kiss to the little leaf buds popping on the trees, the rebirth is here.

Today on my Strength Training ride, pushing 50X11 up short, steep climbs, and some on gravel, my rear tire became that dreaded soft, sluggish feeling. I raised my right arm for the team car to swap out my wheel, but unfortunately I am not ProTour level so there is no team car. Long story short, the spare tube & CO2 inflator were not cooperative so I knew there was only one way home, on foot. Not wanting to ruin my nice white shoes, I stuffed them in my jersey pocket, removed my socks & began the 2 mile walk back to the Blacksburg Transit bus stop.

Under normal circumstances, walking while carrying your bike would piss most people off and ruin their day. For some reason I was thinking for once & instead of walking on the road I walked through the grass. It seems like years since I have walked barefoot through lush, soft grass and the cool squish beneath my feet made the walk actually, yes, enjoyable. Instead of dwelling on the stupid flat tire, I focused on the greenness of the grass, the shapes of the clouds, the curious cows that ran up to the fence line to watch this lycra clad dork walk by carrying a bike instead of pedalling it.

And I smiled. I sang a song that I just heard over on a video at Ignacio's Speedmore Racing Blog. And I smiled some more. For once I wasn't pent up with unnecessary rage, but being "tranquilo".

Hit Play & Smile cause "No one's gonna love you" more than I do:

Too much Salami...

2009-04-19T20:17:00.003-04:00

Let me be the first to admit it: Nothing ever good comes from too much salami. Oh yes, feel free to read into that as deeply as you choose. Whether it's the salami in my refrigerator cooler drawer or the salami in my drawers, too much salami is never a good thing.

After what seems like a month of feeling like crap on the bike, its seems the body has blown clean of relative sickness & riding is once again enjoyable & punishing at the same time. Glorious days are here again. With all the time I've been spending on the bike I should be plowing through the post ride calories, but oddly enough, I've been content to eat sparingly & still feel full and fueled. Of course two Pabst tall boys followed by three St. Bernardus Pater 6 aren't totally light on calories, but I did manage to eat only a garden salad so it balances out. Or so I tell myself.

But what is all this talk of Salami you say? Well it is somewhat well known that I have a fondness for tubed shaped meat. No asshats, not that kind of tube shaped meat, but dried meat products stuffed in some kind of casing. Ok, ok, I'm getting nowhere with this.

On my trip to Belgium last year, I was in dried meat heaven. I managed to make a habit out of gorging on Stickado, and even managed to smuggle some back in stateside, though they only lasted about 3 days before I ate them all and USDA kicked down my door. So, how can too much salami be so bad? Well if you are a loser with the ladies like I am, it goes down something like this.

I return from a hard ride with Matt "Stickado". Wow that sounded homo.

So anyways, I get back from our ride & I have only about 1 hour to eat, wash up, and head out to yoga, where there is a super cute girl I've been making eyes at. I open the fridge, hmmm, what can I eat quickly & still is satisfying? Why of course, Salami, that will sit fine in my stomach after strenuous exercise. I munch on some tasting soprosetta sausage, and head out to yoga. After some up dogs, down dogs, and other poses that contorts my gut, I begin to feel the salami repeat into my throat. Good job dumbass, lets go talk to the cute girl with salami breath.

Unfortunately I no longer live in NJ, aka Soprano Italian land, so my salami breath would not have the aphrodisiac effect it would have on the ladies back in say, Nutley NJ. Class ends, the cute girl smiles goodbye and my salami breath feel so repulsive to myself that I barely dare crack a smile in fear of leaking out some sausage spices gas.

I return home, tail between my legs, having to wait another week to cross paths again. So to dull the pain of my loserdom, I cook up some stuffed salmon, maybe fish breath is better? No wonder I'm still single.

The Times They Are A Changing

2009-04-16T21:13:00.002-04:00

12 days till I'm 32 & all I can say is getting old blows. All through school you are taught useless shit, like history, English, terrible sex ed class. Hell, the only class that actually had some latter day application was home ec where we learned how to cook rice. They need to go back & have a class called "Getting Older Blows - 101". In this class you will learn about back pain, mortgages, friends coming & going out of your life, receding hairlines, pills that cause 4 hour erections (not necessarily a bad thing), and the monotony of the 9-5. Another required viewing of class will be Office Space, for those who dream of climbing the corporate ladder, you need this heavy dose of reality.

Why didn't someone warn me of this shit?! Well as I can hazily recall, people who were in their 30's & 40's were warning me, but at the time 30 seemed so far off I never could wrap my noddle around ever making it that long. So now I get to hear people say "wait till you're 50" and I say, that is highly improbable. Maybe I should enroll in "Getting Even Older Blows 202, the 50+ years" and learn about the joys of my future prostate exams, senior citizens discounts on Tuesday, all you can eat buffets, more erection pills that now require asking your doctor if you are healthy enough for sexual activity, and receding grey hair.

Blah, too much to wade through and not enough time to figure it out. Pass the bottle buddy, hit the play button, turn it up, and dream about those not with you today. The bonus of older days is that maybe one day it will make sense and the cards will fall in place.

From Mega-Watts to Melancholy

2009-04-14T16:07:00.007-04:00

As easy as the wind blows weather changes through the mountains of southwest Virginia, life blows changes through the simplistic routines of the everyday. Rewind one weekend & I'm pumping out power to the pedals I've never done before. Fast forward to today, and the body says, "enough, time for a rest whether you like it or not." And so the funk begins again. Unfortunately the mental anguish is accompanied not by a simple sinus infection, but the thought of the "C" word. No, not cunnilingus, but the big C. The uncontrollable C that takes hold of people's body no matter how healthy they are, or how much they fight all the causes. C'est la vie.

And so with the drab weather casting gray shadows over all I see, the brain has time to wander about & reminisce of past encounters, fleeting minutes spent staring in the eyes of beauty & longing for those time to hurry back. But like the changing weather or the big C, those moments are out of our control so we simply can reflect on them & be hopeful we shall experience them again.

Thoughts of a cold beer at the campsite, shins shredded from stinging nettles as you bomb downhill mud flying in your face, a wet dog waiting at the tent to greet you at the end of a great ride.

Oh warmth, come back soon. Your sweet embrace is missed by my body. Your sweet spring breeze feels like gentle lips pressed to my cheek. Your sun rays milking the sweat down my face (and giving me goddamn skin cancer) as I grind uphill. Your morning dew coating the rocks and causing the tires to lose their line, skinning my knees like sweet carpet burn. And yet through all the falls & abrasions, I get back up & push forward, for it is in that feeling that you get such sweet release.

So today there will be no Metallica pumping through the headphones, no need for that aggression. Instead I offer up to Mother Nature & those long at heart a mellow mood to ease the mind as we await warmer days. Oh Mother Nature, you MILF, I can't wait for your hot touch so I can get at your "Buttons & Zips" & tear it up with two tires.

Mega Watts

2009-04-05T10:40:00.005-04:00

No this isn't part of Obama's Greening of the power grid, this is the power of tequila fueled cycling legs. On Saturday I headed out with Fatt Phillips to do our typical Bradshaw Rd Loop & we were greeted by a stiff tailwind heading out on Blacksburg Road. Cruising along at 30 miles an hour without having to work too hard is always a great feeling & about as PRO fast as I can ever get.

We turn onto Rt. 311 and start to eye of the green town sign sprint for Catawba. We are riding shoulder to shoulder, no sucking wheels here, this will be a showdown of pure sprinter hardness. About 175 meters to go I give it the gas first & quickly find the tailwind is pushing us along as I have to drop gears to keep from spinning it out. I surge, Fatt pulls up along side, I drop it another gear & move away, Fatt surges, I drop one more gear and do the Boonen head bob as the line approaches. I give it my all, throw the bike & take the line by half a wheel. Whooo, that was rough.

We catch our breath & check out the Powertap numbers. Holy crap, Max Watts 1339, speed 35 mph. Fatt rolls up & says he hit 1343 Watts. I reassure him those extra 4 watts he had is do to his ass being bigger than mine & he needed an extra 40 watts to come around me. We get home, I download the power file, and holy shit, new 5 second personal best by almost 60 watts. Way to go Belgian Beer & Tequila, must be high grade alcohol rocket fuel.

As they say, if you don't have the file, it never happened, so here you go:

Boundaries Defined

2009-04-04T10:44:00.002-04:00

From Merriam-Webster: Boundary - something that indicates or fixes a limit or extent

Seems simple enough, but as long as the week ends, and the weekend begins, boundaries are constantly disregarded and crossed. There has got to be some reinforcement tool to help establish those boundaries and remember not to cross them. What boundaries you may ask?

Boundary One: Caution...do not cross regulary: the limit of strong Belgian Beer followed by high dollar Tequilla. The problem lies when the tab is open under someone else's credit card or the bar does not charge you for the right price for the tequilla, that boundary line gets quite fuzzy. Quite fuzzy from the booze, the 8.5% abv beer and any extracircular activities that may be too incriminating to mention.

Boundary Two: I really need to get that cell phone breathalyzer installed when combined with crossing boundary one. Too much booze, a sexy woman on the other end of the line, and the next morning you wake up hung over with a vague recollection of a conversation that may have went something close to this:

Bad Phone Sex - Chris Rock

Sick in the Head

2009-03-21T21:02:00.003-04:00

One week till the Jeff Cup Road Race and I wake up with infected snot draining from my sinuses. Contrary to what Phillips believes, it was not from watching Two Girls, One Cup, (which I have never, nor will ever, view) but from the changing weather. Every spring & fall when the weather changes from warm to cold, I seem to get a little sinus infection. I lucked out & did not get sick this fall or winter, but hell, today the 1st day of spring, I wake up congested.

In an attempt to blow out the congestion, I went on the usual Saturday ride, the plan was to do about 90 miles. I made it about 25 miles before deciding I would be better served to rest & recover than to force onward. It turned out to be the right decision. As a mountain biker more than a roadie, I pride myself on my bike handling as a way of intimidating the regular roadies. Little did I know that all the pressure would force me to use all my skills just to make it home. As I struggled up Gap mountain at a blistering 6mph, closing my eyes would make the pain go away but also make me zone out & swerve like I was zooted off my ass back in "High" School.

It's funny what the mind will imagine when the body is pushed to hard, the glucose in your body at dangerously low levels. As I forced the cranks over, the song kept repeating in my mind.

Here's hoping there is no permanent brain damage done.

"Sorry Sir, Doing My Best"

2009-03-13T16:30:00.008-04:00

Today shall be remembered, a day of epiphany. The vision: I am a dyslexic heart asshole when it comes to picking up women. Case in point, my often aggressive, self-assertive style of never being wrong (but usually in hindsight, find I am way wrong on some deeper level.) So long story short. I go downtown to get a haircut at the usual barber shop only to find it closed. Fuck. I really need a haircut, the hair on the side of my head is long enough to make my head look 2 sizes too large for my body. Remembering that a Great Clips just opened down the road, I stroll in for a quick haircut.

I'm not one to be picky about my haircut, just buzz the shit off & make my head look proportionate to my body. I realize the canvas that is my face does not give much to work with, so just make me look slightly better than a baboon's ass & I'm happy. The canvas that is my face is more in line with a Picasso, only beautiful to those who can see through the jumble of shit that composes it.

So I am greeted by a cute girl, hair stylist. For some reason, hair stylist have this extraordinary cuteness, driven by their own uniquely styled hair & fashion-mod sense. Or maybe they are cute cause I know they'll be rubbing my head in a few minutes. Regardless, this girl was exceptionally "cute" and super friendly.

And here is where it all goes downhill. She simply asks for my name and phone number to put in the computer and I resist like a P.O.W. with jumper cables clamped to his testicles. I only give out name, rank, & serial number, I know this shit, I've been trained to kill. Really, whoever is the marketing douche who thought of this years ago, I say "Fuck you" I hate getting spammed either by email, phone, or shitty mail flyers that just end up contributing to the trash heap that is pushy marketing. But the cute girl plays it off like its not spam, just a way to know something, like your haircut or god knows what. So they crank the power up & the battery cables sizzle my nuts, but I resist & say "John Doe", sounds good.

Having obviously made more of a production out of this than is necessary, I get my haircut, & in the process talk with this lovely girl who is new to the area (hint #1), talks about dating (hint #2), asks me if I'm married with kids (umm, no) (hint #3), etc. She spends way more time than is necessary to make me look pretty, a losing battle really, & I feel so douchenozzlish, that I give her my name, phone, blood type, & all the secret plans for invasion I had so direly resisted initially. Feeling like a huge dick, I give her a $5 tip for a $10 haircut, take my shrivelled & dejected balls out the door, & that's when I have my epiphany.

That girl was making nice, almost too nice, & I was a total dickbag. God I'm an asshole when it comes to picking up the signs. I walk over to the grocery store & can't stop thinking, "what an asshole", "what an asshole". If I had just given her my fucking name, I could have then hinted at asking her out, but no, Mr. Anti-Marketing, Anti-Man, you fucking blew it! What an asshole. Have fun jerking off tonight instead of taking cute hair stylist girl on a date. "What an asshole".

"How many assholes we got on this ship anyhow?"

Push play & hammer

2009-03-05T21:23:00.004-05:00

After a long weekend in NoVa visiting the family, the Capt seems to be on the biking downswing. I only managed 1 ride in NoVa, a nice 64 mile solo ride to visit my sister & mom's work place & meet some of the fine ladies at their office (if you're reading this Kelly, you should next be emailing me). My Rogues Racing picture is displayed in the office & I have found out it has been affectionately (or perversely) dubbed the "package picture." Funny cause I'm not holding any boxed goods, hmm.

After riding Wednesday, trying out a new Prologo saddle, the old back pain flared up & the demotivation kicked in. After reassessing the saddle fit, I determined it was 6mm to rearward. 6mm too long, the story of my life. After moving the saddle forward, I still didn't have the inclination to get on the bike & fear the back pain I have come to dread.

Luckily my crazy sister called saying she wants to buy a bike. After a 20 minute talk about bikes, caloric burn rate, & heart rate monitors, I felt I should man up & get on the bike & see how it goes. Knowing I still needed a little push to get out the door into the warm weather, I stuck the I-Brick mp3 player in my pocket, loaded up some old Metallica (when they were good), and blasted down the road, instantly realizing my saddle was where it belonged, cradling the "package." For 2 hours, double kick drums & tight guitars blasted through the ear buds, oh yeah, the legs are coming back, the brain is thinking positively.

So little kiddies, when you are feeling low, load up on coffee, eat some potatoes, grab the bike & blast Blackened. This shit will having you pedaling like a coke head on a stolen bike.

Reverse Road Rage

2009-02-28T14:49:00.003-05:00

It's confirmed. Northern Virginia blows for cycling. After living in Blacksburg for almost 4 years, I've become spoiled by our low traffic, rural roads. So after riding 65 miles on shit traffic, a-hole clogged NoVa roads, the Captain is ready to rage and snatch & grab the douchenozzles who think they own the road.

In SW Va you can usually chock up all the "biker fag" comments to some uneducated redneck in a dually pickup, but in NoVa, the spectrum of assholeness knows no bounds. So to the rich business man in his Mercedes SUV, to the Redneck with the 4th grade education in your big ass pick-um-up truck, I give you a hearty FUCK YOU.

I warned you I was ready to rage. Maybe its years of supressed anger from my time in the Marines, the andrenaline I feel while stomping the pedals, or years of sexual tension, but yesterday I was praying someone would have the balls to stop & exchange words. The only words I would have uttered would be:

HAMMER FIST BITCH!

Swingers, Martini's, & Dogs...oh my!

2009-02-20T12:32:00.004-05:00

5 days later & I think the remnants of my weekend in NoVa have finally subsided. What was orginally meant to be a getaway weekend at my sisters house for my 6 year old nieces birthday party turned into the same old scenario when I hang out with my sister too much. Instead of 5 days of the bike training, I only mananged 3 rides, & I can barely call any of them training. I'll chalk that up as a rest week & move on.

The real story is, people in NoVa are weird. Yeah, thats coming from me who believes everyday should be a weird day. It seemed like a normal family get together, playing with my niece, drinking an adult beverage or two while the little kiddie birthday party raged on, throwing kids across the room onto the couch, and doing the fun stuff that uncles are meant to do. All is well, until my sister gets the notion of taking uncle Dan out on the town.

And here is where I see the trend. Everytime I've gone out with my sister to a big city I:

Get royally shitfaced (lost count of the beers & Martini's)
Have a run in with security or some "authority" figure at some point or another
Get royally shitfaced
Talk shit to guys 5 times my size, well at least in height or width
Get royally shitfaced
Learn about suburban married life
Get royally shitfaced.
Wake up the next day, vowing to never do that again.
Have to research Statute of Limitations before I cross back into county lines again

So, Yes, I'll admit somewhere therein lies a problem. And I believe I found the root cause. My sister broke out a picture of times long gone & it all became clear.

She has never forgiven me for being the cuter baby and now it has become her life goal to secretly, or actually not so secretly, help me (though not much help is needed) make an ass of myself whenever we hang out. I'm sorry Jen, I had no say in the matter of baby batter. I received the Collinsworth genes, you got the brains & the money, I got the looks & self destructive behaviors. Seems like a fair trade-0ff.

What I did take home is some valuable lessons in suburban survival. For one, I learned that white rocks in your front yard signify your house is a Swinger house. Not one to miss such an opportunity I promptly went out & purchased a white rock for my house that hopefully conveys the message.

No sooner did I put it in front of my house, and this lovely lady showed up.

I also learned that I need to "accesorize" my house more, so I am off today to Bed, Bath, & Beyond to pick out some lovely curtains, maybe some paintings, and some decorative spear tips that I seem to have a liking to after some drinks. I feel my man bits shrinking at the thought. Never would I dream I would have to analyze, "hmm what color curtains go with my carpet." <--- Not Code, either.

Tis a sad day. The only saving grace was, "hmmm I wonder what color curtains signify a swinger house?"

Owen Cup B Race

2009-02-08T19:17:00.007-05:00

This past weekend, Blacksburg once again held the Owen Cup race ride. After a good Rogues Racing training camp, I felt ready for the distance & intensity this ride would bring. We had a huge turn out for the 10:00 a.m. start that meets at the local coffee house Bollo's. The race ride is broken down into two groups, the A group made up of Pro, Cat 1-3 riders, and the B group made up Cat 4-5 & old fat guys. After Cow Tail talked some shit to me, I did what I normally do not do & just bit my lip & kept quite. Its called keeping your cards close to your chest. Knowing that the form is coming around after training camp, a good night of eating lots of good food, and plenty of rest, I felt prepared to put it all together come Saturday.

And come together it did. The long hilly course coupled with a headwind on Blacksburg road saw earlier groups all come back together on Harding Rd. & with the A group intermingling with the B's, everything was blown open. Coming back on Blacksburg Rd into the headwind I knew I needed to soften up @RyanHarne since on most days he will blast me on the climbs. Several feeler attacks showed that my legs were ready, his were failing, & come the base of Harding I gave it full gas, opened up the gap, & willed my fat ass up the climb to take the B race*

* (It has been determined that if you are a former all American runner & previous Cat 2 racer, you should be racing in the A race Steve , sorry you've been relegated by the commisare, but thanks for the sweet bike)

So 2009 is looking to be good as long as the back holds out, the zole fits into the saddle cutout, and I keep the post race vomiting to a minimum. I can feel relieved that for the 2009 Owen Cup, I was the fastest of the fat, old men!

On another depressing note, I received my USA Cycling race license. Racing age for 2009: 32. Fuck, I wish I was dyslexic, & it read 23. Don't let the old people fool you, getting old blows goat nuts.

Rearviewmirror Rogues Racing Training Camp

2009-02-02T20:43:00.005-05:00

Back in Bburg after a great weekend of riding for 3 days down in Georgia with Rogues Racing. We mananged to ride nearly 200 miles in 3 days, ate some good food, got plenty of rest, and managed to shake a lot of the cobwebs out of the legs from a long cold winter in southwest Virginia. It was great to spend time with friends and devote all aspects of life to bike racing. If we weren't riding, we were talking bikes, fixing bikes, or watching Belgian Classic bike races. Pure heaven.

Matt L. is looking fit & trim & was riding well for such a big bubba, look out come this spring. John W. earned the title of camp hard-man by taking the Brasstown Bald climb. John the Hippie has got the diesel engine fired back up after recovering from last years run in with a car; race & weekend ride climbs now will be a lot harder. Matt P. is looking ok, I think he needs to lay off the veges & come to the Dark Side for real power. Carlson is well, Carlson. I felt better as the days progressed, and My Legs are starting to look ready for the upcoming spring races.

Overall, I was impressed by the Georgia residents on the road. Never got the "F-U" for being on the road and for the most part got a good 3 feet or more of room on the side of the road. I wish the same could be said for the local rednecks around this area at times.

Oh and maybe I am a little redneck cause Mtn. Dew is the best soda ever. 70 miles into a ride, chug a 12 ounce can of Mtn. Dew & you will be flying up the Georgia Climbs.

Where Did It All Go?

2009-01-25T20:53:00.003-05:00

Two weeks ago I find myself in some nicely improving form. About 10 days off for the holiday's gave me plenty of time to rest, ride, & eat... ahh the life of a cyclist, if it could only be this way everyday. The legs were coming around well, the power was improving, and the general aches & pains were gone due to gym work & yoga. Riding again was fun & motivational as turning the pedals over was easy.

Fast forward to the past week and the form is gone. Constant left calf cramps sting like a dull needle in the leg. Its an annoyance more than anything & better than the 2 days of constant stomach bug that had ruined any hope of Andrew Gold this past saturday.

This week the team heads down to Georgia for a 4 day training camp. Yep the Devil Went Down to Georgia. Hopefully the bug will be gone & the legs will be ok so I can steal some souls on Brasstown Bald.

Remember December?

2009-01-05T20:39:00.008-05:00

Happy New Year? Where the hell did December & the holidays go? Back to life, back to work, back to the blah of a cold winter with only 1.5 hours at best to ride the bike after work.

This holiday I told myself I will remember December, what I enjoyed from it, and what I'll do to make next December better. This year I got an early start on the holiday spirit by watching a "A Christmas Story" early. This is by far the best Christmas movie ever made or ever will be made.

With the thought of Momma's Little Piggy fueling me until vacation started, I was excited to go to NoVa and visit my Sister, Mother, & Niece . I brought the bike as usual & planned on staying for 5 days.

Lesson 1 learned: 5 days was not enough time. I had so much fun chasing my niece around the house, taking her to a bike shop & letting her wreak havoc, and giving her my "toots" as presents that it makes me want to almost get married & start my own family. Almost...

I also enjoyed watching my favorite "A Christmas Story" movie on 24 hour loop. And this is where the sadness crept in. Once the 24 hour loop ended, I felt like my Christmas had slipped away, even though I still had 3 more days with the family. Lesson 2 Learned: Bring my DVD & play it on 96 hour loop (that'll make everyone happy) & they have no option in their happiness or madness as this is Uncle Dan's only Christmas request.

As is tradition, I got plenty of riding in. NoVa is so flat compared to Blacksburg that I feel like I have extra gears cruising around at 25mph. I did my traditional 75 mile ride into Washington D.C., saw the sights & got the hell out quick as there was plenty of tourists visiting to see Obama's Inauguration Stage being built. Lesson 3 learned: Kashi GoLean! bars kick ass on the bike, tons of protein for the long burn, low fat, & easy on the gut.

So now begins the next Countdown to Christmas. I'm sure 2009 will bring plenty of fun adventures, but come early December I'll re-read this & remind myself, take the whole 12 days off, I triple dog dare you.

Spent

2008-12-21T21:34:00.004-05:00

Definition from Merriam-Webster:
SPENT
Pronunciation: \ˈspent\
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from past participle of spenden to spend
Date: 15th century
1 a: used up : consumed b: exhausted of active or required components or qualities often for a particular purpose
2: drained of energy or effectiveness : exhausted
3: exhausted of spawn or sperm

Spent is what the Captain is. After Saturday's 113 mile ride over Potts Mountain to Paint Bank and eventually back to Blacksburg I was pretty spent. Then with Sunday's noon two hour mountain bike ride hammerfest at Poverty Creek, the level of being spent has increased ten-fold. And let me clear up any confusion, I'm spent as in definition number 2, not number 3... unfortunately. Though number 3 wouldn't be a bad way to die. Hell I think I put out more energy over two days of riding than the salmon who swim upstream just to bust a nut & then die. And unlike the salmon, no nut was busted, the only consolation prize being sore quads & a saddle sore or two.

Still, I can't find any reason to complain. Two continous days of no rain or snow was enough to satisfy the caged beast until I visit NoVa and prepare to ride the 94 miles to Washington D.C. from my sisters house. Bring on the WO&D TRAIL and its never ending supply of Fred's. I think this guy is nicknamed "bas".

Losing a whole week

2008-12-18T22:03:00.009-05:00

The never ending shitty weather that has descended on Blacksburg has caused the Captain to spiral into a funk of boredom and self-reflection. Aside from the thrice weekly yoga, the Captain has become a caged beast behind the bars of physical inactivity and a slumping economy. Without the ability to take the angst out on the bike, burying all of life’s worries in a beautiful orchestra of sweat, suffering, and simultaneous endorphin produced high, life becomes a slow motion slog of repetitive chores. Click on the weather and look for respite from the madness. 5 more days of this rain, fuck me.

With no physical outlet to ease an even wandering mind, the only choice is towards menial house work but you can only sweep the floor so many times before you realize this is no was to pass time. And for whatever reason, the Captain has sworn off the drink till New Years. Sure it's kind of an ass-backwards New Years, or should I say End Years, resolution, but hey I think I have about a 26% chance of upholding it. If this rain keeps up, the odds decline ever faster.

So I’m forced to sit here and type witty shit to keep the mind from eating itself . Listening to music from the hey-day of my life, reminiscing about ex-girlfriends, and dammit stop looking at that bottle of beer and concentrate. But really there isn’t much to focus on. Christmas is a week away, but at my age, Santa is more about time off from work than presents or any of the material shit that I’ve been busy selling off on eBay, trying to lighten the load for when the great mind-snap comes & I leave town on a whim for greener pastures.

Until then the only solace comes from 90’s rock and hazy memories of good times gone by. I’m still amazed, and one of my great loves, is the association of music to memories. Some memories are clearer than others, and some of the best are covered in a green haze of broken fragments and cake covered fingers. Yet, as the Captain ages, and the gray hair, and not just on your head…(wtf nobody ever told me of this part of aging) become more prominent, I can’t escape the great times spent with those close to my heart and the distance that separates us all at this time of year. So all I can do is sing along staring at old pictures of a young Captain & long missed friends.

Ohhh let the music/memory association roll on…

"I remember you and me used to spend The whole goddamned day in bed"

Beer Mondays & The Shoelace Knot Syndrome

2008-12-02T10:25:00.006-05:00

Oh Fudge. That is the only way to describe waking up on Tuesday after blitzing your liver Monday night. And why did I do this again I keep asking myself the next day. Cause there ain't much else to do in Blacksburg when it is rainy/snowy/windy all at the same time at night. After seeing Religulous & feeling assured that my soul will forever burn in hell for even viewing this movie, I thought no time like the present to further my impending damnation. Drinking way too many beers seemed like the appropriate way to go to Hell in a Bucket .

And that bucket was lined with one too many beers & some stupid Drinking & Texting. I need to put a Breathalyzer on my cell phone so I don't do this dumb shit (of course someone has already found out how to do this, so fuck me for thinking I had an original thought). First let me be clear, the Captain does not condone drinking & driving, or any such animal. One of the main selling points when I purchased my house was that it is on the bus route so I could get royally shit-faced free of any dependency of me driving afterwards. Sure you might say that's a red flag for being an alcoholic, I argue it's called being responsible. If more people had this mindset, there would not be so many unnecessary car accidents & injuries. Better yet, while we are on the subject, lets just replace those cars with bikes. Drinking & bike riding is a comical mode of transport at best. I give you exhibit A:

But back to the title and away from my defense of being a winter boozehound. The shoelace knot syndrome is that annoying head split after one too many beers finished off by a Jimmy John's sub with onions, no mayo please, I am still following my diet, thank you very much (well not counting all the beer calories).

Overnight, if you do not properly rehydrate, the shoelace knot will grow in your mind & next morning you awake to the squinty eyed, head split pain that only this lethal combination brings. The onions are key cause no matter how much you brush your teeth, the onions taste is regurgitated into your mouth & nasal cavity with every stinking morning breath. This is probably why I am still single.

And that leads us to: "the shoelace knot" is that super tightened knock that you can never undo from your laces, expect it is your brain that is knotted. You pick at it with your fingernails. No dice. Next you dig at it with a fork. Still not budging. You find a thin nail to pry at it. Nope, nothing. So you get impatient & say, fuck this, and cut it out with scissors, only to realize now you shoe is all loose & won't stay on your foot and who the hell keeps spare shoelaces anyway?

And that is what is going on inside your beer swelled skull. A super tight knot that only lets you know how much of an asshole you were the night before. Unfortunately there is no way to untie your brain & so you must live with the fact that after another stupid, drunken night, you have not learned your lesson. Still, it does beat Puking in the Kitchen Sink & missing the Duke football game.

I'll make it all go away

2008-12-01T23:57:00.002-05:00

Not much can floor me anymore. But there is one constant that can humble me. Blind Melon and the passing of Shannon Hoon. Angelic melodies are intertwined in "Soup", a song that resonates through my hardscrabble life.

Listen & read:

The clothesline of cold eyes is washing away the face before
Now tell me what's wrong you see everyone's gone
You gotta do your best to decorate this dying' day
This dying' day
All over a bowl of bitter beans
All over a bowl of bitter beans
And outside way, way up high I got a quarter moon mist hanging' over me
And now, I want that rocking chair outta there
Cause he's no longer living here
It's no longer needed here
All over a bowl of bitter beans
All over a bowl of bitter beans
And I got a corner store and that's all the more
For me to praise upon the holidays
And now I'll close my eyes really, really tight and make you all go away,
I'll make you all go all go away
And I'll pull the trigger and make it all go away
And I'll make it all go away, I'll make it all go away

One Year Anniversary

2008-12-01T10:29:00.005-05:00

Today marked an important milestone for the ever aging Captain. My one year check-up finds the Captain free & clear from my previous precancer diagnosis of Actinic Keratosis. Hearing the "C' word at 30 years old was an eye opening experience. With those simple words from the Doctor, the first feeling was that hollow gut, almost nausea in the pit of your deepest stomach cavern.

Then the thoughts quickly go to how do we treat it? Easy enough. Put this Efudex on your face & your skin will start to fall off like the Nazi in Indiana Jones.

And just like that Nazi, well maybe not like a Nazi, but you get the point, my face melted & then healed back up to the lovely lady killer that I am.

So now it's remember to use your sunscreen kiddies, visit the dermatologist once a year while trying to avoid the inevitable Proctologist visit.

The Holistic Captain

2008-11-19T15:09:00.005-05:00

After months of severe back pain that pretty much crapped over my racing season, I finally have started to feel better. I'm way to young at 31 to have this much back pain, so after countless dollars in Chiropractors & doctors, the only real conclusion is that I have a muscle imbalance that leads to some asymmetry that makes certain muscles work harder than the others to stabilize myself, especially on the bike.

The most marked improvement came from moving my position on the bike so my saddle is more aft & more of my ever growing weight (damn beers) is supported by my legs & pelvis on the saddle & less on my arms & lower back. An added bonus is that it looks more PRO to have your seat slammed back, hell they ride thousands of miles, so I'm sure their back knows whats up.

So fast forward to yesterday. I finally stopped talking about going & actually went to Yoga at the Weight Club. After 1.5 hours of in the gym doing some leg work, triceps extensions, & riding the bike I felt ready to see what all the yoga fuss is about. Luckily, I would not lose my yoga cherry alone. Local cycling hot shot, Mr. Johnny D., met me as he is a former yoga disciple. Also present was a super fast old guy, Steve from Just the Right Gear who has been telling me to go to yoga since my back problems arose. Yeah yeah I should have listened. So I grab a mat, lose the shoes, and get ready for God knows what.

First thing I notice is the mix of the class, a fair amount of dudes & ladies. That's good I think. Equal mix. As we progress into some positions that I knew & some I didn't it became clear that there was also a mix of abilities in class. Fortunately I would not be the only oddball to not be able to hold some positions.

The music is peaceful & relaxing, and after getting over all the nice ladies present I set into the rhythm on the music & positions. What I did not expect was to work up a sweat. Not just a light, "well I am exercising" sweat, but a "holy shit, I have sweat dripping off my face" sweat. I think it must be the thermostat jacked up, so I look over at the wall, 69 degrees. Ha, 69, when is that position coming? I get my mind back out of the gutter & progress to more intense positions, sweat dripping, muscles aching, damn this shit is hard! Then we flow into a routine where I learned how important your breathing is. Controlling your breathing truly helps in your balance, so not only are you working your muscles but your lungs, your heart rate, etc. I had no idea I would get beat down by yoga.

Then we move into this:

No freaking way!!! But with focused mind, controlled breaths, and a tightly clinched sphincter (memo to self, no more damn rice & beans before yoga), the Capt gives it his best. And a 1, fail. And a 2, fail. And a 3, holy crap I'm flying! The Capt is airborne. Once perched high in the sky like a great retarded bird, I calm my breaths & focus & miraculously I hold my recently beer engorged butt skyward, somewhat like sticking my ass out to gravity saying, the Capt is a stronger force than you gravitational constant = 6.67300 × 10-11 m3 kg-1 s-2.

By now the pace has slowed, the tantric music is still pumping & I just had a nocturnal emission in daylight. The lights dim, & we relax, focusing on nothing. And it was in this nothingness that I actually felt 2 minutes of inner peace. I was taken back to memories of sailing over a beautiful island surrounded by the bluest of blue water, my body like a leaf in the warm breeze blowing helpless to the light windy current.

The lights go on, and our session is over. I felt more balanced, not only physically but mentally (which if you know the Capt. is not easy to do). I smile a goodbye at the cute girl next to me & leave satisfied knowing that while I did wait too long to start this, there is no time like the present to enjoy a new found challenge.

No Frostburg Adventure, poop

2008-10-13T17:43:00.007-04:00

Unfortunately the trip to Frostburg to visit Chili had to be postponed when I got a call that Momma was in the Hospital. Turned out to be nothing serious but it was enough to have to hang onto the J-Dog for the weekend since she would not be able to doggy-sit. So I did the only thing I could do, ride the bike & relax.

Friday was a nice ride down to the New River with Matt "Pork n' Beans" after having not been on the road bike in over 2 weeks. Man that felt awkward. The legs were dead & climbing back into town hurt like hell. Then I had to see the horrible scene of Matt running over a squirrel. I guess the rodent deserved it cause if you are dumb enough to run into a bike going 15mph, Natural Selection rules. Serves that squirrel right for being a drunk.

Saturday was another day on the road bike & along with the changing leaves, Autumn brought out the Dicklips. Afterwards, I felt like total trash, must have been something I ate.

Sunday I broke out the Mountain Bike for a 15 mile ride at Poverty Creek . After climbing Horse Nettle I descended the awesome trail "Beauty" which is a trail not even shown on the map, ahhh local knowledge goodness. Then climbed back up Horse Nettle & descended Snake Root. It was a beautiful day & on the way out I ran into John the Hippie on his new 29er.... which got me thinking, hmmm 29er's sure look nice. So Sunday bored on the coach, well this is what happened:

So now I wait for Brown Santa to bring me my new toy, oh joy!

Tour de Lilly Mtn Bike Ride; Davis, WV

2008-10-06T14:08:00.016-04:00

October finally arrived & the first weekend getaway at Davis, WV was upon me & the J-dog. Thursday late evening we rolled into our favorite Campsite #6 along Camp 70 Road in Davis, WV. After quickly setting up camp, I made my way into town to watch the Vice Presidential debate & eat a burrito at Hellbender's. Surprising, or maybe not, was the amount of Obama supporter's in the little town of Davis. Not surprising when you consider that Davis is the "Highest Incorporated Town in WV". They are the highest in elevation, but I am guessing that they are just plain "highest".

Friday morning I wake up not feeling so swift. A couple stops at the "can" & I think the meat plug has cleared out of me. I dress up in my gay biking clothes & hit the trails at the Canaan Valley Institute property. The leaves are starting to change color & some are even dropping on the trail, making the rocky, rooty trails of the area that much more challenging. "Rock Garden" "Roots" and "Bogs" pretty much sum up the riding characteristics of the local trails.

Can you find the correct line through this rock garden? I just created my own!There is not much smooth here, not for the faint of heart, or weak of bowels as I was. After "cleaning" Moonrocks, and being amazed that I can visualize the line down the rock face, I head back to camp for a nice meal of steak on the fire, mashed potatos, shrimp, bacon wrapped jalapeno's stuffed with blue cheese (thanks Jason for that), followed by a light dessert of Bratwurst, slim jims, and Lord knows how many Belgian Ales I bought on the cheap from the Vintage Cellar . That night I crawl into the tent to 36 degree F temperature. Long story short, it was freaking cold. The J-dog was shivering so I had him crawl up next to me on the air mattress & I pulled an extra down blanket I brought over both our heads. We finally got it warm enough to sleep, and we crashed until 8:00a.m. the next morning.
The Tour de Lilly began sometime around 10:00a.m. leaving from a super cool bike shop, Black Water Bikes . I picked up my sweet free t-shirt, "It goes to 11!" and met some of my friends who were also in town for the ride. We head out with this loop as the Tour de Lilly 2008:

STP trail - ATV connector trail- Son of Plantation -Plantation -Pipeline- Canann Loop Rd- Pointy Knob (fucking understatement of the century) - Canaan Loop Rd- Railroad Grade- Plantation - Davis Trail - Yellow birch -STP trail - back to town, whew!!! In all that was 22 miles of rocks, roots, mud, bogs, stick in derailleurs, broken rear triangles, bloody elbows, sticks stabbing your legs, people landing on their backs on rocks (let me know if you need a massage for that Sonja). But through the pain, mostly from swamp ass, we endured. I have to thank "Oldnoob" Todd for giving me the best words of wisdom that day. At the halfway point there was a bailout option & people were saying "fuck this, we're going back to town". I ask Oldnoob, "do you plan on doing the whole ride." And the big smile on his face & simple "oh hell yeah" answer was all the motivation I needed to man up. The 2nd half of the ride is were I finally got my legs & I felt 100 times better than the first half. Total ride time of 3.5 hours for 22 miles in Canaan isn't so bad when it was always meant as a fun ride. And that it was, even for a shivering J-Dog!! Next up is a visit to Frostburg, MD to see my old pal Chili. I think we'll be riding there, probably more barstool than bike, but either way it has to be easier on the butt than those WV rocks! A huge thanks to Danny from MD for finding my GPS when it ejected somewhere along Plantation trail on, I'll just go on a limb & guess when I hit a rock. Also thanks to Dwayne & Scotty for stopping by Sunday to BS in the morning.

Wake Me Up in October

2008-09-23T14:53:00.009-04:00

The weather is finally cooling off in Blacksburg, VA & with it comes the excitement of some fall time mountain biking. My calendar for October & starting on to November is beginning to look like a married man's dream of freedom. Luckily, I'm still a bachelor with all the freedom to travel, bike, & booze at my leisure.

The places my freedom will take me in the coming months are:

Davis, WV for the Tour de Lilly

Frostburg, MD to visit Chili & ride & drink a beer or 50

A mini Slatyfork, WV shuffle

Douthat State Park, VA

The fall always puts a spell on me. I makes me reflect on the past year of riding, travelling, meeting old friends & making new ones. I think the fall, more than any other time, is when my olfactory senses are so in tune with being in the beautiful outdoors. Campfires, changing leaves, breakfast bacon, honeysuckle, the list could go on for pages about why this is my favorite time of the year.

So get here quick October, and make sure you bring your good friend October-Fest with you!

Sunday Morning "Dicklips" Ride

2008-09-15T14:02:00.004-04:00

Long time, no blog. The main reason is I've been on a two week bender of boozing mixed in with some sparse mountain biking. Good times for sure, and many a drunken night stumbling back to get on the bus. (Momma would be proud, no DWI's for me thank you).

So I decide its time to get on the road bike again for the fun of it. Saturday was a hot & humid day here in southwest Virginia but a great ride was had nonetheless.
Feeling good to be back in the saddle I decide, though not in my best interest, to show up to what is now the "sunday morning dicklips ride". Why is it such you may ponder? Simple, there are more dicklips on this ride per capita than on other days.

Don't bother to google dicklips cause you won't find anything resembling said dicklips. Most likely, you'll get something that looks like this in google images:

So, the sunday dicklips are the homers that don't ride on saturday for a variety of lame-dick reasons like family affairs, saturday church, football, or simply being to lazy to ride on saturday.
Traditionally sunday rides are to be an easier recovery pace to either:
a. Recover from a hard days training ride on saturday
b. Recover from a hard nights drinking binge
c. Ride the bike to socialize with friends
d. Recover from a hard day & night's drinking binge
e. All of the above

Alas, the dicklips need to come out & ride some fred-ass custom steel or titanium bike that they had to take a second mortgage on. Sure fire sign of dicklip-ness.
So please dicklips, please ride your bikes on saturday or chill out on sunday before you find yourself being elbowed into the roadside ditch by a fat, hungover, pissed off to be woke up this early on a sunday, mountainbiker.

Why ride a mountain bike?

2008-08-21T10:03:00.003-04:00

I had to explain to my roadie friends why I talk about the pleasures of mountain biking so much. So in order to convey the message to all, there is no better way to melt off the stress than to hit the woods.

I'm riding to enjoy riding. All the road competition does is take away the joy of riding a bike. I do not have lofty goals of dominating any races, training threshold, or such, I like to ride simply to ride. See some bear, turkeys, birds in the woods & enjoy it for what it is.

I think that is a major reason why the road is getting to me. Way too much Type A shit going on, & it is burning me out.

You really need to experience camping & mountain biking. It is very soothing with the right group of people. You wake up whenever, make a big greasy breakfast. Tell stories about who was drunk & puked the night before. Get your gear on & then ride at whatever pace you feel like for 2-6 hours. Get back to the camp, crack open a beer, jump in the creek to wash-up, put on warm clothes, eat dinner, make a campfire, & then drink beer all night long till you pass out by the warmth of the fire.

Wake up the next morning & repeat.

What could be more relaxing than that?

I Can Ride My Bike With No Handlebars...

2008-08-18T19:35:00.002-04:00

Summer Olympics.
Invasion of Georgia.
A Marine Stands Trial in a Civilian Court for doing what he is trained to do.
President of Pakistan steps down.
US American Election mudslinging.
Bigfoot is a hoax.
The everyday deaths in Iraq, all based on false pretenses.

At least I can ride my bike with no handlebars. Fitting in days like these.

T minus 6 days to Burkes Garden

2008-08-17T22:46:00.003-04:00

Less than 6 days to the 100 mile ride hammerfest that is Burkes Garden Century. Every year the goal is to complete the 100 mile ride in under 4 hours, for a leg burning, eye vomitting pace of 25mph, for 100 freaking miles.

So I spent this past weekend training real hard for the upcoming ride. My friend came to visit & we drank lots of beer, tubed down the river while drinking more beer, and slept a lot. Plus she introduced me to the melodic sounds of "Dirt Nasty"

Monkey-Stompin the Cat 2 Wanna-be

2008-08-14T17:27:00.002-04:00

Wow, what a fun Wednesday Worlds race ride. I laid my plan down & it worked out ok. 5th on the way out, 2nd at the mid-line sprint, and I still monkey-stomped Tim "Cockstainski" at the top of Harding on his feeble attempt at a sprint. The last two occurred after avoiding a nice one rider crash at close to 28mph in the rain soaked roads. Take note Matt P., Harne, & Cora, that's how you keep a bike upright, even in the rain. I'll give lessons at $85 an hour. Better yet, get a mountain bike & I'll teach you for free.

Ok that's enough talk. I don't want to be know as Cockstainski and talk the talk but not walk the walk.

Tim, here's my monkey-stomper for you. Better put that downgrade request in for Cat 4.

Tim C. & All the Trash Talk

2008-08-11T18:44:00.005-04:00

So lately in the Burg there has been way too much trash talk going down on the weekly rides.

"I'm going to be a Cat 2 before you,"

"You're bike is dirty like your momma, better clean it,"

"I dominate the local roads, oh never mind what happened in Belgium"

Etc.Etc Etc.

Well finally it has been resolved why there is so much hostility on the rides. No, its not your typical testosterone or male Roadie ego. Oh no, it goes deeper than that. It goes right to the heart of male insecurity. What we have here is a local racers taped confession of why he feels he needs to be a Cat 2.

The Capt Returns

2008-07-24T11:56:00.000-04:00

After a long haitus, I've found out how to activate my old blog. This is really inspired by my trip to Belgium & all the happenings there I wish I could have recorded when they were fresh in my mind & I was still drunk from the 10% beer. Now its back to "Am-urica", work, and crappy lager beer. C'est la vie!

2006-03-14T13:46:00.000-05:00

Cold beer after a long ride

2006-03-14T13:35:00.000-05:00

Redrun Trail, WV

Stuck between a Redneck and Goomba…

2006-03-14T13:01:00.000-05:00

Quite a tight situation to be in for sure. It seems in my journey down the single-track of life that compromise must be the most efficient gear. There is no Zen trail through life. Every direction I turn is a constant 11% grade switchback, turning left constantly up the side up an immeasurable climb. With every pedal stroke that is the morning alarm of repetitiveness, the top of the climb is further and further.

So I find myself stuck between a Redneck and a Goomba. I left the “How you doin’?” scene of NJ and rolled on down to the sunny South. I traded colloquialisms for “howdy y’all”. It seems a damn Yankee just can’t catch a break. I mean cows are beautiful but you can only converse with them for so long before you begin questioning you sanity. If it wasn’t a Bergen County soccer mom in her Mercedes SUV talking on her cell phone running me off the road, it’s southern Jim Joe Bob in his 4 ton pick-um up truck complete with his “Heritage, not Hate” confederate flag bumper sticker. Heritage not hate, yeah I’m buying that bubba.

I miss the simple times of a good ride with better beer, yum Hit By a Mac Truck Ale, and best friends. Loud obnoxious NJ people, they are “F’n funny yo”. I feel the bible belt tightening around me and I need some Dirty Jerzey heathenism to make me appreciate being a sinner. Tell me a story about Donkey Punchin’ or Rusty Trombones. Something cause I’ve grown to accept that Jesus don’t love me, I’m from the North. So when do we crest the climb and begin the long downhill and sweeping, high banked turns? My brain suspension is bottoming out, and my lycra is full of Goo.