A Pivotal Weekend (Part 3)

(continued) Sunday was the SC State Criterium Championships. My race was strictly CAT 4s around a non-technical oval course. My strategy was to stay near the front, and with any luck, be in a position around the final turn to take something in the sprint. My legs didn't feel particularly good, but the nerves were gone. Another huge field and this time I made it a point to take my spot at the front of the line. 

"It'd be a shame if a VW guy didn't win this one," the race official jibed. We were the home team and there were ten of us in the race. The race was on and a teammate and I lead the first lap. The stiffness immediately left my legs and I felt as if I could stay out all day. One lap in and a solo break happened. As leader of the pack and a member of said home team (a term the French would call the race Patron), it should have been my responsibility to bring him back, but I knew he wouldn't succeed and I had other intentions for the day.  

I settled in place and stayed there for most of the race.  At times I'd find myself drifting back and I'd have to reel in my place.  Of course, there were the occasional hard charges toward the front followed by idiotic screams from the back, "Right, right!" or "on the left, left!"  These chants signaled that someone was trying to escape and shoot off the front.  They are idiotic in the fact that the people screaming them have no intention of chasing down any break, nor do they understand the work that goes into trying to organize one.  A completely amateur move.

I chased down one of these breaks only to find myself right on the front again where I stayed for half a lap.  A bit winded and crossing the start finish line, I knew I had to slip back.  The race had about ten minutes remaining and I needed time to recover.  Just then "Prime on the next lap, prime, prime!" the announcer bellowed.  I knew this was trouble.  A prime (pronounced preem) is a prize for the winner of the next lap.  The pace was about to ramp up just when I needed to recover.  I managed but I was hurting.  With 5 laps to go, I settled in perfect position and remained focused on the goal.  

The pace had slowed down significantly until the final lap.  Planning. Waiting.  Getting boxed in. Damn it!  The same moron that had boxed me in twice already was doing it again!  "Dude, pull through!" I shouted.  Too late.  I had lost about twelve places and was only able to get a few back before the final sort out.  I finished 18th. Though disappointed about the final lap, I was pleased about my attitude and strategy.

And by the way, a 'VW Guy' did win the race.  As for me, I settled for my own blue ribbon.

A 4-year Old's Perspective

Do you ever look at the things around you? No, really. Do you look at objects for what they should be instead of what they could be? What society deems them to be.  Or, if you are like me, are you in such a rush as to not even spend the time to examine what is around you?  

The ability to use our imagination and look at something objectively is a trait that is often lost on us. Somewhere between preschool and adulthood, the demands of society and everyday life will ween most of us from our free spirit, only to be revisited by it on rare occasion.  I probably spend less than 5% of my day examining my surroundings and imagining. Instead I use my analytical mind to solve life's puzzles (most of which I've imposed on myself) or toil it away with the doldrums of work. Most of the time I need an outside source to rekindle what is important; a catalyst.  Kids.

Children make you grow and age in ways you couldn't imagine.  

Children make you imagine at an older age in ways that you otherwise couldn't. The same is true of my kids.  I see myself as a child through them.  I see them gleam of light in their eyes, hear the excitement of their discovery, witness their creativity.  And while I cannot see their imagination, I can see them using it.  It hasn't been wrung out of them by reality or society's rules.  I hope it never does.  Not to be stymied or stifled in any way.  It is powerful.

Ponce de Leon searched in vain for an answer that is growing up all around us; at knee level. Our youth, our own pasts, are in our own youths.  Get down own their level and look around.  You see much more.  They are imagination magnifiers; they get the details and make up the rest.  The small look bigger and the big look larger. These pictures were taken by a 4-year old.  Take a look at life through the eyes of a 4-year old and see life in ways you wouldn't have imagined.

A Pivotal Weekend (Part 2)

(continued) A mind shift and here is where and how it happens. My wife says to me, "Just keep your head on straight." A simple yet poignant suggestion that sticks with me as I sit on the start line for the CAT 3/4 race. "Yeah. She's right," I say to myself. I breathe deeply, "Just keep my wits and I'll be fine." They would be my last deep breaths for over an hour. The whistle is on and after only a lap, I find myself three-fourths of the way back in another fifty-four man field. Just wanting to hang with these guys is all I wanted. Mission accomplished; proof of nothing.

About halfway through the race and I can see some of teammates working the front. Soon one is drifting back and I know what he's going to say. "Get your ass to the front!" he shouts at another. I'm next to hear, "Go to the front," and I have to do it. With no chance of winning, my sole responsibility lies with trying to help those that can. In an almost effortless maneuver, I move to the front where I stay for half a lap. Past the start/finish line and I'm running out of gas. No longer able to keep the pace, a gap develops. "Stay with them," a voice shouts. I cannot, my engine is blown. You see this happen many times. Someone pushes the limit too far or one too many times and pop! Thank you very much. They're off the back and their day is done. This is where I was. Oh well, it was a good try. Maybe next time.

But wait. I had drifted back to my original position, the pack had slowed and I had recovered. Five laps to go and I started thinking. "You need steel-like nerves to do what I'm doing right now." "You need less than half a brain!" On the final lap, I managed to catch my pedal going into a turn. My bike jumped laterally three feet, my rear wheel dug in hard, and I nearly soiled myself. Feeling that I had pressed my luck enough and needing new pants, I was resigned to finish a respectably disappointing 24th. None of which mattered to my family; they made me feel like a champ. Some simple words around the course of a race and I had a new outlook. "You know what?" I thought. "F@*# it!" I'm not racing this damned expensive bike to just survive. Tomorrow would be different.

Hiatus

"I was explaining to people the other night, but I might've got it a bit wrong – this is just the end of something for U2....It's no big deal, it's just – we have to go away and ... and dream it all up again."

Bono at the end of the Lovetown Tour, 1989.

The start of a metamorphosis for the band

and what I've been and will be doing for awhile.

A Pivotal Weekend (Part 1)

Cyclists from around the Southeast descended on the Lowcountry this weekend for Race Weekend presented by Pivotal Fitness/Trek Bikes of Mt. Pleasant. This is my cycling teams' annual race and a chance to get in some great racing in an amazing setting. The backdrop for it kicks off in I'on Village, which can best be described as a slightly European-style community with a Southern twist. The first time I did this race, I had delusions that I was a Pro-cyclist in Milan-San Remo barrelling down the Poggio along the Italian coast. The neighborhood is absolutely beautiful.

Saturday played host to the I'on Village Smackdown. Ne'er was there ever a more appropriate name for a race, especially the CAT 4/5, than the Smackdown. In particular, the I'on course features a little bit of everything: a roundabout, chicanes, sharp turns, cobbles and sharp turns with cobbles! Mix that with with some sketchy CAT 5s and you've got 45 minutes of shear terror.

In case you're new to cycling, every racer starts as a Category 5 and after meeting a series of wickets, you can "Cat-Up" to the next level. In each successive level, it becomes harder to upgrade and the competition gets stiffer until you can make it to the Pro/CAT1,2 level with the truly elite. Until this weekend I viewed myself as a career CAT 4 racer; destined to slog away and maybe steal some glory at the schlep level. Truth be told, the fours aren't much faster than the fives, just smarter.

I'd be doing two races this day, the CAT 4/5 in the morning and the CAT 3/4 in the afternoon, with differing approaches to each. My goal in the first race was to place high while avoiding the inevitable crashes that come with racing with the fives. The goal of the second race was to finish with the field. Both are flawed strategies for criterium races. In a criterium, or crit as they are often called, it is important to be near the front of the field. Positioning is key. Staying near the front and defending your position will help you (1) avoid crashes at the back, (2) require less energy and (3) maintain a high standing in the field. If you go into a race without a clear objective to stay near the front you will assuredly lose.

Jitters. Nerves aided by a fifty-four man field and racing my new and expensive bike (at the encouragement of my wife saying, "Why did you even buy that thing if you're not going to use it?"). Five laps in and settled into my comfort zone when the peloton exploded into a mass of metal, carbon, and broken bodies. A manhole cover claimed its first victim sending riders careening into an uncontrolled flesh-burn. I looked over in time to see two dudes landing on a front porch! Shit. Crashes have a psychological effect on the group that have a half-lap half-life. No sooner had I forgot about that crash when the rider in front of me pinned the guy on his right against the curb. I moved left just in time for him to fall head first into my crank and then bounce off of my rear wheel. I somehow managed to stay up and now there were five laps to go.

"Five to go, five to go, five to go!" the announcer shouts. This is everyone's cue to take insane risks and act like an idiot all for five seconds of fame. I was sitting nicely in about twelfth heading into the final cobble-stoned turn of the last lap. Nicely until two riders in front of me jostled in the corner and went down. Tires exploded. I nearly came to a dead stop to avoid them and by the time it as over, so too were my chances. The crash had caused a split in the field and I was only able to make up one spot for 12th overall.

Neither bad nor good but gaining confidence, the CAT 3/4 was next (to be continued...)

Words

Doppelganger--(dŏp'əl-gāng'ər, -gěng'-) n. A ghostly double of a living person, especially one that haunts its fleshly counterpart.

Boomslang--(boom-slahng, -slang) n. a venomous, tree-dwelling snake, Dispholidus typus, of tropical and southern Africa, having black to greenish scales.

Worm-burner--n. A fast-moving ground ball in baseball

Hellbender--n. 1. a large salamander, Cryptobranchus alleganiensis, of rivers and streams in eastern North America, having a flat, stout body and broad head. 2. Informal. a reckless or headstrong person.

Slobber Knocker--n, v. especially in American football, a powerful collision or a match featuring unusual phsyical violence or intense play; (hence) also in other sports, an exciting game; an exciting or emotional event.

Some of my favorites.

Stupid Movie

I'll probably end up taking some guff for this one. I don't care. If I did, then I wouldn't be posting it. It is sort of funny how you can sit down to watch a movie, having no expectations about the movies' content or theatrical merit, and walk away a shell of your former self. Some are poignant, while others mindless, but all leave you questioning your purpose, putting things in perspective, and setting you straight.

The two most recent films that come to mind are Bobby and Marley and Me. There, I said it. Marley and Me. A stupid movie with stupid actors and little to no theme that absolutely cut me to the bone. In case you haven't seen it, I won't spoil it too much for you. Here's the plot description (from the box):

"Based on the best-selling memoir, this feature adaptation centers on Jennifer and John Grogan, who, as newlyweds about to start a family, learn many of life's important lessons from Marley, their lovable yet trouble-seeking canine. This heartwarming story examines the highs and lows of marriage, maturity and confronting ones' own mortality, as seen through the lens of family life with a dog."

Yeah, not the deepest plot line. Just one that at the moment, seems to mirror my life perfectly. The last sentence says it all. Though I'm sure it wasn't unique to my situation, I couldn't help but to feel as if my family were the people in the film. Decisions we've made in our lives involving jobs, each other, our families, and their progression. Though not wanting to, I identified with the film. It grew so emotionally painful for me that I wanted to tell my wife to turn it off, wanted to scream at the TV, wanted to hate the movie for how it made me feel. It was too much. Made me do some hard thinking.

Bobby, on the other hand, made me mad for other reasons. Perhaps it was that I knew the outcome before I entered the theatre. Perhaps it was that as I watched the promise of the peoples' faces on the screen, I couldn't help but feel how things might have been different. Couldn't help but feel how as I sat there, Emperor Bush was screwing things up.

Economies crashing, wars waging, Americans existing; not prospering. I couldn't hold it all in. I tried. My wife asked if something was wrong; yeah. My wife asked if I was okay; no. I just sat there and lost it. I sat there and contemplated how idiots were affecting my children's future. I was bawling in the theatre.

There you have it. One movie leaving me with a new perspective on life, the other leaving me powerless and crushed. Be sure to check them out.

Do you think?

"Chemical Ali" sentenced to death again.

Headline as seen on CNN

which begs the questions:

Is this guy already dead or will he be executed twice? and

Why is someone wasting time doling out two

punishments that cannot be carried out?

Doctors say implanting fewer embryos will mean a smaller chance of pregnancy.

Headline as seen on CNN
Really? Doctors said that?

This is why I don't regularly watch the news.

Are you anxious, panicked, depressed, schizophrenic?

Advertisement I saw on the back of a bus

for Mental Health Centers of Charleston.

If someone had one of these problems, don't you think

reading this ad would exacerbate their condition?

Try our fish. It's way better.

Wendy's Billboard.

Way better than what?

Are they not confident enough to say that it's the best?

After the Bridge Run

Four years ago, this was the first century that I ever did. With my body shutting down, a throbbing dehydration headache, and six and a half hours later, I was pretty sure I never wanted to do that again. Nine centuries later and I've made this one of my favorites.

The After the Bridge Run spring century dubs itself as fast and flat. That it is. Bring plenty of water because there will be no stopping and with barely a ripple, this is the fastest century around.

8:00 am. and the group (500 total with about 100 for the century) couldn't have asked for better weather. Low: 65 High: 75 and light winds. It took only about a quarter mile for the pack to settle in to the pace it would hold for the next one hundred: fast. So much for the warmup. In fact, it would be 25 miles before I settled in. It sounds strange, but it takes a period of time before the body gets accustomed to some suffering. Sometimes you never get over it; those are the long days. Other times, if you can make it, you experience periods of strength that you never knew you had. This was one of those days.

While I wasn't out there taking monster pulls or soloing off the front (I leave that to the truly strong guys), I did have my moments. At about the halfway point, a group of about seven had slipped off the front and somehow the pack wasn't chasing. It looked like this group had some strong guys in it and I interpreted this as a serious threat to stay away. Apparently so did two others. Out of the pack and onto the chase wheels. Following some rude efforts and some periods of doubt, the three of us had bridged the gap and eventually, so to did the rest.

Following a slowing down of the group to allow for pee-breaks (some stopping and some peeing from the bike, a real Pro maneuver) it was time to chase back another. A triathlete, who for most of the day was doing his own thing at the front, had pulled away. A paceline was formed to bring him back. Showing some of my giddiness from earlier, I pulled through and lifted it to near 30 mph. With a flick of the elbow, signaling to the next rider to pull through, I moved over only to find that I had gapped the field. This can do bad things at the back of the peloton. Ideally, the person rotating through should do so smoothly so as not to cause a speeding up and slowing down at the back. It's just better to continuously pedal. Oh well.

Laid low for the next 30 miles and managed to bridge one more gap with about 3 miles to go. Despite some ugly smack talking in the last five miles and a weaving, wobbly-tired moron on the way out (who received a stiff-arm from me for his efforts), this was a great ride. At 3:56:47, I had finished with my best time and come a long way since that first century. Best of all I felt good doing it.

Daddy Starbucks

I'm going to try something different this time. Instead of complaining and badmouthing companies that I hate, I'm going to talk about a company that I really believe in, and explain how they're screwing it up.

Like me, many of you too are struggling with addiction. Caffeine. Starbucks caffeine. The 'Meigs County Gold' of caffeine. Signs that you are suffering from this addiction are:

-not driving past a Starbucks without your car veering towards it
-finding yourself standing outside a Starbucks waiting for it to open while pulling on the door
-planning trips around Starbucks locations
-being recognized by Baristas
-showing off your new Starbucks locator cell phone app

If you or someone you know experiences one or more of these symptoms, get them some Starbucks now.

Believing they were and evil empire, I used to despise Starbucks. That is, until I actually tried their coffee and saw how they treated their customers. For such a huge company they treated me and their employees well. Offering me free beverages if I were ever inconvenienced by waiting, and despite their taxing and seemingly thankless job, doing it with a smile. I soon became their proponent, swearing off other coffees and spreading my satisfaction throughout the land. This was all to change about a year ago when Starbucks reintroduced its Pike Place brew in an attempt to compete with McDonald's.

If Starbucks is ever to fail, history will show that this was the beginning of the end. By competing with McDonald's, they became McDonald's. I've noticed customer service starting to slip and with it so goes my business. Below is a copy of the letter I recently posted on Starbucks' idea website entitled Don't lower your standards to compete.

Dear Starbucks,

If I wanted crap coffee, I could go to any number of gas stations across the country and get 74 ounces of burnt, sludgy, tar-flavored oily water, but I don't. Instead, I can just go to my nearest Starbucks and get a cup of your Pike Place Roast and enjoy crap coffee in an expensive cup.

"But wait," you say. "Pike Place is our original brew. It's what made us who we are."

Please. What I go to Starbucks for is a huge cup of wake-up. Something bold that will smack me in the face. Please don't patronize me with the premise that you are 'revisiting your roots.' If you are simply trying to cut costs to compete with rivals (say McDonald's) and passing the buck to me, you are completely wrong.

Their clientele aren't interested in Starbucks or coffee. Other than soccer moms, you don't even pull from the same demographic. What I'm saying is that they are not even in your league. Stooping to their low standards will only cost you customers who, like myself, are disappointed in their $2.14 venti. Please go back to the way you used to do business and stop peddling reheated English muffins and dirt coffee. Leave that to the fast food joints.

Within minutes my post had received many positive votes of others supporting my feelings. Check it out for yourself and I'll keep you posted.