- When you've had a serious injury or condition it leaves behind ghosts. Hurt a knee or back, you go through the day like a dog that's been beat, wondering when it's going to hit you again. Even if it's physically fine, the mental ghosts linger for quite a while.
- I've got an MRI to take on Tuesday, actually two different spine series. Given that the six inches of snow we got will preclude most outdoor riding, this looks to be the best two hours of my week, other than the time I spend with my family in the evenings. Basically, I ask for jazz on the headphones, and take a nap. Not a bad time, for the un-claustrophobic.
- Man, with this weather... can you believe the race season starts with training races in just a few weeks? Looks like trainer time. I'll be hitting up the On Demand movies to keep the mind aligned. This is how I found Paul Blart: Mall Cop (a great film) and many other movies I'd never have watched otherwise. There's also the Caps, who are streaking and playing a brand of entertaining hockey I haven't seen since Gretzky, Robitaille, Messier, and McSorley were playing together. So what will you kids do to dilute the boredom?
- Cross worlds. Awesomely named Zdenek Stybar takes the men's title with Tim Johnson in 14th, Jamie Driscoll in 19th, Vos takes the women's (with Favorite of the Rouleur Daphny van den Brand taking bronze and another FOTR LVG taking 31st) and Tomaš Paprstka took the juniors gold, with local boy Jeff Bahnson taking 44th. Apparently, it was slippery with lots of crashing this weekend. Welcome to my world... Yep, my reporting of results is just like SportCenter... you don't get the top results, just the ones I care about.
- Guess you want some music to make up for my absence (mostly) last week.
If you're facing a tough week, how 'bout some Skip James, Hard Time Killin' Floor Blues?
Maybe a little Workin' Man Blues might lift your spirits. Mondays usually suck, there's quotas and a list of work if your collar is blue, staff meetings out the ass if it's white, and a ton of work to be done before Friday no matter who you are. In between, you hope it'll get warm enough to ride the bike, your discipline will hold out if you have to hit the trainer, and everything will stay copacetic on the home front. You just never know. So it helps to be reminded that there's dignity in work, in gettin' shit done, particularly if you are doing it for other people. Old Merle knows that. He knows a lot of things you probably don't want to know but that's one of the better things he could tell you.
If all else fails, and your co-workers are getting on you, give 'em a threatening look, and go, "boom boom boom boom... mmmm hmmmmm..." I have no idea what it means but if it worked for John Lee Hooker, it'll certainly work for you.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Saturday, January 30, 2010
Leviathan
Hey, good to see that the Government is considering taking legal action against the Bowl Championship Series in college football. It's ridiculous that the people running this competition - the TV networks and the major collegiate athletic conferences - should be allowed determine who the "best" team is using rules that may not be logically optimum.
While they're at it, maybe we could get some prosecutors on narrow NHL rinks, answering the question of whether the NBA regular season is, in fact meaningless (perhaps they could order a return to short series in the first round?), and the absurd pickup hoops rule that "Offense calls fouls." After that, perhaps the Supreme Court can tackle the thorny question that's been plaguing the Republic for years, "exactly how many gears may a top drawer rear cassette have, and what is the constitutional minimum below which manufacturers cannot dip?" Rumor has it that Congress is also working on a legislative solution to the difficult problem of Cat 4 racers trying to pass on that turn right before the uphill at Carl Dolan.
While they're at it, maybe we could get some prosecutors on narrow NHL rinks, answering the question of whether the NBA regular season is, in fact meaningless (perhaps they could order a return to short series in the first round?), and the absurd pickup hoops rule that "Offense calls fouls." After that, perhaps the Supreme Court can tackle the thorny question that's been plaguing the Republic for years, "exactly how many gears may a top drawer rear cassette have, and what is the constitutional minimum below which manufacturers cannot dip?" Rumor has it that Congress is also working on a legislative solution to the difficult problem of Cat 4 racers trying to pass on that turn right before the uphill at Carl Dolan.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Home...
Back home at last, I'm looking forward to riding for a few hours in the AM. Maybe it'll be good for a road ride. Perhaps I'm stuck on the trainer. Maybe I'm in the woods trying to hold the back together. Doesn't matter, I'm going to hit it. Tired of classes, tired of riding an exercycle with a horrible seat that only allowed 20 minutes of work before causing stabbing pain. It's going to be on a bike, a real bike. And it's going to be great.
Here's the most appropriate song I could find. I was training up in Shepherdstown this week. For the geographically uninitiated, that's just across the Potomac River, literally, from the Antietam battlefield. Leave it to Clutch to have a song about that spot on the towpath. Which is, BTW, precisely where Maslar's derailer stacked it on our trip down the C&O Canal a couple years ago, and exactly 7 miles north of where Seibold and I unwittingly gave half a leftover berry pie to this knucklehead we'd never met before, Jon Baler.
Good times. Have fun riding this weekend. Wherever you're riding.
Here's the most appropriate song I could find. I was training up in Shepherdstown this week. For the geographically uninitiated, that's just across the Potomac River, literally, from the Antietam battlefield. Leave it to Clutch to have a song about that spot on the towpath. Which is, BTW, precisely where Maslar's derailer stacked it on our trip down the C&O Canal a couple years ago, and exactly 7 miles north of where Seibold and I unwittingly gave half a leftover berry pie to this knucklehead we'd never met before, Jon Baler.
Good times. Have fun riding this weekend. Wherever you're riding.
Tuesday, January 26, 2010
Money Pun
Sometimes, I deliver up a gem without even trying to do so.
This week, I'm in management training. Naturally, the training discussed the prevention of discrimination of all sorts. When the class got to the discussion of sexual harassment, I was busy sending an email to my office via Blackberry, so I wasn't listening too closely to what the instructor said.
Then I heard my name and my ears sort of briefly opened up. "You practice law. Can you explain to the class what is meant by Quid pro Quo?"
Without even thinking, hands still flying on the Blackberry, I said "sure, tit for tat."
As 30 of my classmates went into an extended guffaw, I remembered, "quid pro quo" describes the kind of discrimination where the subordinate is asked to provide sexual favors in exchange for job benefits like promotion - This for That, or in slang, tit for tat.
As the laughter eventually subsided, I realized that not only was this the greatest pun I have ever managed to achieve, but it included latin in the setup. Alas, I'm not the first one to do this as I later found out with the Googleizer, but still I did come up with it independently so it's still a great quip. Not as great as the greatest pun of all time, which included latin in the delivery, and for which you had to have passing familiarity with two languages and foreign geography, but still quite not bad for an amateur.
Oh, you want to know the greatest pun of all time? Fine. You asked for it.
Peccavi.
Read about it here, along with Sir Charles' novel method for stopping the burning of widows upon funeral pyres.
For what it's worth, I'm on a hotel exercycle this week. I could have ridden my mostly built up fixie, which I have to say is heartbreakingly beautiful. But I neglected to bring it thinking I wouldn't have a chance or the inclination to ride. It's not the last thing I'll regreat doing this week but it's one of the more poignant.
This week, I'm in management training. Naturally, the training discussed the prevention of discrimination of all sorts. When the class got to the discussion of sexual harassment, I was busy sending an email to my office via Blackberry, so I wasn't listening too closely to what the instructor said.
Then I heard my name and my ears sort of briefly opened up. "You practice law. Can you explain to the class what is meant by Quid pro Quo?"
Without even thinking, hands still flying on the Blackberry, I said "sure, tit for tat."
As 30 of my classmates went into an extended guffaw, I remembered, "quid pro quo" describes the kind of discrimination where the subordinate is asked to provide sexual favors in exchange for job benefits like promotion - This for That, or in slang, tit for tat.
As the laughter eventually subsided, I realized that not only was this the greatest pun I have ever managed to achieve, but it included latin in the setup. Alas, I'm not the first one to do this as I later found out with the Googleizer, but still I did come up with it independently so it's still a great quip. Not as great as the greatest pun of all time, which included latin in the delivery, and for which you had to have passing familiarity with two languages and foreign geography, but still quite not bad for an amateur.
Oh, you want to know the greatest pun of all time? Fine. You asked for it.
Peccavi.
Read about it here, along with Sir Charles' novel method for stopping the burning of widows upon funeral pyres.
For what it's worth, I'm on a hotel exercycle this week. I could have ridden my mostly built up fixie, which I have to say is heartbreakingly beautiful. But I neglected to bring it thinking I wouldn't have a chance or the inclination to ride. It's not the last thing I'll regreat doing this week but it's one of the more poignant.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Housin' Wit' Hayek
There's nothing better on a cold winter night, than Housin' Wit' Hayek. Unless your name is John Maynard "Killer" Keynes. How you like me now, Keynes? Huh?
If My Hand Was a Ninja...
This girl's hand could totally kick its ass.
Asian Chick's Awesome Hand Ninja - Watch more Funny Videos
Never mind what her Hand Sumo Wrassler would do to it.
Asian Chick's Awesome Hand Ninja - Watch more Funny Videos
Never mind what her Hand Sumo Wrassler would do to it.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
The Latest In French Fashion
It always amazes me that we are supposed to think of Europeans as our cultural betters. The old bitch, gone in the teeth and heiress to a few sets of old marbles, has some good things to be said for her. But for the most part, she's three hundred million people wandering around in the rubble of 2500 years of civilization, asking each other, "isn't there something more than this?"
An intensely class and race conscious aggregation of small countries, it's a continent that is torn between the incompatible aims of trying to be a world economic and social leader, or maybe perhaps just retiring into a lazy paternalist social welfare state where there's no need to worry, but no risk of individual failure (or great reward) so why bother. There are small challenges such as picking a university where one will be awarded a doctorate in some liberal arts discipline prior to a taxi driving or factory career, or how to wheedle a better apartment or where to spend the six weeks off this year... but there aren't many grand visions to be found anywhere, except in the re-developing East side. Don't get me wrong. There are many great things to be said about many individual Europeans, and some facets of some European countries. But as a whole, European culture, particularly Western European culture, strikes me as aimless, having lost impetus.
A place you can see this is in art. Classical notions of beauty - those championed by the Greeks and Romans, those genetically hard wired into us according to a number of recent studies - were killed off by the modernists, then exhumed in rotted form and killed again by a number of intentionally bad art movements such as Dadaism. To the extent there is good new art, it seems to be folk art trickling up into the museums, high quality industrial art (Jasper Johns... call your office please) or an occasional bit that works alright because it references classical notions of what art is by its conscious and open revolt against those standards. I sorta know a guy who seems to work in that genre...
What does this have to do with cycling?
Well, you know how we've been bemused by ugly kit this spring?
What you're seeing isn't coincidental. It's just the current grammar of fashion.
You remember how we chattered about Slipstream's kit? Johnathan Vaughters didn't throw out something terribly new. He went back to an older mode of fashion with classic argyle patterns, then updated them by arraying them diagonally and putting in a couple fresh colors. New, but old. You understood the grammar.
Then we laughed at this next one. Tired old design - like plain earthtone argyles, but combined with some disgusting, non-aesthetic colors. They are non-aesthetic in the sense that Alexander Pope would have rejected them on their own, they would not have made it onto his list of representing any worthwhile virtue or emotion. Well, maybe the red would have, but not in the bloody excess in which it is used below.
But wait. The inevitable fashion disaster gets worse. One of the points about a team kit, is the team wants to make an impression, to remain in your mind's eye after you turn off the TV and sit down to Sunday dinner, and perhaps when you go shopping next week. But how to catch the viewer's attention? You can do it one of two ways. You can speak to the viewer positively, using classical elements that the viewer knows how to interpret, as Vaughters usually tries to do with Slipstream kit. "Look at me," it says fairly clearly. I'm beautiful. Remember me."
The other way is to scream at the viewer, "Remember me! I am terrible! You cannot forget!" as Team Footon-Servetto-Fuji has done. As any owner of a vintage British convertible knows, Babyshit Brown (Russet) only grows more tiresome compared to the more graceful colors, such as British Racing Green, or Damask Red. You remember it either way. The only difference is that the gent who devised the green color did your eyes and your mind a favor; the guy who devised that nasty brown... well, he should be locked in a closet with lighting designed by John Lucas.
So my point is, as a sport heavily influenced by Western European fashion culture, the kit designs are often going to be atrocious. They will be so bad that the designers will not know they are bad. Designers will go for a head turning effect, only they are so adrift culturally that they do not appear to know why people's heads are turning. Those designers who go for classical appeal will make kit that may not be *the* most cutting edge stuff this year, but they will create jerseys that the team's fanboys won't mind wearing in 20 years.
The designers who just throw stuff out there that lacks an aesthetic referent may catch your eye, but they won't be remembered, except as an example of bad style. (Team Mapei and acid washed jeans kit, anybody?) There is nothing wrong with going back to the classical vocabulary of aesthetics. As the years and crustiness pile up on me - we're now in the third cycle of horrible clothing I've seen in my life - I'm increasingly convinced that those who fail to do so are either too narcissistic to gamely make workmanlike and attractive derivative work; or they are beasts that either do not know or do not care about the aesthetic shambles they are making.
Ironically, what made me think about this was not looking at the new cycling kit, but the gear worn by Stade Francais, one of the premier French pro rugby sides.
Yeah. Even though that guy could totally kick your ass, you feel pity because of what the kit designer did to him.
Update: A couple comments make me think a clarification is needed here. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not writing a paean to the U.S. here. I'm just pointing out something that Sartre and the Lost Generation modernists and the Frankfurt School and 68'ers all pointed out - what's left of Western European culture right now is a stately and scenic fossil, attractive but basically without nerves or blood or sinew. I happen to disagree with them about the cause of their cultural ennui - most of them chalked it up to the then-prevalent culture and I would chalk it up to industrialization's rejection of that culture and traditional christian humanism - but I'm with the radicals when they comment upon the general cultural listlessness that Western Europe has suffered since its confidence was shattered in 1917, the year the Russians lost faith in the Czar, the French Poillou lost faith in the Republic, the British public lost faith in Kitchener, and the starving Germans lost faith in the Czar. Most of Europe, or at least the opininon leaders, seemed to lose their faith in God, reason, traditional aesthetics, and anything with roots that predated about 1850 at about the same time, oblivious to the reshuffling of society wrought by industrialization. But anyhow... we came here to talk about kit, and is it just me, or is anything more appealing than seeing the traditional looking Jets and Colts duking it out in January?
An intensely class and race conscious aggregation of small countries, it's a continent that is torn between the incompatible aims of trying to be a world economic and social leader, or maybe perhaps just retiring into a lazy paternalist social welfare state where there's no need to worry, but no risk of individual failure (or great reward) so why bother. There are small challenges such as picking a university where one will be awarded a doctorate in some liberal arts discipline prior to a taxi driving or factory career, or how to wheedle a better apartment or where to spend the six weeks off this year... but there aren't many grand visions to be found anywhere, except in the re-developing East side. Don't get me wrong. There are many great things to be said about many individual Europeans, and some facets of some European countries. But as a whole, European culture, particularly Western European culture, strikes me as aimless, having lost impetus.
A place you can see this is in art. Classical notions of beauty - those championed by the Greeks and Romans, those genetically hard wired into us according to a number of recent studies - were killed off by the modernists, then exhumed in rotted form and killed again by a number of intentionally bad art movements such as Dadaism. To the extent there is good new art, it seems to be folk art trickling up into the museums, high quality industrial art (Jasper Johns... call your office please) or an occasional bit that works alright because it references classical notions of what art is by its conscious and open revolt against those standards. I sorta know a guy who seems to work in that genre...
What does this have to do with cycling?
Well, you know how we've been bemused by ugly kit this spring?
What you're seeing isn't coincidental. It's just the current grammar of fashion.
You remember how we chattered about Slipstream's kit? Johnathan Vaughters didn't throw out something terribly new. He went back to an older mode of fashion with classic argyle patterns, then updated them by arraying them diagonally and putting in a couple fresh colors. New, but old. You understood the grammar.
Then we laughed at this next one. Tired old design - like plain earthtone argyles, but combined with some disgusting, non-aesthetic colors. They are non-aesthetic in the sense that Alexander Pope would have rejected them on their own, they would not have made it onto his list of representing any worthwhile virtue or emotion. Well, maybe the red would have, but not in the bloody excess in which it is used below.
But wait. The inevitable fashion disaster gets worse. One of the points about a team kit, is the team wants to make an impression, to remain in your mind's eye after you turn off the TV and sit down to Sunday dinner, and perhaps when you go shopping next week. But how to catch the viewer's attention? You can do it one of two ways. You can speak to the viewer positively, using classical elements that the viewer knows how to interpret, as Vaughters usually tries to do with Slipstream kit. "Look at me," it says fairly clearly. I'm beautiful. Remember me."
The other way is to scream at the viewer, "Remember me! I am terrible! You cannot forget!" as Team Footon-Servetto-Fuji has done. As any owner of a vintage British convertible knows, Babyshit Brown (Russet) only grows more tiresome compared to the more graceful colors, such as British Racing Green, or Damask Red. You remember it either way. The only difference is that the gent who devised the green color did your eyes and your mind a favor; the guy who devised that nasty brown... well, he should be locked in a closet with lighting designed by John Lucas.
So my point is, as a sport heavily influenced by Western European fashion culture, the kit designs are often going to be atrocious. They will be so bad that the designers will not know they are bad. Designers will go for a head turning effect, only they are so adrift culturally that they do not appear to know why people's heads are turning. Those designers who go for classical appeal will make kit that may not be *the* most cutting edge stuff this year, but they will create jerseys that the team's fanboys won't mind wearing in 20 years.
The designers who just throw stuff out there that lacks an aesthetic referent may catch your eye, but they won't be remembered, except as an example of bad style. (Team Mapei and acid washed jeans kit, anybody?) There is nothing wrong with going back to the classical vocabulary of aesthetics. As the years and crustiness pile up on me - we're now in the third cycle of horrible clothing I've seen in my life - I'm increasingly convinced that those who fail to do so are either too narcissistic to gamely make workmanlike and attractive derivative work; or they are beasts that either do not know or do not care about the aesthetic shambles they are making.
Ironically, what made me think about this was not looking at the new cycling kit, but the gear worn by Stade Francais, one of the premier French pro rugby sides.
Yeah. Even though that guy could totally kick your ass, you feel pity because of what the kit designer did to him.
Update: A couple comments make me think a clarification is needed here. Don't get me wrong here. I'm not writing a paean to the U.S. here. I'm just pointing out something that Sartre and the Lost Generation modernists and the Frankfurt School and 68'ers all pointed out - what's left of Western European culture right now is a stately and scenic fossil, attractive but basically without nerves or blood or sinew. I happen to disagree with them about the cause of their cultural ennui - most of them chalked it up to the then-prevalent culture and I would chalk it up to industrialization's rejection of that culture and traditional christian humanism - but I'm with the radicals when they comment upon the general cultural listlessness that Western Europe has suffered since its confidence was shattered in 1917, the year the Russians lost faith in the Czar, the French Poillou lost faith in the Republic, the British public lost faith in Kitchener, and the starving Germans lost faith in the Czar. Most of Europe, or at least the opininon leaders, seemed to lose their faith in God, reason, traditional aesthetics, and anything with roots that predated about 1850 at about the same time, oblivious to the reshuffling of society wrought by industrialization. But anyhow... we came here to talk about kit, and is it just me, or is anything more appealing than seeing the traditional looking Jets and Colts duking it out in January?
Saturday, January 23, 2010
Little Victories
I rode for a half hour with my kid today.
Nothing major, just a spin around the block. I took the single speed 29'er, which is geared to roll about 12 MPH at 90 RPM. At most. I had to spin fast to keep up with the kid on his 6 speed. We went maybe five miles.
And everything was just fine, despite a solid 4 week layoff that threw me a few dark times. The back's still a little sore and stiff, and it's clear that there's a lot of base work in my future and maybe some other involving people in white coats other than Southerners at a July wedding. And it was just a short easy spin, not a three hour grind up in Thurmont. But that doesn't matter. It was out of the hole and into the light.
The back loosened up a bit with the gentle riding. The legs felt good; unlike last year's tendinitis-induced layoff (a thing of the past we hope) that had me stomping out squares, it was easy to keep a smooth round spin going, probably the legacy of 6 weeks of truly gentle spinning last summer after Dr. Cashman fixed my foot. It was goodness, all of it. For what we are about to receive, let us be truly grateful...
The way my spirits rose, there should have been a symphony playing the Hallelujah Chorus when we pulled into the back patio and put the bikes up. But I was happy to settle for pigs-in-a-blanket and a nice wool sweater to warm up in.
Every ride is a gift. Every day is a gift. And carpe diem does not necessarily refer to fish.
Nothing major, just a spin around the block. I took the single speed 29'er, which is geared to roll about 12 MPH at 90 RPM. At most. I had to spin fast to keep up with the kid on his 6 speed. We went maybe five miles.
And everything was just fine, despite a solid 4 week layoff that threw me a few dark times. The back's still a little sore and stiff, and it's clear that there's a lot of base work in my future and maybe some other involving people in white coats other than Southerners at a July wedding. And it was just a short easy spin, not a three hour grind up in Thurmont. But that doesn't matter. It was out of the hole and into the light.
The back loosened up a bit with the gentle riding. The legs felt good; unlike last year's tendinitis-induced layoff (a thing of the past we hope) that had me stomping out squares, it was easy to keep a smooth round spin going, probably the legacy of 6 weeks of truly gentle spinning last summer after Dr. Cashman fixed my foot. It was goodness, all of it. For what we are about to receive, let us be truly grateful...
The way my spirits rose, there should have been a symphony playing the Hallelujah Chorus when we pulled into the back patio and put the bikes up. But I was happy to settle for pigs-in-a-blanket and a nice wool sweater to warm up in.
Every ride is a gift. Every day is a gift. And carpe diem does not necessarily refer to fish.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Friday I Guess...
Since most of you readers are cyclists, I'm going to talk a little about pain and what it does to you mentally before I get to some groovy music. Y'all groove on pain, right? I've been studying it a bit the last few weeks. It's sort of been hanging around. One thing I've noticed about dealing with a major injury or illness is you run short on patience pretty quick.
What does a screwed up disc feel like, that would cause this to happen? Well, when it first went bad, it felt like somebody drove a nail into my back, the right side of my ass, and my thigh. I've accidentally driven nails or industrial staples through my fingers and hands a few times (you'd think I'd learn after the first event, right?) and I know how it feels. There's a really sharp shot of pain that takes your breath away, then a dull sort of throbbing that sometimes really builds up to a crescendo of nerves firing. A few times over the last couple weeks, mostly a week or two ago, this happened to me while I was standing up, and it was bad enough that I started shaking, as if I was in great fear of something. Concentration was not possible; I'd be looking at the countertop trying to pick up some damn pill or another the doc wanted me to take, and my head would swivel right and left, but I couldn't keep looking straight ahead. I'd eventually choke down the pill, or get the phone, or pick up my blackberry, stagger into the living room, and collapse on the sofa. After a minute or two, things would settle down to a merely-very-irritating level. *That* sucked.
The back has improved. It still hurts though; there's a dull pain that doesn't go away, and after a long day sitting at the desk and grinding on a succession of increasingly urgent and stressful tasks, the pain is a bit sharp, akin to being punched really hard on the arm, stinging; except it's at the base of the spine, and the muscle tightness from the muscles around that one spot cringing at the beating they are taking is making the rest of my back knot up. *That* also sucks.
Along with my bluff attitude and cheerfulness, the pain has worn off my normal casual attitude and ability to just shrug off the hopeless bullshit that maybe one out of every five people feel they need to spread in order to be fulfilled in this life. My patience for their bullshit just isn't there, so I notice it more. Yes, pain gives you remarkable insight into other people's bullshit, that's a real gift. In fact, just this week, I've identified several ways to absolutely destroy your relationships with people at work or home, things I'd never have noticed were I in my usual glow of mediocre health. They include:
The other thing it does is it makes you question everything. It's really pernicious that way. I realize this thing is probably going to get better, one way or the other, and it's just going to take time and some work, maybe some meds, maybe (hopefully not) surgery. But it will improve. Yet right now I'm questioning whether or not I'm through living an active and productive life. That's insane! But it's what those shitty little hormones that pain releases do to your brain. So on the one hand you see a lot of things really clearly. Maybe this is why so many writers stricken with tuberculosis and cancer and other painful wasting diseases write so well; they have a clarity of observation that helps them see, and write better. And at the same time it really warps your brain and makes you nutty and a pain in the ass to yourself and others, giving on the one hand and taking away with the other.
Anyhow... that's enough frickin' introspection for one week. You're only here for the music, and for the good news - my wood fenders came in this week. They match the Kona perfectly. With a bit of luck I'll be riding with them in a few weeks, along with a few other components I ordered from Family Bikes... It's weak, but I'd be more than happy to settle for a rain ride right now, with my sweet new fenders. I think in the morning I'll try riding the trainer a bit, and see if I can do it without totally re-destroying my back.
Oh yeah, the music. How about something upbeat and back-themed?
Ahhh... the Kinks. We're back where we started... I don't know why but somehow that resonates with me right now. They aren't really talked about a lot now but if you listen to them, you hear some mean guitar and keyboards, clever and occasionally brilliant lyrics, and an infectious beat. They have an impressive body of work, a huge number of hits and successful albums, and some really eponymous songs. They were one of the mainstays of stadium rock for probably 15 years. Funny how they're so overlooked now...
On the other hand, some once-popular acts are deservedly overlooked now. Here's the forgettably Krunktabulous Juvenile, directing his paramour to reverse that gluteous.
Other bands? I don't know what people see in them. Like these guys, for the most part.
That's a good song, but I'm guessing there's a hundred bands could play it better. Then there's Ludacris with one of the funnier back themed videos I've seen. It was obviously filmed at the height of the Popeye Arms Craze of 2004... Oh yeah, I remember that.
Seriously though, that's exactly how I was feeling this week at work... Get back - you don't know me like that...
We have to end it on a high note, right? How 'bout P-Funk, live in Houston about 30 years ago, with "Flashlight"?
Works for me. Have a good weekend y'all, even if you're grinding it out on a trainer with a sore back and a bad attitude. I'm wit ya.
What does a screwed up disc feel like, that would cause this to happen? Well, when it first went bad, it felt like somebody drove a nail into my back, the right side of my ass, and my thigh. I've accidentally driven nails or industrial staples through my fingers and hands a few times (you'd think I'd learn after the first event, right?) and I know how it feels. There's a really sharp shot of pain that takes your breath away, then a dull sort of throbbing that sometimes really builds up to a crescendo of nerves firing. A few times over the last couple weeks, mostly a week or two ago, this happened to me while I was standing up, and it was bad enough that I started shaking, as if I was in great fear of something. Concentration was not possible; I'd be looking at the countertop trying to pick up some damn pill or another the doc wanted me to take, and my head would swivel right and left, but I couldn't keep looking straight ahead. I'd eventually choke down the pill, or get the phone, or pick up my blackberry, stagger into the living room, and collapse on the sofa. After a minute or two, things would settle down to a merely-very-irritating level. *That* sucked.
The back has improved. It still hurts though; there's a dull pain that doesn't go away, and after a long day sitting at the desk and grinding on a succession of increasingly urgent and stressful tasks, the pain is a bit sharp, akin to being punched really hard on the arm, stinging; except it's at the base of the spine, and the muscle tightness from the muscles around that one spot cringing at the beating they are taking is making the rest of my back knot up. *That* also sucks.
Along with my bluff attitude and cheerfulness, the pain has worn off my normal casual attitude and ability to just shrug off the hopeless bullshit that maybe one out of every five people feel they need to spread in order to be fulfilled in this life. My patience for their bullshit just isn't there, so I notice it more. Yes, pain gives you remarkable insight into other people's bullshit, that's a real gift. In fact, just this week, I've identified several ways to absolutely destroy your relationships with people at work or home, things I'd never have noticed were I in my usual glow of mediocre health. They include:
- Be a drama queen and treat your relatively trivial problems like they far outweigh the major professional and personal trials those around you are undergoing
- Be a complete fucking ingrate, and when somebody has worked really hard for a long time at a very difficult task just to please you, start immediately going on about the next great quest you expect them to accomplish
- Act like you're smarter than everybody else, particularly when you only just walked into a situation and can't possibly know about it. Take charge, because life's midshipmen are always better at steering the ship than life's Bo'suns and life's captains.
The other thing it does is it makes you question everything. It's really pernicious that way. I realize this thing is probably going to get better, one way or the other, and it's just going to take time and some work, maybe some meds, maybe (hopefully not) surgery. But it will improve. Yet right now I'm questioning whether or not I'm through living an active and productive life. That's insane! But it's what those shitty little hormones that pain releases do to your brain. So on the one hand you see a lot of things really clearly. Maybe this is why so many writers stricken with tuberculosis and cancer and other painful wasting diseases write so well; they have a clarity of observation that helps them see, and write better. And at the same time it really warps your brain and makes you nutty and a pain in the ass to yourself and others, giving on the one hand and taking away with the other.
Anyhow... that's enough frickin' introspection for one week. You're only here for the music, and for the good news - my wood fenders came in this week. They match the Kona perfectly. With a bit of luck I'll be riding with them in a few weeks, along with a few other components I ordered from Family Bikes... It's weak, but I'd be more than happy to settle for a rain ride right now, with my sweet new fenders. I think in the morning I'll try riding the trainer a bit, and see if I can do it without totally re-destroying my back.
Oh yeah, the music. How about something upbeat and back-themed?
Ahhh... the Kinks. We're back where we started... I don't know why but somehow that resonates with me right now. They aren't really talked about a lot now but if you listen to them, you hear some mean guitar and keyboards, clever and occasionally brilliant lyrics, and an infectious beat. They have an impressive body of work, a huge number of hits and successful albums, and some really eponymous songs. They were one of the mainstays of stadium rock for probably 15 years. Funny how they're so overlooked now...
On the other hand, some once-popular acts are deservedly overlooked now. Here's the forgettably Krunktabulous Juvenile, directing his paramour to reverse that gluteous.
Other bands? I don't know what people see in them. Like these guys, for the most part.
That's a good song, but I'm guessing there's a hundred bands could play it better. Then there's Ludacris with one of the funnier back themed videos I've seen. It was obviously filmed at the height of the Popeye Arms Craze of 2004... Oh yeah, I remember that.
Seriously though, that's exactly how I was feeling this week at work... Get back - you don't know me like that...
We have to end it on a high note, right? How 'bout P-Funk, live in Houston about 30 years ago, with "Flashlight"?
Works for me. Have a good weekend y'all, even if you're grinding it out on a trainer with a sore back and a bad attitude. I'm wit ya.
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Feels Like Monday...
I have nothing to say, really, other than to express my bewilderment at finding the Baker's Dozen registration full a mere two hours after it opened. Guess I'm going to have to settle on another 12 hour solo as one of my training goals this year.
Ps. My mountain biking friends, if you ever wondered what it feels like to be a roadracer, this is a good place to start the discussion.
Pps. The back is healing slowly. Looks like degenerative disc problems to go along with a broken ass (torn muscle). More tests to follow but it appears that a couple lumbar vertebrae are pinching the sciatic nerve and some other soft tissue, and probably have been for a long time, only hitting a crisis point when I messed up my butt the other week. Not sure how I'm going to cope with the disc issue yet. Start doing a lot of core strength work?
Ps. My mountain biking friends, if you ever wondered what it feels like to be a roadracer, this is a good place to start the discussion.
Pps. The back is healing slowly. Looks like degenerative disc problems to go along with a broken ass (torn muscle). More tests to follow but it appears that a couple lumbar vertebrae are pinching the sciatic nerve and some other soft tissue, and probably have been for a long time, only hitting a crisis point when I messed up my butt the other week. Not sure how I'm going to cope with the disc issue yet. Start doing a lot of core strength work?
Thursday, January 14, 2010
Thank Whatever Deity You Believe In: It's Friday.
It's important to let your meat rest. I'm talking about steaks. Here's an article on why your steak will taste better if you let it sit for 10 minutes after cooking. What did you think I was referring to?
God may indeed have sent an earthquake to punish the Haitians, just like how He may have sent Pat Robertson to punish us by making us slap our foreheads hard, really hard, in disgust at Pat Robertson.
Danny Glover is punishment for somebody for something bad, only I haven't figured out what yet. He tells us that Global Warming is responsible for the Haitian earthquake. Personally, I think he and Pat Robertson should be sentenced to listen to each other talk for a couple hours. Or would that be cruel and unusual?
Outdoor Magazine is trying to get me to subscribe for a year for $5. I ****ing HATE Outdoor Magazine. It's basically Stuff White People Like: Adventure Sports and Marketing Posh Consumer Goods edition.
Some Friday tunes?
Hmmm. The "Rock" in Kid Rock used to be accurate. Not a huge body of work, but a good one. He's reverted to being an interesting bar performer, I think.
Thinking about doing some work on the house this weekend? Lemmy has some ideas about how you should start the livingroom project.
Now for something completely different... Wagnerian opera is interesting because hard core fans understand it in a way that only other total weirdos understand their little fetish. Ever hear a couple tubular guys talking about tires? They'll discuss the vintage of a tubular tire, talk about how the compounds changed one year, and how they have a secret stash of the old compound tires, aging in a dark closet somewhere. I'm not an enormous Wagner fan, but I know my way around it a bit. One of my favorite little bits of is the Festmarch from Tannhauser. I found this recording of it featuring Frederick Stock conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra - pulled from a record cut probably in the 1910's or 1920's. It's a remarkable old piece of music, and Stock is one of several really noteworthy conductors of Wagner (along with Richard Strauss, Furtwaengler and Toscanini).
Now another painful gear change. I'm not usually big into chart topping pop, but for some reason I like Lady Gaga. She strikes me as a really talented and conscious artist. Over the Thanksgiving break I was flipping through the channels and she was on one of the talkers, just killing it on the piano. I realized at that point that she is one artist that I am just dying to see jump the shark, in the pop sense. Accepted into Julliard (but choosing a Catholic girl's school) and then later attending the Tisch School, she's got some major talent. At some point - probably when the pop money mill slows down - she'll quit performing in lingerie and show us her talent unadorned by the usual over-production. That will be interesting. Meanwhile, we've got entertaining fluff like this to enjoy.
God may indeed have sent an earthquake to punish the Haitians, just like how He may have sent Pat Robertson to punish us by making us slap our foreheads hard, really hard, in disgust at Pat Robertson.
Danny Glover is punishment for somebody for something bad, only I haven't figured out what yet. He tells us that Global Warming is responsible for the Haitian earthquake. Personally, I think he and Pat Robertson should be sentenced to listen to each other talk for a couple hours. Or would that be cruel and unusual?
Outdoor Magazine is trying to get me to subscribe for a year for $5. I ****ing HATE Outdoor Magazine. It's basically Stuff White People Like: Adventure Sports and Marketing Posh Consumer Goods edition.
Some Friday tunes?
Hmmm. The "Rock" in Kid Rock used to be accurate. Not a huge body of work, but a good one. He's reverted to being an interesting bar performer, I think.
Thinking about doing some work on the house this weekend? Lemmy has some ideas about how you should start the livingroom project.
Now for something completely different... Wagnerian opera is interesting because hard core fans understand it in a way that only other total weirdos understand their little fetish. Ever hear a couple tubular guys talking about tires? They'll discuss the vintage of a tubular tire, talk about how the compounds changed one year, and how they have a secret stash of the old compound tires, aging in a dark closet somewhere. I'm not an enormous Wagner fan, but I know my way around it a bit. One of my favorite little bits of is the Festmarch from Tannhauser. I found this recording of it featuring Frederick Stock conducting the Chicago Symphony Orchestra - pulled from a record cut probably in the 1910's or 1920's. It's a remarkable old piece of music, and Stock is one of several really noteworthy conductors of Wagner (along with Richard Strauss, Furtwaengler and Toscanini).
Now another painful gear change. I'm not usually big into chart topping pop, but for some reason I like Lady Gaga. She strikes me as a really talented and conscious artist. Over the Thanksgiving break I was flipping through the channels and she was on one of the talkers, just killing it on the piano. I realized at that point that she is one artist that I am just dying to see jump the shark, in the pop sense. Accepted into Julliard (but choosing a Catholic girl's school) and then later attending the Tisch School, she's got some major talent. At some point - probably when the pop money mill slows down - she'll quit performing in lingerie and show us her talent unadorned by the usual over-production. That will be interesting. Meanwhile, we've got entertaining fluff like this to enjoy.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Silence of the Hams
The lower back / buttocks / hip / quad conspiracy is starting to quiet down now. The pain is merely bothersome and occasionally sharp, not screamingly God-awfully terrifying and debilitating as it was just a few days ago. Yet I am walking around very gingerly, with a slight sensation (maybe only mental) that the pain is waiting around the corner, ready to leap out and stab me hard in the right ass cheek again as soon as I do something stupid, or as soon as it gets up its courage to face down the dynamic duo of Flexerill and Vike, Batman and Robin to hard-to-diagnose soft tissue injuries's Joker. Let's all hope for a continuation of this particular Silence of the Hams, because frankly, I'm tired of all their screaming.
I stopped in to Seibold's shop today to order a few bits for the Kona. Ever been seduced by a bike into putting more trinkets on it than you planned? That has happened to me with this bike. I had intended to just swap out all the gear on the Surly and leave it at that. Then the Kona showed up and it was this amazing Root Beer Brown color, with black, gold and white trim. Very sweet, in a 70's sort of way. The rear hub was dying, and as detailed below, there was no good quality midrange fixed/fixed option, so I went with the Phil Wood, with a very nice Mavic CXP 33 rim, which is terribly light and terribly strong, and true to Lex Bontragerus, not terribly cheap. You know about me getting just-the-perfect saddle, the Sella San Marco Regal, in brushed leather with copper rivets and tubes, and some Salsa brown leather bar tape. Today's visit to FBS was a continuation of the theme. I need to upgrade the handlebar. I have terrible hand numbness problems with small bars, and the Salsa Poco bars now on the bike are tiny. With my ham hands it's like gripping a couple pencils. So we hunted around for some 46cm oversized bars that have a nice flat profile between the flats and the spot where the brake levers will mount. Since we're doing the tape and bar thing and speaking of brakes, might as well upgrade to some decent brake levers, right? So Jon's getting me some Cane Creek levers and we're ditching the shambolic old cheapy Shimanos that worked barely alright. Jon is also drawing a bead on a Thomson seatpost of appropriate length. The Thomson stem now on there will eventually be replaced with a shorter one. That will leave only the brakes - old compact canty Avid Shorty 4's - to be replaced with something lighter and more glam. Maybe the Kore cantis or some TRP Euro-X'es? I'm also eyeballing wooden fenders, which I know don't work as well as plastic curvy ones, but damn, the wheelbrows would look soooo durned good on the Rootbeer Haole Hauler. So much for a practical winter beater and fixed gear trainer.
See what I mean? This has gone from a frame swap, to a total bike build. I can't help myself. The thing rides sweet, and because it rides sweet and looks sweeter, it totally owns me. It would be pathetic, if I wasn't having so much fun building an awesome-riding, light little knockout of a cross/utility bike. That maybe someday I'll actually get to ride again...
------------------------------------------------
I stopped in to Seibold's shop today to order a few bits for the Kona. Ever been seduced by a bike into putting more trinkets on it than you planned? That has happened to me with this bike. I had intended to just swap out all the gear on the Surly and leave it at that. Then the Kona showed up and it was this amazing Root Beer Brown color, with black, gold and white trim. Very sweet, in a 70's sort of way. The rear hub was dying, and as detailed below, there was no good quality midrange fixed/fixed option, so I went with the Phil Wood, with a very nice Mavic CXP 33 rim, which is terribly light and terribly strong, and true to Lex Bontragerus, not terribly cheap. You know about me getting just-the-perfect saddle, the Sella San Marco Regal, in brushed leather with copper rivets and tubes, and some Salsa brown leather bar tape. Today's visit to FBS was a continuation of the theme. I need to upgrade the handlebar. I have terrible hand numbness problems with small bars, and the Salsa Poco bars now on the bike are tiny. With my ham hands it's like gripping a couple pencils. So we hunted around for some 46cm oversized bars that have a nice flat profile between the flats and the spot where the brake levers will mount. Since we're doing the tape and bar thing and speaking of brakes, might as well upgrade to some decent brake levers, right? So Jon's getting me some Cane Creek levers and we're ditching the shambolic old cheapy Shimanos that worked barely alright. Jon is also drawing a bead on a Thomson seatpost of appropriate length. The Thomson stem now on there will eventually be replaced with a shorter one. That will leave only the brakes - old compact canty Avid Shorty 4's - to be replaced with something lighter and more glam. Maybe the Kore cantis or some TRP Euro-X'es? I'm also eyeballing wooden fenders, which I know don't work as well as plastic curvy ones, but damn, the wheelbrows would look soooo durned good on the Rootbeer Haole Hauler. So much for a practical winter beater and fixed gear trainer.
See what I mean? This has gone from a frame swap, to a total bike build. I can't help myself. The thing rides sweet, and because it rides sweet and looks sweeter, it totally owns me. It would be pathetic, if I wasn't having so much fun building an awesome-riding, light little knockout of a cross/utility bike. That maybe someday I'll actually get to ride again...
------------------------------------------------
Update: This is simply too good of a true story not to post.
Man Suffers From Haunted Scrotum. What? You mean some of them aren't haunted?
Update: This is simply too good of a true story not to post.
Man Suffers From Haunted Scrotum. What? You mean some of them aren't haunted?
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Words to Live By
Triples never shift quite right, and the front derailer trim is usually funny. At the same time, you can get within a whisker of a triple's gear range using a 50-34 front derailer, on an 11-25 or 11-27 cassette. If you're considering a triple, I presume the somewhat larger gaps between rear cogs on an 11-27 doesn't bother you too much; you're not a target for a slick shifting 11-23 anyhow. Front shifting is just as reliable as any other double if you install a Chain Dog or Third Eye Chainwatcher, which is about $7, and probably $2.79 at wholesale. And really, if you're an entry level rider, are you going to miss the 53:11 option? So why do manufacturers keep selling triples on entry level road bikes? Did the advent of popular compact cranks leave them with a lot of New Old Stock of triples on hand? Do they have a bunch of old machinery purpose-built for milling out triple cranks, and they are trying to get some marginal profit? Otherwise, I don't get it.
Lenard Zinn has a few tips for how you should store tubulars in the cross off-season. He has detailed instructions on how to remove them, how to hang them, how to suck sealant out of them, and the relevance of temperature and humidity factors. After reading the article, I'm definitely convinced... that it's time to throw mine out and by new ones. No way am I going through that hassle.
If you saw Avatar and now wish to commit suicide because the movie made you realize how we've destroyed our planet, and the paradise all of us humans squandered thanks to insanely cruel Marines, you probably should follow your impulse. Otherwise, it's a sure bet that you will die when you stick your arm under the lawn mower to see if it's running, when you find out what happens when you stick your tongue in a power outlet, or when you light a match behind the furnace to see if it's leaking, because you think you smell gas. Any of these results would certainly make the 10 foot tall blue people cry, and you don't want to do that, do you?
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Velo News gives Sampson's new-ish lightweight "Stratics" gruppo the ultimate backhanded compliment.while the performance, ergonomics, durability, and finish quality might be open to debate, depending on personal preference and a rider’s needs, there’s no denying that Eric Sampson’s components are quite light and reasonably priced.You want that in English? The performance, comfort, durability and looks are questionable, but at least it's cheap and light. There is an inviolable rule in bikes. Bontrager's Iron Triangle says that you can have cheap, light, and strong: but you can only have two of them at one time.
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Lenard Zinn has a few tips for how you should store tubulars in the cross off-season. He has detailed instructions on how to remove them, how to hang them, how to suck sealant out of them, and the relevance of temperature and humidity factors. After reading the article, I'm definitely convinced... that it's time to throw mine out and by new ones. No way am I going through that hassle.
-------------------------------------------------
If you saw Avatar and now wish to commit suicide because the movie made you realize how we've destroyed our planet, and the paradise all of us humans squandered thanks to insanely cruel Marines, you probably should follow your impulse. Otherwise, it's a sure bet that you will die when you stick your arm under the lawn mower to see if it's running, when you find out what happens when you stick your tongue in a power outlet, or when you light a match behind the furnace to see if it's leaking, because you think you smell gas. Any of these results would certainly make the 10 foot tall blue people cry, and you don't want to do that, do you?
Sunday, January 10, 2010
If Life Gives You Lemons, Make Lemon Drop Martinis
The discussion on the club listserve yesterday and today was the usual winter doldrums chat. Who is riding, going where, what pace, is the road actually clear enough, what about the ice on Elm Street, learned my lessons the last time I crashed in January, nope, sticking to the rollers, hey let's play street hockey, etc - then degenerating into some off-topic chat. Anybody on a team listserve no doubt had the identical discussion yesterday, today, last week and last year forever. It doesn't change the immediacy of the question though. We'd all rather be out riding.
I'd be happy to be engaged in the discussion in a serious manner but my butt is not cooperating. Yep, my back is better. I think it turned the corner yesterday; I'm about 75% mobile, the screaming pain at the base of my spine and radiating into my ass and leg is now just talking loudly like a drunk guy at a party, and like the drunk guy it sometimes even passes out and is silent for 25 minutes at a time. Instead of feeling like there is a railroad spike stuck in my back just to the right of my spine, it now feels like a two and one-half inch finishing nail, driven about halfway in. That sounds horrible but trust me, if you haven't spent a week with the kind of pain that makes you feel like you are panicking, hyperventilating and going cross-eyed, then you don't know what a great improvement that is.
I'm grateful for the improvement. But still, I'd rather be riding. Since breaking my butt ten days ago, I've been completely off the bike. No road, no dirt, no rollers, nada. I am desperate to be on a bike, any bike, I would even settle for doing VO2 intervals on a little folder on my crummy cheap (and generally very painful to ride) trainer that I only use for warmup at cross races. But I can't right now, because whatever the problem actually was (doc doesn't really know, though he pretends to think it's a torn ass muscle and with maybe minor disc/sciatica complications...) only just started to turn the corner.
It's not all bad news though. Even as unhappy as I am, this gives me the chance to take a handful of Vicodin (made from the best opiates on earth), then make like Kubla Khan, ponder whether the Alph does in fact run through caverns measureless to man down to the sunless sea, and to sit inside my stately pleasure dome (AKA the Man
Cave) this afternoon watching the NFL playoffs. You think Kubla Khan and the Golden Horde (the medieval version of Team Columbia circa 2009) had big screen hi-def coverage of the Hundred Years' War? I think not.
While I'm stuck inside here trying to get my Zen on and negate my own bad vibes, and accept the fact that sometimes the body needs a rest, my sincerest wish is that all of you take advantage of the day and have fun with it. Do what you can do. And appreciate the fact that you can do it.
I'd be happy to be engaged in the discussion in a serious manner but my butt is not cooperating. Yep, my back is better. I think it turned the corner yesterday; I'm about 75% mobile, the screaming pain at the base of my spine and radiating into my ass and leg is now just talking loudly like a drunk guy at a party, and like the drunk guy it sometimes even passes out and is silent for 25 minutes at a time. Instead of feeling like there is a railroad spike stuck in my back just to the right of my spine, it now feels like a two and one-half inch finishing nail, driven about halfway in. That sounds horrible but trust me, if you haven't spent a week with the kind of pain that makes you feel like you are panicking, hyperventilating and going cross-eyed, then you don't know what a great improvement that is.
I'm grateful for the improvement. But still, I'd rather be riding. Since breaking my butt ten days ago, I've been completely off the bike. No road, no dirt, no rollers, nada. I am desperate to be on a bike, any bike, I would even settle for doing VO2 intervals on a little folder on my crummy cheap (and generally very painful to ride) trainer that I only use for warmup at cross races. But I can't right now, because whatever the problem actually was (doc doesn't really know, though he pretends to think it's a torn ass muscle and with maybe minor disc/sciatica complications...) only just started to turn the corner.
It's not all bad news though. Even as unhappy as I am, this gives me the chance to take a handful of Vicodin (made from the best opiates on earth), then make like Kubla Khan, ponder whether the Alph does in fact run through caverns measureless to man down to the sunless sea, and to sit inside my stately pleasure dome (AKA the Man
Cave) this afternoon watching the NFL playoffs. You think Kubla Khan and the Golden Horde (the medieval version of Team Columbia circa 2009) had big screen hi-def coverage of the Hundred Years' War? I think not.
While I'm stuck inside here trying to get my Zen on and negate my own bad vibes, and accept the fact that sometimes the body needs a rest, my sincerest wish is that all of you take advantage of the day and have fun with it. Do what you can do. And appreciate the fact that you can do it.
Friday, January 08, 2010
Friday Muzak
Some progression for you.
First, there was this.
Then there was this.
Then there was this.
Then this.
Oh, dear God. Make it stop.
I guess if you sat through that, you deserve something good. Here, have a little Wu Tang. NSFW! Seriously. Don't hit play on this if you're in the office with the speakers up. Cool tune though, vintage Wu Tang.
So have a nice weekend, all, and wherever you may find yourself, know that you have my full support in your efforts to bring the mother****** ruckus.
First, there was this.
Then there was this.
Then there was this.
Then this.
Oh, dear God. Make it stop.
I guess if you sat through that, you deserve something good. Here, have a little Wu Tang. NSFW! Seriously. Don't hit play on this if you're in the office with the speakers up. Cool tune though, vintage Wu Tang.
So have a nice weekend, all, and wherever you may find yourself, know that you have my full support in your efforts to bring the mother****** ruckus.
Thursday, January 07, 2010
Back At It...
Okay, no detailed update for today. Saw my doctor the other day - a couple drug-addled days ago. He confirmed that I definitely tore a muscle in my ass, but said maybe there was some sciatica related to a degenerative disc issue. Funny, that's what this really smart PhD physiotherapist type told me... So it was off to get x-rayed, and to get more drugs. Yay.
I'm still about 90% bed/sofa bound. I can walk around a bit but it is profoundly uncomfortable. Not the dithering/near passing out pain of a few days ago, but bad, roughly about how you feel after doing the hardest bike crash you can do without actually breaking a bone. Still, I should be riding (gently) within a few days. I'm also capable of sitting at the computer and doing a bit of work, providing I hunch over and rest my elbows and chest on the desk... not optimal, kids. Not optimal at all. Doesn't mean I can't have fun though. Just that it has to be horizontal. Um, and non-strenuous on the back, so that rules out most of what you just thought about. However...
I got a little love from BikeMan. Took me a while to find it, but I found the right saddle for my new root beer brown Kona Major One. This'un.
That's fun, right? Seibold also built me up a pretty sweet rear wheel, a high flange Phil track hub on a Mavic CXP 33 rim. The wheel weighs just about nothing, and it rolls smooth like butta. Plus it's classy. The old rear wheel (and front) were Salsa Delgado Cross rims, which still have a bunch of life in them and which may become 29'er rims. The hubs were Surly Basic Hubs, both of which basically shredded after probably 5k miles. Admittedly, they were tough miles but we replaced the bearings in them twice, but there's some issue with the seals or bearing/hub interface, and the inner surface of the hubs were shot in short order. In my search for fixed hub I looked for a good midrange fixed/fixed hub, and it doesn't seem like there are any. There is a shitload of hubs priced $40-$55, and all of them appear to be turned out by the same manufacturer in Taiwan or someplace - same basic design, same everything, except for branding (Surly, IRO, Harris, whatever). Then there are the upscale hubs - White Industries, Phil, Dura Ace if you're into that. I decided to go with a Phil to see what the hubbub is about. How about zero side-to-side slop on the axle, and a spin that is so silky, you can't feel any bearing action? The Phil caused me to rethink the bike a bit and instead of just putting the gear on that was on the Crosscheck, I decided to upgrade most of the running gear. The bike is coming together. Still need to work out the handlebar/brake lever combo, stem & seatpost, and maybe some upgraded brakes from the old style Avid Shorty 4's. But I've already got some brown pleather tape for the handlebar... and she's going to be purty. Hey, maybe I'll get to ride it again some day. I'll have pics when that happens.
I've been cruising the web a little too. I found out that Kyle feels fat. Don't worry Kyle. You aren't the fattest thing on two wheels. Trust me on this.
I also found out the other day what Keirin would look like if GreenPeace was the sanctioning body for the races.
Reduce, reuse, recycle, veer left after you pass the derny.
Speaking of GreenPeace, my favorite Ambassadors of Teh Erf, Sea Shepherd, who broke off from GreenPeace because they were too peaceful, have once again made history in the protection of whales by getting one of their boats rammed by a Japanese whaler. Understand, I'm very much in favor of holding Japan to their treaty obligations, but I'm extremely against narcissistic, self-aggrandizing assholes (whoops, that just triggered my unintentional irony alarm...) So I could only watch this video, and smile.
Of course, during my downtime I've watched a lot of hockey and a lot of NBA ball. I saw Ben Wallace was looking clean cut, and wondered was wondering where his hair went to. Now I know...
Of course it's going to get a technical for destroying that truck, but Ben don't care. His hair still gets more rebounds than Shaq. Plus it's smart enough not to pull a gun on a teammate in the locker room, which is more than you can say about some pillars of the community...
I also checked out George Hincapie's new kit for Paris-Roubaix. Just as his bike is going to be a Roubaix special, the good folks at Hincapie Sportswear ginned up some team kit just to help Gorgeous George survive Roubaix without injury this year. Check it out.
And that's wearing only his jersey! Wait until you see his knee warmers. Of course when injuries fail to take Georgie out of contention, flats usually do. As of yet, there's no word yet on whether he managed to obtain those 1885 vintage Vittoria Roubaix Specials (TPI 1) from the Vintage Velo Museum. Rumor has it they're made of state-of-the-art solid Bakelite, and are utterly immune to puncture. According to Pez, they are rugged, and the weight penalty is "minimal," at least compared to the maple, oak, and steel-bound hickory options. Pez gave them a "must buy" rating, like pretty much everything else the bike industry gives them to review.
Boy, I bet this guy feels like an ass in this old car...
Truth is, Warren would have ridden more often, but when he put on the lycra, he usually found people staring at his enormous log.
That's all I got today kids. I'm really tired.
I'm still about 90% bed/sofa bound. I can walk around a bit but it is profoundly uncomfortable. Not the dithering/near passing out pain of a few days ago, but bad, roughly about how you feel after doing the hardest bike crash you can do without actually breaking a bone. Still, I should be riding (gently) within a few days. I'm also capable of sitting at the computer and doing a bit of work, providing I hunch over and rest my elbows and chest on the desk... not optimal, kids. Not optimal at all. Doesn't mean I can't have fun though. Just that it has to be horizontal. Um, and non-strenuous on the back, so that rules out most of what you just thought about. However...
I got a little love from BikeMan. Took me a while to find it, but I found the right saddle for my new root beer brown Kona Major One. This'un.
That's fun, right? Seibold also built me up a pretty sweet rear wheel, a high flange Phil track hub on a Mavic CXP 33 rim. The wheel weighs just about nothing, and it rolls smooth like butta. Plus it's classy. The old rear wheel (and front) were Salsa Delgado Cross rims, which still have a bunch of life in them and which may become 29'er rims. The hubs were Surly Basic Hubs, both of which basically shredded after probably 5k miles. Admittedly, they were tough miles but we replaced the bearings in them twice, but there's some issue with the seals or bearing/hub interface, and the inner surface of the hubs were shot in short order. In my search for fixed hub I looked for a good midrange fixed/fixed hub, and it doesn't seem like there are any. There is a shitload of hubs priced $40-$55, and all of them appear to be turned out by the same manufacturer in Taiwan or someplace - same basic design, same everything, except for branding (Surly, IRO, Harris, whatever). Then there are the upscale hubs - White Industries, Phil, Dura Ace if you're into that. I decided to go with a Phil to see what the hubbub is about. How about zero side-to-side slop on the axle, and a spin that is so silky, you can't feel any bearing action? The Phil caused me to rethink the bike a bit and instead of just putting the gear on that was on the Crosscheck, I decided to upgrade most of the running gear. The bike is coming together. Still need to work out the handlebar/brake lever combo, stem & seatpost, and maybe some upgraded brakes from the old style Avid Shorty 4's. But I've already got some brown pleather tape for the handlebar... and she's going to be purty. Hey, maybe I'll get to ride it again some day. I'll have pics when that happens.I've been cruising the web a little too. I found out that Kyle feels fat. Don't worry Kyle. You aren't the fattest thing on two wheels. Trust me on this.
I also found out the other day what Keirin would look like if GreenPeace was the sanctioning body for the races.
Reduce, reuse, recycle, veer left after you pass the derny.
Speaking of GreenPeace, my favorite Ambassadors of Teh Erf, Sea Shepherd, who broke off from GreenPeace because they were too peaceful, have once again made history in the protection of whales by getting one of their boats rammed by a Japanese whaler. Understand, I'm very much in favor of holding Japan to their treaty obligations, but I'm extremely against narcissistic, self-aggrandizing assholes (whoops, that just triggered my unintentional irony alarm...) So I could only watch this video, and smile.
Of course, during my downtime I've watched a lot of hockey and a lot of NBA ball. I saw Ben Wallace was looking clean cut, and wondered was wondering where his hair went to. Now I know...
Of course it's going to get a technical for destroying that truck, but Ben don't care. His hair still gets more rebounds than Shaq. Plus it's smart enough not to pull a gun on a teammate in the locker room, which is more than you can say about some pillars of the community...
I also checked out George Hincapie's new kit for Paris-Roubaix. Just as his bike is going to be a Roubaix special, the good folks at Hincapie Sportswear ginned up some team kit just to help Gorgeous George survive Roubaix without injury this year. Check it out.
And that's wearing only his jersey! Wait until you see his knee warmers. Of course when injuries fail to take Georgie out of contention, flats usually do. As of yet, there's no word yet on whether he managed to obtain those 1885 vintage Vittoria Roubaix Specials (TPI 1) from the Vintage Velo Museum. Rumor has it they're made of state-of-the-art solid Bakelite, and are utterly immune to puncture. According to Pez, they are rugged, and the weight penalty is "minimal," at least compared to the maple, oak, and steel-bound hickory options. Pez gave them a "must buy" rating, like pretty much everything else the bike industry gives them to review.
Boy, I bet this guy feels like an ass in this old car...
Truth is, Warren would have ridden more often, but when he put on the lycra, he usually found people staring at his enormous log.
That's all I got today kids. I'm really tired.
Sunday, January 03, 2010
Tired of Busting My A55
Sorry I've been so quiet lately. (Bet you don't hear that often from me). I've been laid up a bit recently. My kid woke up the other day with some bad dreams and called for me. So, in a hurry, I flung my right leg out and over the edge of the bed to jump up and go running into his room. There was this pop in my butt/hip region, and a bit of pain shot up my lower back and down my leg. I dropped back into bed and laid there for another hour or so until it subsided.
This didn't come without warning. I've had a stiff lower back since Rockburn, but was putting off doing more core strength work until after cross season, and a bit of a rest up through the New Year. Smart choice there, asshole...
That was Wednesday. I tried stretching it and going for a bike ride - sometimes that loosens things up - but that didn't work too well. So I tried ice and heat packs and lots of vitamin I, along with laying most of the day on my back in the livingroom, and hitting the sack for a good 11 hours each night. That didn't help. Standing hurt, sitting hurt, lying down hurt, but it hurt considerably less than the other positions.
So yesterday I went to NightTime Pediatric, and got a diagnosis. It looks like that pop I heard was a muscle tearing, specifically one that ties my spine to my hip. According to the Physician's Assistant, it goes under a bunch of bones and is hard to massage out, and the pain pattern is consistent with that, rather than a busted vertebra or messed up sciatic nerve.
Yay! I think... she said it will take quite a while to heal, but there's not a lot to be done except lots of heat and ice, and taking some relaxants and anti-inflammatory drugs. No fun drugs, FWIW.
One big shot of Tolderol (sp?) in the ass later, and a bit of Flexeril and Naprosen, and I was on my way.
It's a little better today but I don't want to jinx things by sitting here typing away.
Suffice to say, that was a final kick in the ass, in a year that brought me many kicks in the ass. There is nothing magical about the transition between December 30th and January 1st, except insofar as it gives us a crutch, a reminder that we can begin again anew. We can do that every day, really, but it's easier to approach the year if we have some clear milestones, including a clear starting point. Mine is today, or maybe tomorrow. In addition to knocking out a hundred miles at Baker's Dozen, finishing 50th Percentile in my cross races and hitting a svelte 215, and 274 riding days, I'm going to add: do some core strength work on every single riding day.
I'm going to add this as a goal because core strength is one thing most of us don't do enough of, and because I've had back problems every couple years of my adult life, normally during periods when I don't do core work.
No, the generalized and universally applicable fact that we cyclists need core strength work isn't my real motivator here. My real motivator is that I'm tired of needlessly busting my ass.
Happy New Year, all. If you have the guts to make yourself publicly accountable, drop your annual goals in comments below. I'm sure your fellow readers would be happy to help hold you accountable for reaching them.
This didn't come without warning. I've had a stiff lower back since Rockburn, but was putting off doing more core strength work until after cross season, and a bit of a rest up through the New Year. Smart choice there, asshole...
That was Wednesday. I tried stretching it and going for a bike ride - sometimes that loosens things up - but that didn't work too well. So I tried ice and heat packs and lots of vitamin I, along with laying most of the day on my back in the livingroom, and hitting the sack for a good 11 hours each night. That didn't help. Standing hurt, sitting hurt, lying down hurt, but it hurt considerably less than the other positions.
So yesterday I went to NightTime Pediatric, and got a diagnosis. It looks like that pop I heard was a muscle tearing, specifically one that ties my spine to my hip. According to the Physician's Assistant, it goes under a bunch of bones and is hard to massage out, and the pain pattern is consistent with that, rather than a busted vertebra or messed up sciatic nerve.
Yay! I think... she said it will take quite a while to heal, but there's not a lot to be done except lots of heat and ice, and taking some relaxants and anti-inflammatory drugs. No fun drugs, FWIW.
One big shot of Tolderol (sp?) in the ass later, and a bit of Flexeril and Naprosen, and I was on my way.
It's a little better today but I don't want to jinx things by sitting here typing away.
Suffice to say, that was a final kick in the ass, in a year that brought me many kicks in the ass. There is nothing magical about the transition between December 30th and January 1st, except insofar as it gives us a crutch, a reminder that we can begin again anew. We can do that every day, really, but it's easier to approach the year if we have some clear milestones, including a clear starting point. Mine is today, or maybe tomorrow. In addition to knocking out a hundred miles at Baker's Dozen, finishing 50th Percentile in my cross races and hitting a svelte 215, and 274 riding days, I'm going to add: do some core strength work on every single riding day.
I'm going to add this as a goal because core strength is one thing most of us don't do enough of, and because I've had back problems every couple years of my adult life, normally during periods when I don't do core work.
No, the generalized and universally applicable fact that we cyclists need core strength work isn't my real motivator here. My real motivator is that I'm tired of needlessly busting my ass.
Happy New Year, all. If you have the guts to make yourself publicly accountable, drop your annual goals in comments below. I'm sure your fellow readers would be happy to help hold you accountable for reaching them.
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