Mama needed us to run to the store. When she says, "I need you to run to the store," that usually means there's baked goods about to happen. Get the keys and go. Take the phone, because she'll call you to tell you what she needs. Besides, you'll need the phone when you are walking around looking for Almond Bark or Curry Paste or somesuch.
So, Noah and I jump in Bessie (pics soon) to make the run. Since it was cold and had snowed all day, it took her awhile to warm up, which gave us plenty of time to scrape the windsheild. And throw snowballs at each other. And try to tackle each other onto a cow patty (see, they are hidden by snow, so you never know).
Once the truck was warmed up, we rumbled to FM 1171. Not that I was ever a fan of 1171 to begin with, but since we moved out here, I avoid it whenever possible. But we had to make this run to walmart. Our kind of people. To get to walmart, we have to take 1171. Ok.
We're rolling along at a nice steady 40 mph. No big thing. Bessie isn't the kind of truck that needs to go fast. She just gets you there. Besides, the wind noise at 45 mph is such that you can't hear the person next to you when they speak.
About the time we got near Robbie's house, about 5 miles away, I realized that we hadn't seen a red light yet. We were seeing all greens. Of course, if I said it then, we'd have been jinxed.
About two stoplights (both green) later, Noah says, "Funny. We haven't had to stop yet."
We got to Lewisville High School, and our string of green lights was still alive. By then, we were rooting for it. I was actually trying to figure out if I should speed up, stay the same, slow down...whatever to keep the streak alive.
The light at Taco Cabana can be seen from LHS, and it was green when we rolled by the school. Would it still be green when we got there?
Yes!
We made it all the way to the light in front of the walmart entrance, right across from 24hr fitness. And we had to wait in a line of four cars. And traffic was heavy the other direction. It was tense.
There was a break, and two cars went through. Now we are second in line, still with no arrow, but a green nonetheless. The car in front cuts it very close. For a second there we were going to be screwed due to an accident.
The light is still green, and I do that jackhole thing where you pull your car out into the intersection, so if the light turns red, everyone has to wait on you.
There is a break in traffic! The light turns yellow! For a split second I forget that Bessie is a column shift (my old truck was a floor shift), but we get her in gear, spin the tires a bit (just a bit), and we scoot through.
High fives and "Whoop"s!
Noah and I went into that walmart exuding Victory. We shared it with our people. We bought two little pies, mine apple, and his cherry. And we celebrated.
Then we bought some rubber boots, because even though we both have good work boots, even good work boots are no fun to put on when they are wet. $14.97 per pair, and we even picked up a pair for Buddy (Reanie already has some). There will be much walking and playing in the pasture tomorrow.
After picking up the boots, we headed over to the fabric section. Mama said to find some fleece material we like so she could make us winter riding hats. We are giving back the Tenzing hats we've been wearing with the rest of the stuff going back to the team. But I've found I really like that style of hat, and since we are currently on Team BAM (how 'bout that, Burke?), we get homemade hats. Some guys couldn't do that--wear homemade cycling togs.
We got the call and were given our orders. Condesened Milk, Butterscotch chips, Chocolate Chips (dark or semi-sweet; not milk chocolate), Graham Cracker Crumbs (which reminds me, for those who know Shannon, he and Teri had a baby girl, Zara, on Monday. Everyone is doing great), and Curry Paste (see? I told you.). I hope the curry paste isn't going with those other ingredients.
We checked out, threw the goods in back of the truck, and we put on what Noah called, "the most comfortable shoes ever."
We drove home. Noah said he'd take the flowers, while I carried the groceries.
I took care of something I needed to do on the 'puter, then Noah and I crunched through the snow out to the pond in our new boots.
Mama says with the the material we bought, she thinks she can make six or seven hats. You'll know who is cool by who is wearing the yellow hats.
Thursday, December 23, 2004
Sunday, December 19, 2004
It Won't Be The Last Time
We put the kids in the new truck and drove out to the pond, just to be silly. We picked up some firewood from a brushpile soon to be burned. We threw rocks, stomped in the mud, kissed under the mistletoe, and generally just enjoyed being outside on a cool evening.
We mooed at cows, said "bird" at birds, and we messed with a turtle's Sunday sunning. We decided which sticks were good ones and which could be thrown and which ones needed to be in the pile. Anything with thorns needed to be in the pile, for sure.
Like I said, we took the truck just because it is new. As new as a '76 F150 (The Coach, Inc. has been downsizing) can be. It was silly. Really silly when I didn't see the hole that was made with the tractor a week or so ago. Put that driver's side front wheel right in there axle deep with all of my offspring getting thrown about in the back.
They loved it, of course.
Since I wasn't exaggerating about the axle deep part, there was no way to drive or push it out. So we called upon the "U" in our SUV, and proceeded to break the two tow straps we have. Kid #1 thought it made a cool sound when they "Popped."
Mama went back to the barn for some rope and a shovel. Kid #1 watched Kid's #2 and #3. I stood there at the truck, presumably to think of something, but mostly to feel all the way stupid.
Once Mama returned, I tried not to be a jackass and say something that would cut me off for the night, but I just wanted to be grumpy right then. I think I just kept my mouth shut real good, though. I did take the shovel and make the hole less of a hole and more of a sump.
We didn't have any decent rope in an easy place to find, and it was pretty much dark, and everyone was wet, muddy and hungry, so Mama grabbed some climbing rope.
I thought, "It can't break any more than the tow straps did, so let's try it."
It took that rope a while to figure out what it was being asked to do, and it is no longer good for much, but it did the job this time. And for that, Old Climbing Rope, we salute you.
Good ride in the morning. Great lunch. Good paper being put together. Great family time this evening. Good leftovers for dinner in a bit.
That just leaves a Great night. Damn glad I kept my mouth shut earlier!
We mooed at cows, said "bird" at birds, and we messed with a turtle's Sunday sunning. We decided which sticks were good ones and which could be thrown and which ones needed to be in the pile. Anything with thorns needed to be in the pile, for sure.
Like I said, we took the truck just because it is new. As new as a '76 F150 (The Coach, Inc. has been downsizing) can be. It was silly. Really silly when I didn't see the hole that was made with the tractor a week or so ago. Put that driver's side front wheel right in there axle deep with all of my offspring getting thrown about in the back.
They loved it, of course.
Since I wasn't exaggerating about the axle deep part, there was no way to drive or push it out. So we called upon the "U" in our SUV, and proceeded to break the two tow straps we have. Kid #1 thought it made a cool sound when they "Popped."
Mama went back to the barn for some rope and a shovel. Kid #1 watched Kid's #2 and #3. I stood there at the truck, presumably to think of something, but mostly to feel all the way stupid.
Once Mama returned, I tried not to be a jackass and say something that would cut me off for the night, but I just wanted to be grumpy right then. I think I just kept my mouth shut real good, though. I did take the shovel and make the hole less of a hole and more of a sump.
We didn't have any decent rope in an easy place to find, and it was pretty much dark, and everyone was wet, muddy and hungry, so Mama grabbed some climbing rope.
I thought, "It can't break any more than the tow straps did, so let's try it."
It took that rope a while to figure out what it was being asked to do, and it is no longer good for much, but it did the job this time. And for that, Old Climbing Rope, we salute you.
Good ride in the morning. Great lunch. Good paper being put together. Great family time this evening. Good leftovers for dinner in a bit.
That just leaves a Great night. Damn glad I kept my mouth shut earlier!
Monday, December 06, 2004
Continuing Education
Back in my teaching days, we were required to put in XX number of hours per year in "Continuing Education." I dreaded every single class I took. Half the time, we had to pay for it out of our own pocket, but since taking a certain number of hours was required, it was just part of the gig. So, I'd scour the list of classes that met the requirements for my particular certification (special ed--combat unit), starting with the ones that the district or school would pay.
The ones the district or school would pay for were on the weekends. Bummer. The ones out of my own pocket were during the week, usually in Austin (I was up in Highland Village/Lewisville). So, I'd pick one during the week, get a couple days off of work (and it was fugging work), go to Austin, wish I was outside riding, and listen to all of the new laws, procedures and other stuff I should know if I didn't want to get sued.
But those $200 Contiuing Education gigs got me my weekends to ride/race. That was worth it.
I was going somewhere else with that, but got off track. Getting back on track now. See, while working on my writing degree, I learned about transitions. Not only did I work in the Transition Unit, I'm now transitioning back to what I meant to talk about with regards to Continuing Education and weekends in the first place.
Last week was nearly a wash for training. Like many, I get slammed with work too, even if my job is talking about bike racing. Not only have I been slammed lately, we were slammed so hard that we nearly capsized. When things are going crazy, we need that ride to smooth it out. But when your world is about bike racing and it is going crazy, it can be hard to get on the trainer to smooth it out. But whatever, I'm not really complaining--it wouldn't matter if I did anyway--I'm just trying to explain where I was.
Friday came around, and on Fridays, it is hard to get 'hold of anything to take care of work stuff. I went to pick up Kid #1 from school, and the first thing he said to me was, "Did you have a bad day?"
Man, when I'm with the kids I don't want to be a downer. That's the good stuff, the good times, the memories. That's what it is all about. I work at home so I can see the silly stuff and be a part of the learning stuff. But when one of them sees you for two seconds and knows your day was heavy, then they've seen it too much in you.
So I told him, "I need you to ride with me today." Continuing education.
Back in the teaching days, as much as I didn't want to go to any of that "continuing education" crap, I almost always ended the class being more motivated. Maybe it was just the break from the high stress classroom (I worked with behavior and emotionally disordered high school students) that gave me the breather, or maybe it was the fresh ideas or reinforcement of what we were doing in the classroom that was a breath of fresh air. Whatever it was, I generally was ready for work to the extent that it didn't feel like just a job.
Kid #1 just bought a Playstation game a few days earlier, and he doesn't have homework on Fridays, so he wasn't thinking about riding. He was thinking about Jak3 or something. And when I told him I needed him to ride with me, you could tell he was thinking, "I hope this doesn't count against my Playstation time."
We suited up, and I made sure we were in similar kits. I don't know why. Maybe because I want him to feel like part of the team. Maybe I just wanted to feel like he was part of the team. I'd see a shrink, but we're broke.
So we rode. By the time we were to Jeter Hill, he was telling me all about his new game, the different levels, the special buttons and everything else that makes him think about that game like I think about what Chloe is making for dinner.
We rode twenty miles, but I came out of it like it was some spa weekend with froo froo massage oils and green tea enemas. I mean, if that kind of thing feels nice and refreshing.
I'd heard from Mike about a ride leaving from Plano on Saturday morning, so Scottie let me talk him into riding from my place to Plano and then to rbm for a Group Ride and then riding back home to Stella. I was kinda hoping Scottie would say, "No, let's just ride out here." But on the other hand, the ride with Kid #1 kicked me into gear, and I was ready to pile on the miles.
And that is what Scottie and I did. I was off the bike for a week, but we knocked out that 180K (sounds longer and more euro in kilometers), and I wasn't even all that tired afterwards. The company and pace were good, the weather was perfect for the last few hours, and I didn't spend any money. And I beat Scottie on all the sprints he didn't go for.
Sunday morning gets here, and though it isn't raining, it is doing that worse stuff where it just sort of pisses and slimes on everything. And I'm pissed that nobody is doing the Sunday ride. I wait for it to look like it is going to clear up, hoping I can find a riding buddy.
The hours tick away, and though I get some stuff done, I still would much rather ride. Everyone around here eats lunch, but I hold off thinking that I'm gonna head out any minute. After Kid #1 finishes his lunch, he asks me if we can go ride.
Now, I know I just said that I live for the kid moments, and this was definitely one of them, but I was really hoping to ride at something like 19-20mph, not 15mph. But dang, it was raining and I wanted a riding buddy, so this was not such a bad compromise.
We suited up, and I made him a pair of shoecovers. It stopped raining on us about two miles into the ride, which is about when he said that he wanted to do the Jeterberg, which is a ten mile loop. I told him, "Yeah, 30 or 40 sounds good."
His longest ride on his own road bike has been 25 miles, so 30 sounded long, and 40 sounded impossible long. We'd done 100K rides on the tandem, but that was more like himriding in the trailer than actually riding 100K. Whatever, he was now sitting there thinking, "OK, how can I get out of this?"
He replied, "Let's do 30. Where will we go?"
I answered, "Yeah, 40 sounds good to me too."
"I said T-H-I-R-T-Y," Kid #1 clarified.
"40 is about all I wanted to do too. It'll be good," I acknowledged.
"How far is that," said the gifted and talented student.
"A little more than 39, but not quite 41," replied the smart ass Dad.
So we did a couple loops of The Cemetary--Robson Ranch, with a gel shot every 5-6 miles to keep him motivated. At 15 miles, he said, "When you (meaning "one" not me)get on auto-pilot, you just want to ride and ride. 40 miles doesn't seem very far now." And then he talked for the next hour about his new game.
We saved the special treat/surprise for the 30 mile mark, when I gave him the GU "Espresso Love," which has double the caffeine.
And that got us to the store in Argyle where he got another treat of some double fudge-mocha-brownie-chocolate cookie thing with ice cream. I checked out the wrapper, and it said 598 calories and 60% of the daily recommended fat for a 2000 calorie diet. This kid probably gained weight on the 40 mile ride.
With cookie on his face, and me deciding that he looked better that way, we head out from the store for the 6.5 mile trip home.
I was off the bike for nearly a week, but the three rides I had after that were three of the best rides I've ever had. I'm totally refreshed and ready to get back to work. And train too.
Thanks, Noah, Scottie, Byrd, Gacki, Cotten, Footie and Teri.
Brad, would you tell Glen that all the Playstation talk I heard this weekend made me want to break out the volleyball game and some drink again. Tell him he can call the night, and I'll make sure the grub includes polenta.
The ones the district or school would pay for were on the weekends. Bummer. The ones out of my own pocket were during the week, usually in Austin (I was up in Highland Village/Lewisville). So, I'd pick one during the week, get a couple days off of work (and it was fugging work), go to Austin, wish I was outside riding, and listen to all of the new laws, procedures and other stuff I should know if I didn't want to get sued.
But those $200 Contiuing Education gigs got me my weekends to ride/race. That was worth it.
I was going somewhere else with that, but got off track. Getting back on track now. See, while working on my writing degree, I learned about transitions. Not only did I work in the Transition Unit, I'm now transitioning back to what I meant to talk about with regards to Continuing Education and weekends in the first place.
Last week was nearly a wash for training. Like many, I get slammed with work too, even if my job is talking about bike racing. Not only have I been slammed lately, we were slammed so hard that we nearly capsized. When things are going crazy, we need that ride to smooth it out. But when your world is about bike racing and it is going crazy, it can be hard to get on the trainer to smooth it out. But whatever, I'm not really complaining--it wouldn't matter if I did anyway--I'm just trying to explain where I was.
Friday came around, and on Fridays, it is hard to get 'hold of anything to take care of work stuff. I went to pick up Kid #1 from school, and the first thing he said to me was, "Did you have a bad day?"
Man, when I'm with the kids I don't want to be a downer. That's the good stuff, the good times, the memories. That's what it is all about. I work at home so I can see the silly stuff and be a part of the learning stuff. But when one of them sees you for two seconds and knows your day was heavy, then they've seen it too much in you.
So I told him, "I need you to ride with me today." Continuing education.
Back in the teaching days, as much as I didn't want to go to any of that "continuing education" crap, I almost always ended the class being more motivated. Maybe it was just the break from the high stress classroom (I worked with behavior and emotionally disordered high school students) that gave me the breather, or maybe it was the fresh ideas or reinforcement of what we were doing in the classroom that was a breath of fresh air. Whatever it was, I generally was ready for work to the extent that it didn't feel like just a job.
Kid #1 just bought a Playstation game a few days earlier, and he doesn't have homework on Fridays, so he wasn't thinking about riding. He was thinking about Jak3 or something. And when I told him I needed him to ride with me, you could tell he was thinking, "I hope this doesn't count against my Playstation time."
We suited up, and I made sure we were in similar kits. I don't know why. Maybe because I want him to feel like part of the team. Maybe I just wanted to feel like he was part of the team. I'd see a shrink, but we're broke.
So we rode. By the time we were to Jeter Hill, he was telling me all about his new game, the different levels, the special buttons and everything else that makes him think about that game like I think about what Chloe is making for dinner.
We rode twenty miles, but I came out of it like it was some spa weekend with froo froo massage oils and green tea enemas. I mean, if that kind of thing feels nice and refreshing.
I'd heard from Mike about a ride leaving from Plano on Saturday morning, so Scottie let me talk him into riding from my place to Plano and then to rbm for a Group Ride and then riding back home to Stella. I was kinda hoping Scottie would say, "No, let's just ride out here." But on the other hand, the ride with Kid #1 kicked me into gear, and I was ready to pile on the miles.
And that is what Scottie and I did. I was off the bike for a week, but we knocked out that 180K (sounds longer and more euro in kilometers), and I wasn't even all that tired afterwards. The company and pace were good, the weather was perfect for the last few hours, and I didn't spend any money. And I beat Scottie on all the sprints he didn't go for.
Sunday morning gets here, and though it isn't raining, it is doing that worse stuff where it just sort of pisses and slimes on everything. And I'm pissed that nobody is doing the Sunday ride. I wait for it to look like it is going to clear up, hoping I can find a riding buddy.
The hours tick away, and though I get some stuff done, I still would much rather ride. Everyone around here eats lunch, but I hold off thinking that I'm gonna head out any minute. After Kid #1 finishes his lunch, he asks me if we can go ride.
Now, I know I just said that I live for the kid moments, and this was definitely one of them, but I was really hoping to ride at something like 19-20mph, not 15mph. But dang, it was raining and I wanted a riding buddy, so this was not such a bad compromise.
We suited up, and I made him a pair of shoecovers. It stopped raining on us about two miles into the ride, which is about when he said that he wanted to do the Jeterberg, which is a ten mile loop. I told him, "Yeah, 30 or 40 sounds good."
His longest ride on his own road bike has been 25 miles, so 30 sounded long, and 40 sounded impossible long. We'd done 100K rides on the tandem, but that was more like himriding in the trailer than actually riding 100K. Whatever, he was now sitting there thinking, "OK, how can I get out of this?"
He replied, "Let's do 30. Where will we go?"
I answered, "Yeah, 40 sounds good to me too."
"I said T-H-I-R-T-Y," Kid #1 clarified.
"40 is about all I wanted to do too. It'll be good," I acknowledged.
"How far is that," said the gifted and talented student.
"A little more than 39, but not quite 41," replied the smart ass Dad.
So we did a couple loops of The Cemetary--Robson Ranch, with a gel shot every 5-6 miles to keep him motivated. At 15 miles, he said, "When you (meaning "one" not me)get on auto-pilot, you just want to ride and ride. 40 miles doesn't seem very far now." And then he talked for the next hour about his new game.
We saved the special treat/surprise for the 30 mile mark, when I gave him the GU "Espresso Love," which has double the caffeine.
And that got us to the store in Argyle where he got another treat of some double fudge-mocha-brownie-chocolate cookie thing with ice cream. I checked out the wrapper, and it said 598 calories and 60% of the daily recommended fat for a 2000 calorie diet. This kid probably gained weight on the 40 mile ride.
With cookie on his face, and me deciding that he looked better that way, we head out from the store for the 6.5 mile trip home.
I was off the bike for nearly a week, but the three rides I had after that were three of the best rides I've ever had. I'm totally refreshed and ready to get back to work. And train too.
Thanks, Noah, Scottie, Byrd, Gacki, Cotten, Footie and Teri.
Brad, would you tell Glen that all the Playstation talk I heard this weekend made me want to break out the volleyball game and some drink again. Tell him he can call the night, and I'll make sure the grub includes polenta.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
Crossing it Off the List
Lame. I know.
I've had "Check your Blog" on my 'To Do' list for a few weeks. No time to be clever or whatever, so here's the most feeble Blog entry in Blog history.
You get what you pay for.
Thought for the day...date the girls who listened to Ronnie James Dio, but marry the girls who listened to Tears for Fears or Howard Jones.
I've had "Check your Blog" on my 'To Do' list for a few weeks. No time to be clever or whatever, so here's the most feeble Blog entry in Blog history.
You get what you pay for.
Thought for the day...date the girls who listened to Ronnie James Dio, but marry the girls who listened to Tears for Fears or Howard Jones.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
For My Main Man, The Assassin
Why are there so many songs about rainbows
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
Who said that every wish would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of thatand someone believed it,
And look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing?
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
All of us under its spell,
we know that it's probably magic....
Have you been half asleepand have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
Thank you Brother Paul and K.T. Rana
And what's on the other side?
Rainbows are visions, but only illusions,
And rainbows have nothing to hide.
So we've been told and some choose to believe it
I know they're wrong, wait and see.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
Who said that every wish would be heard and answered
When wished on the morning star?
Somebody thought of thatand someone believed it,
And look what it's done so far.
What's so amazing that keeps us stargazing?
And what do we think we might see?
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
All of us under its spell,
we know that it's probably magic....
Have you been half asleepand have you heard voices?
I've heard them calling my name.
Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailors?
The voice might be one and the same.
I've heard it too many times to ignore it.
It's something that I'm supposed to be.
Someday we'll find it, the rainbow connection,
The lovers, the dreamers and me.
Thank you Brother Paul and K.T. Rana
Sunday, October 10, 2004
Kids, Doping, and the Cheerios Flushing Game--Why I Went to Vegas
Just got back from Vegas. Yep, I spent 3.5 days in a nice hotel room with two kids 2 yr and younger. Vegas, Baby!
We were there on a work trip, actually, but babysitting arrangements fell through at the last minute, leaving me with diaper duty. Seeing as I’m their Daddy, and they are pretty dang cute, and I don’t get all that excited by Interbike in the first place, this really wasn’t that bad of a deal for me. Heck, there are lots of Dads out there wishing they had their kids while their wife did the work gig for a few days. That’s what we did.
Since they are little ones, we weren’t about to order them room service type fare. Since we were on The Strip without a car, we had to walk anywhere we wanted to go. Pushing a double stroller along The Strip is bad, no matter what time you try to go to Walgreens for groceries. And shopping for groceries at a drug store is silly in the first place. But when one is in the wilderness, one has to rely on one’s wits to survive.
Needless to say, room 4-120 at the Venetian probably won’t ever be the same again. I recommend it if you like cheese and cheerios and milk and lunchmeat and whatever else didn’t make it to digestion nicely ground into your floors. All of the outlets are 100% accessible to kids, so you can let them rearrange lamps, phones, clocks, etc. There is one children’s channel on tv there, so you are sure to be able to read or think quietly for 2-3 minutes each day.
The bathroom is tile from floor to ceiling, so the acoustics are great for high pitched squeals. Believe it or not, the bathtub is situated just so that a nimble 2 yr old can climb on the tub and then transition to the counter and sink. Your 2yr old may or may not eat makeup, but some do.
Your kids may or may not get a kick out of flushing one cheerio at a time. When you have time to kill, the cheerio flushing game may not be good for the water supply in the desert, but it will give you something to do on hour number 4 of a 12 hr day in the hotel. Remember, loading two kids into a double stroller, maneuvering through a heavy door and into and out of an elevator, through a hotel and casino AND THEN to The Strip isn’t as easy as it looks when you see smiling kids in a stroller in a catalog.
The wife would come back after a hard day (really) at the show, but she’d bring back an autograph from Eddy or Floyd and tales of jackhole company reps and friendlies. All the while I’m glad to miss out on the obnoxious music blaring from “The BMX Zone” and having to talk with people who think their new model of carbon fiber valve caps are the thing that will help everyday racers win The Tour, because, you know, “Flamiano Bowlachilli used them in The Giro this year to help him to his 37th place on Stage Eleventeen.”
But dang if my wife didn’t get pushed by a water bottle salesman who gave her such a good pitch that she thought buying waterbottles right then was a good idea. That guy must be a genius or something. I mean, we have a hundred waterbottles at the house already.
But she made up for it by getting me a cool DVD thing from Phil Ligget personally.
Now I have to drink some coffee, because I have to write some Interbike reports of all the cool and hot stuff that was there, even if none of it got me inspired to say, “Neat!”
Oh, the longest autograph lines of the week…Tyler Hamilton at the Celltrans booth.
We were there on a work trip, actually, but babysitting arrangements fell through at the last minute, leaving me with diaper duty. Seeing as I’m their Daddy, and they are pretty dang cute, and I don’t get all that excited by Interbike in the first place, this really wasn’t that bad of a deal for me. Heck, there are lots of Dads out there wishing they had their kids while their wife did the work gig for a few days. That’s what we did.
Since they are little ones, we weren’t about to order them room service type fare. Since we were on The Strip without a car, we had to walk anywhere we wanted to go. Pushing a double stroller along The Strip is bad, no matter what time you try to go to Walgreens for groceries. And shopping for groceries at a drug store is silly in the first place. But when one is in the wilderness, one has to rely on one’s wits to survive.
Needless to say, room 4-120 at the Venetian probably won’t ever be the same again. I recommend it if you like cheese and cheerios and milk and lunchmeat and whatever else didn’t make it to digestion nicely ground into your floors. All of the outlets are 100% accessible to kids, so you can let them rearrange lamps, phones, clocks, etc. There is one children’s channel on tv there, so you are sure to be able to read or think quietly for 2-3 minutes each day.
The bathroom is tile from floor to ceiling, so the acoustics are great for high pitched squeals. Believe it or not, the bathtub is situated just so that a nimble 2 yr old can climb on the tub and then transition to the counter and sink. Your 2yr old may or may not eat makeup, but some do.
Your kids may or may not get a kick out of flushing one cheerio at a time. When you have time to kill, the cheerio flushing game may not be good for the water supply in the desert, but it will give you something to do on hour number 4 of a 12 hr day in the hotel. Remember, loading two kids into a double stroller, maneuvering through a heavy door and into and out of an elevator, through a hotel and casino AND THEN to The Strip isn’t as easy as it looks when you see smiling kids in a stroller in a catalog.
The wife would come back after a hard day (really) at the show, but she’d bring back an autograph from Eddy or Floyd and tales of jackhole company reps and friendlies. All the while I’m glad to miss out on the obnoxious music blaring from “The BMX Zone” and having to talk with people who think their new model of carbon fiber valve caps are the thing that will help everyday racers win The Tour, because, you know, “Flamiano Bowlachilli used them in The Giro this year to help him to his 37th place on Stage Eleventeen.”
But dang if my wife didn’t get pushed by a water bottle salesman who gave her such a good pitch that she thought buying waterbottles right then was a good idea. That guy must be a genius or something. I mean, we have a hundred waterbottles at the house already.
But she made up for it by getting me a cool DVD thing from Phil Ligget personally.
Now I have to drink some coffee, because I have to write some Interbike reports of all the cool and hot stuff that was there, even if none of it got me inspired to say, “Neat!”
Oh, the longest autograph lines of the week…Tyler Hamilton at the Celltrans booth.
Sunday, October 03, 2004
Austria, Germany, and Russia Kicked My Ass
Red Bull is often billed as a "sports drink." Vodka is not, but it usually comes from Russia, and they've been cranking out good bike racers. Jägermeister is German. Nobody in their right mind would consider this a sports drink, though it can be consumed as a sport.
We started at Party Central. Party central is loosely based as a house, but it is really a crew of people. We had it turned up to ten, since it was The Assassin's bachelor party. The appropriate movie is playing on the big screen tv, Jackass. There were several computers displaying other fine art as well. Burgers and dogs were grilled up by the captain of the GSTz Party Team. He'd even booked the party bus. He had a black eye. But that was before the party started.
I've been taking it easy for a couple of weeks. Sort of letting the body recover from the stress of the season. Been feeling pretty good, actually, and ready to start the building process for next season. You know how those hurricanes that have been hitting Florida? Things were looking so good for me for a minute there.
Since I had been taking care of myself, I figgered I'd imbibe in a few drinks over the course of the night, but I wasn't going to turn myself inside out, even if it was his bachelor party and B. Thomspon was conducting the orchestra.
But when Robbie put that damn Jägermeister shot inside an already nasty glass of Red Bull, something turned inside me, and at that point, it wasn't my stomach. Chugalug. Hopefully the 'rita before and after would dampen the damage. Well, it made sense at the time.
Since Red Bull is a sports drink, and Vodka looks pretty much like water, the drink of choice as we hopped a couple of bars was already made. I mean, I'm taking care of myself, so the sports drink has to be the healthiest choice.
What the fugg?
So we're all walking around the Dallas hot spots wearing t-shirts with Erik Estrada prominently displayed on the chest. But we made it look cool.
That is, we looked cool until The Assassin decided it would be good fun to tell anyone and everyone that it was he and I to be married...to each other.
So I had another one of those healthy drinks.
Whatever you do, don't drink seven of those things. Six may be OK, but I don't know. I didn't have six.
We managed to get most everyone and the extras we picked up along the way onto the party bus. We went to another establishment where it was like my sixth grade dance--only the girls were dancing. It was just a token appearance there, though. Sort of like crossing off an item on a scavenger hunt. By the time we got to the dance, the outcome of the game had already been decided.
Back on the bus and back to Party Central. A few guests were sucked into The Vortex, and seeing it happen and develop was kind of like that scene in Twister when you see the cow, still alive, in the tornado being taken to wherever tornados take cows. Those guests were just hoping they got let off the tornado in some way that they could tell the tale later.
Jump off the roof onto the bouncy house, put on the head gear, tilt your head back to stop the bleeding. Flower Mound sure is a long way from Party Central. Chloe beat me home, but not by much. I hit the bed just as the kids were waking up.
I've said, "That was stoopid" 112 times so far today.
Good times.
We started at Party Central. Party central is loosely based as a house, but it is really a crew of people. We had it turned up to ten, since it was The Assassin's bachelor party. The appropriate movie is playing on the big screen tv, Jackass. There were several computers displaying other fine art as well. Burgers and dogs were grilled up by the captain of the GSTz Party Team. He'd even booked the party bus. He had a black eye. But that was before the party started.
I've been taking it easy for a couple of weeks. Sort of letting the body recover from the stress of the season. Been feeling pretty good, actually, and ready to start the building process for next season. You know how those hurricanes that have been hitting Florida? Things were looking so good for me for a minute there.
Since I had been taking care of myself, I figgered I'd imbibe in a few drinks over the course of the night, but I wasn't going to turn myself inside out, even if it was his bachelor party and B. Thomspon was conducting the orchestra.
But when Robbie put that damn Jägermeister shot inside an already nasty glass of Red Bull, something turned inside me, and at that point, it wasn't my stomach. Chugalug. Hopefully the 'rita before and after would dampen the damage. Well, it made sense at the time.
Since Red Bull is a sports drink, and Vodka looks pretty much like water, the drink of choice as we hopped a couple of bars was already made. I mean, I'm taking care of myself, so the sports drink has to be the healthiest choice.
What the fugg?
So we're all walking around the Dallas hot spots wearing t-shirts with Erik Estrada prominently displayed on the chest. But we made it look cool.
That is, we looked cool until The Assassin decided it would be good fun to tell anyone and everyone that it was he and I to be married...to each other.
So I had another one of those healthy drinks.
Whatever you do, don't drink seven of those things. Six may be OK, but I don't know. I didn't have six.
We managed to get most everyone and the extras we picked up along the way onto the party bus. We went to another establishment where it was like my sixth grade dance--only the girls were dancing. It was just a token appearance there, though. Sort of like crossing off an item on a scavenger hunt. By the time we got to the dance, the outcome of the game had already been decided.
Back on the bus and back to Party Central. A few guests were sucked into The Vortex, and seeing it happen and develop was kind of like that scene in Twister when you see the cow, still alive, in the tornado being taken to wherever tornados take cows. Those guests were just hoping they got let off the tornado in some way that they could tell the tale later.
Jump off the roof onto the bouncy house, put on the head gear, tilt your head back to stop the bleeding. Flower Mound sure is a long way from Party Central. Chloe beat me home, but not by much. I hit the bed just as the kids were waking up.
I've said, "That was stoopid" 112 times so far today.
Good times.
Friday, September 17, 2004
Please Deposit $0.25
This is what I found in my email box this morning: "You started your blog on fire, but it looks lik (sic) you burnt out."
I can't imagine that anyone actually cared one way or the other if there was a daily post to this thing or not, but if I have 10 minutes to peck something out on the keyboard, I'll normally do so. But there will be one week each month where I'm writing and reviewing lots of stuff anyway as we get the next edition of the paper together. On those weeks, I don't feel like writing anything, including the stuff I'm supposed to write.
But, yeah, I'd agree that there is some burn out there. I feel pretty crispy overall. I raced myself out for the season (planned), I'm working doubletime trying to get the newspaper kicked up a level, we're getting ready for Interbike, there are still two little ones here who are getting louder, faster, and more adventerous, and then there is Kid #1 who really needs a driver's license to get him to all the places he needs to go. Only seven more years. And there are my mtn bike clients who are getting their Fall seasons started, and I've got a handful of roadie clients who are getting anxious with a big stage race and State Championships coming up.
TXBRA should be pretty busy right now, but it isn't. I'll chalk that up to burn out for Prez Rob and myself. When you consider how much time and effort and babysitting Rob has put into TexasBicycleRacing and then TXBRA and into doing his part to make babies in the last few years, it is a wonder the boy can ride a bike at all. I'm comfortably nervous about TXBRA's future, but I'm mostly excited to see that Rob is going to spend more time on Enak, Inc.
And since TXBRA should be pretty busy right now, but isn't, that causes a little bit of stress. I know I shouldn't worry about it, as I'm sure there will be racing next year no matter what happens in the next 6-7 weeks. But the job ain't done until the job is done, and it is starting to feel like that term paper we had in those writing classes of our freshman year of college. We know there is something that needs to be done, and we know the deadline, but...
GSTz is still moving forward, though I've gotten out of the detail bidness of most of that stuff. Funny, just as everyone is ready to hang up the wheels for a couple weeks is when most of the work has to be done to set up for the next season. Just when I'm ready to imagine three days without lycra, I'm having to lay groundwork for the next training camp. That said, I think I'm only going to head up the O.L.D. School camp and leave the rest of the camps to the collective 'zingers to sort out.
Now that I've just written out all of the things I'm supposed to be working on, I think I'll go surf NML and the Racer's Forum on txbra.org. My favorite cigarette break lately, however, is http://www.addictinggames.com/miniputt.html. But we don't play for low score. We play by time. Try to beat 2:23 for a round of 18 holes. I think I can knock a few more seconds off of that, but it the best I've done so far.
So much to do...
"Williams, onesome. Please report to the first teebox."
OK, make that 2:18. Now 2:15. I'm on fire.
I can't imagine that anyone actually cared one way or the other if there was a daily post to this thing or not, but if I have 10 minutes to peck something out on the keyboard, I'll normally do so. But there will be one week each month where I'm writing and reviewing lots of stuff anyway as we get the next edition of the paper together. On those weeks, I don't feel like writing anything, including the stuff I'm supposed to write.
But, yeah, I'd agree that there is some burn out there. I feel pretty crispy overall. I raced myself out for the season (planned), I'm working doubletime trying to get the newspaper kicked up a level, we're getting ready for Interbike, there are still two little ones here who are getting louder, faster, and more adventerous, and then there is Kid #1 who really needs a driver's license to get him to all the places he needs to go. Only seven more years. And there are my mtn bike clients who are getting their Fall seasons started, and I've got a handful of roadie clients who are getting anxious with a big stage race and State Championships coming up.
TXBRA should be pretty busy right now, but it isn't. I'll chalk that up to burn out for Prez Rob and myself. When you consider how much time and effort and babysitting Rob has put into TexasBicycleRacing and then TXBRA and into doing his part to make babies in the last few years, it is a wonder the boy can ride a bike at all. I'm comfortably nervous about TXBRA's future, but I'm mostly excited to see that Rob is going to spend more time on Enak, Inc.
And since TXBRA should be pretty busy right now, but isn't, that causes a little bit of stress. I know I shouldn't worry about it, as I'm sure there will be racing next year no matter what happens in the next 6-7 weeks. But the job ain't done until the job is done, and it is starting to feel like that term paper we had in those writing classes of our freshman year of college. We know there is something that needs to be done, and we know the deadline, but...
GSTz is still moving forward, though I've gotten out of the detail bidness of most of that stuff. Funny, just as everyone is ready to hang up the wheels for a couple weeks is when most of the work has to be done to set up for the next season. Just when I'm ready to imagine three days without lycra, I'm having to lay groundwork for the next training camp. That said, I think I'm only going to head up the O.L.D. School camp and leave the rest of the camps to the collective 'zingers to sort out.
Now that I've just written out all of the things I'm supposed to be working on, I think I'll go surf NML and the Racer's Forum on txbra.org. My favorite cigarette break lately, however, is http://www.addictinggames.com/miniputt.html. But we don't play for low score. We play by time. Try to beat 2:23 for a round of 18 holes. I think I can knock a few more seconds off of that, but it the best I've done so far.
So much to do...
"Williams, onesome. Please report to the first teebox."
OK, make that 2:18. Now 2:15. I'm on fire.
Tuesday, September 14, 2004
Darn, That's The End
"Darn, that's the end." It is one of those things that has stuck with me since childhood. The kid at the end of one of the Schoolhouse Rock segements saying it was the end, but unhappy about it. That is the way I feel about the T'Nighter.
We're all tired. It has been a long season, and most of us don't need much excuse to skip a training ride. But the Tuesday Nighter isn't just a race. I could get sappy and talk about the institution that it has become over the last 20 years, but really, it is just an excuse for me to get my ass kicked by crOzzy, then go have a beer with him afterwards.
Tonight was the last T'Nighter for 2004, and at that, it was rained out, so the official race didn't even happen. We did have an impromtu bandit race with no rules, registration and such, but it was sort of anti-climatic since all the big players weren't there. But we did have a good group of teammates there to represent anyway, and I think it is fitting that we won the thing, even if it wasn't an official race. Way to run it, Rory!
Though Eller would never say it, and I imagine he wouldn't even think it, things definitely went into another gear when he came on board. Sure, we were a strong team before, but adding Eller to our mix impacted us on several levels. Yes, even our bar tab went up.
Besides being one of the bad asses of the Texas racing circuit, he also promotes one of the most famous racing series, The Tuesday Nighter. Of course, it wouldn't be Eller's style to actually PROMOTE the thing. No, he just makes sure someone is sitting at the table to take entry fees. The rest is sort of auto-pilot. But he's our Eller, and dammit, I wouldn't want it any other way.
Even if he did call the season finale because it might rain. Fag.
I'm glad we lined it up anyway, because it takes me a foqqing hour to drive out to the course. Li'l Scott rode co-pilot, and on the way, we kept each other company talking about how much we really didn't feel like racing. I'm telling you, the motivational talk and positivisms were about as frequent as my wins this year.
But we got there and Rory taunted us into suiting up. We did. And we rode a whole warm up lap of .75 miles to get ready for the "race." Long story short...wait, the race was all of 45 minutes, so it wasn't really a long story...anybecause, a bunch of nothing tried to get away, and then Rory, Max, and leo finally made the timing and combination work. I jacked with the chase, and that was that.
TEO took off with two to go, which forced a Plano Red to chase (we're Plano Blue for the uninitiated), which forced the field to chase, which essentially led us out to about 700m. That's where Gacki and new 'zinger Les led it out. Li'l Scott rolled in for fourth, I took fifth, and Brooks covered sixth.
Then we went out to 'Dinks for dinner and drinks. OK, only TEO and I drank the blue ritas, but we can't help it if we were out with some pansies. I tried to call Eller and JD, but they screen my calls, so we had a mini party with just the few of us. The highlight was Teri talking about the Dirty Sanchez.
GS Tenzing has its faults, but commaderie isn't one of them. I enjoy hanging out with one or all of those kids in Blue and White. Though I think I only have one more race in me this year, I'm already looking forward to the Herro Rides, camps, skiing, and then January, when we start at it all over again.
Big hug for everyone. Even the guys without any pants.
We're all tired. It has been a long season, and most of us don't need much excuse to skip a training ride. But the Tuesday Nighter isn't just a race. I could get sappy and talk about the institution that it has become over the last 20 years, but really, it is just an excuse for me to get my ass kicked by crOzzy, then go have a beer with him afterwards.
Tonight was the last T'Nighter for 2004, and at that, it was rained out, so the official race didn't even happen. We did have an impromtu bandit race with no rules, registration and such, but it was sort of anti-climatic since all the big players weren't there. But we did have a good group of teammates there to represent anyway, and I think it is fitting that we won the thing, even if it wasn't an official race. Way to run it, Rory!
Though Eller would never say it, and I imagine he wouldn't even think it, things definitely went into another gear when he came on board. Sure, we were a strong team before, but adding Eller to our mix impacted us on several levels. Yes, even our bar tab went up.
Besides being one of the bad asses of the Texas racing circuit, he also promotes one of the most famous racing series, The Tuesday Nighter. Of course, it wouldn't be Eller's style to actually PROMOTE the thing. No, he just makes sure someone is sitting at the table to take entry fees. The rest is sort of auto-pilot. But he's our Eller, and dammit, I wouldn't want it any other way.
Even if he did call the season finale because it might rain. Fag.
I'm glad we lined it up anyway, because it takes me a foqqing hour to drive out to the course. Li'l Scott rode co-pilot, and on the way, we kept each other company talking about how much we really didn't feel like racing. I'm telling you, the motivational talk and positivisms were about as frequent as my wins this year.
But we got there and Rory taunted us into suiting up. We did. And we rode a whole warm up lap of .75 miles to get ready for the "race." Long story short...wait, the race was all of 45 minutes, so it wasn't really a long story...anybecause, a bunch of nothing tried to get away, and then Rory, Max, and leo finally made the timing and combination work. I jacked with the chase, and that was that.
TEO took off with two to go, which forced a Plano Red to chase (we're Plano Blue for the uninitiated), which forced the field to chase, which essentially led us out to about 700m. That's where Gacki and new 'zinger Les led it out. Li'l Scott rolled in for fourth, I took fifth, and Brooks covered sixth.
Then we went out to 'Dinks for dinner and drinks. OK, only TEO and I drank the blue ritas, but we can't help it if we were out with some pansies. I tried to call Eller and JD, but they screen my calls, so we had a mini party with just the few of us. The highlight was Teri talking about the Dirty Sanchez.
GS Tenzing has its faults, but commaderie isn't one of them. I enjoy hanging out with one or all of those kids in Blue and White. Though I think I only have one more race in me this year, I'm already looking forward to the Herro Rides, camps, skiing, and then January, when we start at it all over again.
Big hug for everyone. Even the guys without any pants.
Monday, September 13, 2004
Putting the SUV in SUV
The motivation was lacking, so I left for Chappell Hill about 7 hours later than planned. Turns out that Mama and the kids were going to sit this one out, so I flew solo on the trip. Honestly, I wasn't much in the mood for racing after enjoying that lazy Saturday morning, and I was motivated to see if I could have an even lazier Sunday morning. But I volunteered to bring the TXBRA trailer (scaffolding, camera, tents, tables, etc for the finishes of Texas Cup races) down south to the race...when you make a committment, you stick to it. And since that big ol' trailer is sitting in the pasture, which is in plain view through the window at my desk, I'm finally forced to say, "OK, I'M GOING" as if the trailer was taunting me.
Because I'm in full "lazy" mode, I drove over to the barn to get a fresh supply of water bottles from the stash. When I opened the barn door, I was knocked back with a stench that I hope nobody ever has to experience. And mind you, we have two kids in diapers now, so I know stink.
I don't know how the possum got in the barn, but it certainly didn't know how to get out. The weird thing is that I took the lawnmower out of there just a couple days earlier, and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a possum in that little barn then.
Anyway, I did everything I could to not touch the thing, but it had to get out of that barn. I found a rope and made use of a broken shovel handle to lift the carcass to tie a rope around the wasting meat. Then I pulled it out of the barn, gagging only twice. But I can drink grappa, so I may have more tummy constitution than others. Then I tied the rope to the bumper of Moby (our Expedition) and drug (dragged? whatever) the thing out to the pond. Please do not swim in our pond for awhile, OK?
Proceeded then to hook up the trailer and get ready for roll out. I went inside and scrubbed my hands and arms under the hottest water I've ever managed to touch, because I wanted to leave the wife and kids with a big hug, not possum juice.
After a tough goodbye with kid #2, I'm rolling down the road at almost 9pm going a whopping 55mph with that trailer. Oh, I could go faster, but the fact that we just had an axle repaired is making me more cautious than normal. It takes a long time to go 270 miles at 55 mph.
One benefit to traveling by myself is that I could listen to the Jimmy Buffet, the St. Thomas School Pipe and Drum Band, and Coldplay CD's just as loud as I could stand it. That helped the time go by.
Rolled into Chappell Hill at almost 2am, found a place to drop off the trailer, and then drove for a bit to find a place to make camp, as I was not going to get a motel for just a few hours of sleep.
Found a nice spot behind a run down general store-looking place. I cracked the windows, fluffed the pillow, and then spent the next hour killing mosquitos and sweating for no good reason.
When I started cramping in the night, I decided to roll up the windows, start the engine and turn on the AC. Ahhh...got downright chilly in there. Unfortunately, I was already cramping, so it continued even though I was drinking as much as possible. All I really succeeded in doing, however, was making myself have to get up and take a leak every 30-40 minutes. Which let in more mosquitos each time I opened the door.
I didn't sleep so well, and I was irritated laying there waiting to cramp, so I went looking for a breakfast spot. Drove into Brenham hoping for a "Mama's Cafe" type place, but I couldn't find one open. Then it hit me that I was in need of a dumper. You know what it is like when you really have to go, but you are in the car, and you can't seem to find a convenience store or gas station that is open.
Finally found one of those McDonald's/Gas Station places, and I ran into the bathroom like I stole something from my car only to find a line for the one stall. I had to go so badly that I was sweating, which was making me more stressed about the race.
After pacing around the place, I finally got my turn. Took care of bidness, then went to fill the void with a McD's breakfast. I spent $2 on Hot Cakes, which got me thinking, "I'm racing pretty darn cheap this weekend!"
TXBRA covered my gas since I went to Wichita Falls to pick up the trailer. My entry fee was comped by the generous promoter (for working on the TXBRA board), and I "slept" in the car...
Made my way back to Chappell Hill, paid the $2 to park, got registered, pinned, and dressed. Rolled around for a mile and endured a cramping right calf. Great. Only 86 miles to go, assuming our race doesn't take a wrong turn somewhere.
I stuffed my pockets with water bottles and made way for the start with li'l Scott. His parents pulled up just as we were lining up, and we celebrated by getting them every bottle and container of water we had. In a matter of seconds, I went from the mindset of just riding until I ran out of water to, "Great, now I can't use 'we didn't have a feed' as an excuse for quitting."
At that point, I'd only spent $4 on the trip...
Because I'm in full "lazy" mode, I drove over to the barn to get a fresh supply of water bottles from the stash. When I opened the barn door, I was knocked back with a stench that I hope nobody ever has to experience. And mind you, we have two kids in diapers now, so I know stink.
I don't know how the possum got in the barn, but it certainly didn't know how to get out. The weird thing is that I took the lawnmower out of there just a couple days earlier, and I'm pretty sure I would have noticed a possum in that little barn then.
Anyway, I did everything I could to not touch the thing, but it had to get out of that barn. I found a rope and made use of a broken shovel handle to lift the carcass to tie a rope around the wasting meat. Then I pulled it out of the barn, gagging only twice. But I can drink grappa, so I may have more tummy constitution than others. Then I tied the rope to the bumper of Moby (our Expedition) and drug (dragged? whatever) the thing out to the pond. Please do not swim in our pond for awhile, OK?
Proceeded then to hook up the trailer and get ready for roll out. I went inside and scrubbed my hands and arms under the hottest water I've ever managed to touch, because I wanted to leave the wife and kids with a big hug, not possum juice.
After a tough goodbye with kid #2, I'm rolling down the road at almost 9pm going a whopping 55mph with that trailer. Oh, I could go faster, but the fact that we just had an axle repaired is making me more cautious than normal. It takes a long time to go 270 miles at 55 mph.
One benefit to traveling by myself is that I could listen to the Jimmy Buffet, the St. Thomas School Pipe and Drum Band, and Coldplay CD's just as loud as I could stand it. That helped the time go by.
Rolled into Chappell Hill at almost 2am, found a place to drop off the trailer, and then drove for a bit to find a place to make camp, as I was not going to get a motel for just a few hours of sleep.
Found a nice spot behind a run down general store-looking place. I cracked the windows, fluffed the pillow, and then spent the next hour killing mosquitos and sweating for no good reason.
When I started cramping in the night, I decided to roll up the windows, start the engine and turn on the AC. Ahhh...got downright chilly in there. Unfortunately, I was already cramping, so it continued even though I was drinking as much as possible. All I really succeeded in doing, however, was making myself have to get up and take a leak every 30-40 minutes. Which let in more mosquitos each time I opened the door.
I didn't sleep so well, and I was irritated laying there waiting to cramp, so I went looking for a breakfast spot. Drove into Brenham hoping for a "Mama's Cafe" type place, but I couldn't find one open. Then it hit me that I was in need of a dumper. You know what it is like when you really have to go, but you are in the car, and you can't seem to find a convenience store or gas station that is open.
Finally found one of those McDonald's/Gas Station places, and I ran into the bathroom like I stole something from my car only to find a line for the one stall. I had to go so badly that I was sweating, which was making me more stressed about the race.
After pacing around the place, I finally got my turn. Took care of bidness, then went to fill the void with a McD's breakfast. I spent $2 on Hot Cakes, which got me thinking, "I'm racing pretty darn cheap this weekend!"
TXBRA covered my gas since I went to Wichita Falls to pick up the trailer. My entry fee was comped by the generous promoter (for working on the TXBRA board), and I "slept" in the car...
Made my way back to Chappell Hill, paid the $2 to park, got registered, pinned, and dressed. Rolled around for a mile and endured a cramping right calf. Great. Only 86 miles to go, assuming our race doesn't take a wrong turn somewhere.
I stuffed my pockets with water bottles and made way for the start with li'l Scott. His parents pulled up just as we were lining up, and we celebrated by getting them every bottle and container of water we had. In a matter of seconds, I went from the mindset of just riding until I ran out of water to, "Great, now I can't use 'we didn't have a feed' as an excuse for quitting."
At that point, I'd only spent $4 on the trip...
Saturday, September 11, 2004
The Weekend, Coach-Style
Had a fairly light day on Friday as we originally planned to head down to Austin before making the trip to Chappell Hill. With so much travel on the schedule, I worked double time on Thursday to clear the way for some Finding Nemo time, otherwise known as travel. See, with a 2 yr old and a ten month old, 4+ hour drives, which we make most weekends, require back up support. Thank You, Lord, for bringing us the DVD player. Amen.
Anywhat, the kids have runny noses, and we were planning to see their brand new cousin in Austin. Runny noses and meeting brand new babies don't mix.
So I'm sitting at home answering some dumb ass TXBRA email and dealing with team drama and thanking myself for getting work done on Thursday to free up time for that bullshit.
After spending a few hours on that stuff, I was beginning to hate, so I went postal on the yard with the walk behind lawnmower. Would have used the riding lawnmower, but the engine and deck need replaced. And when you think about what all a riding lawnmower really is...
The yard looks good, but when I came in, there was still the dumb ass email and team drama...
So I kissed the horses, pet the kids, and fed the wife, which bought me an evening out at the track to watch my boy, Kevin, take 4th in the match sprints at Nationals held in Frisco. Kinda cool to see Nationals stuff and still get to sleep in your own bed. Bonus, Nathan (Kevin's Dad and all-around great guy) bought my dinner and a pitcher of margaritas. Ahhh.
Had a lazy Saturday morning for once. Played with the baby, read and practiced the potty with Kid #2, and I even tried to take a nap. Leftover Chinese food for lunch, and then went to Kid #1's first baseball game. They lost 14-0, but as Kid #1's Mom said, "He looks good in his uniform." Well, there is that, I guess.
While at the game, I burned up the cell phone talking about team stuff. I tell you what, I think I've put in over 40 hours so far on the topic of team bikes alone. And at that, I probably won't even get one myself, because I don't get to train so much to be good enough to warrant a team bike. 40 hours...
Got home from the game to an empty house. Too lazy to pack up my crap for the race tomorrow, so I'm punching the keyboard.
Phone rings. Client wants to know what he should eat before his mtn bike race tomorrow. He's racing Sport for the first time, and he's worried about bonking on that extra lap.
Lord, grant me the patience...
Anywhat, the kids have runny noses, and we were planning to see their brand new cousin in Austin. Runny noses and meeting brand new babies don't mix.
So I'm sitting at home answering some dumb ass TXBRA email and dealing with team drama and thanking myself for getting work done on Thursday to free up time for that bullshit.
After spending a few hours on that stuff, I was beginning to hate, so I went postal on the yard with the walk behind lawnmower. Would have used the riding lawnmower, but the engine and deck need replaced. And when you think about what all a riding lawnmower really is...
The yard looks good, but when I came in, there was still the dumb ass email and team drama...
So I kissed the horses, pet the kids, and fed the wife, which bought me an evening out at the track to watch my boy, Kevin, take 4th in the match sprints at Nationals held in Frisco. Kinda cool to see Nationals stuff and still get to sleep in your own bed. Bonus, Nathan (Kevin's Dad and all-around great guy) bought my dinner and a pitcher of margaritas. Ahhh.
Had a lazy Saturday morning for once. Played with the baby, read and practiced the potty with Kid #2, and I even tried to take a nap. Leftover Chinese food for lunch, and then went to Kid #1's first baseball game. They lost 14-0, but as Kid #1's Mom said, "He looks good in his uniform." Well, there is that, I guess.
While at the game, I burned up the cell phone talking about team stuff. I tell you what, I think I've put in over 40 hours so far on the topic of team bikes alone. And at that, I probably won't even get one myself, because I don't get to train so much to be good enough to warrant a team bike. 40 hours...
Got home from the game to an empty house. Too lazy to pack up my crap for the race tomorrow, so I'm punching the keyboard.
Phone rings. Client wants to know what he should eat before his mtn bike race tomorrow. He's racing Sport for the first time, and he's worried about bonking on that extra lap.
Lord, grant me the patience...
Friday, September 10, 2004
They Don't Call Me "Sweets"
Booorrrriiinngg.
Married, very happily. Three kids. Two jobs. Volunteer. I shave my legs.
I'm not a cool kid, but they let me sit at their table, and I truly believe that it isn't simply because I can get training tires at cost. Maybe I can't go out every night (well, actually, I could, because my wife would let me or at least likes it when I'm gone), or likely, I shouldn't go out every night, but I do get to go play with the cool kids once or twice a week. Once or twice week as long as I've been keeping up with the dishes, lawn, diaper changes and such.
I'd like to have a boat, but it ain't gonna happen since I don't make that kind of jack. Instead, we have a home. Not just a house, but a home. The kind of home where everyone feels welcome to stay the night. My truck is getting old, but it is paid for. Sorry about the sippy cups and cardboard books with missing pages in the back.
But like I said, booorrrriiinngg. I don't have pick up lines at the bars, and the kind of women that are attractive to me aren't the ones where you forget their names before you've kicked them out of the room. But, hey, I like a good show.
I don't drink much beer, either. That doesn't mean I'm unlikely to get lubricated; it just doesn't tend to happen with beer. I like those queer beers, like Zima, Hard Lemonade, Raspberry this, or Honey that. Wine is my choice, followed closely by the margarita, pina coloda, etc. Mostly margarita. But whatever. It gets me there, wherever that is.
Why read this blog? Not much reason to live vicariously through me. Heck, I bore me. Since I don't go to the bars much, and I'm not going to write on my own bathroom wall...
Married, very happily. Three kids. Two jobs. Volunteer. I shave my legs.
I'm not a cool kid, but they let me sit at their table, and I truly believe that it isn't simply because I can get training tires at cost. Maybe I can't go out every night (well, actually, I could, because my wife would let me or at least likes it when I'm gone), or likely, I shouldn't go out every night, but I do get to go play with the cool kids once or twice a week. Once or twice week as long as I've been keeping up with the dishes, lawn, diaper changes and such.
I'd like to have a boat, but it ain't gonna happen since I don't make that kind of jack. Instead, we have a home. Not just a house, but a home. The kind of home where everyone feels welcome to stay the night. My truck is getting old, but it is paid for. Sorry about the sippy cups and cardboard books with missing pages in the back.
But like I said, booorrrriiinngg. I don't have pick up lines at the bars, and the kind of women that are attractive to me aren't the ones where you forget their names before you've kicked them out of the room. But, hey, I like a good show.
I don't drink much beer, either. That doesn't mean I'm unlikely to get lubricated; it just doesn't tend to happen with beer. I like those queer beers, like Zima, Hard Lemonade, Raspberry this, or Honey that. Wine is my choice, followed closely by the margarita, pina coloda, etc. Mostly margarita. But whatever. It gets me there, wherever that is.
Why read this blog? Not much reason to live vicariously through me. Heck, I bore me. Since I don't go to the bars much, and I'm not going to write on my own bathroom wall...
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