Chicken Butt

Tags

lessons learned, life, mountain biking, personal, sports

You know what?

No, not chicken butt.

No matter what happens, Saturdays are very difficult to ruin.  Saturdays most often are my days, days to get all that important stuff done, to ride ride ride ride, to kick back.  I protect my Saturdays, rarely give them away if at all possible.  When my kids were younger it was a different story, what with all kinds of kid stuff and their sports and little trips.  Even then, I always made it a priority to ride my bike, even if it meant BCDing it (Butt Crack of Dawning it).

Today was supposed to be very, very cold, as in the 20 degree range.  Instead, it was 36 degrees when I set out at 8 AM, clothed in fleece lined tights and three layers up top.  I was hopeful to find rideable dirt trails at Saw Wee Kee park, even though there were periodic downpours early in the day yesterday.  My VW carted my bike and I to the woods, found absolutely pristine conditions, almost as if it hadn’t rained for days.  Hallelujah!

My friend, Jon, was already out on the trails, his van the only vehicle in the parking lot as I arrived.  I knew I would find my energetic friend somewhere out in the woods.  Jon had probably been there for several hours.  There is no one who likes to ride more than Jon.

There was one problem.  As I landed my first jump, I heard the clunk of the rear shock bottoming out.  The bike felt like it was riding low, confirmed by a sharp pedal strike a few more feet after that landing.  I pulled to a stop, dismounted, inspected the shock and found exactly what I suspected — the seal was shot.  My ride was likely over unless it was simply a case of the shock being low on air, an easy fix since I had a shock pump in my car.  I turned back to the parking lot as Jon rolled up, followed me back to my car.

Things looked better after I pumped the shock up.  It held full pressure, sat real nice as I hit the auto sag.  Jon and I rolled back onto the trail.  I flew over the first few jumps, felt the rear end of my bike drop.  Sure enough, the shock did not hold pressure.  Ride over.

Jon and I took some time to catch up on things before heading back to our cars.  I had news for him, news that shocked the snot out of him.  We talked about it for a while and I assured him that I am OK.

Good thing my bike shop is on the way home.  Looks like they have the seals in stock.  I should get the bike back and get some rides in before the snow and ice takes back the trails for the winter.

So I decided this was going to be a day to get things done.  I did.  Cleaned up the back yard, repaired a window and screen, finally moved that useless treadmill out of the upstairs master bedroom and sold it on Craigslist, put together a list of supplies needed for repairs around the house, straightened up the back yard shed.  The treadmill ended up sticking in the maximum incline position when I tested it in the garage, so I gave it away instead of selling it — but it’s gone.

I built a nice little fire in the fire ring, enjoyed a conversation next to the fire with my friend Gina when she brought my spare mountain bike over for me.  Perfect timing for her to bring it back.  Gina teaches mountain bike skills classes for the local mountain bike riding association, had borrowed my spare to use with her students.  Great timing.  Now I can ride tomorrow.

It’s a quiet evening, solitary and good, my music keeping me company as I write, my orange and white feline friend warming in my lap.  Saturday is always good, almost impossible to ruin.

Stay thirsty, my friends.

Woods With Friends

Tags

fun, life, middle age, mountain biking, relationships, sports

There is nothing better than enjoying God’s magnificent creation with friends.  Even better is rolling through God’s green (and a bit yellow with mixed reds/oranges) wonder.. fast.  This past weekend I joined my friends Mike, Mike, and Jon for a jaunt through the twisting, undulating (cool word, eh?) dirt mountain bike trails of Brown County State Park, Nashville, Indiana.  Brown County boasts some of the best singletrack dirt trails in the Midwest, a designation that my friends and I heartily endorse.

Mike L, Steve the Big Orange Blob, and Mike B

This was my fifth trip to Brown County with Jon — the first trip there was one of my first real mountain bike excursions.  That first year was eye opening, my awe evident to Jon and our friend, Jim, who both love introducing the sport to friends.  Brown County had been an annual trip each Fall for my two friends, a tradition that Jon and I have continued.  Jon and I coaxed my friend Mike into going with us two years ago, easily hooking him to the rush of the trails.  Last year we introduced Frank to Brown County.. he was almost in tears as he had to announce earlier this week that his boss had asked him to forego the trip in lieu of a work trip.

Jon brought along his friend, Mike B, for this trip, an enthusiastic intermediate level rider who immediately expressed his joy as we entered the woods to begin our two days of riding on Thursday morning, starting at the “bottom” of the park from the north entrance parking lot of Brown County State Park.  That portion of the trail, the Pine Loop, begins by winding up a beautifully wooded ravine then through a sweet smelling pine forest, emerging to cross a small wood bridge into a fast flow trail.  Pine Loop is a smooth beginner trail with enough twists, turns, climbs, roots, and rocks to give a preview of what is to come.  We had already taken a 7 mile warm up loop while Mike B was on a work conference call from his car in the parking lot, so the three of us were able to give him a nice fast intro to the trail.  Of course, Mike B had a very interesting crash later on while riding the Walnut trail, something he recorded from his GoPro camera mounted below his handlebar.  The link is below.  Somehow, he came out of that scary crash as enthusiastically as he had approached our ride all day, with a laugh and a smile.  We all were really glad that Mike B joined us this year!  His crash became the talk of the rest of our trip.

Our first day found us grinding the climbs before flying (literally.. both tires were off the ground a ton during the descents on that trail) the Green Valley trail, grunting the climbs over the roots and rocks of the Hesitation Point trail.. to be treated to a spectacular view at the top, then the rush of the advanced skill level Walnut trail.  We reached the top of the park after another screaming rush riding the flowy Limekiln trail to the campgrounds.  At the campground, we met up with three other friends who rode back down through Limekiln and Walnut with us to Hesitation Point.  Those three rode back up to the campground to get cleaned up for dinner while we rode back down the Hesitation Point trail to Aynes and back to the north gate parking lot.

Mike L and I decided to ride our bikes from the trail head to the hotel where Mike B and Jon met us.  All said, our first day was nearly 40 miles of dirt trail riding.

Lovely.

All retreated to our rooms, exhausted but extremely satisfied, the showers bringing us back to life.  We met the three from the campground at the Big Woods brewery in Nashville, closed out the restaurant, sharing stories from our trail rides that day as well as ride stories of the past.

The next morning I woke amazingly refreshed, a bit sore from the previous day’s ride, but ready for another few hours of riding.  After all, riding was our reason for our trip.  None of us are partiers.  We wanted to ride as much as possible.  After a breakfast of sausage and fake scrambled eggs in the hotel lobby, we left Jon’s van at the hotel, rode into the park for more riding.  Our ride started from the Pine Loop trail again, maybe even more sweet smelling in the morning dew.  From there the boys coaxed me to ride the North Tower Loop trail, a ride that starts with two miles of grinding, albeit low grade, twisty climbing.  My legs were sore.  I didn’t want to start with climbing.  But I was glad to be talked into riding and leading out on that trail.  I was the fastest descender in the group, the climbs warming me up nicely so that when we reached the down and tight turning section of the North Tower Loop trail, I left my friends in the dust, waiting for them with a huge grin at the end of that trail.  We ventured back to the Green Valley trail for more roller coaster riding, then climbed to Hesitation Point.

From there, we decided to take the park road to the Bobcat Bowl trailhead, a double black diamond expert trail, half of the trail newly finished a week before our visit.  Bobcat Bowl is very narrow, following ridges over a whole lot of rocks and roots, with challenging switchbacks that threaten to throw your bike off the trail into the ravine.  It’s also one of the most scenic trails in the park.. so wonderful.  At one point, I had to walk a small section of trail that was probably three feet wide with a sheer drop off on my left.  I am afraid of heights!  The trail starts with a challenging, rocky switchback that leads to off camber, narrow dirt trails.  It is a fun trail, but I found myself wishing I lived close enough to learn to ride Bobcat Bowl properly.  I rode the first half very well, fast enough to take a break in the middle to wait for my friends to catch up.  Once we got to the newly finished portion of Bobcat, where it begins to wind up the side of very tall ravines, I fell behind and had to walk some sections.  We were a few hours into our ride and I was beginning to show some wear.  Plus, I am heavier right now than I have ever been and it began to show in the climbs.

Here I am getting ready to negotiate a tight turn on Bobcat.

We finished the day by riding back down through the Aynes Loop.  At the end, I found my second wind, leading us back to the park, forcing a large group of slower riders to give up the trail to us, allowing us to pass.  We sprinted for the old covered bridge at the entrance to the park, then rolled back up the highway to our vehicles at the hotel.

I want to go again next week.  It was that good!

If you have some time and want to get an idea of what the Walnut trail riding was like our first day, here is Mike B’s video.  I am the orange guy at the beginning and the end.  At 4:39, you will be treated to Mike’s end over into the ravine!

Tater Tonight

Tags

life, mountain biking

It seems as though I have earned a couch potato evening.  Heck, I even came home to warm food waiting for me.  The food was frozen pizza, but at least it was food.  I am accustomed to making my own dinner most nights.  The past week and a half has found me on a bicycle nearly every day.  With shorter days comes a little bit of urgency to get rides in while the clock runs out on the riding season.  I have been taking my mountain bike with me to work, zipping to the trails as soon as quitting time comes.

It doesn’t hurt that the weather has cooperated.  There hasn’t been much mud lately.  With my injured calf muscle nearly healed, I am riding like this whole riding thing is a new thing to me.  This past weekend found me happy that I could finally push myself harder, although a mechanical put a damper on that a little bit.  Let’s just say that my seat was suddenly prone to moving suddenly back  in the middle of a sharp drop — and I got tired of getting goosed.  No amount of tightening the seat bolt would solve the problem.  Finally, I took the seat off and looked at the seat post clamps.  They turned out to be the culprit, the front of each clamp worn slightly smooth.  My local bike shop mechanic took a look, moved each clamp to the opposite side, added some compound that is normally used to keep carbon components from slipping, and the problem was fixed.  Monday night, I had one of the most glorious rides I have had in quite a while — fast, agile, and in perfect weather.  During the course of the ride, I caught and passed at least three riders.  Funny, at the beginning of the ride I felt sluggish, but somewhere along the trail a switch flipped and I felt great.

Tonight I need to rest and also need to tend to responsibilities.  I need to pay bills.  For once, it looks like I have enough to pay everything and have money left when everything is paid.  YES!!!!  And I received an insurance settlement check from my auto accident at the beginning of the year.  When the bills from that accident are paid, I am going to have money left.

It is so tempting spend that extra money on a bike.  I won’t.  But it is tempting!

Stud

Tags

bicycle, life, mountain biking

It has been a week of revival for me.  After weeks of near mindless inactivity, I am able to ride again without worry of damaging my injured calf muscle.  Labor day, I tried out single track by riding a short ride, not pushing hard and my calf wrapped tightly.  The muscle passed, although I could feel the knot where the muscle is torn, reminding me that all is not yet right.  On cue, the muscle swelled with a vengeance, complaining about the exertion that I subject it to.

This week found me a little more than four weeks past the injury, a critical point, itching to test it out some more.  I packed my mountain bike onto the back of my car Sunday morning with the hope of rolling some dirt after church.  Patience rewarded me, although I had to find a place to change once I reached the trails, public nakedness exposed briefly as I changed into my bike shorts in a remote cul de sac close by the trail head.  I managed to ride at a good but not full effort for a little over an hour, cut short by a sagging rear shock and under inflated rear tire.  My pedals were scraping in the low spots, a sign that something was not right.  It felt great to ride again, nonetheless.

Tuesday, I raced home from work, ready for another dirt ride.  I went to get my mountain bike from the garage, discovered a flat tire on the rear wheel.  Duh.  That was part of the clearance problem on Sunday.  The flat was fixed quicly, but for some reason the through axle would not catch for close to an hour.  Once I finally got it to catch, daylight was waning.  I drove to the trails any way, managing an hour of riding despite low light.

I am riding again.  That is all that matters.

Last night, more single track, this time at near 100% effort.  I feel like a stud again.

Yes, I am a stud.

It’s a beautiful evening.  Time to kick back, hope for dry trails this weekend.  I took tonight off, just enjoying the weather out on my back deck, grilled brats and a brew.

Heaven could be now.  Mountain bike in cool weather.  Evenings with a book.

Back In Pad

Tags

bicycle, bicycling, friends, life, mountain biking

♫Back in pad
I hit the saddle
I’ve been too long I’m glad to be back
Yes, I’m let loose
From the noose
That’s kept me hanging about
I’ve been looking at the sky
‘Cause it’s gettin’ me high
Forget the hearse ’cause I never die
I got nine lives
Cat’s eyes
Cruisin’ every one of them and running wild

‘Cause I’m back
Yes, I’m back
Well, I’m back
Yes, I’m back
Well, I’m back, back
Well, I’m back in pad
Yes, I’m back in pad

Back in the back
Of a mountain bike
Number one with a bullet, I’m a power pack
Yes, I’m in a bang
With a gang
They’ve got to catch me if they want me to hang
‘Cause I’m back on the track
And I’m beatin’ the flack
Nobody’s gonna get me on another rap
So look at me now
I’m just makin’ my play
Don’t try to push your luck, just get out of my way

‘Cause I’m back
Yes,… ♫

Four weeks with very little turn of the pedals and when I did, I had to spend an hour or two with ice on my calf muscle, elevated above my heart.  Every time I did even a mild spin, my leg and foot swelled to Big Trouble In Little China proportions.

I rode Saturday, 30 something miles with several friends, testing out the route for an upcoming taco ride (Rando de Taco).  We rode a real comfortable pace from taco stand to taco stand, rating the tacos and deciding if that taco stand was worthy to be on this year’s route.  Six riders having a blast.  Mir and Nate went out to the city for the evening, leaving me open to socialize some more, so I joined my taco riding friends for a brew at a craft brewery (Solemn Oath in Naperville, Illinois), then dinner.

It really wasn’t what I had in mind for a Saturday ride, but Friday night and Saturday morning was a consistent heavy rain.  Much to my chagrin, I could not ride singletrack.  I rode with friends instead.

Sunday was gorgeous — and over an hour on singletrack at 75% effort.  I nearly held my usual average of 12.3 mph for the ride, but I chose not to push it too hard.  My injured calf responded favorably, did not swell when the ride was finished.

I’m back in pad(ded shorts).

De Muir

Tags

bicycle, friends, memories, mountain biking

Every moment spent on a bicycle is sublime.  It can be a bit like giving birth, I suppose, as much as I can imagine that feels like, in that it’s not the pain that you remember as much as the sheer joy of what the experience reveals to you.  What I take away from each and every ride will stay with me forever.

Thanks, Jim, for reminding me of that.  You’re pretty smart, for a roadie.

Yesterday was a nearly 30 mile day — 28.99 miles to be precise.  Singletrack.  Rocky, sandy, steep climbs, roots, twisty turns, screaming descents.  Through woods and meadow, groves of cedar.  The Kettle Moraine area of southern Wisconsin is exquisite.  A treat.  And barely two hours drive from my front door.  My third time riding there, it is now cemented on my ‘must do’ list every riding season.

My friend, Ben, sent me a message last Thursday — Kettle Saturday at 10 am?  Full monty.  Some faster riders will be there.

I already was thinking about going on my own.  Ben’s invite just helped me make up my mind — Of course.  I could go for that.  See you then!

And so I went.  Ben and I met his friends, Melissa and Scott, as well as Eric (his job is to drive Specialized demos from trail to trail for demo days), at the John Muir trailhead in Lagrange, Wisconsin.  The plan was to do the full monty, which means that we were going to ride both the John Muir trail system as well as the connector to the Emma Carlin trail system.  On my own, I would have no problem riding the 30 miles.  However, I did not know if I could hang with Ben’s group all day.  Melissa and Scott are racers, Melissa a former roadie turned mountain biker (when I asked her about riding road, she says she has no desire to go back to riding road — it’s too boring), and both skilled, fast riders.

I shouldn’t have been worried.  No one cared.  All we cared about was riding and riding in a beautiful place.  I hung on, but it was work for me, and the faster riders did nothing but encourage me all day, even complimented me as I conquered some fairly hairy rock gardens and a skinny with a tall drop.  When we stopped to catch our breath, it was a blast, the comraderie of riding bringing us together.  I was tired and at the mid way point felt like I didn’t have much left in my tank, but I pushed on and was glad that I did.  Had I stopped, I would have missed a lot, including the time spent winding down at the end of the ride, cold beer and the talk about what we had done that day.

Like when Ben and I were riding through the connector trail that wound through a meadow, surrounded by tall grass.  Ben was about 50 yards ahead of me when I saw his red helmet disappear into the weeds.  The trail was deep with fine sand as it took a sharp turn, Ben’s front wheel digging in and throwing him into the tall grass.

That reminds me, I need to look up what those little prairie dog like animals were in the field next to the parking lot.  They popped out of their holes and stood up to check out the surroundings, all together.

Here’s a selfie taken by Melissa somewhere around the 20 mile mark, when we stopped to cool off and take in the view from an overlook.  I am the guy in the orange with the blue/white head sweat.  Melissa kicks butt — she was up front all day.  Scott was right on her tail the whole time.  They both are such good riders, I felt a bit out of place, but you might be able to tell from the picture that I fit right in.

 

Hog Wallow Friends and other stories

Tags

bicycle, friends, life, mountain biking

As far as I know, there is not a novel with the title of Hog Wallow Friends.  If there is, I bet it stinks.

Ha!  Ha ha ha!

Hog Wallow Friends might be the best title for the story of my July, at least so far.  Friday afternoon, my boss decided that we both were taking a half day vacation.  So at noon, I was gone, a flash out the door before he could change his mind.  I zipped home, changed into my cycling clothes, and loaded the mountain bike up on my VW for a trip to a Chicagoland mountain bike that I don’t visit as much as I would like to — Palos forest preserve.  I was on the trail by 1:30.

The trails at Palos don’t dry fast, one of the reasons I don’t go there often, but the trails were dry and in great shape.  Palos, however, always has a few large spots on a few trails that hold water, a perpetual mud pit.  One of the first connectors that I took, a trail called Hickory Smoke as it runs through a grove of Hickory, as well as being a fairly fast trail.  At one point on that trail, there is a sharp bend around a large Hickory, a spot where quite a few large roots cross the entire trail.  In between those roots, the water collects, turning the trail into a mud bog.  I crossed the roots close to the tree, a bit precarious as the roots close to the tree are large and, to ride that close to the tree, you have to be comfortable leaning a bit away from the tree as you ride over the roots.  That ended up being the best line, with no issue as I rolled over the roots.

Remember those roots and the mud that exists between them.

Palos has a lot of trail with a lot of climbing, a different ride that the constant little 10-20 feet up and down trails that I normally ride.  It’s a workout.  I rode a good 2 hours or more, returned to the parking lot with a pleasant fatigue, stripped my sweat soaked shirt off and perched underneath the opened hatch of my car to recover with a bottle of water.

“Steeeeeevvvvvvvve!!!!  Is that you?”  It was my friend, Gina, someone I met last year on a group bike path ride, then again as part of the group I rode with during a ride called Rando de Taco.  Gina rolled to a stop in front of me, a big smile on her face, happy to see me.  Likewise.  I enjoyed the rides last year, Gina and her boyfriend Glenn instantly becoming friends.

“Did you just finish a ride?  If you want to ride some more, we have a group ride starting up in a few minutes.”  I might have declined, but I felt like I still had something left in the Steve tank.  Besides, I have never seen Gina ride dirt singletrack.  The two rides I did with her last year were flat path rides and not on mountain bikes.  Rumor was that Gina was a very fast and gifted mountain biker, a former racer who had quite a bit of success.  She is petite and fiercely competitive, a consistently fast rider who led our group on both rides I had been on with her, latching onto my back wheel or riding next to me when either of us were not pulling the group.  I had to see her ride dirt.

So I put my shirt and shoes back on, jumped back on my bike.  The ride was a coed ride, promised to be a medium paced ride.  All except Gina were people I didn’t know — Price, Steve, Chrisrine, Nancy, Don.  As seems to be the case when a bike is involved, three hours later I would have five new friends.

We rolled out onto the connector trail that I had started on a few hours earlier, Hickory Smoke.  The first section went quickly, with Price and Gina leading out, and with me right on their tail.  We stopped for the rest of the group, then Gina encouraged me to lead out.  I did just that.

Remember that I said that Gina is fiercely competitive.  I intentionally lead out fast, hoping to shake her off of my tail, but failing at that.  Quickly, we were out ahead of everyone but Price.

That is until we came to that bend around the tree with the roots and mud.  I took the same line, cleared the roots even faster than I had before.  After I cleared those roots, a few seconds later I heard a loud “Argggggghhhh!” followed by a splash.  Gina had leaned too far over as she crossed that roots, tried to put her foot down to steady her but found out it was too far down to the ground.

Gina was very personally acquainted with the hog wallow-like mud between the roots, covered from head to toe with thick mud as she fell in.  Following the splash was loud laughter as the riders behind witnessed the dirty debacle.

Pictures were not allowed, at least not until Gina was able to take a quick dip in a close by lake.  But her mishap had really created a loose atmosphere amongst the group, not that we were all that serious to begin with.  The pace slowed, the competitive fire reduced to a glowing ember, replaced by conversation.   Before I knew it, several hours had passed and I was near toast.

And that is when the competitive fire returned.  The slower riders in the group decided to finish up, leaving the faster riders — Price, Gina and myself (sort of) — to ride a little more at a faster pace.  They gave us a challenge to ride a three mile loop instead of the one mile connector they would take back to the parking lot, see if we could beat them back to the parking lot.  I was toast, but no way was I going to do the one mile connector.

I should have just admitted it.  I was buttered and spread with jam with about a mile left on that loop.  Price and Gina ended up slowing their pace to help bring me in.  I rode nearly 6 hours of single track that day, though.

We all finished up with a brew at the Imperial Oak, then I headed home to pick up Nate for a late night movie.  I still had a little left in the Steve tank, I guess.

Price invited me back to Palos for a early morning July 4 guys ride.  I made some new friends — Price, Dean, Neal, as well as getting to ride singletrack with Glenn (Gina’s boy friend).  I was invited to ride with Price and a few others the next evening, with a promise that I could try out Price’s fat tire bike on that ride.  We ended up at the Imperial Oak after the Tuesday evening spin, a mistake for me as I ended up staying out way too late!

So there you have it.  I am so glad that summer is back and the trails are ready to ride again!

No Crying In Bicycling

Tags

bicycle, family, fatherhood, life, mountain biking

Tonight’s ride ended with a bit of drama — broken spoke drama.  Drat.  Drat.  Double drat.  Double broken spokes.  But, as it is in baseball, there is no crying in bicycling.  There may  be wailing and screaming, especially if blood or broken bones are involved, but there is no crying.  I only was able to ride 30 minutes or so.

It could have been worse.  How, you might say, especially if you’re a cyclist?

The spokes could have popped some time in the last eleven days.  My days of freedom, of temporary free balling bachelor hood, as in riding almost every glorious day with nothing and no one to worry about.  On June 1, coincidentally my birthday, I emerged from my bed very early in the morning, loaded my car with enormously overstuffed suitcases, and motored my wife and children to O’Hare airport to meet their morning flight to lovely, scenic Anchorage, Alaska.  I couldn’t go due to lack of money and a boss who strongly urged me to avoid spending the whole eleven days in Alaska.

Besides, the first four days were filled with wedding festivities.  My daughter was a bridesmaid for her cousin, Inga the bride, a sight I sorely wished I could see — Alyssa in her bridesmaid beauty and Inga, almost like a daughter to me, in her bridely beamery.  I wanted to be there, I really did, but I couldn’t justify the expense.  Some might say that I should have bit the bullet, forget the expense to go, but now I am looking at trying to pay for a new roof and school expenses for my children in the next month.  There is no possible way that we could have afforded it had I gone.  I am going to keep telling myself that.

There is something to be said about the therapeutic benefits of having a full ten days to one’s self.  My family would not be returning until June 12.  That seems like a long time.

Dang, did it go fast.

Contrary to what might be expected, I did not roam the house in my birthday suit, even on my birthday.  My nights were not spent in a drunken stupor.  I do not require alcohol for a stupor.  However, I did buy beer to keep in the refrigerator, enjoyed a cold one inside my house without fear for the first time in many, many, many years.  Temporary as they were, my days in my briefs as a brief bachelor were very tame.

Besides, I am not kidding about being broke.  My paycheck was awarded to me the night before my family flew for father’s freedom, but my paycheck also flew to pay the mortgage, car insurance premium, cable/internet payment, electric bill, and a few other small responsibilities.  A surprise family cell phone bill a few weeks ago, a bill of $524 that I had not planned for, had also drained my checking account.  There was no money for me to play.  A few months ago, I had hoped to venture off to Wisconsin for a weekend of mountain biking, but my bank account said nada nicht no way.  I made lemonade out of the lemons, though, had fun riding close to home.

Last Tuesday night, I paid a rare week day visit to Palos Forest Preserve to ride the excellent singletrack trails there.  There was a mountain bike skills clinic there that evening, so I also attended the clinic.  That may have been a mistake — I learned how many bad habits that I have developed during the last three years on a mountain bike!  However, I learned the proper way to manual (i.e. lift the front wheel of the bicycle over obstacles), adjusted my riding position to a more neutral position that utilizes my hips to negotiate turns, and a better method of turning.  One particular bad habit that I had was covering each brake lever with 2 or 3 fingers.  The best method is one finger, with more fingers on the grips the best idea.  On top of learning, I made new friends with some of the regulars who ride at Palos.  They not only invited me to ride their Wednesday night group rides, but they also asked me to go to their post ride hang out, a place called the Imperial Oak Brewery.  On a normal night, I would have had to decline, but I didn’t need to rush home.  I went there, had a real good time.

My family provided me with plenty of pictures while they were in Alaska, thanks to the wonder of smart phones (something I had been cursing just a few weeks before when paying that huge bill).  Alaska truly is a beautiful place and there were many times during the last two weeks when I wished I was there.  After the wedding was over, my family travelled through the mountains with Miriam’s relatives to spend a few days in Homer, Alaska at a vacation home they rented together.  Nate went with a few uncles on a deep sea fishing trip, caught at least ten halibut.  He got to keep a 35 pound and 38 pound halibut.  We will be grilling those fish when they arrive here.

I was glad to pick my family up at the airport yesterday morning.  The quiet had been great for me, but I was ready for a little bit of noise in my house.  Besides, the dog and cat were beginning to plot against me.  I am pretty sure that Nick the Sheltie was going to lock me in the bathroom and steal all the food in the fridge.  Nick had been a source of frustration for me, especially with his endless begging, but also because his digestive system did not agree with the pieces of steak that I had shared with him.  The bonding time went bad.  Nick pooped in the living room every night for three days as well as when I was away at work.  Our living room still smells like a toilet.  I used a $50 gift card that my coworkers gave to me for my birthday, to buy a spot carpet cleaner.  The stains are gone but, well, the ghosts of Nick’s turds will live on in our living room for a while.

My family is back.  By last night, I was ready to ship my son back to Alaska.

OK, time to replace some spokes.

 

Sometimes You Have To Force Yourself

Tags

bicycle, life, mountain biking

The title says just about everything.  Truly, absolutely, if you want to benefit, then you need to force you to do things you do not feel like doing.

Anyone who rides a bicycle or runs or trains understands what that means.

Springtime means that I am going to have an allergy induced cold.  I have one now, a cold I felt coming on yesterday morning when my nose started to run.  My mother and I both are afflicted at the moment, an affliction we genetically share.  Yesterday afternoon, after my office manager and I attended a trade show together in the morning, she came into my office to discover me with my head back against the head rest on my office chair, asleep.  That has never, ever happened.  But the oncoming cold had kicked my butt and I could not resist.  I managed to make it through the afternoon at work, hoped to come home and load up my bike for a trip around the trails.  Instead, I occupied the couch in my living room, fell asleep for over two hours.

I should have forced myself to ride.  It was a picture perfect day.  Had I avoided the couch, I likely would have felt 100% better after the blood started flowing.

Maybe.  Maybe not.  Just maybe I needed the rest.  I know that I slept soundly through the night.

However, I was not going to let one more day pass without riding.  After all, it has rained 11 out of the last 14 days, limiting my riding opportunities.  It is a good thing that the trail system that I ride dries out very quickly.  So I loaded up my bicycle and ride clothing in my car before work, the idea being that I would drive out to the trails from the office.

It worked.  I did just that this evening.  My head was three feet thick from the cold, but I rode.  My plan was to ride the full 7 miles of trail, then stop.  However, when I was just about finished, I met my friend Greg on the trail.  Greg is 15 years younger, a much more experienced rider than I am.  Greg asked me if I wanted to ride with him, so I kept riding, adding another 30 minutes to my ride.  Not only that, but following Greg always teaches me something.  I watched him navigate a section of trail that I have never, ever been able to conquer.. until tonight.  I watched how Greg navigated that section and rode straight through without stopping.  Win.  Win. Win.

For those curious, that section starts at the top of a very tall berm, turns sharply left over several nasty roots and drops straight down.  To navigate that section, one has to ride up a steep banked turn and then left the front wheel before dropping down.  Watching someone do it gave me the knowledge and the confidence to do it.

I still feel like dirt, but at least I got dirty.

And dang, the baked chicken and brussels sprouts I cooked when I got home took an edge off, as did the hot shower.

Sniffle.

 

A Drop In The Bucket

Tags

bicycle, friends, mountain biking

Bucket list items do not need to be exotic, expensive, unattainable, unrepeatable, nor do you have to wait until you are dying to do it.  Many things that could be bucket list items are just something that you want to try, at least once.

Ray’s Indoor Mountain Bike Park is a place I wanted to visit at least once.  I did that today.  Most likely, I will go back again and make it a yearly trip.

Especially when I have gung ho let’s-do-it friends like my friend Jon.  If it’s bike related, he wants to do it.  Mention it and he’s on it.  Earlier this winter, I suggested to friends that we needed to make the short trek to Milwaukee to ride at Ray’s.  Jon said “name a day”.  So today was the day.  We played hooky from work, took advantage of visiting the place during a week day, which gave us the run of the place without a crowd.

The place is crazy — 120,000 square feet of pure fun and all indoors.  There are two tiers of riding “trails” in the park with banked wood curves, jump tracks for both beginners and expert level, pump tracks, skills areas with skinny obstacles and teeter totters, a skate park style area, and a cross country trail that traces that outside of the upper and lower levels of the park.  Ray’s day pass for first time visitors is relatively inexpensive, a pass that includes bike rental, with three choices of bike styles.  The most popular bike is a bike that looks like a mountain bike and BMX bike got together to have a child, with a lowered seat and smooth fat tires.  The bikes have platform pedals, better for the style of riding in the park, and the placement of the seat means that the bike is pedaled while standing up. The bike is single speed without gears and equipped with disc brakes. It takes some getting used to, but after a short time of riding Ray’s, it makes sense.

I had to learn to lean into the steep bank turns.  If you go into a banked turn with the bike straight up, bike and rider simply slide down to the bottom of the turn.  After learning to lean the bike, something that doesn’t feel natural at first, I could not get enough of the banked turns.

Also a tremendous amount of fun were the jumps.  They are numerous, found all over the park.  I usually catch air pretty easily when riding dirt trails outside on my dual suspension XC mountain bike, but I had to learn how to properly pop the front wheel and then the back wheel up in order to catch air on the strange bike that I rented.

Catching air got me in trouble.  John and I rode a little over four hours this afternoon and we were beat, especially since we had been riding standing up that whole four hours.  It takes a strong core, something I need to work on.  We decided to take one last trip around the park before heading back to Chicagoland.  That last trip around the park culminated at the last section of four jumps.  We flew around the park, exhausted but giving everything we had left for energy, and hit that last section of jumps absolutely flying — literally.  Unfortunately, I hit the second jump very fast and off balance, flying sideways in the air and too close to the next jump.  I landed with the front wheel sideways and was thrown over the handlebars, hit the ground hard with my chest taking the majority of the blow.

I picked myself off of the ground immediately, the breath knocked out of me.  I sat down to assess the damage and saw a knot the size of two golf balls forming high on the shin of my left leg.  My right elbow had a nasty looking scrape and my rib cage was already starting to ache.

Oops.

But I still had a smile on my face.  I had a blast.  I dusted myself off, turned the handlebar around since the impact had twisted it around and pedaled back to the rental counter.  John greeted me there, a huge satisfied grin on his face.

We have to do this again.

The drive back home took two and a half hours, traffic getting out of Milwaukee a bit troublesome, then slow once we hit the Chicago area.  Our wounds of the day caught up with us, both of us groaning like two old men as we each got out of John’s van to unload my stuff.  War wounds.  Badges of honor.  Reminders of perhaps my favorite day so far this year.  It can only get better.