When did Kenan get so funny? Props to Lorne Michaels for keeping him around. If it were up to me, I would have dropped him after his second season. Good thing it wasn't because Kenan has really come into his own this season. Check out this latest gem:
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
you gotta love cyclocross
I was reading the Velonews.com recap of the Cincinnati UCI races and came across a few paragraphs devoted to Katie Compton and beer hand-ups. Priceless...
It was an uneventful ride for the U.S. champion, other than haggling with hecklers about their choice of a beer hand-up (a canned Pilsner). When a bottle of microbrew was produced the following lap, she obligingly hit the brakes, took the hand-up and chugged a good portion before dismounting for the barriers.
“At first I wasn’t going to, since this is a UCI race and we’re not supposed to take feeds,” she said with a smile. “But I had yelled back at them, ‘How about a microbrew?’ the lap before. So when they actually had one, I felt kind of obligated.”
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Sunday, August 16, 2009
Friday, July 3, 2009
WTF, weather?
For the third year in a row, it looks like the weather is going to be shit-tay for the 4th. Every other day of the 10-day forecast looks to be quite nice. Good thing we didn't continue the third annual booze cruise.
Hipsterpalooza
Ever heard of We Are Hex, Wendy Darling, or Cymbals Eat Guitars? If you're not hip to the scene, then probably not. These bands have likely flown so far below your radar that you'd need a seismograph just to detect them. Only a true connoisseur of Pitchfork magazine would have the resources to drill so deep underground. Enter Burns of We Kure Burns fame. With a finger resting perpetually against the pulse of the Indy indie rock scene, Burns can detect the slightest of rhythmic cardiac anomalies. Last night, all vital signs pointed south towards the Vollrath tavern on the near southside of town.
With the handsomest of flannel shirts, the skinniest of jeans, and the laceless-est of Chuck Taylors, I, along with Neddawg and Klecknasty, drove down to Indy's Sacred Heart neighborhood. Having never been to this particular establishment, I was in for some pleasant surprises. Nestled within residential squalor, the Vollrath is the epitome of a diamond in the rough. Inside, patrons are greeted with low ticket prices, a solid beer menu, and a haze of pretentious smoke. As per the times, modern flatscreen televisions adorn the walls (albeit turned off for the duration of our visit) of the historic tavern. As a bonus, the main bartender was undeniably hipster hot...body ink and all.
The first act, We Are Hex, came on at about 9-ish in the PM hours. Led by a scowling singer/keyboardist, the local band rocked surprisingly hard. With Fraggle Rock inspired hair, the lead singer spun out into the audience on several occasions. Each time, strong whiffs of patchouli filled my nostrils as she staggered about directly in front of us. The Great Burns himself only had one qualm with the performance: why did they say "We Are Hex" at the end of the show? If they truly wanted to identify themselves as the band We Are Hex, shouldn't they have stated "we are We Are Hex"? I guess we can chalk it up to semantics.
After a short interlude, Wendy Darling took the stage. Hailing from the bay area of California, the band consisted of a female lead singer and three dudes playing instruments. They had a nice sound, but to be quite honest, the band wasn't my cup of tea. So instead of dutifully listening to the entirety of the performance, Klecknasty and I chatted it up about cycling routes and mountain bike trails. Like I said, the group had talent, but I had trouble getting into their groove, so to speak. Perhaps a patchouli induced spin through the audience would have helped their cause.
At 11:30pm, the headliners graced the stage. Describing the appearance of Cymbals Eat Guitars as unassuming would be an understatement. The Staten Island quartet looked like a collection of typical college aged guys; although, I must add that they had a subtle hipster flavored edge about them. In fact, only when the lead singer/guitarist took the stage did I realize that he was the guy I had chatted with in the line for the bathroom earlier in the evening. Needless to say, it would be tough to pick the band's frontman out of a line-up of one. In stark contrast, their performance was far from anonymous. The group had fantastic sound and great stage presence. Their set was short, sweet, and to the point. It was by far the best performance of the night and a band definitely worth looking into.
So what did I learn from this evening? As much as I hate to admit it, Burns knows a thing or two about music. I also learned that the terms underground and obscure don't always equate to high levels of sucking. Furthermore, dressing the hipster part greatly helped my ability to fully immerse myself in the scene. A simple flannel shirt and crouch-hugging jeans go a long way. In fact, I deduced that the degree of one's hipsterdom is directly indexed by the tightness of his/her slacks.
So what can the hipster and indie rock scene learn from me? Wearing compression socks and tights underneath jeans allows one's legs to feel fresh after standing all evening at a concert. After all, why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can lay? Why lay when you can stand around wearing compression tights and listen to angst ridden youth bemoan their depleted CampusAccess cards? It's all about recovery.
With the handsomest of flannel shirts, the skinniest of jeans, and the laceless-est of Chuck Taylors, I, along with Neddawg and Klecknasty, drove down to Indy's Sacred Heart neighborhood. Having never been to this particular establishment, I was in for some pleasant surprises. Nestled within residential squalor, the Vollrath is the epitome of a diamond in the rough. Inside, patrons are greeted with low ticket prices, a solid beer menu, and a haze of pretentious smoke. As per the times, modern flatscreen televisions adorn the walls (albeit turned off for the duration of our visit) of the historic tavern. As a bonus, the main bartender was undeniably hipster hot...body ink and all.
The first act, We Are Hex, came on at about 9-ish in the PM hours. Led by a scowling singer/keyboardist, the local band rocked surprisingly hard. With Fraggle Rock inspired hair, the lead singer spun out into the audience on several occasions. Each time, strong whiffs of patchouli filled my nostrils as she staggered about directly in front of us. The Great Burns himself only had one qualm with the performance: why did they say "We Are Hex" at the end of the show? If they truly wanted to identify themselves as the band We Are Hex, shouldn't they have stated "we are We Are Hex"? I guess we can chalk it up to semantics.
After a short interlude, Wendy Darling took the stage. Hailing from the bay area of California, the band consisted of a female lead singer and three dudes playing instruments. They had a nice sound, but to be quite honest, the band wasn't my cup of tea. So instead of dutifully listening to the entirety of the performance, Klecknasty and I chatted it up about cycling routes and mountain bike trails. Like I said, the group had talent, but I had trouble getting into their groove, so to speak. Perhaps a patchouli induced spin through the audience would have helped their cause.
At 11:30pm, the headliners graced the stage. Describing the appearance of Cymbals Eat Guitars as unassuming would be an understatement. The Staten Island quartet looked like a collection of typical college aged guys; although, I must add that they had a subtle hipster flavored edge about them. In fact, only when the lead singer/guitarist took the stage did I realize that he was the guy I had chatted with in the line for the bathroom earlier in the evening. Needless to say, it would be tough to pick the band's frontman out of a line-up of one. In stark contrast, their performance was far from anonymous. The group had fantastic sound and great stage presence. Their set was short, sweet, and to the point. It was by far the best performance of the night and a band definitely worth looking into.
So what did I learn from this evening? As much as I hate to admit it, Burns knows a thing or two about music. I also learned that the terms underground and obscure don't always equate to high levels of sucking. Furthermore, dressing the hipster part greatly helped my ability to fully immerse myself in the scene. A simple flannel shirt and crouch-hugging jeans go a long way. In fact, I deduced that the degree of one's hipsterdom is directly indexed by the tightness of his/her slacks.
So what can the hipster and indie rock scene learn from me? Wearing compression socks and tights underneath jeans allows one's legs to feel fresh after standing all evening at a concert. After all, why stand when you can sit? Why sit when you can lay? Why lay when you can stand around wearing compression tights and listen to angst ridden youth bemoan their depleted CampusAccess cards? It's all about recovery.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
The Backyard Trampoline
The backyard trampoline: a child's dream and a parent's nightmare. A few years ago, my sister asked my parents to spring for one (pun intended), and my parents reluctantly obliged. For this blog entry, I have taken the liberty of weighing the pros and cons of owning a backyard trampoline.Pros:
- A videogame alternative. For today's gaming generation of youth, the outdoor trampoline gives children the opportunity to simulate their favorite Super Mario Brothers game. Mind you, I wouldn't recommend that parents actually suspend concrete blocks filled with mushrooms, turtle shells, and fireballs above the trampoline. Instead, a little imagination and some brightly colored plumber outfits will bring the kids one step closer to rescuing the Princess from Bowser's castle.
- A form of exercise. I, myself, have spent a good chunk of time double-bouncing friends and family. Thus, I can definitely attest to the fact that a trampoline provides a deep yet delayed burn in the old legs. For all of you power junkies out there, I'm sorry to say that SRM and PowerTap have yet to unveil a watts-measuring device specific to the trampoline; though, I'm sure it's in the works. Fortunately, trampolines are compatible with heart rate monitors and compression tights.
- A potential lawsuit. A backyard trampoline is like a magnet for children. Similar to a tractor beam, a trampoline exudes a powerful attractant that lures kids toward inevitable physical injury. Jumping begins with simple verticle movements but quickly escalates to flips, extreme double-bouncing, and, ultimately, the trampoline-to-ground transfer. Unfortunately, most people's lawns aren't as forgiving as a trampoline.
- A symbol of white-trashiness (WT). A backyard trampoline by itself comes with relatively low levels of WT. On a seven point Likert-type scale ranging from low (1.0) to high (7.0), a brand new trampoline in an empty backyard carries a rating of 2.0. With the addition of other yard ornaments such as a permanently parked R.V. and/or an above-ground pool, the rating begins to increase. Moreover, the attire worn by bouncers may further augment the levels of WT. For instance, an oversized Tweety Bird t-shirt automatically fetches a minimum rating of 5.0 when coupled with a backyard trampoline. Wearing JNCO jeans and an airbrushed t-shirt from the State Fair scores no lower than 6.0. Moral of the story, accessorize carefully when purchasing a backyard trampoline.
Friday, June 5, 2009
Bush fast, Bush furious
Constructed in 1931, Bush Stadium has hosted its fair share of athletic teams. Whether it be the Indianapolis Capitols or the Indianapolis Indians, the venue has been an integral part of Indianapolis' sporting history. Unfortunately, as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end. Bush Stadium is no exception. In 1996 the Indians jumped ship for the newly built Victory Field, and ever since, the stadium has been in a perpetual state of disrepair. During the past thirteen years, the city has tried to repurpose the facility, but each attempt has failed miserably. For a while, it was converted into a midget car dirt racing track, but even the motorsports capitol of the world couldn't sustain the new format. Then in the early 2000's, the Indiana high school sports governing body (IHSAA) held the soccer state championships there. That didn't last either. Nowadays, grass grows up through the cracks in the parking lot, and years of pollution and acid rain stain the stadium walls. Every now and again, I hear about the occasional police and military training exercise that takes place on the property, but in general, Bush Statium sits vacant and unused.
Today while cruising down the White River bike path, to my surpise, I noticed new signs of life at the stadium. Positioned along the outskirts of the parking lot were two Driving Dynamics trailers along with several mid-sized cars. Looking closer at the trailers, I noticed the words "advanced driving program". These words intrigued me. Shifting my gaze towards the center of the pavement, I noticed orange traffic cones strewn about in a seemingly strategic manner. Finally, my eyes came to rest upon this solitary vehicle:
Looking closer at the side of the car, I realized that it was no ordinary machine; it was a "Driving Dynamics: Controlled Slide Car". How 'bout that. Apparently, this is what "advanced driving" is all about. A driver never knows when a controlled slide will be the most viable option; thus, said driver should be prepared for any such situation. Now, I'm no car or driving buff, but I'm pretty sure the controlled slide and the Tokyo drift are not mutually exclusive of one another. In fact, a Venn diagram would likely depict two circles overlapping as one. For this reason, I must assume that the person in the photo is either one of two people. On one hand, the presence of hair all but eliminates the possibility of Vin Diesel. Yet, his husky physique does resemble that of XXX himself. On the other hand, the comfort-fit jeans and XL polo lead me to believe he must be Paul Walker. Although, I must admit that he has put on a few pounds since the latest installment of the Fast and Furious franchise. Regardless of this man's identity, one thing is for sure: he knows how to grip it, rip it, and live it on the edge. Perhaps he is the saviour that Bush Stadium so desperately needs. Maybe the outside of the stadium is the new inside. Bare with me here for a second. Maybe, just maybe, the powers that be have had it all wrong. Why focus all of the time and money on repairing a historic landmark when the parking lot surrounding it holds so much potential. This mystery man holds the answer. If you Tokyo drift it, they will come.
Cue Kevin Costner, Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, and the team of ghost baseball players.
Enter turbo-charged Honda Civics stage right.
Perform choreographed Tokyo drift.
Fade to black.
And scene.
Today while cruising down the White River bike path, to my surpise, I noticed new signs of life at the stadium. Positioned along the outskirts of the parking lot were two Driving Dynamics trailers along with several mid-sized cars. Looking closer at the trailers, I noticed the words "advanced driving program". These words intrigued me. Shifting my gaze towards the center of the pavement, I noticed orange traffic cones strewn about in a seemingly strategic manner. Finally, my eyes came to rest upon this solitary vehicle:
Looking closer at the side of the car, I realized that it was no ordinary machine; it was a "Driving Dynamics: Controlled Slide Car". How 'bout that. Apparently, this is what "advanced driving" is all about. A driver never knows when a controlled slide will be the most viable option; thus, said driver should be prepared for any such situation. Now, I'm no car or driving buff, but I'm pretty sure the controlled slide and the Tokyo drift are not mutually exclusive of one another. In fact, a Venn diagram would likely depict two circles overlapping as one. For this reason, I must assume that the person in the photo is either one of two people. On one hand, the presence of hair all but eliminates the possibility of Vin Diesel. Yet, his husky physique does resemble that of XXX himself. On the other hand, the comfort-fit jeans and XL polo lead me to believe he must be Paul Walker. Although, I must admit that he has put on a few pounds since the latest installment of the Fast and Furious franchise. Regardless of this man's identity, one thing is for sure: he knows how to grip it, rip it, and live it on the edge. Perhaps he is the saviour that Bush Stadium so desperately needs. Maybe the outside of the stadium is the new inside. Bare with me here for a second. Maybe, just maybe, the powers that be have had it all wrong. Why focus all of the time and money on repairing a historic landmark when the parking lot surrounding it holds so much potential. This mystery man holds the answer. If you Tokyo drift it, they will come.
Cue Kevin Costner, Vin Diesel, Paul Walker, and the team of ghost baseball players.
Enter turbo-charged Honda Civics stage right.
Perform choreographed Tokyo drift.
Fade to black.
And scene.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
double the pleasure, double the fun
As evidenced by Dan's latest post, the best things in life come in pairs. Whether it be a pump 'n munch or a pump 'n dump, you just can't beat a multitasking establishment.
Sometimes two franchises join forces under a common roof. Take the Taco Hut, for instance. Question: What's better than Taco Bell? Answer: Taco Bell and Pizza Hut. If you're like me, nothing compares to a trip south of the border; that is, unless that border town includes a Little Italy. Gordita Supreme? Yes please. Would you like a PANormous Pizza to wash that down? Now we're talking.
Every once in a while, a rare breed of entrepreneur emerges; one that imagines the unimaginable. Such visionaries recognize a problem and provide society with THE solution. Here are a few exemplars:
Problem I: Killing time at a dry cleaners but missing out on some PTH (Prime Tanning Hours).
Solution I: Hop in a tanning bed while you wait! Chemically treated clothes AND skin cancer?!?!? Count me in.
Problem II: You find yourself running late for work. You have to eat, but you notice that a recent downpour has left your car with unsightly waterspots. You don't have time to make two stops.
Solution II: Head on over to Mr. Dan's Hamburgers Car Wash at the corner of 44th and Keystone. Never again will you have to make a choice between satisfying your gastronomical desires and waxing your blingin' Dodge Stratus. Have we reached nirvana? Almost. Is this Heaven on Earth? Nope, you're on the level my good friend. Here on the northeast side, we call it Mr. Dan's.
Sometimes two franchises join forces under a common roof. Take the Taco Hut, for instance. Question: What's better than Taco Bell? Answer: Taco Bell and Pizza Hut. If you're like me, nothing compares to a trip south of the border; that is, unless that border town includes a Little Italy. Gordita Supreme? Yes please. Would you like a PANormous Pizza to wash that down? Now we're talking.
Every once in a while, a rare breed of entrepreneur emerges; one that imagines the unimaginable. Such visionaries recognize a problem and provide society with THE solution. Here are a few exemplars:
Problem I: Killing time at a dry cleaners but missing out on some PTH (Prime Tanning Hours).
Solution I: Hop in a tanning bed while you wait! Chemically treated clothes AND skin cancer?!?!? Count me in.
Problem II: You find yourself running late for work. You have to eat, but you notice that a recent downpour has left your car with unsightly waterspots. You don't have time to make two stops.
Solution II: Head on over to Mr. Dan's Hamburgers Car Wash at the corner of 44th and Keystone. Never again will you have to make a choice between satisfying your gastronomical desires and waxing your blingin' Dodge Stratus. Have we reached nirvana? Almost. Is this Heaven on Earth? Nope, you're on the level my good friend. Here on the northeast side, we call it Mr. Dan's.
Monday, June 1, 2009
Prez-ploitation
For several months, a single Fall Creek Parkway billboard caught my eye. There it stood, juxtaposed against a backdrop of power lines and low-income housing. An all too familiar-looking silhouette adorned the rectangular canvas. The shadowy figure raised a single thumb in a Bill Clinton-esque salute. Without a doubt, the advertisement depicted our nation's first African-American president. At first glance, it looked like just another campaign endorsement. Even the caption echoed campaign rhetoric. It read: "Change you can believe in." Nothing strange or off-putting about that slogan, right? Wrong. Immediately to the right of the caption appeared the logo for Indiana Live! Casino. That's right...it was an ad for an Indiana casino. Apparently, President Obama's message of hope and change resonated not only in the ears of registered voters but also in the marketing department of Indiana Live! Casino.
Fast forward to last night when Mr. Gaz formally posted the guidelines for Blog Off Challenge 2K9. Knowing that I needed to start the competition off with a bang, I immediately thought of the Fall Creek Parkway billboard. I had it all planned out. After work, I would pick up some groceries at Trader Joe's, and on my way home, I would stop by the billboard and take a photo. The subsequent blog entry would pretty much write itself.
At 7pm this evening, my worst fear came true. The casino advertisement was gone...gone like N*Sync. With twilight approaching, I became desperate. I drove back to my apartment and jumped out of my car to unload the groceries. A Steel Reserve can laid crushed upon the pavement. By this point, I was in full out panic mode. For a moment, I even considered writing an entire blog entry about the demise and destruction of the beer can. I had to think of something fast.
Once inside my apartment, I channeled my mind bullets and looked for a suitable target. Praise be to Allah that I have a pet rabbit named Theodore "Ted" Bunny. I perched that little guy on the windowsill, and voila, I had an end to my story.
Fast forward to last night when Mr. Gaz formally posted the guidelines for Blog Off Challenge 2K9. Knowing that I needed to start the competition off with a bang, I immediately thought of the Fall Creek Parkway billboard. I had it all planned out. After work, I would pick up some groceries at Trader Joe's, and on my way home, I would stop by the billboard and take a photo. The subsequent blog entry would pretty much write itself.
At 7pm this evening, my worst fear came true. The casino advertisement was gone...gone like N*Sync. With twilight approaching, I became desperate. I drove back to my apartment and jumped out of my car to unload the groceries. A Steel Reserve can laid crushed upon the pavement. By this point, I was in full out panic mode. For a moment, I even considered writing an entire blog entry about the demise and destruction of the beer can. I had to think of something fast.
Once inside my apartment, I channeled my mind bullets and looked for a suitable target. Praise be to Allah that I have a pet rabbit named Theodore "Ted" Bunny. I perched that little guy on the windowsill, and voila, I had an end to my story.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Ladies and Gentlemen, it's a blog off!
My esteemed virtual opponent has issued the challenge to end all challenges.
At approximately 8:46pm EST on Friday, my mobile device commenced in a rhythmic trembling that reverberated through the furthest reaches of my soul. Sensing a life altering event, I carefully unsheathed the cellular transmitter from its denim holster. I wiped my brow of cold perspiration and allowed my eyes to focus. A rush of adrenaline coursed through my body. My heart beat furiously. As I accessed the recently received SMS, the sender's name emerged from the pixilated screen. It was one that I knew all too well--Dan Gaz. His message was foreboding: "Want to have a blog off?" Not one to cower, I rattled off a text message of my own. The quickness of the reply exuded confidence but its content revealed fear: "Yes, name the time and topic...it's on like that video game monkey!" Upon striking the send key, I realized my mistake. My quip underscored a seemingly failed attempt to conceal my anxiety. Why oh why did I make an allusion to a video game gorilla? Moreover, the reference was cherry picked from a friend's Facebook status update. Amateur and plagiarized...a suicidal combination. Assuming a humiliating reply, I made preparations for seppuku. With my blade readied, I knelt and summoned my courage; only with self-sacrifice could my honor be restored. Suddenly, my mobile device erupted once more. Contrary to my initial intuitions, my esteemed virtual opponent had spared me ridicule. I released the blade and burst to my feet in exhilaration. His message was clear yet ambiguous, stoic yet elusive. It read: "I'll post the challenge." Not wanting to repeat my previous mistake, I promptly thrust the phone from my grasp to avoid further incident.
Now I await the specifics of the challenge...anxiously but with confidence restored.
Let it be known that only one individual is qualified to judge a blog off of such caliber. David Bowie, let your final decision be known.
At approximately 8:46pm EST on Friday, my mobile device commenced in a rhythmic trembling that reverberated through the furthest reaches of my soul. Sensing a life altering event, I carefully unsheathed the cellular transmitter from its denim holster. I wiped my brow of cold perspiration and allowed my eyes to focus. A rush of adrenaline coursed through my body. My heart beat furiously. As I accessed the recently received SMS, the sender's name emerged from the pixilated screen. It was one that I knew all too well--Dan Gaz. His message was foreboding: "Want to have a blog off?" Not one to cower, I rattled off a text message of my own. The quickness of the reply exuded confidence but its content revealed fear: "Yes, name the time and topic...it's on like that video game monkey!" Upon striking the send key, I realized my mistake. My quip underscored a seemingly failed attempt to conceal my anxiety. Why oh why did I make an allusion to a video game gorilla? Moreover, the reference was cherry picked from a friend's Facebook status update. Amateur and plagiarized...a suicidal combination. Assuming a humiliating reply, I made preparations for seppuku. With my blade readied, I knelt and summoned my courage; only with self-sacrifice could my honor be restored. Suddenly, my mobile device erupted once more. Contrary to my initial intuitions, my esteemed virtual opponent had spared me ridicule. I released the blade and burst to my feet in exhilaration. His message was clear yet ambiguous, stoic yet elusive. It read: "I'll post the challenge." Not wanting to repeat my previous mistake, I promptly thrust the phone from my grasp to avoid further incident.
Now I await the specifics of the challenge...anxiously but with confidence restored.
Let it be known that only one individual is qualified to judge a blog off of such caliber. David Bowie, let your final decision be known.
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
End of 2nd Semester and Quad Cities Weekend
Long time no blog. Since my last post, I finished up my first year of grad school and accepted an internship at a local health care organization. With extra time on my hands, racing the old sled has returned to my list of priorities. Earlier this month I notched the second race of my season (Eagle Creek Traditional Crit) and the first in the NUVO kit since last year. A week later, the team had a good showing down in Louisville for the Norton Commons Crit. Hamilton and Young Stud hopped into a 11-man strong break a little before the halfway point of the race. With a sizable gap and plenty of horsepower to boot, the break easily stayed away from the slowing pack. On the last lap, Young Stud took a nasty spill that put him out of contention, but fortunately, Hamilton followed the right attack, narrowly missed out on the dubya, and ended up with 2nd for the day. Not too shabby. He's been coming awfully close this season, so it's only a matter of time before he performs the rock-the-baby salute to honor all of his illegitimate children out there.
Over the past Memorial Day weekend, Hamilton and I ventured out to the Mississippi River border towns of Iowa for some historic races. Leaving Friday morning, we arrived in Burlington for an 85 mile road race that started later that afternoon. With a 90 rider field, race officials and police escorts led us out of town for a chillaxed neutral start. Even after exiting the neutral start area, the pace didn't pick up much until after 10-15 miles. Everyone was casually chatting it up and I was able to get a few non-virtual status updates for some people I hadn't seen in a while. Being the aggressive guy that he is, Hamilton quickly found himself in a short-lived break with some strong riders. After this first group was reeled back, Hamilton counter-attacked his own attack and ended up in a fresh, reshuffled break. At 20 miles into the race, I don't think anyone thought that this group, albeit comprised of strong riders, would last long. Boy were we wrong. The six-man break built up a 2:30 minute advantage which didn't begin to dwindle until the ABD riders decided enough was enough. Despite hard pulls from riders without teammates in the break, we didn't come within sight of the break until about 5 miles to go. Even then, the riders dangled out in front with a 10 second lead until 1.5 miles to go. During this time, I waited anxiously to go with the attacks that would likely ensue after the final remnants of the break were absorbed by the pack. Unfortunately, the break was brought back so late that the race quickly morphed into a sprinters' affair. Roadhouse lined up on the front and drove the pace for the last jaunt into town. Chad Hartley (Geargrinders) took the win while Puffer (Roadhouse) ended up in second. Hamilton and I drifted in moments later as pack fodder. Bravo to Hamilton for one hell of an effort. Again, another close one for the Tatooed One.
The following day, a group of us returned to Burlington from our Muscatine hotel to watch the Snake Alley Criterium. Having not preregistered early enough, Hamilton and I decided to sit this one out and just play spectators for the day. Braver than us, one of our hotel-mates decided to line up with the Pro-1-2-3 women's field. On the first lap of her race, Tina (Dogfish Racing) experienced the wrath of the Snake first hand as a rider toppled over in front of her which forced her to unclip on the steep bricks of the climb. Unfortunately for her, that incident hurt her dearly as the leaders continued on at a ridiculous pace while she was still trying to get herself going again...but I guess that's the nature of Snake Alley! During the men's race, it was an all Adam Bergman (Roadhouse) affair. After the first five laps, he built up a sizable gap and even crashed at one point and was still able to hold on for the "V". Behind him, local Indiana riders put in valiant efforts, but race officials pulled all but about 35-40 riders after seven or eight laps. My hat is off to those that lined-up for the start despite the onslaught of rain which made an already difficult race that much more difficult.
Sunday found us in Muscatine at the Melon City Criterium. The one mile oval course rolls through a local park overlooking the Mississippi. Each lap consists of a 1/3 mile flat section, 1/3 mile downhill with a speed-bump at the bottom, and a 1/3 mile uphill to the finish. Let me tell you, the precariously placed speed bump gets to be quite annoying after 40 laps of racing. Depending upon where I hit it, I either rolled over it like a BMX rhythm section or felt my bike go slightly airborne; at 70+ kph, losing contact with the pavement can be quite unnerving. Starting with close to 140 registered riders, it became a chore to move up through the swollen field. It seemed as though every time I moved up a few positions, riders would touch wheels or their tubies would explode over the speed bump directly in front of me (true story). Anyway, it ended up being one of the longer crits I have ever completed and I felt satisfied just finishing the damn thing. Normally, it greatly bothers me when I'm a non-factor in a race, but given the depth of the field and the quality of the teams, it felt like a small accomplishment just to cross the finish line with the pack. Considering that not more than a month ago I was sick as a dog, it's reassuring to me that my fitness is starting to come around. Baby steps.
As for the final day of racing in Rock Island, Illinois, I decided to sit this one out due to the drizzle and the fact that I just didn't really feel like racing. Plus, I wrecked hard there a few years back and I didn't want to deal with the discomfort of road rash on the long drive home. So I sat around and watched Clayton dominate the 3's race for the second day in a row and second year in a row. After his race, I hit the road before the Pro-1-2 race. All in all, a good weekend.
With the focus of this entry being centered almost entirely around the bike races themselves, I'd like to list some of the highlights of this weekend's off-the-bike happenings.
1) In typical bike racer fashion, we assembled a motley crew of five riders into our hotel room. Besides the NUVO contingency consisting of me and Hamilton, our room also included Cutters rider Clayton, FIJI rider Vinicky, and DG rider Tina.
2) Fortunately (or unfortunately) for us, a "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" marathon ran through the entirety of the weekend. After learning of Jon's recent affair, it's hard to ignore his disdain for Kate that is all-too-apparent in some of the older episodes. Interestingly, after watching episode after episode, two members of our crew arrived at very different conclusions regarding children. Tina declared that she never wants kids while Clayton proclaimed his mission to spread his seed across the land.
3) Who knew that hotel waffle makers could be so much fun. Lucky for us, each hotel had at least one waffle maker. Personally, a hotel could have dead hookers in the lobby and roaches under the sheets, but if it has a free continental breakfast with a make-it-yourself waffle maker, it's fine by me. One morning, a few of us woke up early to perform dueling waffles; unfortunately, one waffle maker had a timer set at 2 minutes while the other timer was set at 2:30 minutes---plan failed. Clayton did provide some great waffle-related humor though. When the waffles were done cooking a tone would sound signifying that a perfect waffle was ready to be eaten. The tone went: beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Clayton quickly noticed that it sounded as though the waffle was flat-lining, so each time, without fail, he would shout "we lost another one!" Surprising, his quips greatly amused the elderly patrons nearby. Oh Clayton.
4) South Park never ceases to amaze me. Trey Parker and Matt Stone seem to cross every line imaginable...which is always hilarious. I especially enjoy when they incorporate Martha Stewart into episodes. Glitter and moon-shaped cutouts...'nuff said.
5) Television taught us how to make edible play-doh. Apparently, all you need is peanut-butter, honey, and evaporated milk---sounds tasty. However, our dream of establishing edible play-doh as a bonafide ride food never came to fruition. Clayton couldn't discern the difference between condensed milk and evaporated milk and, as a result, our plans failed. It was probably for the best though because eating warm play-doh during a race would probably end up like the old SNL Cookie Dough Sport commercial parody.
6) Hamilton and I listened to Lil Wayne's The Carter II and The Carter III the entire drive to Iowa. I'm pretty sure we were both hallucinating by the time we rolled into Burlington. On the trip back to Indy, I put The Carter III on repeat once again and let Weazy's soothing voice guide me home. A million here, a million there.
7) The Gambit gentleman's club sure looked like a fine establishment. It sat just off the highway in a cornfield outside of Muscatine...that's how you know it must be good. Too bad they have a $10 cover charge. Oh well, we'll save up for next year.
Time for a rest week and then the Indiana State Road Race Championships on June 6th. Get excited!
Over the past Memorial Day weekend, Hamilton and I ventured out to the Mississippi River border towns of Iowa for some historic races. Leaving Friday morning, we arrived in Burlington for an 85 mile road race that started later that afternoon. With a 90 rider field, race officials and police escorts led us out of town for a chillaxed neutral start. Even after exiting the neutral start area, the pace didn't pick up much until after 10-15 miles. Everyone was casually chatting it up and I was able to get a few non-virtual status updates for some people I hadn't seen in a while. Being the aggressive guy that he is, Hamilton quickly found himself in a short-lived break with some strong riders. After this first group was reeled back, Hamilton counter-attacked his own attack and ended up in a fresh, reshuffled break. At 20 miles into the race, I don't think anyone thought that this group, albeit comprised of strong riders, would last long. Boy were we wrong. The six-man break built up a 2:30 minute advantage which didn't begin to dwindle until the ABD riders decided enough was enough. Despite hard pulls from riders without teammates in the break, we didn't come within sight of the break until about 5 miles to go. Even then, the riders dangled out in front with a 10 second lead until 1.5 miles to go. During this time, I waited anxiously to go with the attacks that would likely ensue after the final remnants of the break were absorbed by the pack. Unfortunately, the break was brought back so late that the race quickly morphed into a sprinters' affair. Roadhouse lined up on the front and drove the pace for the last jaunt into town. Chad Hartley (Geargrinders) took the win while Puffer (Roadhouse) ended up in second. Hamilton and I drifted in moments later as pack fodder. Bravo to Hamilton for one hell of an effort. Again, another close one for the Tatooed One.
The following day, a group of us returned to Burlington from our Muscatine hotel to watch the Snake Alley Criterium. Having not preregistered early enough, Hamilton and I decided to sit this one out and just play spectators for the day. Braver than us, one of our hotel-mates decided to line up with the Pro-1-2-3 women's field. On the first lap of her race, Tina (Dogfish Racing) experienced the wrath of the Snake first hand as a rider toppled over in front of her which forced her to unclip on the steep bricks of the climb. Unfortunately for her, that incident hurt her dearly as the leaders continued on at a ridiculous pace while she was still trying to get herself going again...but I guess that's the nature of Snake Alley! During the men's race, it was an all Adam Bergman (Roadhouse) affair. After the first five laps, he built up a sizable gap and even crashed at one point and was still able to hold on for the "V". Behind him, local Indiana riders put in valiant efforts, but race officials pulled all but about 35-40 riders after seven or eight laps. My hat is off to those that lined-up for the start despite the onslaught of rain which made an already difficult race that much more difficult.
Sunday found us in Muscatine at the Melon City Criterium. The one mile oval course rolls through a local park overlooking the Mississippi. Each lap consists of a 1/3 mile flat section, 1/3 mile downhill with a speed-bump at the bottom, and a 1/3 mile uphill to the finish. Let me tell you, the precariously placed speed bump gets to be quite annoying after 40 laps of racing. Depending upon where I hit it, I either rolled over it like a BMX rhythm section or felt my bike go slightly airborne; at 70+ kph, losing contact with the pavement can be quite unnerving. Starting with close to 140 registered riders, it became a chore to move up through the swollen field. It seemed as though every time I moved up a few positions, riders would touch wheels or their tubies would explode over the speed bump directly in front of me (true story). Anyway, it ended up being one of the longer crits I have ever completed and I felt satisfied just finishing the damn thing. Normally, it greatly bothers me when I'm a non-factor in a race, but given the depth of the field and the quality of the teams, it felt like a small accomplishment just to cross the finish line with the pack. Considering that not more than a month ago I was sick as a dog, it's reassuring to me that my fitness is starting to come around. Baby steps.
As for the final day of racing in Rock Island, Illinois, I decided to sit this one out due to the drizzle and the fact that I just didn't really feel like racing. Plus, I wrecked hard there a few years back and I didn't want to deal with the discomfort of road rash on the long drive home. So I sat around and watched Clayton dominate the 3's race for the second day in a row and second year in a row. After his race, I hit the road before the Pro-1-2 race. All in all, a good weekend.
With the focus of this entry being centered almost entirely around the bike races themselves, I'd like to list some of the highlights of this weekend's off-the-bike happenings.
1) In typical bike racer fashion, we assembled a motley crew of five riders into our hotel room. Besides the NUVO contingency consisting of me and Hamilton, our room also included Cutters rider Clayton, FIJI rider Vinicky, and DG rider Tina.
2) Fortunately (or unfortunately) for us, a "Jon and Kate Plus Eight" marathon ran through the entirety of the weekend. After learning of Jon's recent affair, it's hard to ignore his disdain for Kate that is all-too-apparent in some of the older episodes. Interestingly, after watching episode after episode, two members of our crew arrived at very different conclusions regarding children. Tina declared that she never wants kids while Clayton proclaimed his mission to spread his seed across the land.
3) Who knew that hotel waffle makers could be so much fun. Lucky for us, each hotel had at least one waffle maker. Personally, a hotel could have dead hookers in the lobby and roaches under the sheets, but if it has a free continental breakfast with a make-it-yourself waffle maker, it's fine by me. One morning, a few of us woke up early to perform dueling waffles; unfortunately, one waffle maker had a timer set at 2 minutes while the other timer was set at 2:30 minutes---plan failed. Clayton did provide some great waffle-related humor though. When the waffles were done cooking a tone would sound signifying that a perfect waffle was ready to be eaten. The tone went: beep, beep, beep, beep, beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep. Clayton quickly noticed that it sounded as though the waffle was flat-lining, so each time, without fail, he would shout "we lost another one!" Surprising, his quips greatly amused the elderly patrons nearby. Oh Clayton.
4) South Park never ceases to amaze me. Trey Parker and Matt Stone seem to cross every line imaginable...which is always hilarious. I especially enjoy when they incorporate Martha Stewart into episodes. Glitter and moon-shaped cutouts...'nuff said.
5) Television taught us how to make edible play-doh. Apparently, all you need is peanut-butter, honey, and evaporated milk---sounds tasty. However, our dream of establishing edible play-doh as a bonafide ride food never came to fruition. Clayton couldn't discern the difference between condensed milk and evaporated milk and, as a result, our plans failed. It was probably for the best though because eating warm play-doh during a race would probably end up like the old SNL Cookie Dough Sport commercial parody.
6) Hamilton and I listened to Lil Wayne's The Carter II and The Carter III the entire drive to Iowa. I'm pretty sure we were both hallucinating by the time we rolled into Burlington. On the trip back to Indy, I put The Carter III on repeat once again and let Weazy's soothing voice guide me home. A million here, a million there.
7) The Gambit gentleman's club sure looked like a fine establishment. It sat just off the highway in a cornfield outside of Muscatine...that's how you know it must be good. Too bad they have a $10 cover charge. Oh well, we'll save up for next year.
Time for a rest week and then the Indiana State Road Race Championships on June 6th. Get excited!
Monday, April 27, 2009
Little 500 weekend
Props to the Cutters for another well-deserved victory. This one didn't come easy though as the odds were definitely stacked against them throughout the race. Despite two penalties (one of which was highly questionable) and a wreck, the guys still brought it home for the dubya. Everyone on the team put forth great efforts, but Clayton and Young, in particular, were on point. Both riders closed deficits throughout the race that at times were as much as half a lap. At no point, however, did anyone on the team appear to lose their cool...which is quite remarkable given the circumstances. As for the final "sprint", I'll let this video do the talking. Eric Young is something else...
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
The 'itis
After hearing about Brotha Knapp's health woes, complaining about a case of bronchitis hardly seems justifiable. Know what? I'm going to do it anyway.
Man, being sick sucks. During undergrad, I rarely got sick. When I did get sick, it would just be a mild cold that ran its course in a few days. Thinking back to the good ol' days, I can attribute my stellar immune system to the following: (1) healthy diet, (2) plenty of sleep, (3) regular exercise, and (4) zero stress. Now that I'm in grad school, I still maintain a healthy diet and regular exercise (albeit less volume and frequency), and in terms of sleep, I would say that I fall just shy of optimal levels. Thus, my powers of deduction tell me that stress must be the culprit. Before grad school, I experienced the occasional bout of anxiety before a race but nothing that I would consider stress, per se. Nowadays I'm confronted with real-world expenses such as bills, student loans, car payments, ...and the list goes on and on. Furthermore, actually having to study takes up a good chunk of time which means that I often have to worry whether or not I'll get a project or paper done in time. It's been a long time since cycling took a backseat to anything in my life, and this year it has fallen into the "if I have time to" category. Honestly, in comparison to people with families and a house, my worries and time constraints appear insignificant. But in comparison to what I had grown accustomed to, stress seems like an unwanted intruder. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's all relative. Basically, stress seems to be the force that pushes an otherwise healthy immune system over the edge.
With that said, I'm waiting anxiously for my semester to draw to a close. For the past few months, I've been chomping at the bit to jump full-swing into the racing season, but my classwork and thesis keeps taking priority. Just a few more weeks...
All things considered, my fitness isn't too bad right now. This case of the 'itis has definitely been a small roadblock, but the extra rest now will probably payoff big time when August rolls around. Plus, I seem to be developing a case of old-man-strength in which I achieve higher levels of fitness with less volume...I guess I'm beginning to feel the benefits of all those long college rides.
Man, being sick sucks. During undergrad, I rarely got sick. When I did get sick, it would just be a mild cold that ran its course in a few days. Thinking back to the good ol' days, I can attribute my stellar immune system to the following: (1) healthy diet, (2) plenty of sleep, (3) regular exercise, and (4) zero stress. Now that I'm in grad school, I still maintain a healthy diet and regular exercise (albeit less volume and frequency), and in terms of sleep, I would say that I fall just shy of optimal levels. Thus, my powers of deduction tell me that stress must be the culprit. Before grad school, I experienced the occasional bout of anxiety before a race but nothing that I would consider stress, per se. Nowadays I'm confronted with real-world expenses such as bills, student loans, car payments, ...and the list goes on and on. Furthermore, actually having to study takes up a good chunk of time which means that I often have to worry whether or not I'll get a project or paper done in time. It's been a long time since cycling took a backseat to anything in my life, and this year it has fallen into the "if I have time to" category. Honestly, in comparison to people with families and a house, my worries and time constraints appear insignificant. But in comparison to what I had grown accustomed to, stress seems like an unwanted intruder. I guess what I'm trying to say is that it's all relative. Basically, stress seems to be the force that pushes an otherwise healthy immune system over the edge.
With that said, I'm waiting anxiously for my semester to draw to a close. For the past few months, I've been chomping at the bit to jump full-swing into the racing season, but my classwork and thesis keeps taking priority. Just a few more weeks...
All things considered, my fitness isn't too bad right now. This case of the 'itis has definitely been a small roadblock, but the extra rest now will probably payoff big time when August rolls around. Plus, I seem to be developing a case of old-man-strength in which I achieve higher levels of fitness with less volume...I guess I'm beginning to feel the benefits of all those long college rides.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
the future is now
A new partnership between GM and Segway just unveiled a two-wheel vehicle concept. As far as green technology goes, it's a step in the right direction. Plus, in a high-traffic urban setting, the compact size makes a ton of sense.
However, from a design perspective it looks like a rickshaw sans a a guy named Rick Wagoner (former CEO of GM) to pull it. Was this intentional on the part of the design team? Was it a way to pay tribute to their fallen leader? A Rick-less rickshaw? What a powerful metaphor...a horseless carriage.
Now, I know that some engineering team placed their faith in the laws of physics to keep this two-wheelin' car upright, but what happens in a collision with a full-sized SUV? What do you have to say about that, Physics? Can centripetal force stabilize the vehicle when two tons of steel strike at 30mph?!? Huh, what was that? I didn't think so...
However, from a design perspective it looks like a rickshaw sans a a guy named Rick Wagoner (former CEO of GM) to pull it. Was this intentional on the part of the design team? Was it a way to pay tribute to their fallen leader? A Rick-less rickshaw? What a powerful metaphor...a horseless carriage.
Now, I know that some engineering team placed their faith in the laws of physics to keep this two-wheelin' car upright, but what happens in a collision with a full-sized SUV? What do you have to say about that, Physics? Can centripetal force stabilize the vehicle when two tons of steel strike at 30mph?!? Huh, what was that? I didn't think so...
Wednesday, April 1, 2009
T-shirts with words on them...so hot right now
In recent years, I've noticed an increasing number of t-shirts with large words and phrases printed across the front. These "fashion" T's typically have a solid base color with contrasting words scrolled across the fabric. Sometimes the designer even throws in a symbol or two for good measure. Most of the phrases are relatively benign in nature, but every once in a while I see a shirt that makes me ask: "WTF, mate?" Now, I'm as guilty as anyone when it comes to this style of t-shirt...well, let me rephrase that---I have purchased one such t-shirt, so I am NOT as guilty as some people.
While studying in Spain a few years back, I walked into a shop called Pull and Bear and one garment, in particular, captured my attention. It made me chuckle because I could not derive meaning from the dyadic word combo. "GYM TONIC". Hmmmm, what could that possibly mean? Does it mean that if I were to wear that shirt I'll never have to workout again? Or does it mean that the t-shirt cures a disease known as GYM? Neither option seemed plausible or reasonable, so I knew it would be a welcome addition to my wardrobe. WTF.
After careful thought and consideration, I have come to the conclusion that the trend must have begun in non-English speaking countries. Back in 2006, not only did I see "GYM TONIC" but I also saw a wide array of English language T's smattered across the Iberian Peninsula. Given that I never saw such a fashion statement prior to heading overseas, I'm going to go out on a limb and make the assumption that the printed T's phenomenon originated somewhere in Europe during the mid-2000s. What's more, I'm pretty sure most Europeans were unable to translate the expressions appearing on their own clothing (see #2 on my list). In fact, the grammar, syntax, and word choice seem to imply that the original designers themselves did not have a firm grasp on the English language either. Or maybe designers just wanted to play a trick on consumers. Either way, it was some kind of success.
For whatever reason, the trend has since migrated over State-side. There's only one problem, the United States is comprised predominantly of anglophones. If we can understand the expressions, where's the fun in that? Personally, if I'm going to have a brash statement on the front of my clothing, I'd rather walk around without the slightest insight with regard to meaning. With that said, I would wear an English phrased t-shirt if it were to make absolutely no sense (e.g., GYM TONIC). As long as a printed t-shirt engenders responses of "WTF", it's fine by me.
Here's a list the most memorable t-shirt phrases that I've seen out and about. I'm not saying that I like or endorse any of them, it's just that they've stuck in my memory.
1) If you're hot then I'm single. (IUPUI campus, Indianapolis)---saw that one today.
2) I am going to scalp you. (Sevilla, Spain)---my personal favorite.
3) Beautiful sex you. (Sevilla, Spain)---nope, that's not a typo.
4) inspi(RED). (USA)--GAP charity campaign.
While studying in Spain a few years back, I walked into a shop called Pull and Bear and one garment, in particular, captured my attention. It made me chuckle because I could not derive meaning from the dyadic word combo. "GYM TONIC". Hmmmm, what could that possibly mean? Does it mean that if I were to wear that shirt I'll never have to workout again? Or does it mean that the t-shirt cures a disease known as GYM? Neither option seemed plausible or reasonable, so I knew it would be a welcome addition to my wardrobe. WTF.
After careful thought and consideration, I have come to the conclusion that the trend must have begun in non-English speaking countries. Back in 2006, not only did I see "GYM TONIC" but I also saw a wide array of English language T's smattered across the Iberian Peninsula. Given that I never saw such a fashion statement prior to heading overseas, I'm going to go out on a limb and make the assumption that the printed T's phenomenon originated somewhere in Europe during the mid-2000s. What's more, I'm pretty sure most Europeans were unable to translate the expressions appearing on their own clothing (see #2 on my list). In fact, the grammar, syntax, and word choice seem to imply that the original designers themselves did not have a firm grasp on the English language either. Or maybe designers just wanted to play a trick on consumers. Either way, it was some kind of success.
For whatever reason, the trend has since migrated over State-side. There's only one problem, the United States is comprised predominantly of anglophones. If we can understand the expressions, where's the fun in that? Personally, if I'm going to have a brash statement on the front of my clothing, I'd rather walk around without the slightest insight with regard to meaning. With that said, I would wear an English phrased t-shirt if it were to make absolutely no sense (e.g., GYM TONIC). As long as a printed t-shirt engenders responses of "WTF", it's fine by me.
Here's a list the most memorable t-shirt phrases that I've seen out and about. I'm not saying that I like or endorse any of them, it's just that they've stuck in my memory.
1) If you're hot then I'm single. (IUPUI campus, Indianapolis)---saw that one today.
2) I am going to scalp you. (Sevilla, Spain)---my personal favorite.
3) Beautiful sex you. (Sevilla, Spain)---nope, that's not a typo.
4) inspi(RED). (USA)--GAP charity campaign.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
greatest. show. ever.
In anxious anticipation of the forthcoming Arrested Development movie, I leave you with this classic clip.
And for good measure, I posted another a clip in which Will Arnett appears on Sesame Street. The magician he plays will seem quite familiar to those loyal fans of Arrested Development.
And for good measure, I posted another a clip in which Will Arnett appears on Sesame Street. The magician he plays will seem quite familiar to those loyal fans of Arrested Development.
Little 500 Qualifcations weekend
Bloomington twice in a one month? Not too shabby. Rather than give a narrative review of the entire weekend, I'll just highlight some key points:
1) In stark contrast to the glorious conditions experienced over SB2k9, the weather during quals weekend showered us with all kinds of awesome. Thunder, rain, snow, cold...yep, that pretty much sums it up. Thankfully, I was not showered by the golden variety.
2) In an attempted short-cut down to Sasha's place (my residence for the weekend), Kate and I somehow ended up 30 miles southeast of Terre Haute. I must have been distracted by my female co-pilot.
3) We pulled into Sasha's place near Spencer only to find him waiting anxiously with a 50cc dirt-bike parked in the driveway. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes after our arrival before he was off-roading around his property. As expected, he wrecked moments later and tumbled across his lawn.
4) Feske now has a bunch of saltwater aquariums...neat.
5) While waiting for Sasha to quench his insatiable coffee thirst, I heard what was quite possibly the worst music performance of my life. On the bright side, I'm one step closer to publishing my latest theorum:
[(Guitar + Bongos) x The Hipster Constant]/Tone Deaf = Zero Talent.
Kudos to the audience for being so polite. Fortunately, the live jazz at the Root Cellar cleansed my auditory palate.
6) Irish Lion is the new Nick's. Nick's is the new Kilroy's. Kilroy's is the new daycare...the clientele just keeps getting younger and younger---I never knew that a finger-painted self-portrait could pass as a valid form of identification.
7) Woj ate a receipt at the Irish Lion. We laughed shamelessly.
8) Sasha can drive very fast, especially when it comes to narrow, sandy, dark, hilly, curvy roads at 4am in the middle of nowhere. I never knew a Yaris could reach such speeds.
9) Rain = no mountain biking on Saturday morning.
10) Cutters qualified 3rd.
11) In an eating contest at the Laughing Planet, Woj ate a mondo burrito and a regular burrito faster than Zach and I could finish a single mondo. Somehow he managed to polish-off those bad boyz in 2 minutes and 15 seconds. Not to mention, three minutes after the contest, he went up and ordered an additional regular burrito and scarfed that puppy down in less than a minute. When asked if she had ever seen someone eat burritos that quickly, the cashier replied: "I don't think so, but I do know that you're going to have to shit like crazy in a couple of hours." Oh, Laughing Planet...
12) Kate and I watched the documentary "Man on Wire"...good stuff.
Until next time...
1) In stark contrast to the glorious conditions experienced over SB2k9, the weather during quals weekend showered us with all kinds of awesome. Thunder, rain, snow, cold...yep, that pretty much sums it up. Thankfully, I was not showered by the golden variety.
2) In an attempted short-cut down to Sasha's place (my residence for the weekend), Kate and I somehow ended up 30 miles southeast of Terre Haute. I must have been distracted by my female co-pilot.
3) We pulled into Sasha's place near Spencer only to find him waiting anxiously with a 50cc dirt-bike parked in the driveway. It couldn't have been more than a couple of minutes after our arrival before he was off-roading around his property. As expected, he wrecked moments later and tumbled across his lawn.
4) Feske now has a bunch of saltwater aquariums...neat.
5) While waiting for Sasha to quench his insatiable coffee thirst, I heard what was quite possibly the worst music performance of my life. On the bright side, I'm one step closer to publishing my latest theorum:
[(Guitar + Bongos) x The Hipster Constant]/Tone Deaf = Zero Talent.
Kudos to the audience for being so polite. Fortunately, the live jazz at the Root Cellar cleansed my auditory palate.
6) Irish Lion is the new Nick's. Nick's is the new Kilroy's. Kilroy's is the new daycare...the clientele just keeps getting younger and younger---I never knew that a finger-painted self-portrait could pass as a valid form of identification.
7) Woj ate a receipt at the Irish Lion. We laughed shamelessly.
8) Sasha can drive very fast, especially when it comes to narrow, sandy, dark, hilly, curvy roads at 4am in the middle of nowhere. I never knew a Yaris could reach such speeds.
9) Rain = no mountain biking on Saturday morning.
10) Cutters qualified 3rd.
11) In an eating contest at the Laughing Planet, Woj ate a mondo burrito and a regular burrito faster than Zach and I could finish a single mondo. Somehow he managed to polish-off those bad boyz in 2 minutes and 15 seconds. Not to mention, three minutes after the contest, he went up and ordered an additional regular burrito and scarfed that puppy down in less than a minute. When asked if she had ever seen someone eat burritos that quickly, the cashier replied: "I don't think so, but I do know that you're going to have to shit like crazy in a couple of hours." Oh, Laughing Planet...
12) Kate and I watched the documentary "Man on Wire"...good stuff.
Until next time...
Thursday, March 12, 2009
The Holidays are upon us
That's right, SB2K9 is just around the corner. If everything comes to fruition, in just a few short days, I'll be jet-setting down to Bloomington for a tropical spring break getaway. With temps in the mid-50's and sun in the forecast, I might even show off a little bit of ankle...hello knee warmers. Better yet, maybe I'll peel off the gloves and give my digits the freedom and mobility that they deserve.
So here's the plan: Carpool down to Btown on Saturday morning with Fowler. Ride with the Cutters for an easy two hours. On the way back to town, split off with Fowler and the Tattooed One . Head out 446. Turn at the flashers. Pay homage to the Damon Bailey shrine in Heltonville. Finish the 100k. Gorge ourselves on some mondo burritos at the LP. And finally, polish everything off with some of those delectable chocolate chip vegan cookies. It's going to be like camping...in tents (read: intense).
As for the rest of break, anything goes. Maybe I'll make a yacht dissappear...or better yet, sink it. It's the final countdown. Let the Holidays begin!
So here's the plan: Carpool down to Btown on Saturday morning with Fowler. Ride with the Cutters for an easy two hours. On the way back to town, split off with Fowler and the Tattooed One . Head out 446. Turn at the flashers. Pay homage to the Damon Bailey shrine in Heltonville. Finish the 100k. Gorge ourselves on some mondo burritos at the LP. And finally, polish everything off with some of those delectable chocolate chip vegan cookies. It's going to be like camping...in tents (read: intense).
As for the rest of break, anything goes. Maybe I'll make a yacht dissappear...or better yet, sink it. It's the final countdown. Let the Holidays begin!
Monday, March 9, 2009
Lunatic Ninjas
This morning I discovered this little dandy on cnn.com:
http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/03/09/kangaroo.australia.wrestles/index.html
Okay, I have to admit that I would be pretty surprised to see a 6-foot-tall kangaroo flying through my bedroom window. However, I'm not so sure that I would jump to the same conclusion as these two eyewitnesses/victims:
"At first, he (my husband) thought it was a lunatic ninja," said Ettlin's wife, Verity Beman. "It leaped through the window, this martial-arts kind of figure. It was very Jackie Chan."
Seriously? Lunatic ninja? That was your husband's initial impression? Native Australian Paddy Kilmurray assured me that these folks must be "damn westies". In any event, it sounds like some individuals may have seen the flick Warriors of Virtue one too many times.
http://www.cnn.com/2009/WORLD/asiapcf/03/09/kangaroo.australia.wrestles/index.html
Okay, I have to admit that I would be pretty surprised to see a 6-foot-tall kangaroo flying through my bedroom window. However, I'm not so sure that I would jump to the same conclusion as these two eyewitnesses/victims:
"At first, he (my husband) thought it was a lunatic ninja," said Ettlin's wife, Verity Beman. "It leaped through the window, this martial-arts kind of figure. It was very Jackie Chan."
Seriously? Lunatic ninja? That was your husband's initial impression? Native Australian Paddy Kilmurray assured me that these folks must be "damn westies". In any event, it sounds like some individuals may have seen the flick Warriors of Virtue one too many times.
Back in the MWCCC
After a three year hiatus from collegiate racing , I stepped back into the ring this past Saturday...except this time donning the colors of the hideous IUPUI Jag kit (and by kit, I mean a team jersey and old Little 5 bibs). Having traveled to the Depauw University Road Race once before, I was fairly familiar with the 8-mile loop around Heritage Lake. With only a few small undulations throughout the course, it was easy to sit in and get the legs warmed-up for the approaching season. The most challenging section of the course came in the form of crosswinds just past the start/finish line. Naturally, the pace tended to rev-up each lap as we approached this area...I mean, who doesn't want a little bit of face time in front of the finish line spectators? Or maybe it was because some brosefs wanted to flex their muscle in the crosswinds. Either way, it provided some much-needed entertainment during a relatively straightforward and predictable race.
All in all, it was nice start to the season. The total length was just shy of 48 miles and we finished in just under two hours.
All in all, it was nice start to the season. The total length was just shy of 48 miles and we finished in just under two hours.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Word of the day
coiffure [kwä-fyŏŏr']
-noun
1. a style of arranging or combing the hair.
2. a head covering; headdress.
My flowing locks have reached the point of no return. Only styling paste and gel can tame this mad beast atop my head. Barely can my helmet withhold these flowing tendrils. Perhaps it's time for a haircut? Possibly. Or perhaps it's time to consider the second part of the aforementioned definition. All roads lead to ponytail.
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
Sonnet 46: An Ode to Kristen Wiig
When the movements of thy dance I do meet,
Entranced do my unwave’ring eyes become.
Apart from the subtle bowing of your feet ,
Engages my mind on your decorum.
Though fellow comics create quite a band,
Nary a jester match your brilliant wit.
Presenteth you a performance so grand,
Lest an act of Kenan ruin your skit.
You seek resolve for such a conundrum?
I assure good fortune smiles unto thee.
For have I a remedy to free glum.
Believe this as a possibility.
Sendeth he back to the Burger of Good,
Kel shall be waiting where since he has stood.
Entranced do my unwave’ring eyes become.
Apart from the subtle bowing of your feet ,
Engages my mind on your decorum.
Though fellow comics create quite a band,
Nary a jester match your brilliant wit.
Presenteth you a performance so grand,
Lest an act of Kenan ruin your skit.
You seek resolve for such a conundrum?
I assure good fortune smiles unto thee.
For have I a remedy to free glum.
Believe this as a possibility.
Sendeth he back to the Burger of Good,
Kel shall be waiting where since he has stood.
Monday, February 9, 2009
A must read...
Check out this article about Svein Tuft in the NY Times:
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/08/sports/othersports/08cycling.html?_r=1
This guy seems like a cross between Sasha Land and Russell van der Genugten.
http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/08/sports/othersports/08cycling.html?_r=1
This guy seems like a cross between Sasha Land and Russell van der Genugten.
The mecca
In case you're wondering, I had a super-duper weekend. As the temperature climbed above freezing this past week, I got it in my head that a trip to Bloomington was in need. After emailing with my old Little 5 team earlier in the week, I had originally intended to drive down on Saturday morning and come home later that afternoon. However, as the weekend approached, I decided that the temperature difference between Indy and Btown warranted an earlier than planned departure. So after getting some studying out of the way on Friday morning, I slapped the stead atop my hatchback carriage and cruised on down to the Promise Land. Just me, the car, the bike, and some good old NPR "Fresh Air".
As I took the off-ramp for Walnut Street, nostalgia took over. Man, I miss that place. There's nothing better than Bloomington when the sun is shining and everyone is out and about. On the other hand, I do NOT miss the parking situation down there! It took me a good 20min to find a ticket-free spot at least in the same zip code as my brother's apartment on the Square. Once found, I issued a self-proclamation that I would not move my car until I was ready to head home.
Anyhow, I lugged my gear up to my brother's flat where he had been so kind as to leave me the keys. You see, he and his girlfriend traveled down in Palmyra, Indiana for the weekend and his roommate was visiting Mexico...thus, I had the place to myself. Inside the apartment, Sam has chosen a decorating style very different than that of me, Joel, Eli, Trevy, and whomever else lived with me during the two years I spent in that location. Instead of adorning the far wall with a piece of artwork as I once did, my brother has accented the same wall with holes from his bow and arrow as well as a framed portrait of the Notorious B.I.G. Instead of a triangular glass kitchen table, he intricately places an old wheelchair in the center of the room. And instead of toilet paper that one might purchase at a store, he has opted for pillaging industrial strength bathroom tissue from one of IU's lecture halls with a number two pencil replacing the traditional cardboard roll. The list of differences goes on and on.
As three o'clock rolled around, I threw on my kit and rode over to Revolution for the start of the IUCC ride. After spending twenty minutes fearing for my life during Sketch-Fest 2K9, I prompted The Tatooed One to follow me on a side road. Once out on our own, my appreciation for Bloomington's riding scenery improved ten-fold. Riding through Morgan-Monroe State Forest sure beats the hell out of the city loop in Indy.
After the ride, I showered up and met up with Sasha for some supper at the Basil Leaf Cafe on 4th Street. The food was decent and the atmosphere was alright. Pretty solid, but definitely not one of my 4th Street favorites. Afterwards, Sash took me to his school, showed me his classroom, and told me about his current robotics unit...pretty cool stuff. In need of some libation to quench my thirst, we cruised on over to the newly remodeled and expanded Vid. Honestly, that particular watering hole can no longer be considered a dive bar. It's just too nice...you know, a place where you might actually want to stay for awhile.
Wanting to try something new, Sasha suggested that we head over to Farm's Root Cellar bar to listen to some jazz. This place is awesome. It feels like you're in a typical Bloomington basement complete with cement walls, low ceilings, and possibly a yet-to-be-identified noxious mold-like growth. The kicker comes in the form of a full bourbon menu and $6 brewskies. I must say, however, that the prices more than paid for the "vibe". It was under the auspices of the Root Cellar's mojo that Sasha convinced me to mountain bike the Continental Divide during the summer of 2010. Having done it once before, he assured me that grizzly bears and rattlesnakes are nothing to worry about as long as you carry a hunting knife and bear mase at all times. If everything pans out, this could be one of the most intense experiences of my life. Two months. 2,700 backcountry miles. Five states. And three countries. If I'm going to be out in the wilderness with anyone, Sasha is probably the safest bet. After all, he's the same guy that casually told me how to break a dog's breast bone in the event of an attack.
Hmmmm, after mentioning the epicness that will be the Continental Divide trip, it hardly seems worthy to describe Saturday's ride which landed just South of epic proportions by Bloomington standards. It was wet and windy, but riding with the Cutters made it quite enjoyable. Plus, 55 degree weather this time year is nothing to complain about.
What a great weekend.
Until next time, "I'm riding on a dolphin, doing flips and shit."
As I took the off-ramp for Walnut Street, nostalgia took over. Man, I miss that place. There's nothing better than Bloomington when the sun is shining and everyone is out and about. On the other hand, I do NOT miss the parking situation down there! It took me a good 20min to find a ticket-free spot at least in the same zip code as my brother's apartment on the Square. Once found, I issued a self-proclamation that I would not move my car until I was ready to head home.
Anyhow, I lugged my gear up to my brother's flat where he had been so kind as to leave me the keys. You see, he and his girlfriend traveled down in Palmyra, Indiana for the weekend and his roommate was visiting Mexico...thus, I had the place to myself. Inside the apartment, Sam has chosen a decorating style very different than that of me, Joel, Eli, Trevy, and whomever else lived with me during the two years I spent in that location. Instead of adorning the far wall with a piece of artwork as I once did, my brother has accented the same wall with holes from his bow and arrow as well as a framed portrait of the Notorious B.I.G. Instead of a triangular glass kitchen table, he intricately places an old wheelchair in the center of the room. And instead of toilet paper that one might purchase at a store, he has opted for pillaging industrial strength bathroom tissue from one of IU's lecture halls with a number two pencil replacing the traditional cardboard roll. The list of differences goes on and on.
As three o'clock rolled around, I threw on my kit and rode over to Revolution for the start of the IUCC ride. After spending twenty minutes fearing for my life during Sketch-Fest 2K9, I prompted The Tatooed One to follow me on a side road. Once out on our own, my appreciation for Bloomington's riding scenery improved ten-fold. Riding through Morgan-Monroe State Forest sure beats the hell out of the city loop in Indy.
After the ride, I showered up and met up with Sasha for some supper at the Basil Leaf Cafe on 4th Street. The food was decent and the atmosphere was alright. Pretty solid, but definitely not one of my 4th Street favorites. Afterwards, Sash took me to his school, showed me his classroom, and told me about his current robotics unit...pretty cool stuff. In need of some libation to quench my thirst, we cruised on over to the newly remodeled and expanded Vid. Honestly, that particular watering hole can no longer be considered a dive bar. It's just too nice...you know, a place where you might actually want to stay for awhile.
Wanting to try something new, Sasha suggested that we head over to Farm's Root Cellar bar to listen to some jazz. This place is awesome. It feels like you're in a typical Bloomington basement complete with cement walls, low ceilings, and possibly a yet-to-be-identified noxious mold-like growth. The kicker comes in the form of a full bourbon menu and $6 brewskies. I must say, however, that the prices more than paid for the "vibe". It was under the auspices of the Root Cellar's mojo that Sasha convinced me to mountain bike the Continental Divide during the summer of 2010. Having done it once before, he assured me that grizzly bears and rattlesnakes are nothing to worry about as long as you carry a hunting knife and bear mase at all times. If everything pans out, this could be one of the most intense experiences of my life. Two months. 2,700 backcountry miles. Five states. And three countries. If I'm going to be out in the wilderness with anyone, Sasha is probably the safest bet. After all, he's the same guy that casually told me how to break a dog's breast bone in the event of an attack.
Hmmmm, after mentioning the epicness that will be the Continental Divide trip, it hardly seems worthy to describe Saturday's ride which landed just South of epic proportions by Bloomington standards. It was wet and windy, but riding with the Cutters made it quite enjoyable. Plus, 55 degree weather this time year is nothing to complain about.
What a great weekend.
Until next time, "I'm riding on a dolphin, doing flips and shit."
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
One of my SNL Digital Short favorites
Why is this so funny? Simple, it involves people getting blindsided by Andy Samberg just before taking a bite of food.
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
It's snowing...again
I mean, what's the deal with this weather? I literally woke up this morning, looked out the window, and saw zero snowfall. As per my daily self-sanitation routine, I hopped in the shower, toweled off, and walked towards my closet. Upon glancing out the ventana once more, I noticed some sort of distorted, disruptive disturbance (man, I've been on an illiteration kick as of late...all you need to do is read my latest Org. Psych. essay) illuminated against the streetlight outside. Yep, you guessed it--Indiana Blizzard 2k9 version 2.0. I kid you not, in mere minutes there must have been 3cm of accumulation outside...and I'm talking 20 minutes tops.
On my drive over to IUPUI, it continued snowing like something related to "the dickens". I knew it would be a waste of my time to jump on I-65, so being the sneaky guy that I am, I took the covert route through the 'hood. Traversing by the Naval Armory and Riverside Golf Course, my range of visibility extended no further than a couple of meters...good thing the Matrix has all-wheel drive...NOT! Fortunately, other drivers seemed to be exercising a great deal of caution which was a welcome change from Indiana Blizzard 2k9 version 1.0. Maybe it was the fact that this mini-blizzard was so unexpected, but I witnessed not a single motorist driving like a dipshit. Even the presumably snow-prepared SUVs and trucks seemed to reassess their normal sense of invincibility when it comes to...well...just about anything short of an avalanche.
Eventually, I made it to the Union building sans significant troubles but with twenty additional minutes of travel time. All in all, not too shabby. Hopefully, this new 'pow' melts off before the upcoming weekend as I've been in desparate need for a road ride over 4 hours. If not, fuck it...let's go bowling.
The Dude abides.
On my drive over to IUPUI, it continued snowing like something related to "the dickens". I knew it would be a waste of my time to jump on I-65, so being the sneaky guy that I am, I took the covert route through the 'hood. Traversing by the Naval Armory and Riverside Golf Course, my range of visibility extended no further than a couple of meters...good thing the Matrix has all-wheel drive...NOT! Fortunately, other drivers seemed to be exercising a great deal of caution which was a welcome change from Indiana Blizzard 2k9 version 1.0. Maybe it was the fact that this mini-blizzard was so unexpected, but I witnessed not a single motorist driving like a dipshit. Even the presumably snow-prepared SUVs and trucks seemed to reassess their normal sense of invincibility when it comes to...well...just about anything short of an avalanche.
Eventually, I made it to the Union building sans significant troubles but with twenty additional minutes of travel time. All in all, not too shabby. Hopefully, this new 'pow' melts off before the upcoming weekend as I've been in desparate need for a road ride over 4 hours. If not, fuck it...let's go bowling.
The Dude abides.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
This guy is a real gem.
The soon to be former Governor of Illinois never ceases to amaze me. The subject-matter of his press-statements and interviews are truly priceless. Personally, I love the fact that he inappropriately equates his current predicament to famous literary quotes and historical events. After reading The Daily Beast's compilation of Blago-isms, I find myself faced with two possible explanations for his behavior: 1) he just doesn't give a damn anymore and is just enjoying the thrill of the runaway impeachment train or 2) he's completely off his rocker. Fortunately, regardless of which explanation is indeed correct, a single solution exists--give this guy a reality T.V. show...ASAP.
Thursday, January 22, 2009
Can you really do that?!?
I don't know if anyone else caught this little number, but apparently the makers of The Fast and the Furious films are going back to their roots. You might recall that way back in 2001, Paul Walker starred in the original The Fast and the Furious. As if this tour de force masterpiece wasn't enough, someone got it in his/her mind to create the sequel--2 Fast 2 Furious. Now, I might be going out on a limb in saying that the these two films might be on par with Godfather I and Godfather II, respectively. However, unlike the disappointing third installment of the Godfather trilogy, The Fast and the Furious: Tokyo Drift brought the car-racing-meets-cop genre to a whole new level (although I was a little dissapointed that it was not aptly titled 3 Fast 3 Furious). Considering that the Japanese speak a different language than those of the U.S. of A., it only makes since that they would have a different "language" or "dialect", if you will, when it comes to street racing--the Tokyo drift. I mean, it's not often that the viewer gets such an honest and accurate portrayal of foreign cultures. Of course, being the naive person that I am, I foolishly assumed that the creators had reached the pinnacle of modern (and future) cinema as we know it. Boy was I wrong. Not only does their genius transcend national boundaries, but now it tackles the infinite abyss of movie title syntax. Having accomplished all that mankind will every achieve in the moving-picture arts, Fast and Furious was born. It's so simple yet so complex. Just remove the definite articles from the original title and you have yourself something so much more primitive and grassroots. Taking it back to the basics. Utterly brilliant...is that the right word?
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Rock and/or Roll
After spending the past month or so listening incessantly to Bon Iver and Fleet Foxes, I came to the realization that I needed to rock...and I needed to rock hard. Although Justin Vernon of Bon Iver left me with a hefty dose of emotional intensity and sonic variation on tracks such as "Creature Fear" and "Skinny Love", I still craved some rip-roaring distortion and violent crescendos/decrescendos. All it took was a trip through the old CD catalog (you know, those things that existed before MP3's) and I had my answer. My friends, allow me to guide you on a trip back to 1993 with the release of The Smashing Pumpkins' album Siamese Dream. In terms of rock-your-socks-off, it doesn't get much better than this album. Of course I remember the classics like "Disarm", "Today", and "Cherub Rock", but one track in particular reminded me why the Pumpkins were (in my humble opinion) the epitome of mid-90's alternative rock. Rediscovering "Silverfuck" has made my week. It's not often that a rock song cracks the 8-minute barrier while maintaining an assault on the eardrums. Now, I'm not just talking about rapid-fire guitar strumming on eardrum-blowing amps, I'm also referring to the band's ability to bring it back down to a whisper and slowing down the tempo into something resembling a lullabye. And just when you think the song is puttering out into silent nothingness, the Pumpkins abruptly kick it back into a revisitation of the initial chorus. Simply said...badass.
Monday, January 12, 2009
Back to school
I'm back at it again...school, that is. Overall, I would classify my break as relaxing and recuperative in terms of intellectuals stresses. During the break, I'm pretty sure I didn't read anything academic other than skimming a few abstracts last week. Most of my reading came from web-surfing and the occasional magazine flip-through. (BTW, I never seem to start a magazine at the beginning...usually, I begin in the middle, make my way to the back cover, and then go back and cover whatever skipped at the beginning...it must be some sort of savant indicator). In final days of winter break, I began to get bored and eager to begin again. Like every semester, I've come up with some goals and ambitions that I can only attain in a vacuum with no confounding elements and variables. For instance, the other day I made some Excel spreadsheets that map out my weekly classes, assistantship, TA, and workouts. Sprinkled in between those blocks are designated studying times. This morning, I went a step further and made a play-by-play for the entire week. Pretty much everything is mapped out on this spreadsheet. I almost went to the extent of appropriating specific time blocks for meals, but decided I need to give myself some freedoms. Through this neurotic method, I hope to maximize my efficiency. Now that my training is kicking up a notch in terms volume, I need to be as time-conscious as possible. With that said, I give this a month before I crack and revert back to my do-what-I-feel-like form of time-management. If I stick to it, however, I could quite possibly experience my most productive semester of my life. Here's to hoping...
In terms of training, NIFS has become my new faithful companion. With weather that would put northern Belgium to shame, many of my rides have been forced in doors. I loathe riding indoors, but at least I can tolerate it for up to 1.5 hours a day; after that, it becomes to mind-numbing to bare. For that reason, I started lifting again this season to fill the void left by non-existent miles...something I haven't done for the past couple of years. After realistically evaluating my past season, I came to terms with that fact that my strength and pop have diminished a bit since I stopped lifting. So, for the past month-and-a-half I've been pumping iron two to three times a week. Already I can tell something is different...I'm much more hungry...not hungry in the figurative sense, I mean literally hungry. I eat like a mad man now and breathe even less than I did before when scarfing down the calories. Thanks be to the pagan goddess of weight gain that a commercial-grade blender arrived below the x-mas tree. This thing is awesome, I can convert all of my favorite high-caloric and high-protein solid substances into a single vat of viscous goop that I don't even have to chew. It's completely brilliant. Since it's arrival, I've tacked on 3 extra pounds after creating a new, completely liquified "meal" of the day that falls between lunch and dinner. Hopefully the extra weight manifests itself in the form of muscle...I could really use some more of that stuff if I ever want to manage a little better in a bunch sprint.
In terms of training, NIFS has become my new faithful companion. With weather that would put northern Belgium to shame, many of my rides have been forced in doors. I loathe riding indoors, but at least I can tolerate it for up to 1.5 hours a day; after that, it becomes to mind-numbing to bare. For that reason, I started lifting again this season to fill the void left by non-existent miles...something I haven't done for the past couple of years. After realistically evaluating my past season, I came to terms with that fact that my strength and pop have diminished a bit since I stopped lifting. So, for the past month-and-a-half I've been pumping iron two to three times a week. Already I can tell something is different...I'm much more hungry...not hungry in the figurative sense, I mean literally hungry. I eat like a mad man now and breathe even less than I did before when scarfing down the calories. Thanks be to the pagan goddess of weight gain that a commercial-grade blender arrived below the x-mas tree. This thing is awesome, I can convert all of my favorite high-caloric and high-protein solid substances into a single vat of viscous goop that I don't even have to chew. It's completely brilliant. Since it's arrival, I've tacked on 3 extra pounds after creating a new, completely liquified "meal" of the day that falls between lunch and dinner. Hopefully the extra weight manifests itself in the form of muscle...I could really use some more of that stuff if I ever want to manage a little better in a bunch sprint.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
How I've spent my winter break...
Soooo it's been a while since my last post. Not to worry though, I been doin' shit. In fact, I can think of a couple of milestones that I've achieved in this short respite. For instance, up until about 10min ago, I hadn't washed my hair since sometime Thursday morning. You might ask, why would one do such a thing? It's called nostalgia, bitches. Remember when you were a kid and you'd go days (sometimes even weeks) without showering or washing your hair? So why not relive the glory days? Growing up across the street from a country club, I often went a week at a time with nothing more than a daily chlorine cleanse. Now mind you, my most recent foray into greasy hair had one important difference from my childhood--I showered but just didn't wash my hair. And by "wash" I'm implying that my hair did get wet, but no shampoo was applied...I repeat, no shampoo was applied. I caved this evening after I looked in the mirror and realized I looked emo.
During this hiatis from classes, I've also had time to bump up my training hours to a more reasonable amount. Again, it has been nostalgic as it has been quite some time since I had put in more than 9 hours of cycling in a week. The past two weeks, I consistently breeched the 11 hour barrier in spite of the shit-tay weather in central and northwest Indiana. Today, the Sunday NUVO ritual of riding down to Wilbur and back continued. Last week, not wanting to prematurely blow my load on what was supposed to be a dry run, I drove down to Southwestway Park and caught up with the guys for a 2.5 hour spin. Something was different this morning...I felt spritely so I posted up outside of my apartment at 7:40am and waited for the guys to roll on by. To my surprise, Hubbell was the only soul brave enough to venture out in the dense fog and 45 degree temperature. So we cruised through downtown and over to the Mooresville area to meet up with the rest. At the park, five others awaited our imminent arrival. After a few how's-your-mother's, we spun toward yonder hills with a steady headwind out of the southwest. Along the way, the other guys punished me on the climbs as they are already in decent shape. Upon reaching our turn-around point in Wilbur, we took a double-take on a sign at the local quick-e-mart. I kid you not, it read: "Porn and crack 95% off: Beat the meat" (or something similar to that). To my dissappointment, I found neither one of those items in the store, so I had to settle for a Snickers bar with almonds. Having checked the weather prior to the start, I knew that the temperatures were supposed to start dropping sometime in the afternoon. Furthermore, the forecast called for the wind to redirect itself out of the northwest. For once, the forecast was actually correct. However, instead of happening at 1pm, the weather decided to begin a couple of hours early. As we traversed from one meth-lab town to another on our way back to the Windy Apple, the temperature dropped to the 30's, the drizzle shifted to a light rain, and the wind's origin shifted from the southwest to the northwest. Despite these obstacles, our group of seven made good time on the way back to Southwestway Park. After going our separate ways, Hubbell and I were left by our lonesomes for the hour-long trek back to the near northside of Indy. I don't think we spoke more than five sentences to each other during the remainder of our ride. Our fingers went painfully numb, the headwind slowed our pace to a crawl at times, and Hubbell even cursed at a squirrel at some point around Delaware and 16th. Finally, I arrived at my abode after 4.25 hours of ride time--my longest ride since the Tour of Ohio in June. All in all, a great ride...not quite epic status but nearly there.
Well, I hope that wet your whistles. Maybe I'll write another one of these things soon.
During this hiatis from classes, I've also had time to bump up my training hours to a more reasonable amount. Again, it has been nostalgic as it has been quite some time since I had put in more than 9 hours of cycling in a week. The past two weeks, I consistently breeched the 11 hour barrier in spite of the shit-tay weather in central and northwest Indiana. Today, the Sunday NUVO ritual of riding down to Wilbur and back continued. Last week, not wanting to prematurely blow my load on what was supposed to be a dry run, I drove down to Southwestway Park and caught up with the guys for a 2.5 hour spin. Something was different this morning...I felt spritely so I posted up outside of my apartment at 7:40am and waited for the guys to roll on by. To my surprise, Hubbell was the only soul brave enough to venture out in the dense fog and 45 degree temperature. So we cruised through downtown and over to the Mooresville area to meet up with the rest. At the park, five others awaited our imminent arrival. After a few how's-your-mother's, we spun toward yonder hills with a steady headwind out of the southwest. Along the way, the other guys punished me on the climbs as they are already in decent shape. Upon reaching our turn-around point in Wilbur, we took a double-take on a sign at the local quick-e-mart. I kid you not, it read: "Porn and crack 95% off: Beat the meat" (or something similar to that). To my dissappointment, I found neither one of those items in the store, so I had to settle for a Snickers bar with almonds. Having checked the weather prior to the start, I knew that the temperatures were supposed to start dropping sometime in the afternoon. Furthermore, the forecast called for the wind to redirect itself out of the northwest. For once, the forecast was actually correct. However, instead of happening at 1pm, the weather decided to begin a couple of hours early. As we traversed from one meth-lab town to another on our way back to the Windy Apple, the temperature dropped to the 30's, the drizzle shifted to a light rain, and the wind's origin shifted from the southwest to the northwest. Despite these obstacles, our group of seven made good time on the way back to Southwestway Park. After going our separate ways, Hubbell and I were left by our lonesomes for the hour-long trek back to the near northside of Indy. I don't think we spoke more than five sentences to each other during the remainder of our ride. Our fingers went painfully numb, the headwind slowed our pace to a crawl at times, and Hubbell even cursed at a squirrel at some point around Delaware and 16th. Finally, I arrived at my abode after 4.25 hours of ride time--my longest ride since the Tour of Ohio in June. All in all, a great ride...not quite epic status but nearly there.
Well, I hope that wet your whistles. Maybe I'll write another one of these things soon.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)