Chad's spot for various thoughts, musings, poetry, ideas and whatnot

Friday, June 27, 2003

A Climb Up Memory Rock, Part I

After reading Scaryduck's many accounts of his past, I have decided that I too would regale you, my readers, with a tale from the dim mists of time involving risk, danger and, as is always the case when risk and danger are involved, stupidity. Unfortunately, unlike Scary's stories, there will be no alcohol involved, so the story may not be nearly as funny.

The story begins at the beginning of winter quarter of my sophomore year in college. Christmas had been wretched for a number of reasons mostly involving a young woman who had spurned my affections in the most nefarious of ways. She now, after a year of claiming that she wanted more, only wanted to be friends. I reacted to the news with what I considered an amazing amount of self-restraint and maturity. Instead of throwing temper tantrums or sharp objects, I decided to live like a monk and swore off the opposite sex for the next two years of my life. A pretty sane response I thought. I also decided to return to a pasttime of my high school scouting days, hiking.

Ashland's a pretty cool place to hike around and I had a gaming friend who I knew was in town that liked to hoof it around a bit so we got in touch. Just after the new year we decided to do a bit of slogging about in the high country. The problem was just where, but Kelly said he'd figure something out. After the holiday and the general monking up of New Year's which involved no alcohol or general gaity of any kind (I think I read some stodgy old philosopher or something) I rang up Kelly and we agreed to set off the next morning. Kelly said that he wanted to climb Pilot Rock which I thought was a smashing good idea.

So at about 7:00 am he picks me up in his old blue Mazda minitruck. My New Year's resolution had been to become a Stoic. All of that lowering one's expectations stuff seemed pretty good to me and I would get to play the strong, brooding, silent type that the chicks seemed to dig but that never had to pay them any mind. The ride up to the Pacific Crest Trial was pretty quiet as I got the impression that Kelly had something on his mind and didn't want to talk about it. Fine by me I thought. I didn't feel much like talking, being a stoic now and all.

When we disembark from the truck and hit the trail, we have a 3 mile hike to the base of the rock. Through snow. Up to our waist in places. I'm all for it. Suffering silently through difficult conditions is a stoic kind of thing I figure. Before long Kelly and I look like arctic explorers, except that we don't have all the great equipment meant for actually keeping you warm. Still though it's such hard work getting on in the snow that by the time we reach the base a little over an hour later we are sweating up a storm. Before our assault on the rock, we decided to take a break and catch our breath. As we chat the small talk we both realize that something much deeper is going on with each other and finally we both fess up what's on our minds. It turns out that Kelly's basically going through the same thing I am with an old high school flame and has decided to do the same stoic thing I have.

Cool! So right there we swear some sort of unspoken stoic oath to suffer whatever comes along with a sort of "what the hell" attitude. This would have been just fine at "Goodtimes" in town over pizza but it wasn't such a good idea right now. We were about to climb up an old volcano core of windpolished basalt. Pilot Rock stuck up out of the Cascade spine about 300 or 400 feet like a hitchhiker's thumb. It got it's name from the fact that the airline pilots that flew from San Francisco to Portland and back used it as a visual navigation aid. So up we go. At first, is was mostly like climbing stairs since the basalt had eroded to form those cool hexagonal rodlike thingys that got places named things like "The Devil's Staircase" or whatever. As we climbed higher the going got tougher and we started to have to do some hand and foot climbing. No problem I think and up I stoically go. As we near the top we hit an unexpected obstacle...ice. Hmmm. Ah, what the hell, right? Up we went, caution be damned. I mean, we'd just had our love-lives pooed upon so who cared, really? Just climb and the devil take the hindmost. About 30 feet from the top I took a bad line and got stuck with no way to get the rest of the way up. Normally this is no problem, you just back down to where you started and pick a new line. Kelly had found a good one and was making nice progress. But now the reality of what I'm doing smacks me in the face. I look down about 100 feet of near vertical rock face with a lot of ice and try to find my next down foothold. Did I mention my fear of falling? Yeah, all of the sudden I'm more than a little uncomfortable and trying to hold on to rational thought.

"You have to get down," I tell myself. Myself says some rather foul and very unstoic things back. "Relax, " I say, taking deep calming breaths. Myself gibbers with fear and then throws a rather unsavory image of me falling to a very painful landing at me. Ouch, I think. The bastard's really playing rough now, bringing my mortality into this and all. Doesn't he know I'm 19 and that mortality has no place in these conversations. I decide to try a little philosophy and tell Myself that I just need to lower my expectations. Myself counters with, "Like what, not expecting to survive the fall?" Damn, he really plays dirty. Just then Kelly asks if I'm OK. Myself wants to speak gibberish and blabber on about how slippery the ice is. I manage to get Myself into a half-nelson and say, "Give me a minute, I need to find a better foothold and I'll be good." "You're a lying bastard you know," Myself says. "You're so full of it your eyes are brown, " he continues. We talk like this a lot, swearing seems to be an important part of the conversation. I take the stoic route and ignore him. I search around and finally find something and lower myself down. Wow, how can you sweat so much when you're so cold. Don't look down too much I tell Myself. He sneers and I look. Still though, things look better as I can find a couple of more footholds. The only problem is that one is a long reach for a squatty guy such as myself. I rapid succession I make three moves and hope everything holds. It does and I'm back where I started and I've even managed to retain control of all of my bodily functions.

To be continued...

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Tuesday, June 24, 2003

Union City

This was the third big weekend for my road race calendar. It was also the tune-up race for the Georgia State Games. I was going to ride for myself for the last time before moving to Cat IV and having to start working for th emore experienced riders on the team. I was also targeting a win or two.

The Crit This was a warm up for me. I was hoping to grab a top ten and get a few points for the Omnium but not much else. The filed was a little large at around 35 but the course was pretty non-technical with wide corners and two long straight lanes that were plenty wide. So you can imagine my surprise when all of the sudden some dork has to make a pass on the crowded inside of me next to the barrels. Oh boy. Stupid, stupid, stupid. He clipped a barrel, slammed on his brakes and we had a problem. I'm trying to avoid touching wheels with the dork when the guy behind me gets into my back wheel. It's not his fault really. He was minding his own business and didn't see the dork hit the barrel and so he doesn't understand why the guy ahead of him is slowing down. So anyway, I'm cool because all I need to do is keep my head and I'll stay upright as I've managed to aviod touching wheels with anyone. The only problem is the guy behind me is going too fast and he rides right up to my rear cogset aqnd that's where things go downhill for me. He goes down and drags me down from behind with him. I feel this coming so bailing off isn't too big a deal and I get out of the crash with just a few scrapes. The bigger problem is that there's something wrong with the bike. I don't have time to look it over so I limp the bike to the pit area and ask for my free lap. A once over and the problem is revealed, the rear rim is tacoed. Even opening the brake calipers isn't going to do it totally. Still, I get put back into the race and I pray that the wheel will hold together until I finish. There's only three laps to go. So as I go through the first set of corners it occurs to me that this is a stupid place for me to be, in the middle of the pack. If the wheel does give out and I go down again I'll take everyone with me. So on the back straightaway with one and a half to go I take a flyer. A big one. Stand up with my hands in the drops an d off I go. I click up to my highest gear and give it everything. Incredibly, they let me go. I'm off the front by 50 meters before the chase starts. The wheel is getting shaky and the rim is rubbing the brake badly but I keep going. I blow up the group and manage to hang on for fourth. Not too shabby for a guy bleeding in three places with a tire that barely tracks.

The Time Trial So, I'm in better shape Omniumwise than I thought and I still have my two strongest events to go. What I don't have is rear wheel. Thanks to Cleve who loaned me his spare rear wheel, that problem is remedied for the time trial. The details of changing a tube and a few other odds and ends still took up the better part of the afternoon. My arm was starting to hurt pretty good now as well. So when I get to the start line, there's a lot of frustration pent up. Over the next 8.5 miles, that all came out. I flew around the hilly course like I was being chased by Drew Carey in a tutu with unspeakable desires on his mind. I caught my 30 second man, my 1 minute man, my 90 second man and my 2 minute man. I sprinted up the last hill and spiked the heart rate up over 190. I left it all on the course. I was sure I had won, I felt that good about the ride. Still I would have to wait until the next morning to see the results. When I checked them I had indeed won. The next guy was over a minute and thirty seconds behind me. I would have finished in the top ten in any class but Pro/1/2. I was now only one point behind in the Omnium.

The Road Race I'd been thinking about this road race for a year. I knew I could win it. I'm a strong rider on rollers and this was a roller course. As the race started, I sat in and conserved my strength. For the first 18 miles I let everyone else do the work and just got swept along for the ride. Then the crash happened. i wasn't in it but it reminded me of the day before so I decided to move up. On the next climb I did. It was really easy. I got to the front in time for the decent and then decided to set the pace for the next big climb just to see what everyone had. I set a pace that was solid but not blistering. When I pulled off I saw that some of the guys were suffering a bit. Good, I thought, we've still got 21 miles to go and I haven't begun to really attack yet. Things were good. I sat near the front for the next 6 miles or so until I ended up on the front for the next climb. I guys the Bigfoot guys had decided to make me do all the work. I was fine with that. I train harder than we were riding over longer distances. I was just getting warmed up. So I pulled at 22 mph up a long 3-4% grade for over a mile. As we approached the top, one of the strong riders I had been watching attacked. I guess he figured I was tired. This lured a couple of other guys out and it looked like there was going to be a three man break. Well, I thought, this is more like it and off I went to catch onto the back of the train. As we crested the hill, two others guys caught on and we were six. Just like Raccoon Mountian I thought. We had a 50 meter lead and six of the ten strongest riders. I shouted for us to put the hammer down. We had a real break and now was the time. I couple of guys looked like they might do something but just sat there. I was stunned. Here we were 13 miles from the finish and we had a good break. This is how you win races and none of these guys knew what to do. So I took off. I figured that by sprinting out, no one would let me go and we'd have to try and stay away. They didn't bite, I was stunned. I was almost a hundred yards off the fron tof the now rejoined group and just sat up. No sense in burning myself up if these guys weren't going to work. Six guys can make a thirteen mile break stick. One guy can't. As I came back into the field I began to notice something odd. My back tire felt funny. Oh No! To get into the race I had borrowed my wife's wheel but it was made for a 25 mm tire. I was running a 20 mm tire and the tube had developed a leak. I was done for the day. I didn't have a spare wheel in the wheel truck and a tube takes too long to change. I legitimately had a good chance of winning the race and now I was out. I was so frustrated. Two weekends in a row my victory had been robbed by a $5 bit of latex rubber. It makes one wonder why on Earth you suffer like a dog for months only to be betrayed by your equipment. Sigh...

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Thursday, June 19, 2003

A few updates

Most of you don't explore from here but for those who do, hopefully the additions I made to my other bloggers section will satisfy your thirst for new things to waste your time with (why else would you be here).

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Windridge

An update regarding my latest foray into the world of mountain biking. Last weekend I raced on a course that ran on a farm (the Windridge Farm, I guess) outside of Newnan. The race wasn't as well organized as the others in the GAP series but the course was a butt-kicker. I mean, I haven't seen that many roots since the 70's mini-series. Add to that lots of rocks, downhill switchbacks and stiffling heat and humidity and what you get is one hell of a hard event. The heat was so bad that a lot of the Sport riders were throwing up out on the course from cramping, both in the their legs and in their stomachs.

I got there a little late so I ended up having to line up near the back of the smallish field. As is usually the case, this was a big disadvantage as we got into the first technical section. I ended up behind a couple of crashes and a couple of guys who didn't want to yield the trail. By the time I got around them I was frustrated and well behind the leaders. THe good side of this was that I hadn't gone out too hard and made myself sick. The plan had been to go easy for the first half a lap or so and see how I was doing but not when sitting in the back. Still, though I was feeling pretty good in terms of my form so I decided to open things up a bit and see if I couldn't place in the top ten. Before long I started catching guys from the lead group one at a time. I'd ride up behind them, sit in and rest a few minutes and then pass and drop them. As the course smoothed out a bit I found a rhythm and picked up speed and before i knew it I was on the leader's wheel. Then we hit the climb. It was a three tier stairstep climb that pushed me down into the little ring. Still, I was able to spin up and pass four guys (three from the earlier 19-29 group) without any problem. As I rode by, one guy said, "Wow!" Not something you hear too often and it really gave me a lot of morale for the second lap. I came through the start/finish line, grabbed the water bottle from my wife, cleaned my drivetrain, drank and cooled off the melon. I was leading, I felt strong and I was climbing better than anyone. It looked good.

As I started into the second lap I hit the really technical section and after about a mile I noticed my front tire getting soft. Oh no! After two quick crashes I took the bike off the course and changed the front tube. About five guys passed me but I wasn't too worried, just frustrated. I finished the change and got going again. I passed a couple and then all of the sudden, Pssssttt. I was done. No more spare tubes. DNF. Argh! Oh well, my form was good and I rode solid and I even learned something about weighting the bike in technical sections.

This weekend is a road race in Union City and then its back to the dirt in Gainesville, GA. Hopefully I'll have the mechanical stuff sorted out by then.

Thanks for reading.

The Physicist   Link Me    |

Thursday, June 12, 2003

Good Night, David

David Brinkley has died. As I've said before, I have admired David Brinkley as a journalist for as long as I can remember. As I grew to some level of politcal conciousness, it was Brinkley, first with NBC and then with ABC who was a constant commentator on the political landscape I was navigating. While many of my generation claim Ronald Reagan as their political guide, I have to admit that for me it was David Brinkley and his band of journalists that I watched many a Sunday morning while waiting for football to begin. Those who know me and my political views can propably see the influence.

Even though he apologized for his comments during the 1996 presidential election broadcasts (and he should have) I have to say that I agreed with every word. In fact, I don't know that I ever really disagreed with much Brinkley said. In his collection of "This Week" ending homilies, I found precious little I could find fault with in his observations of Washington, the political system and the IRS. In fact, I still think his idea on reducing filling your taxes to a 3" x 5" card is about the best solution to the tax mess we all find ourselves in come April 15th.

So long, David. I've missed you since you retired in '97. I just wish that the news anchors and commentators of today were as good at journalism as you were. Maybe in their reflections of your contributions they will find the courage to be a bit less blow-dried and cardboard and step out and offer real journalism instead of Washington/Wall Street spin mongering.

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Wednesday, June 04, 2003

Long Overdue Update

Sorry about the hiatus but I've been on vacation and that includes writing my blog. Most of the break was taken up by riding and yard work. There are a couple of results to report however.

ConyersThis was the third race in the GAP MTB series. It was over the 1996 Olympic course and after racing on it my respect for those athletes went up about 10 fold. We did a lap and a half, they did 5. I would have walked off the course if I had had to do more (otherwise I would have left in an ambulance). Lots of hills but even scarier was the granite. It was like riding down Stone Mountain...very high pucker factor. Add tot hat the fact that I got some kind of flu or food poisoning during the week leading up to the race and I'm very, very greatful to have finished fifth.

Shelby CountyThis was a road stage race in Alabama. I raced Cat V/35+ and managed to do really well. I took 2nd in the opening time trial, 3rd in the road race and 2nd in the Crit leading to an overall finish in 2nd. I was on the same time as the winner put his placing were better than mine (1/4/1) so he got the winner's prize. I am really pleased with the way I raced and the way I recovered from the efforts. The scary thing is that so far I'm placing better in the crits that I am in the open road races. Of course, at Shelby County I was just pipped at the line for 2nd in the road race so maybe that doesn't count.

Now I'm into my next training cycle/ramp up. My next MTB race in in 10 days back up in Newnan. I'm up to 3rd in the series right now and hope to move up more. The Union City Mayor's race will be my next major road race about a week after that. A week later it's back to the dirt in Gainesville, GA I think. Wish me luck and keep the prayers coming that I keep the rubber side down. Thanks for stopping by and reading.

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