This is how I cry now.

Well I supposed it is time for some procrastination. I should be studying for the 6 hour law school final I'm taking tomorrow, but this blah-g has been neglected for too long.

I have very little bike-related news. My Thylacine no loner has any gears, and I've been running alot. 20 miles this weekend alone.

The Holiday Lake 50k is on the agenda. Still trying to decide what I want to have as a goal for this year's bike season, but I'm leaning towards a sub-9 hour Shenandoah. Other races on the calender involve Michaux 50 milers, ORAAM, Great Eastern Endurance Run, Local WVMBA and ABRA races. Maybe even an XTerra or two.

Even though I am no less narcissistic, my desire to blahg is dropping faster than the outside temperature.

How about some pictures.





Check out the butt on that.



He must work out.

Nope, just residual hockey butt.

Well, make sure to check out the next episode of XXC, for a does of funniness courtesy of the sweet juices of my mind-grapes.

See you in 3-6 months.

The Once a Month-er

Well, July was a busy month, when it comes to watching the TDF. Not much riding, and plenty of eating, so I am feeling fat, but a little frisky.

Mid-Month I went down to Harrisonburg, VA, to do some riding with Mr. Fast himself, Chaz Michaels Michaels. We went out into the devil's playground, for Harrisonburg's best single track climb - over an hour (for me) of pure uphill grind. Maybe an 11-32 on a 29inch wheel isn't the best idea. The young buck is going fast uphill. He keeps telling me it has something to do with losing weight and riding alot. I don't believe it. I think it's the anti-matter in the 19inch diameter down tube of that Felt.

Some obligatory pics -


That's Chris cleaning the rock garden at the top of the monster climb. I should have taken some pictures of the descent, but going 30+ mph through trees and operating a camera would kill me, fo sho.

Shelley and Stella and I went on a week long vacation to the Adirondak's for the last week of July. We kicked things off at Deerfoot, where I had my lone eagle ceremony, and enjoyed some time at the best place on earth.

Then these two and I headed up to the High peaks region to do some hiking. Cascade and porter were on tap, then, despite Shelley's camper-style meltdown on the way in from JBL to Upper and Lower Wolfjaw, Armstrong, and Gothics, Lower WJ was summitted, and much fun was had swimming in the Johns Brook on the South Side trail.



Some pics of the usual suspects. Aren't they cute? Notice how they don't look at the camera very much?

Swimming in the Johns Brook was one of the trip highlights, for me. There is nothing like jumping off a big rock into cold, clear water. Stella didn't like to watch me jumping off, but I had fun, nonetheless.

A pretty place, huh?




Sadly, we have no pictures from the tops of mountains, because we (typically) forgot to bring the camera up Cascade and Porter.

All in all, a solid month. I learned why the TDF is a popular spectator sport, and although I didn't ride much, I had a good time on my rides.

Oh and did I mention the vast superiority of WNY pavement? I love riding my roadie when I'm at home, or when visiting friends in Allegheny County. Josh Hazelton and I went for a ride, 25 miles, and saw maybe 10 cars. And zero potholes.

I'm looking forward to a fall with some racing, lots of riding, and running.

And hopefully lots of mexican food for breakfast. Nothing like starting the day with some spicy goodness.

Importanceness

Steps to feeling validated, important, and loved.

1. Adopt a dog from a rescue.

2. Put little pieces of hot dog in your pocket.

Done.

Getting Fired Up

There are a few things in this wide world that get me fired up. One of those things is the weirdness that surrounds women and athletic achievement.

Now, let's get one thing straight, right off the bat. I like it that girls play sports. I think that women who are athletic are more attractive than women who aren't. I have no problem with women playing sports, any sport, against men, against women, period.

What I hate, though, is women with weird complexes who insist that women are equal with men, athletically. Especially at the top level.

To fuel my fire, I picked up a book at the law school library today, entitled "Playing With The Boys - Why Separate is Not Equal in Sports."

Now, I knew this book was going to be a hot, steaming pile of, well, you know, but it has exceeded my wildest expectations.

For instance, the authors take issue with the "segregation" of long distance runners - they don't like the fact that men and women run different races. To back up this assumption, the authors make this statement -

"In the 2003 Boston Marathon, for example, results of the top 207 runners - those who finished the course in less than two hours and fifty minutes, show that the first 15 runners to finish were men, but the next four were women. These four women outran all the remaining top male perormers. The mean running time for these top 207 runners shows women as a group turned in faster times than men. The mean time among the top women was 2:36:55, while the mean among top men was 2:41:33.

Now, even a cursory examination of the race results shows how idiotic the statistics are. Out of the top 100 runners at the 2003 Boston Marathon, 88 were men. Out of the top 200, 185 were men.

It might be true that the mean time of the "top" female runners was faster than the mean of the "top" male runners, but this is not conclusive evidence.

The top 100 female runners all finished before three hours and thirteen minutes (3:12:27, was the slowest time of the 100th female runner, Katharine S. Edmonds.)

The top 100 male runners, though, all ran sub 2:45 marathons, with the slowest time belong to Carlos I. Duran at 2:44:58.

So now, with a larger sample size, and a more accurate cross section, the truth comes out. Men really are faster than women. Period.

Now, I might be coming off like an egotistical jerk. Maybe I am an egotistical jerk. I've done the pride sprint in races to avoid being beaten by a woman (Sorry Betsy), but, at the same time, I've been killed in races by women. I have no bigger problem losing to a woman than I do to a man.

Well, unless it was a distance peeing contest. Then we'd both have problems.

My biggest problem with the ethic behind the book I'm reading is the idea that women, in order to be equal to men, have to be the same as men. This just isn't true. There are real, significant differences between men and women, and that is fine. I think there are many arena's, both professional and personal, where women are better than men, but there are still deep differences between the genders.

I just don't get why this is a problem.

Chaz Michael Michaels Race HOO-HA | Kenda Cup East #3 | Massanutten HOO-HA on CyclingDirt

You know you're a big deal when you have a interview on a cycling website. Mr. Michaels is big time.

Chaz Michael Michaels Race HOO-HA | Kenda Cup East #3 | Massanutten HOO-HA on CyclingDirt

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In the important, world changing news department here in WV, it looks like the 101 is a no-go. Word from my private funding source is that racing costs money, and we have none. Shenandoah, though, is on like the bon ton, donkey kong, etc, and I have some work to do so I can rock out with my errr...

Yup. So that's the schedule. Trying to get stronger and skinnier. That is kind of the theme of my life.

Well, the blahg is less than wonderful without pictures, or racing, but I have neither to offer. Went for a sweet night ride @ Big Bear last night. 14 miles of single track is way different after dark.

Drop Dead, Mutha Ucka

Guess how much I've ridden since Mohican?

Zwero. Zpilchy. Nada. Nyet.

Passive recovery is excellent for a raw bum.

So, in my post-race afterglow, I've been doing some cuddling with the Thylacine and scheming about my next race-making attempt. But first, a couple of pictures.



Me at Mohican. Notice the resemblence to Paulo Pezzo?



Well, I'm not a lady, so the moobs must go. Although if I could keep the cleavage and go as fast as Ms. Pezzo, I'd be happy. Best of both worlds, if you will.



Dan and Hilary at their blissful nuptials.

As usual, I can take no credit for the awesomeness that is bummer life avoidance, but rest assured, rap fans, the couple above avoids the bummer life with alacrity, intensity, and ferocity.

So I've been reminiscing about the Wilderness 101. Put it simply, this race has owned me. A spectacular mechanical/borrowed singlespeed/DNF and a soul-destroying-bonk and just barely not DFL finish constitute my history with the race.

I need some redemption. Here's the thing about the 101 - there is no hiding. There is lots of sustained climbing, and rocky singletrack. The course is fast, but only for fast riders.

My plan involves being skinnier and fitter for the slog of doom. Right now I sit at a plush and cuddly 192 lbs. I need to be a smidge skinnier for the 101. A few smidges, actually.

So here's the deal - If I don't weigh in at or below 185 lbs before the 101, I will race it on a singlespeed. I don't have a wun-gear, but I'll get one to punish myself for lack of self-discipline.

If, though, by some miracle, I can get down below 180 for the race, I will force someone fast to ride the 101 on a singlespeed. It will be involuntary, and probably involve the use of force, but it will happen.

I should probably put down the doghnuts, even though it is national doghnut day, and start doing something to get skinny. Like cocaine.

Kidding. Even though it works for Boonen.

Mohican Race Report - OR - Why Endurance Racing is Awesome

Well, race fans, I decided to strap on my big girl panties and ante up and race the Mohican 100 this weekend. I'd been thinking about racing the 100k, but got peer pressured into more than I wanted to do, like a cheerleader at homecoming, or a singlespeeder at a keg.

So Shelley and I and Stella the Wonderdog took off for Mohican on Friday night. We rolled into scenic Loudonville, picked up some dinner (fried rice from the worlds' smallest, shadiest chinese place for me, and a bacon and chicken sub for Shelley) and headed back over to Mohican Adventures.

After a quick Bizznaaas Casual ride and rondevous with the Shogrens, we hurriedly set up our tent, and got ready for bed. Shelley decided things were going too smoothly, so she released Stella into the world. After a minute or two of looking, a kid from a neighboring campsite brought her back to us.

"Dude! We totally saved your dog!"

We forgot headlamps, so we crawled into bead for good at 9:30. This is by far the earliest I've ever botten to sleep before a hundie. The last 3 I 1) was putting in a star-nut until 1a.m. (thanks mark!), 2) was shacked up in a cabin with 10 old dudes that snored and 3)up until midnight with the world's first terminal stress headache.

We slept soundly until 5a.m., stella enthusiastically cuddling our legs, when I got up to go and get my race packet, and take care of some important pre-race gastro-intestinal distress.

I rode into town andstarted the race. My plan was to not go anaerobic, at all, for the first half of the race. I succeeded, but only barely. The course is simply awesome. Swoopy, relatively buffed out, return of the jedi, crazy sweet fast singletrack. I would live in Loudonville for those trails.

Well, if there were some crazy rock-gnar, too.

The first 46 miles of the race are all singletrack, more or less. My goal was to be done with this section before noon, which would put me on track for a 10 hour finish. With the singletrack *mostly* over, and my time goal met, I was right on track.

On the climb out of aid #3, my stomach started to rebel. Jason, of The Soiled Chamois, and XXC, passed me as I was lying on the ground having a pity party, trying to get my insides to feel better.

Jason gave me some advice that saved my race: "Drink some Pepsi at the next Aid Station - that might help your stomach."

Help it did, and the last 30 miles of the race were powered soley by Pepsi. I'm expecting some serious sponsorship bucks, given this glowing endorsement.

The miles between 46 and 70 are boring. Gravel road and a soul sucking 15+ miles of rail trail. I plugged along, riding as fast as possible on the descents and flats, and keeping the effort under control on the climbs. I found myself wishing for some company on the rail trail, but I was alone until the last 1/2 mile.

Really, the whole race is kind of a blur. What I remember the most was feeling happy, and having fun almost the whole day. My goal was to finish under 10 hours, or, as I thought, before 4pm.

Now, for those of you who can "think" or "do math" while you are riding a mountain bike 100 miles, congratulations. I can't. A 4 pm finish would have meant a sub 9 hour ride. I didn't realize this until right before the last aid station.

To be clear, logic did not interfere with this assumption, nor was it foiled by technology. I kept looking at my Garmin, and thinking things like "How can my computer have the mileage right, but have missed an hour of time?"

I set the standard of race-induced-stupidity.

When I realized, however, that I could, in fact, make the 10 hour mark, I was stoked. I blew through the last aid station, and "hammered" the singletrack. Passing the guys walking in the last few miles of the 100k gave me an extra little boost, and I enjoyed the last few miles of singletrack, and really, really enjoyed seeing Mohican Adventures (the finish) at the end of the trail.

My day took a drastic turn for the worst in the last mile. Instead of the easy roll into the finish I expected, the organizers decided that two nasty hike a bike's were the way to finish. Shelley, who was at the campground most of the day, said she heard lots of profanity at the turn that led up the hill.

I gutted it out, though, and finished. Then I lay on the ground for about 45 minutes, feeling like crap. Gunnar was kind enough to point out that I looked tired. Well, those of us who aren't mutants have to work hard to finish a hundie in any kind of respectible time.

So, back to the beginning. Why is endurance racing awesome? Well, my first finish in a hundie was in the not so hot time of 12:49. Over the past couple of years I've built my fitness, raced a little, etc. The foundation for any on the bike strength I have is accidental, more or less. I've done some structured training, thanks to Lynda Wallenfels, but in the past year I've just tried to have fun.

The big deal to me, though, is the joy I get from meeting my goals, from improving. I enjoy the process of destroying my expectations, from going deeper than I thought possible. I do this "racing" thing for myself. It's fun. Yinz should do it.