Because It's What I Do...

30 degrees out, feels like 23, according to Weather.com.

MAC Championship race at Reston. Going to get my ass kicked.

The back is in the midst of a 3 day spasm. It's eased off slightly but is going away the way a guy walks away after a fight - it keeps throwing glancing pain at me.

I feel like ass because of the low carb Paleo Diet that I'm on.

My hands are cold because I was outside for 30 seconds and when you're dieting, you freeze easy.

There's a lot of snow on the ground but the turf won't be frozen yet, so it will be freezing mud conditions. Y'know, where it's not black ice / plain old ice.

Not even sure I'm going to be able to race.

Going to show up, ride some warmup laps, if that works, then pay for the race, go as hard and as far as I can.

Seems senseless. But I have to go. I feel like there isn't really a choice.

Good shape or bad, good results or bad, I go unless I can't.

I won't go well today, but I can in fact go, at least until I can't.

So I will go.

I am a racer.

It's what I do.

NEW BIKE! NEW BIKE! NEW BIKE!

Well, a new frame anyhow.

I picked up my new Kona Major One from Seibold's shop this afternoon. They just moved the running gear over from the Surly Crosscheck frame that I busted a little while back. So the running gear isn't great and will be getting upgraded with time. But the ride...
I rode it around the block a few times.... the ride is awful sweet. Scandium is the bomb.

It may be my B cross bike - which rarely comes out - and may roll at Reston if the weather is crap, but I think its main job for now is going to be daily beater for winter training rides and commuting. The Rig. It's a little light for a rig, a little sweet... but it's a cross bike, and will be run in gnarly fixie mode for the next 3-4 months, so I think we can forgive it some prettyness. Particularly once I put on the Bike Eyebrows, the full rig fenders. Yeah, I'm going to do the Full Sheldon this winter...

Friday Fun Stuff

Please feel free to walk this way.



Very good. Please be seated. In honor of my diet, which is only 5 days old but is frankly kicking my ass, please give a warm welcome to Clutch, Big Fat Pig.



Now, for no apparent reason, it's time to face what you most fear...



And, appropo of nothing...



And finally, if today's collection of odd bits isn't mind bending enough... Hayseed Dixie takes on Sabbath's War Pigs.




Have a good weekend y'all. See you at Reston, if I can get off my fat ass to do it and if I haven't starved to death by then.

Open Letter To: The Paleo Diet

Dear Paleo Diet,

I've decided to give you a try. In fact, I'm now in my second day of your delights. But I think we need to clear the air about a few things, otherwise this relationship is never going to last.

First of all, I really love what you've done with meat. Meat here, meat there, meat meat everywhere! I'm a carnivore at heart; in fact, I'm such a carnivore I'd only eat apex predators if I could get away with it, on the theory that if eating meat is good, then eating meat that eats other meat is at least twice as good.

However, you are out of your f***ing gourd if you think I'm going to eat cold salmon for breakfast. Smoked salmon, maybe. Give me a bagel, some cream cheese... what's that? No bagels or cream cheese? Okay. Then I repeat: you are out of your f***ing gourd if you think I'm going to eat cold salmon for breakfast. You will get ground turkey burgers, and like it!

I'd also love to try all the game meat you suggest. I understand that pheasant is super-healthy to eat, notwithstanding the lead pellets and Uncle Morty's questionable cooking techniques. But frankly, I don't have the $20/half pound that it takes to buy the amount of pheasant I would need to eat to douse my hunger. Ditto for Ostrich, Alligator, and Capybara.

Second, the meat plus all-the-green-veggies-and-all-the-fruit-you-can-eat formula is really good. It's close to what I'd eat normally. But the proscription on grains? Even whole grains? Come on. You can't tell me our Stone Age ancestors didn't rock out with some whole oats. You have any idea what kind of havoc this is playing with my cycling? Okay, fine, I haven't ridden yet since starting the diet, but I will ride tomorrow AM and I question whether I can get enough juice to ride hard for an hour+ using just cold salmon and a couple pieces of fruit. I'll try but between the low nutrient density and the flatulence, I'm just not sure it'll work.

Third... we gotta talk about this no salt/no coffee regime. That simply ain't happenin'. You can take my espresso from me when you pry it from my cold, dead, slightly shaking hands. And the salt... I'm cutting back but you can't reasonably expect a brother to eat a couple/four pounds of meat each day, and not whip out some salt on it. Bird's gotta swim, fish gotta fly, and a brother's gotta have some salt on his steak. Just the way it is. You want me to get rid of the salt, then you're going to have to okay me getting a 55 gallon drum of Arthur Bryant's World Famous hot barbecue sauce. You want that? No. Didn't think so.

Fourth... what's up with all the peeing? I'm peeing like my bladder got angry at my toilet and has decided to wear it out with overuse. I don't mind a pee at all, but honestly, I'm standing there this afternoon and a couple guys come into the john, have an extended legal discussion about the Supreme Court's most recent search and seizure decision, do their business, clean their hands, walk out, and I'm still standing there letting 'er rip. If I'm going to pee this much, we're going to need to consider some replacement plumbing parts for my nether regions, since they're going to get pretty damn worn. Either that, or maybe I can subcontract to the Fire Department.

Fifth, and finally.... the occasional bouts of dizziness are really pleasant. I mean that. With getting hammered on a nice tasty Ram's Head Tavern Ale out of the question, I have to get my buzz on where I can. Admittedly, halfway up the stairs at home or every third time I stand up at work are not optimal locations to catch a quick buzz, though I appreciate your effort. But it is the nicest buzz since I huffed the Nitrous out of a Redi-Whip can in 9th grade. Like I said though, distracting! It'd be better if you didn't give me that little gift of altered consciousness while I'm driving on the beltway or working some plywood through the tablesaw. I'd be really pissed about this whole random buzz thing but for the fact that if I feel down and cranky and need a snack, I can just go get some meat. And how could I be unhappy then.. So no matter what else happens, you are a nice diet because you definitely keep me happy, at least in the short run.

Hey, want some beef jerky?

Correct me if I'm wrong Sandy, but if I kill all the golfers, they're gonna lock me up and throw away the key. ...

I see Tiger Woods is in the news, as his wife attacked his SUV, and maybe his own bad self, with a 2 iron. The lovely and skillfull Ms. Nordgren was apparently outraged at tabloid accounts that Tiger was seeing somebody on the side. Beyond the obvious interesting aspect - that a guy worth billions and married to a supermodel would risk his marketing image to get a little bit on the side - the story is remarkable for two things.

First, Ms. Nordgren allegedly went after him with a two iron, and did a bangup job. This is amazing because, if you've ever golfed, you know it's damn near impossible to hit what you're aiming at with a two iron. The girl has skillz...

Second, she managed to knock out a window on the SUV and hit Tiger using a Nike iron. This would make her the second person in the world, behind Tiger, who has ever been able to make a Nike golf club do what she wanted it to do. Admittedly, it was probably a re-badged Titleist. But indulge me here.

-----------------------------------------------

In all seriousness, golf club assault is no laughing matter. It's rather like taking somebody on with a .22 pistol. Can you do the job with the wrong iron? Yeah, sure. But you'd better be damn good with it.

A friend of mine, now deceased thanks to cirrhosis, once arrived home really late in the midst of a drunken boondoggle to find his clothes on the lawn and on fire, James Brown style. As he approached his house, his then-wife came screaming out of the house with a 7 iron, and proceeded to beat on him for all she was worth. My friend Clark beat a hasty retreat, never to return again, or at least not until accompanied by a couple Military Po-Po as an escort to protect his person.

A few years later, over a drink, I asked him if he had learned anything from his whole experience with *that woman.* His answer was to-the-point: "Yep, sure did. If you're going to try to kick somebody's ass with a golf club, you'll need at least a 5 iron. And you should maybe consider using a fairway wood."

That right there is some hard-earned wisdom, friends. As any golfer will tell you, never leave it short. If in doubt, use the bigger club. You won't regret it.

Taneytown CRP

Everybody's Doing It...

Honor Thieves

A prominent local racer asks on the local listserve, what's the big deal about amateur doping? Does anybody really care?

I paraphrase, but that's the gist of it. Thing is, I know of some folks around here who have doped, and as much as I'd like to think warmly about them in an uncomplicated way, I can't. I can think well of them, sort of, but there is always an issue of trust, same as I can't often ride with people who are bad bike handlers. I can't share in the unalloyed joy of a fellow racer's win, or look on in admiration without having serious qualifications that reduce "Awesome! F888 Yeah!" to "Nice race, I guess." You dope, then the glory you steal is greatly diminished thereafter, even if you do come by it honestly later on.

So I guess I could answer the prominent local racer by saying, I don't care about dopers, other than:

1) it's pretty low to screw your peers out of their moment of glory. It's called "theft of honor." Military folks have some words to describe people who wear awards they didn't acquire legitimately. They aren't flattering.

2) it's really skeevy to betray the trust and respect your fellow competitors have for you. Seriously, most racers I know really really want to win, but also think well of their peers. We all live in the same area, know a lot of the same people professionally and personally, and generally think well of other racers by default until they prove that our trust is misplaced... way to squander our goodwill, guys. The goodwill of one's fellow man isn't really appreciated normally until 20 years after the fact, at which point one feels the bitter sting of self-recrimination for having cut one's self off from fellowship with one's peers, though sometimes in a fast crit the goodwill is appreciated immediately when one needs to scootch in uncomfortably close to avoid getting curbed, and any resistance by the scootch-ee immediately results in a trip over the bars and into the ambulance.

3) it reveals that your self respect is low enough that you're willing to sell the one thing you enter and leave the world with - your reputation - for $125 and a box of stale Clif bars. Most people have their price, shoot, I'm willing to admit that I'd probably sell out a lot of things for the right price, but selling out to win a training crit or some local race that doesn't count to anybody other than the 67 guys racing in it? That is just absurd. Do you hate yourself or something?

4) I don't much like answering questions from family and friends about participating in a sport where outsiders perceive that everybody who plays is involved in #1-3. I accept it used to go on a lot but the rules have changed due to the alarming way doping has skewed competition in many sports. We've realized the error of tolerating it. People who keep doing it now are not in-with-the-in-crowd. They are out step with society and with those of us who race clean - surely the vast majority of us at the amateur level.

5) It's a matter of personal integrity, but your integrity is one of the pegs on which you, and everybody you know, rates you. If you have high integrity, you will be looked up to and admired, win or not. If you do not have integrity, you cannot steal admiration or respect the way you steal wins. Doesn't work that way; respect is something that must be earned, and cannot be stolen, and any admiration we have will be false. Then if the doper is discovered, all that admiration and respect is retracted, wiped out, replaced with scornful derision.

I know these are hurtful comments for people who do, or who have doped. Sorry guys and gals, it's the way it is. You can go back and earn our respect by playing clean, but it doesn't erase what you've done. Please don't look to the rest of us for moral sanction for what you are doing or have done; we are not the ultimate moral arbiters and cannot absolve you of it. Like the choice to pop the pill or stick in the needle, it's your choice, you have to live with the consequences; and just as we onlookers can't undo the doping conviction, the liver cancer or your lost reputation, we can't sanctify the decision by saying it's okay when we all know it isn't.

I wouldn't ask you to lie to me and tell me I'm thin, fast, and dashing; so don't ask me to lie to you and tell you doping, particularly by amateurs who really race only for the honor, is no big deal.