The weekend is upon us and to celebrate, tonight I am going to cook up some Stromboli, have two to twenty-four Torpedos and (for some unknown reason) listen to some big sounding prog-metal about heads on bloody spears, holy nectar flowing from celestial teats and stuff like that. Now what did I do with my mace and Viking helmet?…
Tag Archives | music
Rolling Nowhere
Unlike the ladies in the above vintage roller race photo, some days it takes everything I have mentally to complete a session on the trainer, and today was one of those days.
A Bit About Noel
The Noel Gallagher Essay You Never Knew You Wanted
Today I’m not even going to pretend to talk about cycling, I am gonna straight up waste your time talking about music, actually a musician. In particular Mr. Noel Gallagher. Yeah Noel, the talented one from Oasis, the older brother to nut job Liam. I dig him and here’s why, starting from the beginning…
An Evil Time Trial
Today’s fifteen mile time trial on the trainer left me with an evil amount of estimated calories when I stopped. No man should blog about being on the trainer, but I will anyway…
The Day After
The above A.P. photo of Vincenzo Nibali from Stage 20 of the 2013 Giro in NO way represents the “ride” I did today. However, the original photo by Fabio Ferrari (that I played around with) is pretty bad ass, but I digress and now move on to a blog post containing all the lackluster quality all four of my readers have come to expect…
Time Trialing & Going Nowhere
I’m not a fan of the time trial (individual or team) unless it’s vintage pre-time trial bike, pre-aero helmet stuff (like the pic above featuring Jacques Anquetil circa 1953) or on dirt (like the Yankee Springs Time Trial here in Michigan each spring). While I have NO plans to ever do a road time trial, I do plan on returning to Yankee this spring. This winter I also plan on continuing my version of the time trial on the trainer; pedaling my ass off, going nowhere for 15 miles trying to best the time before. It’s basically doing lactate threshold training but that sounds all fancy and like I actually know what I’m doing. Since I don’t, and tend to wing things by the seat of my soiled chamois, I just call it doing a time trial.
Thanks A Lot
It’s the eve before Thanksgiving Eve (also known as Tuesday) and the day/eve, was a fucking mess. We got an ice storm last night, so B-Man’s school was cancelled today and I needed to get the snow tires back on the xB. Not to mention I had a million other things to do as we prepare for our trip back to Western PA for the holiday. Thankfully (or not) I had the chance to squeeze in 40 minutes on the trainer. 40 minutes that would have been better spent guzzling a vodka/sleeping pill/Lexapro cocktail instead of half heartedly spinning along and going nowhere for 40 minutes of a planned 60.
Don’t get me wrong, I am anxious to see my father, brother, sister, and in-laws, but mentally I would rather suck on a gas pipe than have to endure four days of explaining why the magazine went bust and I am mooching off my Wife’s brain and (thankfully) its associated income with no gainful employment in sight. But… such is life. I am very thankful. A slacker, but a THANKFUL slacker.
The Geek of The Tree Rings
Balls Deep In Deer
Even though Michigan is balls deep into deer season, I took a chance and rode in the woods today anyway. My local trails are on non-hunting land, but they still come close to private land and have a slight reroute to try and keep meaty bike geeks like me from getting capped in the buttocks, but it is still a bit of a risk since I think I read once that a rifle bullet can travel like 32 miles or something ridiculous like that. OK, maybe not that far, but pretty far. I left my fur riding vest and antler helmet at home just in case.
The Pic
The tree in the pic above fell across the trail a year or two ago. I pass it EVERY ride but only today stopped to take a look at its rings (mostly due to having to wiz). Pretty cool to see the rings n’at..
Fear & Loathing Lance While On The Trainer
I wouldn’t say that I have anything against Lance Armstrong (except the lying, cheating, megalomania, sociopathy and making me feel like a Goddamn fool for all those years I supported him and his teams as they doped themselves to the gills to win bike races). And I wouldn’t dare to say that Lance does–or ever has–smoked grass, done mescaline, high powered blotter acid, cocaine, or a whole galaxy of multi-colored uppers, downers, screamers, laughers, raw ether or amyls.
But I do think that he obviously got locked into a serious drug collection and had the tendency is to push it as far as he could. Only his drug collection had more to do with EPO and the like rather than Hunter S. Thompson’s laundry list of illegal, mild to hardcore and dangerous, recreational drugs.
He Did It, Not Me
There are days when I do “stuff” and days when I don’t. Then there are days that I don’t do anything but my freaking nine-year old son says “Dad, I’m bored and haven’t had soccer in a week, can I get on the treadmill to get some running in?” Then there are days that I don’t do anything, but my nine-year old gets on the treadmill and proceeds to run two miles at speeds of 4 to 6 mph, while I fold clothes, and notice that he didn’t break a sweat ’till he started mile two, and at times was having a full conversation with me while he ran.