Boot to the head

I took a boot to the head the other day in class . . . not a rubber one, but more like this (it wasn't purdy).

My head is spinning and still hurts, hence no post. Exams Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. No time to blog-itty-blog.

Big & Fat Weight Class

Seeing how I am offically a fat fucker (*based on my relative misconception of how I should or should not look, my height vs my girth, food intake, caffine intake for the day, state of mind, lack of sleep or numerous other influences that may or may not affect me today based on my mental grounding), it looks as though it might be in my best interest to slide gently into a new cycling category - the Clydesdale Category.

I COULD work hard to get my weight down. Which WOULD mean limiting my daily caloric intake by eating watercrest, celery, skim milk, bran, and Canada's Food Guides recommended daily intake of fruits and vegetables. It WOULD also mean excercising on a regular and consistent basis. Which WOULD most definitely mean giving up The Thom Parsons(Bacon Egg & Cheese on a Boston Cream Donut)Project.

But I mean, do I really want to give up eating what I want to eat? Do I really want to give up lazing on the couch? Do I really want to have to try and fit into my cycling shorts, sit on a stationary bicycle in my basement for nearly three months doing various cycling workouts just so that I can look slightly slimmer, ride slightly faster, and place slightly higher than mediocre in a three person race where I inevitably come in third? Meh. It seems like an awful lot of work for very little pay off.



But this is apparently what I am SUPPOSED to do - is it not? Hasn't the cycling community, the racing community, my stalking fan club of interweb blog reading community, sponsorship community, at looking down their nose community expect this of me? Haven't I come to expect this of myself? I do it every year. And every year I cease to win any world titles, cease to set any records for fastest lap/most laps, cease to win any cups, cease to . . . .

. . . . wait, just realized that I am using the verb 'cease', meaning: come to an end . . . . . I never came to a beginning or ever even started to win or even won for that matter any of the above mentioned cups, races, laps, records or nothing. I couldn't even win a prize at the AntiRace and had to go on Scott's pitty generosity to get any kind of acknowledgement. I suck.

Now the question arises: will I again suck next season? And the answer is: most definitley - like the Leafs . . . lofty aspirations to begin the season, plans of a parade down Younge St. with the Stanley Cup, and at the drop of the puck - period one - game one of the season, the same answer. Suckiness.

Fashion sense rocks single speed world order

In shock and awe, I managed to snap this photo two weekends ago.

What is the world coming to? AntiRace founder dresses and rides all day in this.

Is this the beginning of ditching the baggie shorts and going to a team one piece skin suit?

Are single speeders everywhere relinquishing their tattoos, facial hair, independent micro-brewery drinking ways and piercings for shaved legs and aerodynamics?

This?

Or perhaps this is in Misfit Psycles near future?

Red Wigglers

On the way back from the AntiRace, Curvy Butt and I stopped to fill up for gas. Taking advantage of the break I decide to go to the little ring room for a pee when I see this:

WTF?

What is a "Mr Twister Jig Head"??

Japanese school girl underwear in a vending machine, but live bait in a vending machine.

Un-be-liev-able.

Destalk AntiRace 2009 Photo Dump

worst coffee ever . . . the cookie wasn't bad

Big Curve Acres - picked up Curvy Butt along the way

haven't been on a road trip with Curvy Butt all year -t'was old times

five rides since September 1st - bet your ass I was lubing my arse

207 lbs of hulking, lumbering lov'in

I was hoping by the time we arrived on Saturday Blue Mountains would have been bulldozed to the ground. Maybe not a mountain from where you're from . . . but I still had to go up it.

nearly died

Castle Keiller

random burr bush attacks on Marc

Vegan Vagabond eats some sort of pressed vegan saw dust treat

the alternative was an expired E-Load gel: exp. September '08 - scrummm-diddly-scrumptious

Misfit still in the woods - frequent shots of Jagermeister kept the germs and worms at bay

the original big fat ring

November, fourteen degrees, sun and single track

two days earlier I sprained my finger. Saturday morning I couldn't close my hand. This was what it looked like after the ride.

Freak'in scary

After admiring Scott's prize (for getting lost or something) he was generous enough to give it to me. WHO DOESN"T WANT TO ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT?!?! I had a hard time of deciding to either use it as new living room curtains or to put it on the wall over the headboard to our bed. I went with the latter . . . . if the bed is a rock'in, don't come a knock'in.

Follow Me - I don't know where I am going with this

Blogger must have known that I have a low self esteem when they added to the "View my complete profile" (over there dumb ass -----------> ) a quazi stat counter. Go clicky clicky on it and you'll notice it climbing to a soaring height nearly 5000 views. Yes, 5000 views. That's even more than Dicky . . . so that makes me wonderbar and really very important on a cycling blog interweb scale.

I'll be the first to admit that I am responsible for probably a thousand of them - what can I say, I like to look in the mirror. But the other 4000 . . . . ? Even I am not that narcissistic . . . or are I?

Though having a large number of views of my profile, (and unlike Richard Dillen) I still lack a large cult like following. Everyone who is everyone in the blogging world suffering from low self-esteem and eating disorders have a "followers" application to show the world that people actually read the drivel that they put out. And I am no different.

Currently, as of now, today, presently as you read this drivel, I have 23 stalkers wating patiently . . . . everyday, sometimes checking a couple times an hour just to be the first to cling onto every word I type, gazing for hours on end at every photo I load up.

My goal by the end of the year is to have at least one third of the followers (can be the same or different followers for all I care) of Dicky's blog. One third equals 26.66666666 followers. That's like only three point six six six six six six six six more followers! My self esteem and self worth are the upmost importance to me, so get off your selfish ass and make me feel good. Spread the word and become one of my sheep today.

**Late Edit: just hours after posting the above post the number of times that my "Blogger Profile" had been viewed rolled over to 5000. I am woman, hear me roar!

Antiphoto Destalk

No nudity, no soccer moms . . . . pfffft. Promises, promises. Improvements for next year perhaps?

The 2009 Destalk AntiRace, formerly known as the Peter Keiller Appreciation Ride, was fun.

Fun I say. I dare say that it was more fun than I've had on a bike in the past three months.

It was my first ride on my mtn bike (for fear of death and/or injury) since September 1st and I had a big smile on my face for most all of the day (most all except the big ass big hill climb to start the day - fugg me!).

I've got a big photo dump that I will post up on the weekend - stay tunned.

*Late edit - stolen from Petah and MTBR.com

3+ km and 12% grade . WTF! Three months off the bike and face this . . . . weeeeeee hooooooo hoooooooo

More photos here (and if you look REALLY hard you might see me in one).

AntiFinger Destalk Race

I sprained my finger today. It hurt. It sucks to type. I'm not typing a lot this evening.

You need to go here on Saturday. Destalk AnitRace.

I'm hoping for some public display of affection from Peter . . . . not levels of public display of affection that he exhibits towards Dicky, but still enough to make me feel wanted and loved.

That is all, carry on.

Lest We Forget

I can't imagine having to give up my life, my wife and daughter, my family & friends, my job, cycling and the things I enjoy to go off to war. I got to take part in a Remembrance Day ceremony today and had the opportunity to contemplate the sacrifices that others have made.

Fifth, my sore arse, and Curvy

On Sunday I got out for like my fifth ride since the beginning of September. It was an absolutely glorious day with temperatures around 14 degrees. Being a three day weekend for me I managed to juggle the schedule to squeeze in a ride. Freak'in hell man . . . +14 in November and riding a bike . . . I'll take it.

Hairy and scary white thighs.
Note: no chamois cream. 'Funny' how I forget stuff I always do when I am away from riding for a while. My arse didn't think it so 'funny' the next day.

Speaking of squeezing . . . . 207 lbs of manly girth managed to fit into my shorts. Thank Gwad for spandex. Yes, that's right 207 lbs. Fugg me. My riding weight for last year was 186lbs. That's a 21 lb difference. Shite! That being said, and if I don't mind tooting my own horn, most of it is muscle - the kind that makes the ladies gaa-gaa (actually it's all hidden under a nice layer of insulation). Three days a week in the weight room, P90x workouts, and defensive tactics workouts are putting the pounds on me. 21 extra pounds to carry up the hills in the Gats and only four previous rides in the past two plus months . . . . well, needless to say I was suffering.

Leaf-less and brown.

Despite the obvious suffering that I knew was going to take place, it was an absolutely amazingly most awesome'ness ride. So nice to be outside for an extended period of time.
I was joined by Curvy Butt, who has seen as much saddle time as I have this Fall. As we rode the flat stretches we occupied ourselves with creating excuses for getting off our bikes on the climbs in order to rest. Searching for red breasted wobbler hatched hooded southern yellow beaked Coo-coos was reason enough to slow the pace on the climbs.

Curvy Butt at the Champlain look-off, looking curvacious as usual.

This ride was just what I needed. Incredible how much a little saddle time changes your perspective on things and how good it makes you feel. It was good to stretch the legs out to help me get ready for next weeks intergalatic event - the Destalk Antirace - if you please.

Leaves and The Leafs

Three days home this weekend on account of Remembrance Day this coming Wednesday. So nice to be home with the family and my mind off of school and training.

Got caught up with some yard work. All the leaves are down and lots of bags to be filled. Freak'in leaves . . . must be the third time that I've raked the entire back yard.

Didn't get a ride (toady) in but I did get a chance to work on a bike - my little neighbours bike needed some fine tunning.

The Leafs, as opposed to the ones I was raking all morning, haven't been able to help themselves, so I figured me and The Peanut would have to do our part while watching Hockey Night In Canada. The Peanut with her newest Leaf hoodie.

Go Leafs Go!
Seemed to help as we scored the first goal of the game against Detroit (only the second time this season that we opened the scoring in a game). The Peanut would only catch the first period and would have to wait to find out that we won - only the third win of the season and two in a row. Toronto fans everywhere are preparing for the parade. Maybe in her lifetime she'll see Stanley Cup arrive in Toronto . . . I'm not holding my own breath to experience that though.
What can I say, I am a sucker for punishment.

Shoot me (or the blog) now

Some days . . . . some days . . . . some days I feel like pulling the plug, putting a hole through the blogosphere and putting this blog out of it's misery.

Really, what's there to BLOG-ITTY-BLOG about? This is supposed to be a cycling blog, right? Not much cycling going on and won't be for some time. And when I do finally have something bike related to say, do you really want to read about me training in my basement on my trainer for the next four or so months? You could fuck off right now and not return until late March and I might have something worth writing about. Or, I may not.

Meh.

I've made the decision that this year I am not going to be chasing the sponsorship bus around trying to land free shit - even if it's stuff I already use and have used for years - like Crank Bros products, Kenda tires and tubes, Ergon grips, Progold Lubricants and so on. If I'm approached by any company to use their products (and I believe in them and like them) I'll use them. But I'm not seeking out any kind of endorsement love. **Note: any corporation wanting to sponsor an overweight, middle of the pack (at best) hack who rides single speed in Canada . . . . . my e-mail is over there --> Yes, that does sound like an attractive offer - how could you resist?!**

First, it's a lot of work tracking down anyone willing to sponsor you. It's a lot more work trying to convince them that you've got anything to offer them - especially true if you lack skill, talent or any kind of natural ability. Secondly, time - I don't have the time to hit up sponsors. It takes a lot of time contacting and convincing sponsors. I'd much rather be using that time laying around on the couch or making frequent trips to the fridge.

I will be keeping the Misfit placard over there ----- --> for next season. I've got a contractual obligation to represent Misfit Psycles (apparently they own part of my soul or something ?!?) and the suits are unwilling to take their pointy claws out of my over weight carcass until they have somehow retrieved their financial investment for providing me with the bestest pink bike on the planet that I get to squeeze between my sweaty, hariy thighs. A nice thought to leave you with . . . my hairy, sweaty thighs.

What weekends have become

Feeding the Peanut last weekend mashed up bananas and blueberries . . . Mmmmmm, yummy.

Being away from home, sometimes for two weeks at a time, has put things into perspective for me. I miss my bikes dearly, but I miss my Peanut and wifey more.

Next season, preparation (training) and racing won't be without it's challenges . . . the obvious and usual challenges: losing weight, not eating so much, fitting into my bib shorts, not overeating after a hard ride/race, cutting back on eating outside of meal times, trying to get out the habit of getting up at 3am to eat, etc. New challenges: juggling time between family, work and riding.

How does that saying go? If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.

Cheesy as it may seem, but it's true.

*Perhaps the relevance of the above map is lost on you . . . . Remembrance Day is approaching - get your poppy. *

With time and commitment restraints I'll be looking to get the most of all my training rides. This upcoming season will be new, it will be different and I look forward to the challenge. All of this means smarter training. Means a plan.

Now, that being said, I'm not the smrtest guy in the thingy . . . . but I knows fun when I sees it and riding has gots to be fun regardless of training or no training.

But then again, why train when apparently winning is for losers and losing is the new pink, which replaced brown which previously was the new black, which originally replaced blacker.

So here's to losing. Here's to coming in second in a three bike race. Here's to finishing mid pack and totally meeting and exceeding all expectations that my glorious sponsor has placed upon me in order to gather some sort of fiscal return on his original and silly investment which I place between my sweaty, hairy thighs everytime I go for a ride.

Know where I can get a copy of a good training bible?

Get your ride on

One of my two most favourite times of the year in the Gats.

I poached this last week off Joanne Holden's site (without permission I might add - I don't have her e-mail - sorry Joanne if you're reading). You many have visited before, Musicians On Skis. It's a pictorial blog, so no heavy reading - perfect for cixelsyd illiterates likes me.

She takes a mean photograph, and most deal with nature and outdoor activities that take place in Gatineau Park. She's also a great source of info during the xc ski season with trail conditions.

If I am lucky, I may get one to two more road rides in this year in the Gats without having to look over my shoulder for traffic - just the odd ride blowing by me.