Lubbock, I kind of hate you.

I knew I was undertrained going in my race in Lubbock, Texas, the Buffalo Springs 70.3 triathlon. I knew it was going to be hot. I even accepted it would likely be windy. And I will admit I may have said something like, “I can probably fake my way through it” in my head. What happened in Lubbock, Texas on June 26, 2011 is something that I kept thinking I was going to wake up from in a cold sweat by safe in my bed.

When I left my car that morning it was 82degrees out and the wind was already blowing. When I returned to my car after the race it was 110degrees and the wind was blowing harder. I’ll spare you the play-by-play, but basically I got destroyed on the bike. Imagine someone in a row boat in the rough ocean while speed boats keep flying by. Well, that is basically how I felt on the bike. The wind pretty much took all the energy and self-respect that I had, threw it out the window, drove over it, then backed up to drive over it again, then spit on it, then vultures ate it. Yea, it went that well! By the time I got to the run, my legs were completely cooked. I won’t say much about the “run,” because I loose a part of my soul every time in think about it. To say the least, “running” the one mile between aid station seemed like a monumental expedition.

But, I finished. I say that not out of satisfaction or any sense of accomplishment. Rather that is the single last thread of dignity that this race let me keep. Fortunately, other people suffered as well; I was amazed to see how many people were getting I.V.’s after the race. It actually kind of looked like the fun/cool thing to do, but seeing some people shaking uncontrollably, I didn’t feel like I was worthy. But considering the speedboats that past my little dingy on the bike and run, there aren’t any excuses to be made.

I would like to say I will never return to Lubbock. But there is a competitive part of me that wants to come back and be the hammer to Lubbock instead of the wood (“The ‘wood’? You mean the ‘nail’?” No, I mean the thing getting a nail slowly driven into it). This was definitely an experience that, despite much effort, I will never forget. My nightmares will never be the same.

Hot, Damn.

There are many things I have not experienced yet in life.Well, the list is too long to enumerate. But, one thing I can check off is fleeing from a raging forest fire, Check. Well, I don’t think that was on my list. As I drove into Santa Fe, on my way back from Lubbock, TX (which was so hot, it might as well have been on fire), I saw some massive nasty looking clouds. I was first happy to see it because it looked like a massive thunderstorm might finally bring some water. As I got close, I noticed the “cloud” had a really strange shape, kind of an arching structure, and it lookslike it was actually rooted in the mountains. Instead of a massive storm cloud, it was actually the smoke from a massive forest fire. As I drove I kept convincing myself it was not coming from Los Alamos. Unfortunately, the road disagreed. As I got up into town, I could actually see flames. The townwas not on fire, but fire was definitely close. The odd thing was that the wind direction was blowing all the smoke toward Santa Fe and away from Los Alamos. I couldn’t even smell smoke.

I woke up the next morning to a beeping from the smoke alarm. My first thought was, “The fire is here!” But the alarm wasn’t actually going off, the power was just out, causing the alarm to periodically beep. With still no evacuation in place, it became a waiting game. Around noon, the wind started to shift and the smoke started to roll in and some ash began falling. It wasn’t terrible, but annoying. You might think, “Oh, I love that campfire smell!” Yea, wellno. It is a great smell when you can take a step back and be out of it. Unfortunately, this experience has put the kaputs on my plan for a smoke scented/flavored toiletries/cologne. I thought it was a great idea, “Smoke’: Where there’s smoke, there’s fire,” but while the slogan is golden, I no longer think thing scent is a winner.

So to make an already long story, shorter. I became a Los Alamos refugee Monday afternoon. I headeddown to a hotel in Santa Fe, thinking this might last a long as several days. I right this nearly a week later, and the latest headline in the paper was, “Breaking News: Return no imminent for Los Alamos residents.” No houses or really any lab property has burned, but the fire is pushing 100,000 acres, but keep in mind it reached nearly 40,000 acres in the first half-day. After finally getting bored of sitting around, I have now headed up to Golden/Denver/Boulder, Colorado. It is great to see green things, and not see smoke.
No more exciting stories, I’m just totally over forest fires. Although, I am hopeful conspiracy theorists can come up with some exciting stories for the “true” cause of the Los Alamos fire.

A little place called Walden.

“I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived. I did not wish to live what was not life, living is so dear; nor did I wish to practice resignation, unless it was quite necessary. I wanted to live deep and suck out all the marrow of life, to live so sturdily and Spartan-like as to put to rout all that was not life, to cut a broad swath and shave close, to drive life into a corner, and reduce it to its lowest terms...”
- Henry David Thoreau

Hello, Greenville.

"...with an enormous abstract iron sculture attached to one side and beneath it sitting in a chair tipped back against the house surrounded by company is the living image of DeWeese himself with a can of beer in his hand, which waves to us. Right out of the old photographs." - Pirsig (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenence)

It has been well over a decade since I read Pirsig’s metaphysical voyage, but every time I visit Gartzka I feel like I am visiting my DeWeese. I am not a super-genius that had his former life erased from his memory because he was essentially too smart to handle. And I don’t arrive on a motorcycle, but my visits usually focus around a bike (human-powered). Maybe it is because Rob did study under the real-life Bob DeWeese. But, really I think its because arriving at their house gives me the same feeling that Pirsig described. The amazing countryside is only complimented by incredible artistic creations casually and unassumingly sitting around. The larger-than-life artistic abilities of Rob and Kathie almost make them seem as though they should be out of a novel, but being at their home is as simple as sitting outside sipping a can of beer while listening to the little waterfall in the small stream out-back.

A ride with Rob was long over-due and a free weekend in Ohio was met with amazing summer-in-Ohio weather. With a foreboding race in Lubbock, Texas I felt a hot ride was in order, so why not being a long ride around 1PM? But, this was no simply bike ride. We were setting out on a voyage, a trip to the legendary Maid-Rite sandwich shop of Greenville, Ohio.

The conditions were nothing less than legendary. The amazing thing about riding around Rob is that the day can be completely calm everywhere else in Ohio, but it is pretty much guaranteed to be blowing around him; “the mountains of Ohio” as he calls it. As we began rolling, we also began cooking. The countryside around Rob consists of beautiful farmland. Trees are few along the rode and with the corn just inches tall, there was no protection from wind or sun. We spun into a headwind the entire way out. You might think, “a nice breeze had to cool things down.” Well, does a convection fan cool down an oven? While I play up the conditions to miserable, I loved every moment of it. There is something about riding through an oven that is invigorating; it makes me feel alive. Also, the thought of kicking back with cool drink post ride is certain heaven in mere several hours.

After many miles of pushing through a tough headwind, taking a short break in a cemetery for shade (made me worry how serious this break was), and questioning if it was a good idea to keep pushing through this heat, we passed the a sign welcoming us to Greenville. Like the treaty that was signed here, I immediately felt peace had been achieved. I was even warmly welcomed by the locals, “Get off the rode!!” As we rode past the bank, the sign read 98degrees. We both quietly nodded our heads in a way of saying, “Yup, that sounds about right.”

Rolling up to Maid-Rite was like taking a time machine back 60 years. The little brick building was adorned with a neon 1950s style sign and the outside was decorated with probably 60 years of chewing gum covering almost every brick. Stepping inside we caught everyone’s attention like we were travelers from the future, but I quickly remembered it was likely due to us dripping with sweat and sporting full spandex attire. The atmosphere inside was dichotomous. Every patron smiled in pleasure of the food before them; all the staff appeared bored and miserable. Rob asked the manager if we could bring our bikes inside (fearing the safety of our steeds sitting along and out of eyesight. The conversation went something like:

Rob: Would if be fine if we brought our bikes in but kept them out of the way?

Manager: Ah, well...I guess...I mean, well....Err....I guess....just for a little bit.Rob: Like for as long as it takes us to eat?

Manager: Umm...ahh...well...I don’t know....I guess....well....there is not a lot of room...ok....well....

Rob: We will leave them outside.

Maid-Rite sandwiches consist of crumbled ground meat on a bun with (or without) cheese. It is simple, but tastes so good! It is the kind of thing that you could eat 5 of them and feel great. The best part is the meat is cooked in a big vat with a worker just chopping it up constantly with a big spatula. It is not fine cuisine, but its the kind of thing that makes me love rural Ohio.

Despite the warm welcome into Greenville and the overly helpful and accommodating manager, everyone we met at Maid-Rite was as warm as the weather we just rode through. One gentleman was curious of our route and ended up drawing a map of a suggested route home for us. Several more obvious non-cyclists were really intrigued by our bikes and all the technology. It seemed like they had never seen a bike.

We rolled out of Greenville with full bellies, full bottles, and a full real Greenville experience. The ride home was uneventful, but a beautiful cruise through Ohio. We opened up our sails and let the wind blow us home (we coasted at 23mph, does that tell you how windy it was?).

The day ended with cold beers with Rob and Kathie outside listening to the little waterfall in the small stream out-back. That is my zen and the art of bicycle maintenance and definitely a storybook finish to a day.