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Rapha's Merino Hooded Top (click on the link)

GoPro!

Just hoping I don't crash off the start!!

Fly-fishing, dog long jump, running races, bike races, various kayak competitions, whitewater stand-up paddle boarding, bouldering, free-style slack-lining, and on and on all squeezed into the small (and posh) mountain town of Vail over one weekend. Welcome to the GoPro Games. Both The Girl and I were competing in multiple events; we were both racing the Vail Pass half marathon, she was running the 10k mountain running race, and I was riding the time trial bike race. We arrived Friday evening in time for dinner then quickly collapsed into bed.

There is one highlight to this night. In the middle of the night, I woke up from one of my most classic dreams. In the dream, The Girl was sitting, staring with complete focus down on her bare feet. I walked up to her. Without looking up or breaking any focus on her feet, she said in an intense, confident tone, “These are The Blade,” pointing with both arms to her feet, “when I run, they slice up the ground.” If I was not impressed (and a little intimidated) by her running ability before, The Blades erased all doubt.

Saturday morning, The Girl (aka The Blades) and I woke up early to run in the Vail Pass half marathon. We were told the race goes from the town of Vail up to Vail Pass (aptly named), but the true consequences of this race never really sunk in, we just knew it would include a lot of climbing. Also, while named a “half marathon,” the race was actually 13.7 miles, instead of the true half marathon of 13.1. Just a minor difference, right?

We started off the run around 8,200 ft and the first several miles were relatively flat as we worked our way to the edge of town. I was just trying to keep with The Girl, as we went through these miles at around 7:15 min/mile pace. Then slowly the road started to climb. My ignorance was soon crushed as I realized the road was never going to level. In fact, it was just going to slowly become steeper. It was a bad sign when around the five-mile mark I was seriously questioning if I would finish the race. Also around that time, The Girl slowly pulled away as my legs ached for flat ground; I only saw her in the distance the rest of the race (but I DID keep her kind of in sight the whole time). At mile seven, the course switched from road to bike trail. I walked through this aid station to make sure I actually got some water down; instead, I had to fight back from puking. Fortunately, I got moving again. There isn’t much more to say. It kept getting steeper and I kept getting slower. The last several miles I felt like I was barely moving (I was barely moving), but I kept “running.” To rub salt in the wound, the final 100 meters were one of the steepest parts of the race. After a brutal “race” (more like a slog) that finished at the pass at about 10,500 ft, the warm welcoming we got upon crossing was simply a volunteer saying “good job,” no music, nothing. The Girl and I looked at each other with a look of “What the heck did we just do?!”, got on the bus, and headed back to Vail. We were just happy to be done with that thing!

Because of our next races were the following morning, we wisely took measured to rest and recover so we were primed the next day; we spent the entire day walking around on a warm, really sunny day, watching other events going on – exhausting, but fun! We saw all the vendors, slack-lining, kayaking (seeing Eric Jackson doing flips was pretty awesome), some mountain biking, some dog jumping, and bouldering. Needless to say, we were both completely exhausted that evening. Again we crashed into bed, hoping we would have some energy for the next day.

The Girl’s race started at 8AM and mine at 9AM, which afforded me the opportunity to see her go off at the start. Her 10k started in the middle of town, then quickly headed to the ski hill where it abruptly went straight up. It was amazing to see the line of races working up the hill, pretty rough. I then headed over to my start to figure out when I was going off. It was a time trial, so each racer was staggered by 30-seconds. I guess I should have looked at the schedule earlier, because I discovered I was one of the last to go, leaving a little after 11AM!! Well, at least I would get to see The Girl finish. I made it back over to her finish line to see the first couple racers come in. Not long after the winners came in, I saw two women racing for a sprint finish. In fact, one was REALLY sprinting! Who could have that much energy left? But shortly before the finish line, the slower racer drifted into the other women. It is unclear if an elbow was thrown or not, but it was all in good competition and the racer who worked the hardest reached the line first. I then realized it was The Girl! Not only does she have blades, but she is not adverse to throwing some ‘bows to protect herself! Look out!

After killing some time, we made our way over to my race. I will admit, I was nervous about my start; I really did not want to be the guy who crashed off the starting block! Fortunately, the start went smoothly! The course was similar to the previous days run, but ended about 4 miles shorter. Early into the race, I realized the legs were pretty heavy and it would not be a strong performance. Then I started getting passed. Considering we were staggered by 30-seconds, it was really impressive to see how strong those guys were. I would be putting it modestly to say I got crushed! But, it was motivating to see how strong those guys were. I will remember that during trainer sessions!

As I rolled back in, the weather worsened. As we left the rain had started, perfect timing. All in all, it was a pretty exhausting and exciting weekend. It was amazing how many activities were going on and motivating to see so many great athletes! It is on the calendar for next year, and I will get revenge on that half marathon!

Bikes can also be ridden outside

It had been probably over a month since I had ridden my bike outside. That isn't to say I haven't been riding, I have been riding about four days per week, I have just been living on the trainer. Today, I figured it was time to venture into the great outdoors. I set out on a route that I have long been eyeing, but had not gotten around to actually doing. The picture doesn't begin to give it justice.

The ride started off interesting. While bombing down a hill, I was stopped by a massive cow standing in the road. Despite lacking horns, considering its massive size (we are talking small car sized), the way it was starring me in a rather intimidating manner, and the fact it had what did not exactly look like an utter, I am pretty sure it was a bull. While I was considering how fast I could ride back up the hill if it decided to charge, it fortunately decided to wander back down the road. Welcome to New Mexico.

Continuing the ride and after a long climb, I ended up on a huge messa and I was immediately amazed. The view down the valley was awesome, but the feeling up on the messa was incredible. Other than the dirt road, I felt completely alone up there. It is amazing to be places that seem like they look exactly as they did hundreds of years ago. There were pinyon trees, ponderosas, and grass, yes GRASS! In fact, there were sections with fields of grass. Part of the messa had be burned in the last fire; the the grass growing through the ashes was proof that life goes on. Other than gunshots off in the distance (again, welcome to New Mexico), there was not a single person the several hours I was up there and there where miles and miles of road that I did not have time to cover.

I found my new favorite place out here. I wish I could describe it better. You will just have to ride out there with me sometime.

A search for a good (non-radioactive) dirt road

Ever since getting out to NM I have been on a quest for a good dirt road. Sure, this sounds lame, but it wasn't until after I left State College that I realized how anomalous it is for the seemingly endless miles of quality crushed gravel roads for running and cross-riding. So, aboard my trusty, Wilier stead I have been scouting all the promising routes based on satellite images. Before today, I have had moderate success and multiple failures. But, that was before today.

It has been a long time since I have had a ride where a smile was plastered to my face. We commonly make fun of my mom...let me re-phrase, one of the times when we make fun of my mom is when she sees impressive landscapes, she typically continually repeats, "Oh my god!" Well today, I admit, I was continually repeating, "Holy sh*t!" and "This is #$@#$ing amazing!" I have finally found exactly what I was looking for, as as you would know it, it is right next to my current residence; well, 500 ft below to be more exact.

The road/trail begins in a somewhat narrow canyon, lined with big rock walls (climbing potential?!?), follows a stream with hoodoos and boulders (bouldering potential?!?). As I continue on, it eventually opens up to a big valley, WITH TREES!!! The trail/road is in amazing condition, and while having a gradual, constant slope to it, it is still quite enjoyable in both directions.

Well, not much more needs to be said, just that I am a happy man, my Wilier is a happy bike, and I even scouted at semi-flat stretches to do 200 and 400m repeats (don't ask, I will just sounds lame)! Enjoy the pictures. Be warned, anybody that comes to visit me, we are definitely going for a ride along my new favorite route!!!!!

Bayo Canyon Road (formerly TA-10, very rich and radioactive history!!)

Update: One of the roads I traveled along (Bayo Canyon Road) had one odd section. It appeared to have been paved at one point and includes 4 large asphalt pads. There was also a very old and faded sign reading: "Temporary Use Road Only By Order of US Dept of Energy." I found all of this very odd, but had no clue. Well, I found out the history. This use to be one of the sites for the lab. I found a report on the area and described it as a facility used to support the development of nuclear weapons. For nearly 20 years (ending in the early 60's) it was used as a firing site to test high explosives, included uranium. In the early 60's it was decontaminated and decommissioned. It is still under the DOE (US Dept of Energy). Here is an excerpt from one report (linked from this site):

The Los Alamos National Laboratory [...] conducted 254 radioactive lanthanum implosion experiments from September 1944 through March 1962. The purpose of these experiments was to test implosion designs for nuclear weapons. Conventional high explosives surrounding common metals (used as surrogates for plutonium) and a radioactive source, as small as one-eighth inch in diameter and containing up to several thousand curies of radioactive lanthanum, were involved in each experiment detonated. (Dummer, Tascher, Courtright 1996)

An expert on the area describes the area as:

...Bayo Canyon, New Mexico is simply unmissable for any hardcore nuclear tourist. there’s the historical dimension:  the radiolanthanum experiments that commenced here in 1944 provided crucial insight into the implosion weapon design validated in 1945 by the Trinity test (and embodied later by “Fat Man” and virtually all successive bombs). But what makes Bayo so special is that the history here is tangible, collectable, and detectable provided you come with a Geiger counter.

YIKES! Just in case you ever forget the history of this place. The best part, if you look at the posting from the expert (http://carlwillis.wordpress.com/tag/los-alamos/), he talks about how it is such a great place to go with a geiger counter to search for radioactive relics from the explosions!!!! But, don't worry, a 2008 report found the radiation levels below New Mexico limits and is safe for recreation, although I guess it is technically closed until year 2142. I am DEFINITELY not in Ohio anymore! It is a beautiful area, see the picture of Bayo Canyon Road above.

Greatest day of my life.

Granted I have a terrible memory (which I once read about a study arguing that human males have developed an adaptive quality of having a poor memory for negative events, while human females are really good at remembering all memories. This seems to explain a lot, but I digress...), but today was the best day of my life. Being a “Los Alamos refugee,” I have taken the opportunity to make a pilgrimage to the Golden/Denver/Boulder, Colorado region. Where to begin...?

I have fallen in love and her name is Golden, Colorado. The USGS NEIC is located on the beautiful Colorado School of Mines campus. The NEIC is where all of the earthquake response and much of the earthquake research is conducted by the USGS. Arriving here, I was welcomed with open arms at the USGS, giving me a desk to work at and an open invitation to stay as long as I need. Beyond USGS, Golden is a small, quiet town. After work on Friday, we headed to the Golden City Brewery where it seemed like the entire town was enjoying a great beer and great company. I feel Dayton is my soul-mate, but Golden could be my girlfriend.

Back to today...Given the opportunity, I jumped at the chance of riding part of the epic Peak-to-Peak highway. This is a classic road bike ride and heralded by one "highly esteemed" journal as one of the best rides in America! This also included my first visit to Boulder. About a half mile into the ride I stopped to make sure I was heading in the right direction. While stopped two riders passed, saying “Hello.” I immediately recognized one as Cam Dye!! I never thought of myself as becoming star-struck, but I could not get over the fact that an athlete that I have read so much about in magazines had just casually rode past me. Heading in similar directions, I ended up following Cam and his unidentified partner for several miles. Don’t worry, I kept enough distance that it could have passed as “going in the same direction” and not “stalking.”

Following my Cam Dye encounter, the rest of the ride offered amazing scenery of riding within rocky, mountainous valleys, along a roaring mountain stream. Simply stunning. On top of that, the ride hosted a constant gradual climb for about 20miles straight! While completely spanking my feeble quads, the 10mile fast decent was equally enjoyed. The amazing thing was the number of bikers I saw. Honestly, I think I saw more bikers just today than I have seen in the past 10 years combined in Ohio and PA. And this was just a normal day here!! At first I found it odd that no other bikers really waved as you passed. But then I realized it is because you would be waving constantly. It would be like trying to wave to every car that you passed while driving. There are just that many! What is this place!?!?

Still unable to grasp the concept of bike nutrition (I mean the thought of simply drinking consistently is such a complex notion to me) I was in a serious hurt box when I finally returned to my car. Looking to return to the world of the living, I headed to Amente for some great coffee and sustenance. As I ate my way back from zombie-land while watching the Tour de France, I struggled with holding back a constant shit-eating grin.

Feeling like Mike again, I then strolled next store to Boulder Cycle Sport. There I was encountered by multiple employees who were more than willing to geek-out about talking bikes with me. Additionally, I got a chance to hold the Cervelo R5ca frame in my own hands!! This $9,999 frame, of which only several hundred where ever produced weighs a meager 700 grams!! That’s right, THE BIKE FRAME WEIGHTS LESS THAN 700 GRAMS!!! SIMPLY AMAZING!!

While the wonderful Boulder Cycle Sport shop specialized more in road/mtn cycling than multisport, I then took a little trip over to Colorado Multisport to check out a famous multisport bike shop. First, this is also where Retul Boulder is located, I cannot tell you how many pictures of pros I have seen getting refit in this shop. While there, I quickly struck up a conversation with one of the co-owners, Chuck. When you imagine geeking-out, this conversation redefines it. I learned so much talking to him. I saved countless hours of internet review/discussion searching by talking to him for a short while. Not only is he a great resource, but super friendly and thrilled to talk bikes. I will admit he was a little bit of a name dropper, but I’ll take it because he was dropping some serious names!! He works on the bikes of the who’s-who in triathlon. Name a top pro triathlete living in Boulder, he is his/her man! Most importantly, Crowie, my most respected and admired athlete of all time, “comes in and hangs out at the shop all the time”!!!! Whoa, further more, this guy is good friends with Crowie, heading over to Crowie’s house to watch the tour with him tonight!! Pinch me I’m dreaming. Like I said, I never thought I was one to get star-struck, but it is so crazy to have these amazing athletes become just normal people. I walked out of the store literally speechless. This had been an incomparable day and it was only 4PM!!

Finally, the day ended with a classic pig roast at a friend-of-a-friend. You might be saying, “OK, when did the amazing thing happen to you today?” But it wasn’t any one thing. Everything about today was awesome and the fact that it all occurred in one day and there were no downers about it is what makes today the greatest day of my life. It is a big statement, I know, but some days it just all works out. Booya!

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.

FALL!!!!

First mtn bike ride at Raystown = awesome!

Great pumpkin carving

Half of an Ironman, still just a normal man

Anybody that knows me knows that I may have a tendency to fall into routines rather easily. I am not exactly sure what makes people think this, perhaps it is because in the past I have periodically spent many months consuming the same meal for every breakfast, lunch, and/or dinner. Perhaps it is because I tend to have a schedule that consumes nearly every hour of the day, which I repeat week after week. Basically, all pretty normal and standard procedure. BUT, this past weekend I decided it might be a good weekend to change things up and do something a little different.

So, on Saturday I figured why not wake up at 4:15 AM, sit in a beachside bathroom for 3 hours, go for a swim, bike, then run all morning, then spend the rest of the day curled in a ball feeling like WWIII was in full swing inside my abdomen. Going to see a movie was the alternate plan for the day.

Ok, maybe this was not completely impulsive and there was a little premeditation to the plan, and my swim-bike-run may have actually been called the Steelhead 70.3 Half Ironman in Benton Harbor, Michigan (the plan sounded a lot more hip without all the official names, did it not?) I also may have been training for this day (I know, I sound a lot more boring now).

The day did start at 4:15. When my mom dropped me off at 5:15 (kind of like getting dropped off at school by your mom, but I got to bring my bike to this school) a steady sprinkle-rain began. For those unfamiliar with triathlon, you begin with a swim, then head into a “transition area” where you have your bike, bike equipment, and running equipment stored. After the swim you hop onto your bike, then head back into the transition area a second time to drop off your bike and get your running shoes on and head out for the final leg of the race, the run. The swim start was going off in “waves,” simply meaning groups of people were started instead of one single mass start of everyone. The pros started first at 7AM and I was “fortunate” enough to be in the second to last wave, starting at 8:42AM! Unfortunately, the transition area closed at 6:30, so I could not just roll over to the race at 8:30 and say, “Let’s do this!” I had to get there in the morning darkness, set up my bike and equipment then hang out for several hours. While that sounds awesome, what is not awesome is when it is raining all morning. But what is surprisingly awesome is hanging out in the bathroom for about 2.5 hours. Perhaps the whole “hanging out in the bathroom” deterred people from doing it, but we had a lot of room in there. I should note, there was a changing room half to the bathroom, so I was not giving people high fives as they left the john.

Around 8AM I headed down the beach for the start. This race hosted a point-to-point swim, which means you walk about 2k (1.2miles to be exact) down the beach, then swim in a straight shot back to the transition area. Not only was the water (Lake Michigan) incredibly clean and a comfortable 76degrees, but they also have you swim “down current” (a lake surprisingly has a noticeable current, I did not know that). This made for an awesomely fast swim, a great artificial confidence boost. The swim went well, I fortunately avoided the dreaded heel-to-my-face move (typically another person’s heel to your face. I guess it could be both your heel and your face, but you might be experiencing bigger problems in that situation). I hopped out of the water and headed up to the transition area with an awesome crowd enthusiastically cheering on the guy behind me (I think I might name my son "John Tom Mike Jim Tim Bob Guillermo," that way he has a pretty good chance of always being cheered by everyone in nearly every situation). Then, I was onto the bike.

There is not much exciting to say about the bike, except all the rules that I was nervous about accidentally breaking (drafting, blocking, passing too slowly, passing on the wrong side, not dropping back after being passed, etc) were pretty much immediately broken by everyone else. The greatest challenge on the bike was having to pee for about 2 of the 2.5 hours. Surprisingly, peeing while riding the bike is incredibly difficult. The last 20 miles I decided it was time to “take care of business” before I started my run. It was not a “stage-fright” thing, I was perfectly comfortable with the idea, I mean it was essentially water anyway. But all I was able to do was make myself feel like I had to go even worse. I did learn that I might achieve success while coasting, but the downhills were all too short and again all I did was get really close to success, then it was time to pedal again. Honestly, I respect professional cyclists so much now, the skill of peeing on the bike is a masterful technique. But, I digress…

Finally, I hopped off the bike, full bladder and all, and started the run. First 3-4 miles I was feeling great and amazed how well I was moving. Finally, I decided it was time to stop thinking about peeing and made a quick stop in the porta-potty, and was off again. The second half of the run I began to fade fast. My stomach began cramping. I was familiar with this treacherous dance. On one hand it was a ticking bomb, once stomach cramping began it would only get worse. If I pushed too hard, it would shut me down. I guess you might say, this was damage control mode. Despite a poor second half, I trucked across the finish line with a decent morning behind me. I even managed to show off a couple nice moves on the run: a spin move to avoid a volunteer, a spin move to grab a cup by a distracted volunteer, and a little shimmy-sidestep to avoid another volunteer.

Crossing the finish line I felt completely spent, so I knew it was a good effort. After chatting with a fellow competitor for a bit (I am so good at talking to strangers) I headed off to find my mom who was my awesome support crew for the weekend. As I got close to her, a reminder quickly hit me. It was my stomach saying, “Remember me? Now it is my turn.” From there, the next 10 hours quickly degraded into me being in terrible pain. I did the best I could to cope. While getting some post race food for my support crew (mom), I managed to avoid throwing up all over the spread of food. I could not pass up the opportunity to hit up Bell’s Brewery with the weak hope of feeling better. Unfortunately, a Two-Heated on home tap was beyond reality, I did manage to put on a happy face for a picture before returning to my curled up state. I have to say my mom was awesome for being my support crew and putting up with me being a big baby after the race…ok I was probably also a big baby the days leading up to the race as well. While I am certain it was not very exciting for her, the highlight of my weekend truly was having my own support crew cheering me on and sharing the experience with her!!

At the end of the day, I have to admit that I thought I would feel different after the race. Granted I did not expect to be in permanent fetal position post race, but I mean this metaphysically. I honestly thought it would change the way I looked at things, like there was some wisdom hidden within those 70.3 miles. Accordingly, there was a little bit of, “Is that all there is?” when I finished. Having chewed on it for a couple days, it seems foolish to think one mornings experience would make me feel different about the world. But, comparing myself today to myself before I started training for the event, that has been transformative. I think it is on par with waking up the next day after your wedding, looking at your new wife/husband and saying “Is that all there is to being married?” It is a ridiculous thing to say and think. So, I guess I would say Saturday was my graduation or my celebration for my transformative experience. I have learned a great deal about myself at those 8AM swim practices when I think drowning would definitely feel better than another set, or those early morning mile repeat sessions when I achieve dry-heaving on my second out of four repeats, or on my long runs when it is just me and my consciousness (yes, they are two different people, how else could I have all those conversations?) for several hours, and on the long rides where I have made friends, or, or, or, or all those other times. Becoming half of an ironman (or tinman as my bro calls it) really is about the process. It is funny, looking back on the weekend now, I wish I took more pictures of me with my mom and with inspiring people I met. Makes you realize how what you think is important can obscure what feels important later…WWIII in your abdomen also tends to obscure things. So it goes…

(On a side note: the half Ironman distances are: 1.2mile swim, 56mile bike, 13.1mile run, and a whole lot of fun!!)

(Pictures top to bottom: (1) Pre-race day swim photo shoot, drink it up ladies! (2) 5:30AM, bike racked, rain about to start (3) About to head out for the run, there's no smiling in triathlon! (4) Meters away from the finish, is that a smile or a grimace? (5) Bell's Brewery, is that a smile or a grimace?)

Tri'ing to stay positive

I had set the alarm for 5AM, but shortly after 4AM I awoke to a dog panting in my face. It was my sister’s dog and the panting in your face was his way of saying he wanted let outside. Today was my first triathlon race of the season; in fact, it was my first tri in nearly two years due to my summer in Alaska last summer. Determined to get my final hour of sleep I rolled over and wished the dog away. By 4:45AM, after being reminded by the dog every ten minutes, I gave up, grumbling out of bed.

Unlike my mom’s dog’s, my sister’s dogs must be leashed outside or they will run. As I tied up her second dog, I thought to myself, “Why is Nala (my sister’s golden retriever) staring at me? Usually she runs into the yard. And I’m surprised how quickly Maggie (my mom’s golden retriever) ran into the yard, usually she just stares at me…” With that I realized that Maggie was staring at me, while Nala took off into the neighborhood. I was presented with the difficult decision of: (1) try to chase down the dog, or (2) cut the lost dog as a loss and get ready for my race. Considering how mad my sister would be, it seemed like net net chasing the dog would require less energy. Stepping into the yard with only shorts on, the opened up and began a torrential downpour. There I was, standing in the pitch black, being drowned, and no clue how I would begin to find this dog. After aimlessly wondering around the neighborhood I realized I should get my mom to join in on this search. As I returned to the house, that dumb dog was sitting at the door waiting to be let in! First challenge of the day: Completed.

After a 1.5 hr drive I arrived at the race with 45 min to the start of the race. I had taken my mom’s car, enabling me to put my bike inside in case the rain started again (which conveniently stopped after the dog was found). Walking up to the check-in, it dawned on me I had intentionally placed my helmet in my car so as not to forget it. I did not think about forgetting to take MY car. There I was, 1.5 hrs from my helmet and 45 min to the start of the race. Selfishly I figured I might as well try and get a family member to drive it out here, otherwise I could just do the swim and call it a day. My dad agreed (highlighting the awesomeness of my family).

The helmet would not arrive until 20 min after I was out of the water, but at least I could participate in all 3 events. It was a bummer not to be able to compete. With 20 minutes to the race time the sky opened up with torrential rain, thunder and lightening. Most importantly, the race was delayed. Amazingly, the helmet might arrive in time! Now was a race against the clock. My phone has this great ability of no longer working when the moisture around it got too high (this could even be a sweaty pocket on a hot day). I knew my phone wouldn’t last long. The only spot out of the next flood I could find was a port-a-pot. I stood in the bathroom trying to relay as much info to my dad as I could. I also finished preparing for the race in the small space.

As quickly as it came, the race stopped. As I lined up for the start I realized I wasn’t very nervous. All the chaos of the morning had completely pre-occupied me. When I got out of the water my dad was standing there with helmet in hand.

Other than everything being completely drenched, a very choppy swim, windy bike/run, and getting burned because in the downpour I didn’t even consider sunscreen, it turned out to be a fantastic day. Despite these challenges during the race, but spirits were high because I was just glad to participate. I find it amazing that while any one of those setbacks (the dog, the dog, the helmet, the rain, the wind, the sun, my bleeding feet) could have justifiably called it a day, but it turned out pretty awesome.

I don’t have any pics from the race, but here are some from last weekend’s Saturday swim and run (not pictured: the giant milkshake after the run!!)

Lists.

"There are things that can be controlled and things that can't. Somewhere in the spaces between the two we fashion out art and our lives"
-Jim Bridwell

Unfortunately, this is an adventureless posting again. I know, I'm getting lame. But, I recently pulled out an old notepad and discovered a list I had made circa fall 2008. On a side note, I love making lists. But really, who doesn't? This list was appropriately titled, "Adventure List." As the title alludes, this list included many adventures I hope to accomplish.

I remember considering posting the list on this very blog at the time, but then opting out. I felt it might appear like I was trying to act all "hardcore" and "adventurous," when really I am just a normal man. The amazing thing is that over the last year and a half I actually accomplished the first thing on my list!

This got me to think, everyone should make adventure lists! These lists should be without limit. I'm not trying the preach, "You can accomplish anything you put your mind to" mentality. My motivation is more intimate. The great thing about routines is that they are comfortable and efficient. Adventures are neither of these, that is why they are called adventures. But the thing that separates us from computers is not our ability to keep a routine, it is our ability to do exactly not that -- adventures. Looking at pictures from Elizabeth and Casey's travels around Thailand and Myanmar, I always think: something that seemed so inconvenient to routine and expenses opened a world that from third party perseective simply looks magical.

So, here's my list. I hope you make your own and dream bigger than big. I also do not plan to cross anything off, rather just check how many times I've done it. Finally, remember stories that begin with, "Remember when we..." are much more interesting than, "This one time I..." So adventure with a loved one.

Adventure List

1. Ride 200-miles in a day
2. Do an Ironman
3. Race Ironman Kona
4. XC ski tour Yellowstone
5. XC ski / ice climb tour Yostemite
6. Climb a big wall
7. Climb El Cap
8. Run a 50-mile race
9. Do a multi-stage bike race
10. Learn to fly an ultra-light
11. See the Northern Lights
12. Ride from LA to San Fran
13. Go to Japan
14. Bike through Laos
15. Go to Mongolia
16. Bike from eastern Russia through Mongolia
17. Climb in Greenland
18. Ride the Leadville 100
19. Climb in Newfoundland
20. Fly fish the Two Hearted River
21. Go to Bell's Brewery
22. Ride a wood velodrome
23. Go on a bike tour with a close friend (to be honest, I just added this one today, but something I've thought about for a while)

I added some pretty pictures because if you are anything like me, you would just look at the pictures and opt out of reading any of my ramblings. (Pictures include: a normal summer night at Caesars Creek, Ohio (I love Ohio); Denali Park, Alaska; me and my "little" brother in Hatcher's Pass, Alaska).

Hey Moose, You're an Asshole!

Moose, ever since I first met you, I knew there was something wrong about you. But I at the time I could not quite put my finger on what exactly made me know this. After today, it has all become clear to me.

I just wrapping up a fantastic early morning of mountain biking by bombing my way down the Powerline Trail from Flattop Mountain. While I experienced 3+ miles of a broad frequency spectrum of vibrations making my hands feel they were about to pop off the bars and yelling "Heeeyyyyy beeeeeaaaarrrrr!!!!" (this is a newly adopted practice as I finally realized that excessive throat clearing and occasional whistling probably was not the best bear deterrent. And while I have always dreamed of petting a bear in the wild, this morning was focused on biking, not man-eating-wild-animal-petting). I had a momentary thought of what would happen if I came around the corner at mach-to-fast-to-even-dream-of-stopping to find an enormous moose standing in the trail. I quickly dispelled this though, partly because the vibrations were inducing a shaken baby syndrome that prevented holding a thought for more than 20seconds, but also because I mean how ridiculous of an idea is that!? I mean, come on!

Well, since Luck and Irony are best friends and also both assholes, I soon found myself uncomfortably close to a momma moose and calf standing next to the trail. Slamming on the brakes, and after a short slide finally stopping, Mrs. Moose and I stared at each other, frozen in shock. I was thinking, "THAT'S A BIG MOOSE!" and she was thinking, "That is an incredibly handsome man on a pretty sweet bike!" My second thought was, "What a great photo opportunity!" but fortunately that was soon followed with my third thought, "Getting trampled by a 1000+lbs moose would really hurt, and I bet that ornery little calf would throw in at least one cheap kick while I was down." As I contemplated turning around, but realizing that would require biking back up hill, which didn't seem like an option I was willing to do at that point, luckily momma moose made the decision for us; as she snapped out of the trance my cunning good looks put her in, she and baby in tow took off down the hill. But, not only did she run down the trail, in my direction of desired travel I'll remind you, but after traveling 20yrds, she decided she was far enough and slowed to a stroll and started eating again.

Which brings me to my first reason you are an asshole, moose. You are living proof that evolution and "survival of the fittest" has loopholes. We've already established you are the ugliest animal I have ever seen. But how can someone yelling "HEEEEYYY BEEEEAAAARRR!!" on repeat not be at all alarming? Does it really take me yelling it right into your ear to make you take notice? I mean, what if I was a bear? All it would take would be for me to act like I wasn't a bear by acting like I was trying to scare away the bears, but I was really a bear myself. You would have been an easy breakfast. I should have bit you just to prove my point.

Eventually this moose slowly worked her way off the trail, graciously allowing me to pass, you jerk! Well it wasn't much later until I encountered another moose standing in the middle of the trail! She was again struck by my good looks, but I saw her earlier, and was just starting to get annoyed. The kicker is, she just stood there! I mean, do you not understand you are standing on the trail? Fortunately, as I creeped closer trying to make my yelling, "GET OF THE TRAIL, MOOSE!" more understandable, I saw that I could actually take a side trail before reaching you. I hadn't even traveled 30yrds before I reached the third asshole of my morning, a very large bull moose STANDING IN THE MIDDLE OF THE TRAIL!!!!! Now, this is too much. And this brings me to my second reason for my dislike of you, you always block the trial! If I had 10ft long toothpick legs that can easily step through underbrush I sure as hell would not hang out on a trail. Going back to my first point, you are in a predator-prey status, and you are the prey. Standing in the middle of an established trail is probably not the most discrete place to hang out.

So, I stood there with one moose in front of me (on the trail) and one moose behind me (on the trail). I know you are hard of hearing, so I yelled loud and clearly, "GET OFF THE TRAIL, YOU DUMB MOOSE!!!!" but nothing. In fact, my yelling must have been soothing because everyone put their heads back down and resumed chewing.

Which brings me to my final reason. In picture and from a distance moose look like these benign animals just hanging out in the forest chewing away without a care. You are essentially saying, "Aren't I just so nature and serene!?" NO, no you aren't. I know you are really saying, "Aren't I so docile, until you step too close to me, even though I am clearly standing in you path, and then I'll kick you in the head, then continue eating grass again."

Moose, most animals run away when they see danger. Hell, even a bear runs away when they hear me, not out of fear, but out of courtesy. Moose, you are the rudest animal I know. You are an asshole....and ugly!

FIREWEED!!!

This story actually begins about a year ago. It was the middle of yet another awesome summer in Dayton and I had signed up for the Young's Dairy Charity Ride. This year, the ride left from Young's Dairy in Yellow Springs, Ohio and traveling along the fantastic backroads of Ohio made its way to Ohio Northern University. While there were several options, the main ride was a century ride up to ONU, stay there that night, then a 80mile ride back the next day. Having completed several centuries before, I was eager to try something new, see how far I could push myself. So the challenge I set was to ride up to ONU, then ride back in the same day! I honestly had no idea if I was fit enough to do it. Well, after 3hrs of feeling nautious and in some of the greatest pain I have ever been in, I discovered that I was not fit enough. As I laid in the grass at mile 160 of my adventure waiting to be picked up by my mom, I realized that my mistakes occured early in the race. While I was focused on keeping good pace so that I could get back before dark, I had under hydradetd and fueled. By the time I began the feel the effect it was too late. Driving home, I said to myself, "That was a great challenge that I didn't achieve, but I'm never doing it again." Like the time I said, "Never again" after my first marathon, I was soon wetting my lips for a repeat performance.

Saturday July 11, 2009, Anchorage, Alaska: The opportunity to achieve my double century had finally been realized, the Fireweed!! This event hosted 50, 100, and 200 mile races, and the crown jewel being a 400mile race. The 200mile race began at Sheep Mountain Lodge near Palmer, Alaska and finished in Valdez, Alaska. Ending the race in Valdez provided an extra challenge as it left me 300miles from Anchorage. I considered the adventure of taking a ferry the next day from Valdez to Whittier where I could then try to hitch a ride back to Anchorage. However, the thought of sleeping in my cycling clothes and then wearing them all next day on the ferry did not sound appealing. So, I added a team member to Team Mike Cleveland, and Sarah became the official team driver, dropping me off at the start and driving me home from Valdez.

When the race went off and within the first mile I observed a seam was tearing in my cycling shorts, my ass already felt sore, and my legs felt dead, I knew this would be a long day. At the first aid station I found a spread that included Clif Bars, big soft cookies, pb&j, fresh fruit, etc. I could only pull myself back on the bike and resist the urge of filling all my pockets with free food by knowing in 30miles I would find the same spread. My division (200-mile solo) only consisted on ~50 riders, so we quickly became spread out. It was extremely disheartening to be passed by so many people, but my goal was just to finish and I recognized for someone to sign up for a 200-mile race, they likely are a fairly avid rider, right? It provided me an excuse to feel better about myself at least. The solo aspect was fitting for this adventure, where drafting was prohibited and the only conversation was a short hello as one rider would rarely pass another.

Knowing last year's mistakes, I took my time as the aid stations, stuffing down food and chugging as much fluid as my bladder could hold. I once read an article about an Ironman athlete describing his training including "long rides" that were so long that it made the actual race distance of 112miles seem short. I began to appreciate that perspective when I hit mile 100 and thought, "Great, only 100 more!" Unfortunately, around this time is when my IT band decided it start tightening up.

The highlight of the second century had to be riding Thompson Pass. I had heard of this pass we had to make it over, but had not clue what it would involve. We began the climb around mile 150. It was not a very steep climb, the steepest part being around 7% (whatever that means, that is what I was told, but it doesn't really mean anything to me). Surprisingly the small chain ring felt better on my knee and I got a second wind as I moved up the pass at a glacial speed (10mpg). This may sound miserable, if it wasn't for the scenery. We worked up into a valley with mountains that still had snowpatches, beaufitul green, steep slopes, awesome waterfalls, and glaciers as we got closer to the summit. The greatest challenge was the headwind that met us at the base of the climb and stayed with us the rest of the ride. It wasn't horrible, but was definitely an added challenge when you just want to be done.

The last aid station of the race was at mile 162, only several miles from the summit. Behind this aid station was an incredible view of Worthington Glacier. After a long decent we followed a flat road along the final ~30miles into Valdez. This would have been extremely painful if it had not been one of the most beautiful stretches of road I have ever been on. We followed a roaring river that was gray in color from all the rock powder that glacial water transported. Up in the high valleys were glaciers spilling from cirques. Then the road wound into a narrow Keystone Canyon, which hosted massive vertical rock faces rising from the roaring river and several hundred foot waterfalls spewing out snow and glacial melt. In portions the canyon was as wide as the road and the river sandwiched between beaufitul vertical metamorphic rock slabs.

Despite the last hour feeling like it lasted days, at around ride time 11.25 hrs, I rolled into Valdez at a little before 8PM. Technically the ride was only 194miles, but at that time adding 6miles just seemed like a technicality. While this distance has stymied me a year before, I had finally done it!

Being driven back to Anchorage in the wee hours of the morning (thank you Sarah so so very much!) I felt very content with today's adventure. It wasn't the distance that mattered to me. I was pleased I was able to accomplish a goal that I legitimately did not know if I was capable. But most importantly, for over 11 hrs I was able to see what makes Alaska so amazing. The landscape was amazing, I had seen the smallest library you can imagine in the middle of nowhere, I had seen the end of the Trans-Alaskan Pipeline (which was extra cool since I had seen the start of the same pipeline just several days prior up at Prudhoe Bay, North Slope), and I got to ride my bike alongside a glacier!

Two wheels and a lot of ground to cover

Update on life in Anchorage: I've been running, swimming, biking, and working. Update complete.

Ok, while that is pretty much true, I'll extrapolate a bit. Flattop (my last post) has become my traditional ride. This past weekend I finally figured out a route up that minimizes the amount of rode that I must be one (only a couple miles). The only drawback of the route is through one of the more bear-active areas of Anchorage. Finding this route took a little recon. The first time I ran into a couple spots that warned of extreme bear activity, resulting in me traveling the OPPOSITE direction. But I finally procured some bear spray and am perfecting whistling and talking to myself while biking. An hour + continuous trail climb is rough (yes I am complaining) but it makes me strong, and the downhill is AMAZING! Nothing like having your arms go numb and hands feel like they can barely hold on any longer!! I keep expanding this ride, and hope to soon make it through the pass then down to the coast!!!

I've also checked out Kincaid park. Kincaid has amazing cross-country ski trails. In the summer that means wide, rolling grass trails, pretty awesome. I did learn a good lesson while I was lost in the glee of thinking how amazing the riding was, to snap out of it as I rode within feet of a 7-foot bull moose. I hear the bull moose are pretty mellow compared to the cow, but they are ENORMOUS. On which idea, I digress: I average probably about 1 moose per run or bike. Yesterday, I saw 3 in one ride alone! Remember in Into the Wild how he freaks out when he sees a moose then goose LFO (life's (...) over) when he spoils the meat. From my experience, I could probably find a new moose to shoot every day, and I'm not even looking for them!! Anyway...

Still no bear, but the Newman O's are keeping me strong. Be well, do good work, and enjoy life.

You can see randomly updated "Life in Anchorage" pictures here:

Life Around Anchorage

I always wanted a Flattop.

Ok, mooses have lost their novelty. Shortly into my run this evening I encountered my second moose with two moosets. The whale on toothpick legs was standing right on the trail chewing away. I waited for a while, thinking it might move off the trail, but no, the ugly POS had no intention of moving and I wasn't really feeling like a kick in the face today. Luckally a dog came to my run's rescue. For a while I thought I might see the dog get drop kicked (minus the "drop") by the moose as the two exchanged charges. But the moose with calves in tow were slowly pushed off the trail enough for me to sneak by with only a minor fear this might be my last run. Needless to say, I avoided the narrow trails the rest of the run.

Moving on, the highlight of the day was a casual ride down from Flattop Mountain. There is nothing like continous coasting for 6+ miles. The only problem is that the ride first included riding up the mountain. Who am I kidding, I loved the pain! The mountain is only about 2,250ft high, but when you are starting at around 150ft, that equates to a pretty good ride. Of course when I decided on doing the ride, I just saw it was ~12miles each way and thought, "No big deal." Lesson learned: I'm not in Ohio anymore, look at elevation change also. The great thing is that from Flattop I can access a lot of long trails that are only moderate bear danger. So, the plan is to do this ride as often as possible and make my quads so big that they no longer fit in my pants. It could happen, no really it could. (The picture of that handsome man is from the top of the ride with Anchorage in the background, not the nicest weather today.What the pictures don't show is that the wind gusts were so strong they would almost blow me over!)

This is where I plan my next adventure to be (the backside of Flattop)!!

A moose is kind of like Chuck Norris...

Well, today was a pretty standard day. Took a run along the Knik Arm "coast" (aka mudflat). Then passed a moose family on a bike ride to a bike shop. You know, another standard day in Anchorage.

OK, I'll admit it was a little novel seeing my first mooses (I may have taken a couple 50 pictures), but I played it cool. It got me wondering, by the end of the summer will seeing a moose be like seeing another deer in Ohio? But that got me to thinking, how are moose different from deer?

When you see a deer you think, "Huh, that's kind of cute, at the very least its proportional," while it gracefully skips through the forest running away from you. When you see a moose, you all stand around taking pictures, speaking quietly trying not to spook it, while it just stands there munching on grass not showing any sign of running away. And it seems ironic that the proportional, graceful deer runs away while we all stand around looking at God's attempt at abstract expressionism, making a living Picasso painting. Looking at the cute calves, I really wanted to tell them, "Going by "The Mom Test," your looks have definitely peaked at a young age." Maybe the rapid degradation of appearance at an early age is what instills the aggressive response of kicking you in the face and stomping you to a pulp when you piss them off. Or I guess it could be that other minor bear issue that moose's face. I'm betting its mainly the insecurity of their looks. But I mean honestly, looking at a moose is enough support that even God get wasted at work once and a while and totally screws up a project.

To make a long story short, a moose is like Chuck Norris. Its ugly and oddly haired, and we all know it, but we're still going to admire it because otherwise its going to kick you in the face. (A slide show coming once I figure out how to do that).

Man’s (or Woman’s) other best friend

A normal man (or woman) bike is much like a dog. No matter how poorly you treat it, it will always be there for you and will never hold a grudge. You develop a connection with it that no one else could understand. It will likely have qualities that you aren’t particularly fond of, like licking its balls, but you put up with it because “its your dog” (or bike). Its not always the pure-bred that makes the best normal man bike, sometimes it’s the runt or the neglected that cruises around town with you like none other. This posting is both an eulogy and a (re)birth announcement. Following the order of events, I’ll start with the eulogy.

The original normal man bike (ONMB) was first introduced to me at Christmas some years back. It lacked any quality of being “hip,” “stylish,” or “fast.” It was the type of bike you might expect to see your dad cruising around the neighborhood on with his black socks pulled up to his knees, shorts way too short, and sweat-stained undershirt looking disgustingly sweaty for the mild day. He got the bike after a New Year's Resolution to “trim up.” But he only rides it twice before it begins collecting dust and contributing to the rest of the clutter in the garage. Well, you get the picture. Needless to say, ONMB got neglected for several years. Finally, in a desire to simplify my life I brought it up to Saratoga Springs with me. Soon ONMB and I became best friends. I rode that bike everywhere I went and in every condition. ONMB took a ton of abuse and was always a loyal best friend. Soon it was outfitted with a headlight, blinking taillight, and fenders, in addition to its already big comfy seat. It carried me around town in downpours and feet of snow. It took some wrecks, like when I didn’t see the curb in the dark or when I tried to show Elizabeth my latest trick on the way home from the bars (resulting in a nice endo). That bike personified me probably better than I personified myself. Well as these stories commonly do, the original normal man bike met a sad end last fall when it encountered a parking garage while riding on top of my car.

But, with loss comes new beginnings; several weeks ago I procured a new normal man bike. This bike was found at a garage sale and looked like it had not been ridden since being bought over 30 years ago. All components, down to the tires and brake pads, are original and in fantastic shape (all things considered). We are still getting use to each other, but things are going well. While weighing the importance of “braking ability,” sadly a squirrel suffered a tragic demise, and I soon decided that braking ability does provide some benefits.

So, if you have a bike stuffed away in the garage or drive by a neglected bike at a garage sale giving you those puppy-dog eyes, I implore you to open up your heart. Who knows, it could be the beginning of a beautiful best-friendship between you and your new normal man (or woman) bike.

The Black Moshannon ("Black Mo"): An incredible, yet deadly creature

Sept 14, 2008: I'm sure you have watched the mountain sections of the Tour de France and thought, "I could do that, maybe not as fast, but it doesn't look that hard." No? OK, so I'm the only naive, arrogant bastard that has thought that before. Not to worry, one experience with the deadly Black Moshannon has shocked me back into reality.

The Black Mochannon ride is rare, serpentine creature that stretches over 40miles of rural Pennsylvania countryside. In fact, it is only found just outside State College. The fear that it inflicts is from the slow, painful attacks it strikes to its prey's lower body. What is so deadly about the Black Moshannon? It does not strike only once, but 3 times with many smaller nibbles along the way. The strike comes silently, the only sound being the slow grinding of your gears. This should not be taken lightly; not all are as lucky as I in making it out alive. However, the attacks not only affect the legs, but spread to the very heart, soul and mind. As you see in the video on the bottom, I am already becoming senile only halfway through the second attack (and completely butchered the quote).

You may wonder, "Why even mess with this beast?" The Black Mo is the modern-day Muse, whose mystical songs are the fantastic views of rolling Pennsylvanian green valleys. Not only was my breath taken by the relentless climbing, but also the amazing scenery. The ride even hosts an old man sitting on his porch with his dog at his side all day, staring into space, but eagerly (as eagerly as "an old man sitting on the porch with is dog at his side all day" can) waving and wishing you a good day as you trickle by. I feel there are few better ways to see the beautiful PA countryside than from a dance with the Black Mo.

Oddly, because I never get lost, I did manage to miss a turn in the very heart of the Black Moshannon. However, the missed turn did provide benefits besides extending the ride by 7 miles and throwing in several healthy climbs (oops, I forgot we were talking about benefits). With my minor miscalculation I was able to see a house that decided a first floor is much better suited as firewood storage and another house that is simply birdy over bird houses (too much?).

Be warned, the final strike is the most painful. When you are beginning to think of home, the Black Mo inflicts its final strike. The 3rd strike is not the longest, but holds a steep incline which in your weakened state will test your very will for survival. When I made that final pass there were angles singing and all the creatures of the forest lined the road to congratulate me on my successful evasion of the doom of the Black Mo (or I was simply halucinating). The best part of the long climbs, other than developing veins the size of pythons popping out of your legs, are the several miles of long descents where you coast at 30+mph without a single pedal stroke.

I have to admit, with all the glory that Black Mo presents, it is merely an earthworm compared to the Tour's mountains (a really big, scary earthworm, like the one from "Tremors".....well, maybe not that big). As I slowed to a stop before my house, I knew that I had encountered a creature like none other, and I couldn't wait to ride it again. If you are still reading about my encounter with the Black Mo and are not hiding for safety under your covers, then maybe you too should consider the incredible, yet deadly dance of the Back Mo.