Careful Documentation of Nothing Much

Trail Work Hoe

2011-03-25T06:28:00.004-05:00

Me and my Trail Work Hoe, oh the places we will go.

Hoeing with this hoe may not be the best, ya know.

(its a two-way go)

but she's my hoe, and that's fo sho.

We bring da funk, we bring da flow.

Now that there's no snow, it is the best time to hoe.

..but really, is there a bad time to hoe? Yeah, I didn't think so.

Follow the stones, over a part thats low.

Thinking of trail names, my hoe and me, we're thinking maybe OCD.

Taming Banner: When Plants Attack

2011-03-21T20:17:00.009-05:00

The untamed brush of Banner does not care that we want to ride our bikes there.

Those alien crazy looking thorny vines do not give a rip about us wanting to rip a banking turn down that mound.

Collectively those brushes and such have thrown down the gauntlet, they say wanna build a trail through here buddy? Its gonna cost ya.

I've been scratched, poked and whipped by just about every manner of flora immaginable. Yesterday a branch whipped around a snapped me right under the eye.

That was my favorite.

Two days ago I took a rake and tried to clear some leaves from under some of those bright red thorny monster vines...yeah, I raked one-na-those-bastards right into my face. It almost gave me a third nostril...

...maybe that was my favorite. Its so hard to choose.

Anyway, I hope most of the brutality is over since we had an awesome work day when 21people came out and kicked but for 4 hours.

Volunteers with chainsaws, loppers and such took a nice chunk out of the nasty over growth. A couple more events just like it and we will be riding some fun new trail.

Bridges were bridged

(photos by Nick and Jordan)

Poison Ivy? She's still sleeping, but when she wakes up and sees what we done, she's gonna be pissed.

Performance Evaluations By Kitty

2011-03-15T23:47:00.004-05:00

I have this cat, I call her Kitty.

That's not her name, but that is what I call her.

We have a love-hate relationship. I evicted her once, it lasted maybe 3 weeks. Sending her to the Sister-in-Law's wasn't far enough away, I know that now.

She got reinstated under questionable circumstances. It seems there was a loophole in the eviction proceedings…

It’s a long story.

These days her and I are finding ways to co-exist. They mostly involve me tolerating her.

My daughters split the chore of cleaning out the litter box. Collectively, their job performance needs improvement.

When the box isn't up to code Kitty gives them feedback in the form of peeing in highly directed and strategic locations - in their room, right outside their door, in their bed…one morning she even left a little nugget on their bathroom floor.

You see, when Kitty’s initial feedback isn’t received she literally gave them a “hey, check this sh#t out” statement.

This has happened before, Kitty doesn't deviate from her M.O.

If job performance doesn’t improve to her standards, or according to her schedule, Kitty ups the ante and gets Mom and Dad involved. She knows she will see some action then. I think of it as her saying to the kids “I need to speak to your supervisor”.

Sometimes she will pee in our bed, and it is just as charming as it sounds. Yesterday she peed on Mom's sweatshirt, while it was on the bathroom floor.

This morning, when ironing my work pants, I noticed a strange smell emanating from them. Apparently, Kitty went straight to the top and messaged Dad. At first I thought she peed directly on my pants, along with a lot of other clean clothes in the laundry basket.

No.

She peed on the ironing board itself.

Yep.

Its like she said, “what will mess with them the most?....”

Deliberate.

Strategic.

Evil.

Genius.

Kitty.

If Charlie Sheen is winning...

2011-03-03T18:52:00.004-06:00

...then so am I.

He's an F18.

I'm a B52.

No, not one of those.

One of those.

...but I have to admit - I don't get crap done during naps.

He's a High Priest Vatican Assasin Warlock.

I'm a....uhm...I'm....ok, Charlie that was a good one. Give me a minute...I am...Tryptophan...from yo Thanksgiving turkey.

Gobble, Gobble, Cluck, Cluck your truck is stuck in some muck.

Oh yeah, let's see you stay awake to watch some crap Lions game when I drop a sleep biz-omb on yo ass.

BOOM! Tryptophan Magic. Nighty Biz-by Baby.

____________________________________________

It's tough one-upping The Sheen on crazy...but I might be up to it.

Your move Charlie.

The Big Mama...she is...a-about ready to-a dance

2011-02-25T23:41:00.003-06:00

And when she hits the dirt she will be dancing....The Salsa! Latin dance of (trail) love.

She looks like a good dancer, and smart too.

Si.

Trail Brain

2011-02-16T22:46:00.011-06:00

Trail building, trail building, trail building...

Spring has sprung (sorta) and I have trail building on the brain.

I've been hiking, scouting, surveying, evil ploting.

I need minions.

The snow has melted, the vegitation (read: poison ivy) isn't creepin' yet.

It's go time.

I've got two big projects clogging the cortex. One isn't ready for primetime disclosure (yeah, the blog qualifies as primetime....c'mon guys, it does) but the other, at Summerset State Park (Banner), should be good to go this spring. Well, parts of it at least.

Cool Evergreens at the top of the first ridge in the center.

View from the center island east lookout. It took a lot of bushwacking and creative route finding to get here.

There's some previously worn in trail that's now overgrown.

Low spot

You can almost make out my cross bike on the bank...over there.

I can't wait.

GRR2BRR: Tales from Off the Back

2011-02-09T06:07:00.004-06:00

Sometimes I bite off more than I can chew.

Ok, more than sometimes.

I had the distinct sensation that I was taking a Jaws-sized bite when I arrived at the GRR2BRR host’s house at 7:15 a.m. on Saturday. GRR2BRR is a 30 mile gravel road ride from Johnston to Perry for the start of the annual (34th) BRR ride. The high temp was forecast for 30ish degrees, but it was barely 20 at the start.

Pulling up I expected to see a handful (5-10) of the usual mountain biker faces, many on mountain bikes, and much leisure. Instead I found 20-30 folks, many of the racer-persuasion, and many on top of cyclocross bikes. The attitude was very friendly but I had the sense the group was going to crank along a little faster than I could muster, especially after a tough weightlifting session earlier in the week (this is excuse # 1).

My sense was exactly right. I hung with the pack for awhile at the start but fell of the pace a bit fairly early on. I was on my mountain bike which has wide, high nobby tires that would’ve been handy in the snow and mush I thought I would be encountering but the roads were really clean and frozen hard. These conditions made it difficult to keep up with a skinny tire crowd (excuse #2). I surfed along, maintaining the small-to-moderate gap off the back until we got to the B level road.

For those unawares, B level roads are “unmaintained” they typically have no gravel base and are often deeply rutted. This time of year they are obviously under significant snow. This one had some car tracks through, so it was rideablish.

Mountain bike, woohoo!

Vis-à-vis the virtues of the B road I caught up to the pack and stayed there for a few more miles, though the second road closed section (not technically a B, but basically the same deal).

Then a few of us took a break to enjoy beverages and good company while the rest of the larger group motored to Casey’s in Granger, presumably to do the same.

Matt spilled his fancy cream stout beer. I told him the water bottle cage wasn't going to work. Uhm....told-ya-so.

Unfortunately our break was apparently not on the same schedule as others in the group, so when we got to Casey’s the group (maybe irritated?) immediately pulled out and ratcheted up the pace a bit.

Again, Brian is off the back.

I seemed to keep the same speed as the pack – at least for awhile – but I consistently don’t get up to cruising speed as fast as others. This could be due to the fact I weigh somewhere between 50-100 pounds more than most of these people, (excuse # 3) but whatever-the-reason I am the caboose.

A couple of my friends stayed back to ride with me which was very nice since I didn’t know the route. As it turned out they were not much help on navigation, and we got a little lost anyway. By the time we wound up in Perry we had added 2-3 miles, a stop in Woodward, and a long stretch of windy pavement.

Sometime in this side excursion I checked the pressure in my rear tire. It had been feeling low, but soft roads and dead-feeling legs can give you this sensation, so I had ignored it. When I pushed on the wheel the rim almost contacted the ground. Great, I wonder how long I rode with 10 PSI, instead of 40 (excuse # 4). Ugh.

Once we arrived in Perry my mood improved, food and beer has a way of doing that. The scene was very RAGBRAI-esque with a mass of humanity descending on one tiny bar. We got lunch and otherwise sampled the local flavor for a couple hours before starting to think about the return trip. Yes, unlike many who rode GRR2BRR and then BRR (24 more miles) before getting a car shuttle home, a few of us didn’t ride BRR and instead rode back to Johnston for…BRR2GRR or ReverseGRR (or something like that).

There were only 4 of us for the return trip: the ride organizer, Steve, the amazing commuting chef, Sam, Nick and myself. Nick rode his mountain bike too but he kept right up with these guys. It was rather impressive, but if you tell him I said that I will totally deny it.

Right before leaving I realized I had neglected my number one priority while in Perry, fixing my rear tire. Unfortunately my mini-pump sucks…bad. I had already shot my last CO2 in there on the way to Perry so I was stuck giving my triceps an awesome workout. Sam gifted me an extra CO2 which really helped out, but it was still a little low all the way home (excuse # 4a).

The ride home was fairly uneventful. We kept a pretty good pace with me, once again, hovering off the back. The other Musketeers would wait at intersections and the like, but I never got too far behind. We collectively wondered what became of our BRR riding buddies, particularly Courtney (who is known for his gravel based exploits). We got back to Steve’s just at dark and noted no other cars were still there, meaning all others had either left earlier than us or shuttled back from Perry...all except Courtney. He got a little turned around on his way home and ended up almost riding back to Perry. You can read all about his adventure on his blog, it’s the first link under “Local Boys” on the sidebar. He’s got some good photos too including one of me “flying” past him on the B road.

All-in-all the distance wasn’t more than I could chew, the hills weren’t either (it was relatively “flat”) but the pace was – slightly. That might have been remedied if it wasn’t for excuses # 1-4a but we will never know.

Big thanks to Courtney and Sam for stealing their pictures.

GRR2BRR = big, but chewable, bite

Odds and Ends

2011-02-02T08:11:00.005-06:00

And now for something a little lighter...

As many of you know, I bought a Surly Pugsley fat tire (snow) bike in the late fall. The Pugsley's were previously only available as a frameset, meaning you would have to build it up yourself, at considerable expense. This year, in response to Salsa coming out with a new, complete snow bike Surly decided to offer a complete Pugsley at a reasonable price point.

Here's how I felt about it.

They were so in demand it looked like I wouldn't be able to get my hands on one but my trusty Rassy bike shop guy, Sterling, worked the phones like a tweenage girl looking for Justin Beiber tickets and.....Wah-La....snow bike. Thanks Sterling, you're the best.

The Pugs is super fun to ride, highly stable at slow speeds. Its as good at sandy, river trail riding as it is snow, but it cruises at its own speed. Big boy weighs around 37 pounds. For these reasons it can be a lonely man's bike. When the snow/sand gets deep no one can hang with your fat floating tires. That's ok though, slap the headphones in and enjoy the solitude of the woods.

It does seem to inspire bike-leaning-against-something pictures. I have several of these.

You could go whitewater rafting on one of their tubes (flask for size perspective only).

It fits in my largest, expandable seat bag but that's all. Don't even think of squeezing something else in there, Monster Tube doesn't like to share.

For another addition to my stable (N+1 = correct number of bikes) I'm currently working on building up this beauty, a Salsa Big Mama. My Voodoo Canzo 29 green machine is/was a great full suspension bike but it was a tad on the small side. It treated me right in Arkansas (Womble) and in Vegas/SW Utah (Bootleg and Gooseberry et al) but when the Mamas went on closeout about a year ago I grabbed a frame. I'm just now getting the funds to finish her out.

Super sweet Easton Haven wheels showed up the other day. This is going to be one bad mama.

And....finally, we bought a camper late last year. We got a super sweet deal on a lightly damaged one at auction. Jackie's dad is a wizard at such things.

It is not-at-all clear whether this camper is available for gratuitous mountain biking guy trips...but the dog likes it.

Well, at least the dog likes it.

Requiem

2011-01-26T01:00:00.000-06:00

I want to write dark and brooding things.

Tap into a well of inky blackness and let it run all over the page.

Wallow in it.

Give the shadow a voice.

I’ve lost a close friend, the kind you only get a few of in a lifetime.

It would serve me well to pull down the shades and paint this blog in shades of gray for awhile.

Yes, serve me well.

Pastor Tom, as many knew him, wouldn’t approve.

He painted the world in color, music and laughter.

He served others.

So, for my next post – when I’m feeling better - I will click the light back on and once again deal in the highly unimportant.

I promise.

But I’m sad so I’m going to ride out this Ansel Adams portrait of black and grays awhile longer.

Color again, soon.

I promise.

Stupid Hike

2011-01-17T19:09:00.008-06:00

Worst.
Hike.
Ever.

My long-time readers (4) will be pleased with the reemergence, in this post, of Trail Dog.

For those of you unwares on Trail Dog, Captain is a lovable, pound-rescued mutt that has brought both joy and destruction upon our home. He has a way of having adventures, once he even got a shirt, which was good because he wishes to be human....and he loves hikes. Trail Dog has been on a break from the blog mostly because he started showing his age in the last year, but the cold weather seems to have rejuvenated him.

I'm currently in the process of scouting a nearby park for new mountain bike trail and Captain makes a good companion for these trips. We went out there last week, so trail layouts were swimming around my head. Last week I used my phone to take some pictures and even record a GPS track. I marked several waypoints on natural features like ravines and big trees. Coool.

So.
Off.
We.
Went.

When we got to the edge of the woods I pulled out my phone and marked the possible trailhead. After putting my phone back in my pocket, Cap and I headed into the woods. After a short distance we came to a steep little hill and a creek. To mark the creek I again pulled out...my...phone......Where the (bleep) is my phone? Aw......come on. I thought pockets were for when you want to keep something with you......Grrrrrr.

I knew it was between HERE and THERE, which wasn't very far. Sure, it was buried in the SNOW, but it would be somewhere in my TRACKS, so I was hopeful of finding it.

Search.
Back.
And.
Forth.
And.
Back.
And so on.

Captain was pretty patient with me as I retraced my steps. He did wander a little but always came right back when called. Since the phone battery was almost dead I knew I needed to head back home to grab a Search and Rescue Team (my kids). We would find it if we could call it...

Let's go, Boy.
Captain? Here boy. Heeere Boy.......

Dog.
Is.
Gone.

Search back and forth and back and forth. This starts to take a long time, too long. I run over bad scenarios in my head. Worry. Angst. Just when I had decided to head back to the truck to grab the kids for a dog search and rescue instead of a phone mission, there he was...bounding at me with a giant, tongue flapping smile (how can you be mad?). He did a circle around me and dipped his nose in the snow, just for effect.

Hike gets alot better.

I hightailed home, dropped off the dog and grabbed the kids (I got a bonus neighbor kid too) and went back out. We spread out in the woods and called the phone. The neighbor girl finds it immediately.

Hike gets better still.

Well, as long as we're out here...let's do a little hiking. I'm telling you, hiking with girls ages 14(x2) and 12 is high comedy. I can't even describe it, so I'm not going to try. We finish up the hike and are on the way back to the car when I go to step over a steel railing for the soapbox derby track, my foot slips. My shin comes down directly on the sharp edge of the rail and scrapes all the way down my leg.

Hike.
Sucks.
AGAIN.

I could feel the blood running down my leg, but I promised the girls MickeyD's for finding my phone, so we did it up before coming home. When I showed my wife she nursed me up pretty good. I'm definitely missing a piece though and I would like to have it back.

It is a sad ending to a sad post but...ya know...I was feeling kinda frustrated about my bad luck and my bigtime misfortune and what have you, but I still strangely"enjoyed" the hike from hell. Then, today, I come home from work and get a phone call from an dear old friend. She has bad news, another dear old friend of ours had suddenly passed away. Tom was 43. He was a father of 3. He was a pastor and a musician. He was as funny as the day is long.

He was my FRIEND and, at the moment, I am heartbroken.

So, do this my friends: enjoy even bad hikes, as they are precious too.

Retrospect

2011-01-07T17:34:00.003-06:00

"I am a writer of books in retrospect. I talk in order to understand; I teach in order to learn"
— Robert Frost

I get what Frosty is saying.

He writes books in retro. I write blogs in retro.

He talks. I talk, too much.

He teaches. I serve as a warning to others.

We simpatico.

So, that is my lame introduction to this look back at great moments in Briancycling history (2010 edition). Of course, my edgy self-deprecation reduces the relative lameness of said introduction...in retrospect. Yeah, that just happened. Did I blow your mind?

Anywhos.

I went to Bootleg Canyon and SW Utah. I lived to tell about it.

The rollercoaster ride of Bearclaw Poppy is the most fun I've had on a bike.

I sacked up and raced the Bone Bender 3/6 enduro. It was a strange thing for a non-racer to do, but I liked it.

I got another weird haircut.

Despite massive frontal assaults by naysayers and curmudgeons I built a 650B bike. I like it (so HA!).

In the process I dsicovered the merits of a good wheelset, titanium seatpost and thru-axle forks. That's going to be an expensive discovery.

I hit the Quad City trails for the first time. They are solid-to-awesome and getting better all the time. The Midwest Mountain Bike is going to be there this year.

I remembered I am old and replaced the rigid fork on my singlespeed with a squishy one.

I restomped an old stomping ground, Springbook State Park.

Caught some owl-on-squirrel violence on the Taco Ride.

Gnome Fest was very gnomey, again.

Rode the Human Powered Trails in La Crosse for the first time - very cool.

I bought an awesome sweater.

Spooky Woods ride was epic, again.

I got caught in a lover's spat between Bike and Tree

The Sweater haunted me.

The distinction between the past, present and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion.
-Albert Einstein

Did Al just blow your mind? Well, if he's right about all that relativity junk there is no retospective.

So.

Nevermind.

The Best Present You Ever Got

2010-12-28T17:34:00.003-06:00

As you get older one of the things you can’t help but do is hearken back to earlier times, when snowball fights were serious business and Santa’s famous list was a real concern. So in keeping with that theme I was wondering, what’s the best present you ever got? I know mine…

One of my earliest and fondest childhood memories is staying up “late” one Christmas Eve with some of the older neighbor kids ( I smell a set-up ) to try catching a glimpse of Santa. Being adept as spies, we staked out the living room, for what seemed like hours, behind the center island in my kitchen. We were about to give up when… “are those sleigh bells outside?” “Hey, someone is rattling at the back door…quick….hiiiide…shhhhhh”.

…And there, plain as day, was the jolly ole’ Fat Man himself. Relying on my stealth and surveillance skills, I carefully peered over the counter top observing Kringle doing his thing. Every once in awhile he would look in my direction and I’d pop back down with all the speed of the fastest prairie dog ever.

Eventually, this 5 year old spy couldn’t maintain his steely composure any longer and belted out a huge “Ho, Ho, Ho!” When addressing Santa it is important to speak his language, I figured. Santa responded with a big “Ho, Ho, Ho!” of his own.

I thought I would burst.

To this day I have no idea how (or if) I slept at all that night. The next morning I tore into the gifts under the tree. After the initial flurry I headed to one of my favorite spots in the house to play. This spot was a little corner ledge, in our sunken living room, where a heater vent was located. It made an excellent HQ for action figures to hide out in their super lair (vent) and repel down the cliff (ledge) in order to save mankind. Hey, it was before the Internet and 24 hour cartoon channels so we used what we had, mainly our imagination.

And there he was, an extra present, a stuffed bear, Henry. Henry wasn’t even wrapped, so you knew he was different. Santa put him directly in one of my favorite spots instead of under the tree, so it truly was a special delivery. The Big Guy knew I liked to play here, so clearly this was his little nod to me. Henry had music box inside him with a key sticking out of his back.

He was a musician.

Even though Henry was awesome, he could not be my favorite stuffed animal. That position was already taken by “Snoopy”. Snoopy wasn’t really that Snoopy, but it hardly mattered. He had seniority and, in matters of plush toyness, seniority is everything. Henry was happy to fall in along side, as Snoopy’s sidekick (my Woodstock was a hairbrush and even kids with great imaginations have trouble playing with a stupid brush).

I’m telling you, it takes a lot for a special delivery present to be willing to play second fiddle, but Henry was a team player and his attitude about the whole thing made him even specialer.

Henry, Snoopy and I had lots of good times together until several years later when his music box quit working. I was very upset at this, probably more than I should’ve been. Looking back now I can connect it to my Mom being sick and having medical tests done in Iowa City, but back then I just knew the music had stopped and I needed it to come back on, pronto.

My Dad took Henry in for some “surgery”, a musicboxectomy of some sort. The procedure was a success and all was well for awhile. When Henry’s music faded again a short time later I was more prepared to accept him becoming a silent partner. We had many more good years together, Henry and I.

In this day and age, with all kinds of whirling do-dads and thingys to do kids’ imagining for them I wonder if they can have any special bond to a gift. Just when I’m about to give up hope I hear about my neighbor kid. He’s about 7 and this Christmas Eve his mom spotted a large 10 point buck in her back yard, so she rushed to take a picture of it. His Dad is a big hunter so this boy has seen lots of deer up close, but when she showed him the picture he didn’t see a deer in his yard, like she expected. He saw a reindeer, one of Santa’s of course. He was just as geeked out as that 5 year old spy was about 35 years ago.

There may be some hope for us yet.

A belated Merry Christmas to all.

The Sweater Effect

2010-12-17T17:27:00.011-06:00

It’s a relatively familiar concept, the butterfly effect. This metaphor, born from chaos theory, tries to elegantly convey the fleeting, fragile and intractable nature of – well – everything. In other words: is it possible, theoretically, for a butterfly flapping its wings in South America to be the root cause of an eventual tornado in Texas (yes, really).

The butterfly itself is really just a poetic substitution, a symbol for any number of possible catalysts. Nearly anything can cause a ripple - a bird, a plane….a sweater.

From looking at a graph of monthly visitors you can see that my blog chugged right along, being perused by a handful of regular readers and occasionally an internet passerby or two.

Then The Most Interesting Sweater In The World was introduced.

Visits swelled, bandwidth strained to keep pace. All this new traffic must have some consequence, some…..effect. I wonder, what is in store for me now?

I think it is possible, likely even, that one of these new visitors will be a powerful publishing titan. Mr. Titan will undoubtedly recognize my flair for the dramatically mundane and sign me to a heavyweight book deal. There’s nothing left to do now but pull in that sweet, sweet JR Rowling money.

Flush with cash I will rush out to buy myself a fancy G6 luxury plane, because - after-all - I deserve it.

Logically, my next move will be to jump straight into piloting that bad boy. Buoyed by my new-found self confidence I am sure to be at the helm for multiple circumnavigations of the globe at supersonic speeds, spreading joy (among other things) everywhere I go.

Tragically, during a particularly important humanitarian mission, I will miscalculate my azimuth (or some-such thing) and crash into the side of Mount Ararat.

The crash will trigger an avalanche that decimates several of the area’s villages. As if that’s not bad enough, bands of the once reclusive Yetis are disturbed by the avalance causing them to maraud, nightly, through the alpine countryside.

It’s ok folks, don’t panic, my international health foundation will take care of it.

Lives will be saved from the donation, and effective distribution, of free sweaters (we have them stockpiled for just such an occasion). The locals are predictably grateful but also can’t help but mention how their homes, schools and businesses are still destroyed and the sweaters are “itchy”.

Unfortunately, just like Ashton in the movie (spoiler alert – oops too late),

I don’t make it. The planet shall mourn the loss of a great writer, humanitarian and terrible pilot. In the wake of this overwhelming tragedy a silver lining is found.

The avalanche has uncovered Noah’s Ark. Millions of Christians and Jews the world-over will rejoice at the discovery. I shall be posthumously lauded as a revolutionary figure of biblical proportions.

Plus, hey guys, Yetis.

All of this would make a great book.

Too bad I’m dead.

Damn sweater.

Diamonds...

2010-12-13T20:01:00.002-06:00

Diamonds should not be brown.

Calling them "chocolate" changes nothing.

That is all (for now).

It is – The Most Interesting Sweater in the World.

2010-12-07T07:03:00.006-06:00

It’s the sweater other sweaters look up to.

Heathcliff Huxtable could eat Jello puddin' all day wearin' this sweater.

The Dos Equis guy has two of them.

It is…The Most Interesting Sweater in the World.

A few months back I made a mundane little post about coming up with wearing ugly Christmas sweaters to the Spooky Woods ride. To illustrate my point I went to the all knowing Google Images and grabbed one of the ugliest sweaters that I could find. This one:

As it turns out, if you blog about “ugly Christmas sweaters” - and include an example photo - the Internet will find you. For awhile if you Googled "Christmas sweater" or "ugly sweater" images my blog was one of the first hits. I have this web tracker thingy that records hits and tells you things like country of origin etc. I don't check it often, so one day I was astounded when my trickle of traffic turned into a bonafide flow of visitors. Everyone wanted to see what this sweater was all about.

Its an international sensation, one day The Sweater was big in Iceland. I'm kinda a big deal in Iceland.

Over the past few months I’ve recorded more blog hits because of this stupid sweater than I have from all my witty banter combined. I know, I know it’s The Most Interesting Sweater in the World but c’mon man! That’s some BS right there.

I feel used.

You know the sad part? It’s not even my sweater, just some random sweater and my Spooky sweater was a way, way better sweater (check me, spittin’ rhymes like TuPac). Here's the real deal:

Anywho.

If Chuck Norris were a sweater, he would be this sweater (represented here by Chuck Norris Cat)

Sometimes You Need A Big Shovel

2010-12-02T19:25:00.004-06:00

I'm lame, feeling no bloggy...

This is funny. Clicky to blow up.

Stranded on Venus

2010-11-15T18:12:00.009-06:00

If men are from Mars and wimmen from Venus, I am an astronaut who has crash landed and is surrounded.

My house = Wife + 2 daughters + (usually) some # of daughter’s BFF’s.

It looks like this:

My workplace = Me + approximately one million wimmens

It looks like this:

Even on the Des Moines Register Lifestyle Blogger page, its all chicks and one dude (me). These lovely ladies bake, sew, shop and do crafty things. I talk about bike crashes and squirrel eating owls.

It looks like this:

I guess I’m a little sensitive right now (ironic) because a long time guy friend and co-worker recently took another job. He was basically the only other guy in the office. We were two dudes afloat in the Estrogen Ocean of the health and human services field. He just up and left, and it was clearly a violation of the Bro Code.

Some of the more sympathetic ladies at work offered to “talk football” and “other guy stuff” with me.

"Awesome, so what did you think of Texas trying to defend Iowa State’s zone read running game with 4-2-5 as their base defense?"

(….silence….)

“Well….I like those football pants.”

“Yeah, good talkin’to ya. Thanks.”

While we’re at it gals, here’s a couple others keys to my personal version of guy talk:

1.Any clothes I am wearing today (or will ever wear) do NOT constitute an “outfit”. I think I wore an outfit once….when I was in 1st grade.

2. My car nor my bike(s) nor any other thing I own is “cute”. At least I hope not. If I knew it was "cute" I wouldn't have bought it.

3.I have way fewer colors than y’all. No magenta or mauve, its just your basics with an option for an “ish” or “y” modifier if absolutely necessary ie bluish or yellowy. Additions of "light" and "dark" are acceptable, as are basic combinations such as blue-green.

4.A social gathering where you pressure your friends and/or acquaintances into buying candles or jewelry or kitchenware or make-up isn’t a “party”. It just isn’t. Call it something else.

5.A coupon? A cou-pon. Are you joking? That ain’t happening. Ever.

6.I’m probably not listening anyway.

“Brian to Mars Base, Come in Mars Base! I’ve crash landed and am stranded on Venus. So far the natives are friendly, but we both know that can change in an instant. I need evacuation.”

“Please hurry, I overheard them talking about remodeling kitchens and I think I saw someone with color swatches.”

“Yes! Swatches man! This ain’t no game! All those freakin’ ishy colors with stupid names, hundreds of them.”

“They’re gonna make me look at everyone of them! They’re gonna want an opinion, man! They ain’t settling for saying ‘I don’t care’ or 'they're all nice' this time.”

“Do you read?! I said they’ve got swatches man!”

“Hurry!”

Bike Meets Tree: A (no) Love Story

2010-11-10T21:18:00.005-06:00

One day, under most unexpected circumstances, Bike met Tree. Their attraction was undeniable. Sadly, just like these star-crossed couples before them -

Romeo and Juliet,
Lancelot and Guinevere,
Bert and Ernie (c’mon now, you know it)

- their relationship was not meant to be. Bike’s parents forbid him to see Tree. Tree’s friends thought Bike wasn’t good enough for her. Joanie Loves Chachi it certainly wasn’t.

Why couldn’t they make it work?!

Whyyyyyy?!

Well, because Bike and Tree come from such drastically different worlds. Bike is cold steel, rubber, spokes and all manner of whirring, blingy bits. Tree is solid, warm wood, an earthy, country type. Bike is unpredictable, prone to flights of fancy, destined to roll on from place to place; Tree is dependable, stern and stationary, content to silently keep vigil over the timber.

Their budding relationship ended abruptly and violently, just as it began, with a kiss that left Bike broken and Tree forever scarred….

So….anyways….you know that new jump at the Center?

The one with the rutted out landing patch?

Yeah, the one you’d better get your front tire up for on the landing….

Well… on last week’s Taco ride I hit the jump too slow, I didn’t get the front tire up enough and landed with the front tire in the rut. Bike bucked forward, this might have been manageable except I came unclipped from both peddles at the same time. Now I’m shuffling down the trail, in comical fast-forward, with my front wheel almost directly underneath me. Bike had essentially turned himself into a bucking bronco of a unicycle. That Bike, he can be a real @#$% sometimes. At least this circus clown spectacle was ended quickly by introducing Bike to nearby Tree. Bike kissed Tree with his handlebar, but she firmly rejected his advances.

As for me, I did a wonderful matador OLE’! move and spun out of the way with only the very upper part of my thigh contacting Tree. I am happy to say that, while the upper thigh sustained some minor damage, my downtown district was completely unscathed.

This was very good news for the residents of downtown as they are rather sensitive to being smashed with a tree.

Being pleased with my survival, I dusted myself off, hoped back on Bike and peddled off to finish the rest of the Squirrel’s Nest trail. About halfway through Nest I noticed my front brake had been spun down and behind the bar. That was an easy, twist it back into place, fix and we were off again. Next up was the Rhythm trail; we rounded the corner and started into the rough stuff when my left grip snapped off in my hand.

Carbon fiber doesn’t dent like aluminum or steel, it cracks and snaps, often times with no warning. This was one of those times. Truth is I got really lucky that it snapped when it did instead of any number of places I had just ridden, including a teeter totter stunt (don’t tell my wife).

Being damn-near Grizzly Adams, I did what any mountain man would do and (with the help of Bart and Nick) fashioned a stick splint for my handlebar.

Our Jeremiah Johnson handy work was good enough to get me back to the shop and to the local watering hole for many well-earned barley sodas.

Bike, my advice to you is forget Tree. She’s no good for you man.

Buy My Bike Stuff: It Will Make You Manlier

2010-11-04T18:42:00.003-05:00

Everyone knows mountain biking is manly. You get dirty, stinky....hurt. You drink beer, leer and cuss at stuff.

Don't get your aprons all in an uproar, Ladies. You can be "manly" too, heck the last part of the word "woman" is MAN isn't it? In fact, I have mucho respectamundo for mountain bike ladies and badass chicks in general (just ask my wife).

So, if mountain biking is manly, it logically follows that biking in the ice and snow is manlier by a factor of about 50. Just think about how quickly those bonus points will fill up your man (or woMAN) card.

First up is a brand new set of Continental Nordic Spike cyclocross/touring tires. These have 240 studs of owl-talon gripping power. The icy trail will whimper beneath your tread. Perfect for commuting. They sell for around $85-90 bucks a piece before taxes or/shipping. $140 takes 'em

Second up is a lightly used set of 26 inch Nokian Extreme mountain bike tires. The 294 carbide studs will allow you to hunt seals, with a crossbow, on a glacier. They only have 5-6 rides on them, well under 40 total miles. They sell new for around $90 each, but are hard to find due to their extremeness. $125 takes 'em.

Either set of these tires will come in handy when marauding bands of cannibals rule the post apocalyptic American landscape starting in 2012.

Last up is a White Brothers Rock Solid 29er rigid fork. Some of you might think this isn't so manly because its light, blingy carbon fiber, a favorite material of leg-shaving roadies. Allow me to assure you, this fork is quite manly. First off, its rigid and not some softy, plushy suspension fork. Second, its beefy. It has a star nut and crown race installed. If you don't know what that means, then this fork is not for you. The steer tube is cut to 7.5 inches. Its nearly mint with only some minor scuffs. It probably has somewhere around 100 miles on it. They go for around $275 new, save big and get this one for $175.

Conan the Barbarian would love riding these tires and/or fork over the skulls of his fallen foes. Han Solo would jump to hyperspace to grab these hot deals. Hugh Heffner would throw a special theme party, in the grotto, to celebrate his purchase of these fine parts.

Its all true; and its all very manly.

Spooky Woods: The Night of a Thousand Stories

2010-11-02T22:24:00.007-05:00

Rob Zombie can have his House of 1,000 Corpses...

Spooky Woods Ride is a night of 1,000 stories

There were some wins (of unknown origins)

A few wins have to be classified as inevitable. For example, Elaine won the costume contest, even though there wasn't exactly a costume contest to win.

The mini bike races were an epic tale all on their own.

Cruella Deville is as good at mini bike racing as she is at snuffing out puppies

she could've given Bart a few tips

Teri's tale is a tail..and its on backwards....or is it?

The sweater brigade was small but dedicated and highly effective (Brother-in-Arms, Rick not pictured here).

Here's Rick. You don't get the full sweater majesty from this pic, but trust me, it was a sweater vest. As you probably already know, the vest part increases the sweater's awesomeness by a factor of ten.

Sammy, Sammy, Sammy.....you can't take him anywhere.

Here begins Bart's final chapter. Sadly his pals have already rode off into the night without him. He is chanting the mantra of "red rims, red rims". This is not to be confused with "red rum" from The Shining. Instead he is referring to his fancy-schamancy red rims on his mountain bike. He seemed confident that their redness would help him navigate the dark woods. Perhaps they were infra-red (har, har)

Big thanks to Mary for most of these pics and huge props to Squirrel and Jordan for all the work they put in getting the party set up.

I'm already looking forward to next year and another 1,000 stories.

Where's my Bejesus?

2010-10-28T21:55:00.004-05:00

So many things to be scared of, so little time......ah, uhm, so little time....time, no time, we're running out of time....I knew it, we're all gunna die!!!!!

Ok, sorry. Composure returning in T minus 3, 2, 1...

So many things

There's:

Terrorists
Ghosts
Certain side effects of Levitra that last more than 4 hours
Aliens
Gingivitis
Zombies
Horses (one day they will collectively decide - no more rides, we revolt!)
Mice
Nuns
Priests (especially Priests)
Robots
Last Call (you don't haveta go home, but you can't stay here)
Darkness
Nukes
Peanuts
Mold
Cereal Killers (why do they hate sugary puffs so much?)
Toyotas
Progressives
Carbs
Super Volcanoes
Gangstas
Dentists (especially the 5th one....4 outta 5 agree, what's with that 5th one?)
Asteroids
Sharks (they've already got a week, what's next?)
Fear itself
Pollen
Tardive Dyskinesia (think Ozzy)
Wives
2012
Klondike Bars (what would you do for one? What?!)
Solar Radiation
Hillbillies (ask Ned Beatty)
Y2K (errrrr, nevermind)
Microbes
Bears
Glen Beck (tear, sniff, sniff, buy gold)
Mummies
Cooked fruit
Light Beer
Bone loss
Dirty bombs
Clean bombs
Keepin' it real
Cellphones
Razor blades (particularly the intrafruit variety)
Mines
Taliban Monkeys
Fibromyalgia
Tornadoes (especially flaming ones)
Cavity Searches
Bob Seger (run for your lives, we're overrun by cheezy tavern rock!)
Dolls
Obama
Shrinkage
Spiders (oh, frickin spiders)
Nazis
Sudden Cheerleader Shortage
Heights
Pluto (first you're a planet, then you're not...what are you hiding Pluto?!)
Snookie
Kettlebells
Micheal Myers (the Halloween one, not the Austin Powers one)
Earthquakes
Granny Panties
Tobacco
Pandemics of any kind
Snipers
Mentos + soda
Adult onset anything
Owls
Snakes
Fire (especially spontaneous combustion)
Water
and the worst of all......clowns

Pennywise, Insane Clown Posse, John Wayne Gacy

I think that's everything....but I could be forgetting something......oh crap!

Alzhiemers.

Here's to You, Touchdown Guy

2010-10-24T18:45:00.006-05:00

We interrupt our regular bike-centric programming for this...

I don't know who this guy is, but I can tell that I like him.

He is basking in the glow of the Cyclones beating the Longhorns in Austin.

He is living life, man.

I'm calling him Touchdown Guy.

Think about that scene for a minute.....100k stunned Texas fans and you.

Awesome.

As for the other obvious Clones in the picture; the lady in the hat is at least trying to be a little inconspicuous, leaning back and clapping low under an impressive hat. The guy next to her is smirking and trying to not be obvious about photographically documenting this joyous event. Not Touchdown Guy, he's throwing up the double-armed TD paired with a heart-felt "Woohooo!"

Yep, I like 'em. How could you not?

This picture, and a bunch of other great ones, can be found at The Des Moines Register

Hats off to you, Touchdown Guy, and to all Cyclones - everywhere.

Taco Ride, Brought to You by Animal Planet

2010-10-19T07:37:00.006-05:00

It was a good Taco Ride last week with as many as 20 riders out to enjoy the dirt. As per the usual routine we sort of naturally split into a continnum of groups such as Fast, Kinda Fast, Sometimes Fast-Like, Medium and Whatever speed for the ride.

So I'm riding along somewhere along in the Medium to Whatever range and my mind wanders...its so good to have the Denmans Woods trail back. We lost it to floods in early June and only recently has it returned to its former glory. I'm happily twisting and turving (its a new word I'm working on) through the colorful leaves; it is so relaxing and.......BOOM! big hawk swoops in front of me. He's flying low, right along the trail. As he banks a turn and flies overhead I see that its not a big hawk, its an big owl.....and he's got a brown brushy tail.....wait, big owls don't have tails......he's got a squirrel.

By now I am slowing to stop. I turn and say to Nick, "that owl has" -- "AWESOME" he says.

Ok, you've seen it.

Meantime Mr. Owl lands in the tree right above us. As we slow the riders coming up from behind and fumble for our cameras Mr. O just looks down like he's saying in a thick New Yorker accent "Yeah, so I got a squirrel. So what?! You gotta problem wit dat?"

I get my phone out, gloves off, line up the shot.....decide I want to zoom it, get the zoom set, aim aaaaand the owl flies off. Grrrrrrr. At least Nick got a shot.

BAM! predation; Animal Planet; awesome. The last time I saw Animal Planet like this was when a Hummingbird attacked my garage!

You can't really see it in the picture, but he's got a pretty big squirrel under him. He must be holding on to it with one talon while holding on the branch with the other. Man, I wish I had talons, they are just so useful.

Later when we caught up with our riding buddy nicknamed Squirrel (he rides in the Fast group) we told him about the owl and the demise of his fuzzy brethern. Now, I don't want to say he was nervous, but he did ride off shortly after that.....and he was going pretty fast....

I guess I don't blame him.

How many licks does it take to get to the center of a big brown squirrel? One, a-two, three - CRUNCH! - three.

Ugly Sweater is Coming to Town

2010-10-13T07:00:00.004-05:00

One of my long time readers left a disparaging comment on the previous Spooky Woods + Christmas sweaters post which calls into question my knowledge of fashionable fabrics, specifically poly-nylon-poly blends.

Although the commenter was anonymous, I would like to take this opportunity to say directly to her (yes, her) and to anyone else out there who doubts my fashion sense: Could I pull off the purchase of this beauty without at least a working knowledge of synthetics and all the wonderful ways they can be blended?

As you can see, this gem is a cardigan (oh yeah, knowin' my sweater types too) and its got everything you could ever want: trees, a hat and scarf wearing bear, nutcracker, a freakin' rocking horse. The best part is this is a real sweater and not one that has been modified for increased ugliness. Original ugly, I like that.

Its even got Santa's sleigh on the back.

Hells yeah.

You'd better watch out, you'd better not cry...Ugly Sweater is coming to town.

Reporting for Spooky Woods Duty: The Christmas Sweater Brigade

2010-10-06T21:18:00.010-05:00

The Spooky Woods ride is undoubtedly one of the highlights of the local social miscreant freestyle cycling scene. Last year it was admittedly modest due to mud. Despite the meager beginnings my night ended in true spooky fashion, with a karaoke singing midget stripper from Hollywood.

Anyways, this year - as it was in 2008 - Spooky Woods shall be epic. It will again be in Denmans Woods and the jack'o'logs will be roaring.....but there is a story within a story here my friends.....

......Yes, there's a growing tide, a rolling thunder, an ever increasing, all consuming revolution.........the Sweater Brigade is coming to the 2010 Spooky.....

You see, one of the great things about Spooky is the costumes, but one of the painful things about Spooky is the actual coming up with a costume - (one you can ride in, that isn't too hot or cold and is funny or at least ironic)....

Fast forward to Tuesday; Nick, Corey and I are riding at Sugar Bottom and we are having a blast. We decide to pause for the obligatory group photo.

While setting up the shot someone commented that it would probably end up looking like a cheesy Christmas card. We theorized giant snowmen and/or Christmas tree sweaters would make it even better. It was a short leap from there to sweaters as Spooky costumes and DAS REVOLUTION! was born.

So, join us if you dare. Don your merry, puffy ornaments in all the season's festive colours. Deck yourself in the latest sleigh fashion and come on down. Please understand that The Brigade doesn't discriminate on the basis of holiday. Wear your pumpkin sweaters with pride! Rock a giant flag, and be a proud patriot. Just gird yourself in the finest cotton,wool, poly-nylon-poly blend you can find and head on out to Spooky on the 30th.

Do it.

Jerry Goes Hollywood

2010-09-29T07:18:00.008-05:00

Some of my long term readers (4) will remember Jerry, the farting gnome, I purchased from ebay last year in preparation for Gnome Fest 6.

Jerry was a big hit, especially with kids and dogs (somehow he managed to not get "marked" by any of the fidos).

Jerry made the return trek to GF7 this year and, again, all was well. Here he is supervising night time camp set up.

Little did I know he had bigger plans...

The other day I was watching a new comedy on NBC called "Outsourced". Its about a young American manager of a novelty company that relocates to India to run their telephone sales/service center.

Its a comedy about America losing jobs...a comedy....losing jobs....a comedy....jobs....comedy......a com-a-dee....

Anyway, I've almost made it all the way through this......"comedy".......when I spot him.

Boom! There's Jerry yucking it up on the TV..... and I thought he was still in the garage in a camping box.

I'm not sure how to feel about Jerry's "big break"...somehow I thought he could do better than a cameo in a "comedy" chocked full of un-funny racial stereotypes and job loss....a comedy....its a....comedy.

Oh well, at least he didn't totally sell out like his more well-traveled brother.

AM Poem Sheep

2010-09-24T00:53:00.005-05:00

Not sure why I sometimes think of something-like poetry when I can't sleep. I don't know how to write good poems, but at this hour of the night who cares?

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Words scrawled upon a page,

hazy thoughts, escape their cage.

Freed children, off to play.

Nothing to care, nothing to say.

Sleep, come and cover me;

stop this floating, lost at sea.

Reasons remain cruel and unclear,

dreams don’t live, at least not here.

Insomnia, an unwelcome friend;

you stay with me until the neverend.

_____________________________________________________________________________________

Just Ride: Gnome Fest Unplugged

2010-09-20T20:13:00.012-05:00

I have this fancy bike computer.

Perched atop my handlebars this digital scribe diligently records ride characteristics like distance, speed and elevation change by constantly bouncing signals off an array of satellites; its kinda miraculous really. It's the kind of amazing we blithely take for granted, like garage door openers and microwave popcorn.

Despite its wizard like ability to quantify your ride in detail you never thought possible (try downloading a track into Google Earth sometime) it is hopelessly inept at capturing the truly sublime; the soft clicking of a bike’s chain, the snapping of twigs under tires, the scurry of fuzzy things in the tangled underbrush.

If you remember to charge it, take it and turn it on it will surely provide a wealth of data but leave unmeasured the exclusive satisfaction that comes from cresting a tough climb or the adrenaline shot you earn from negotiating a spooky obstacle that is clearly bent on your destruction.

All these realizations came to me in a cascading catharsis as I gazed upon my lifeless, uncharged computer right before our first Gnome Fest ride. Last year I wrote up some pretty detailed, and overly dramatic, blog entries about the Gnome Fest, mostly based on information from my little gadget. I was trying to decide whether I was irked about it being dead when Nick said:

“It's just about riding and having fun, I didn’t even bring mine.”

He is as wise as his tent is waterproof, but he got this one exactly right.

Just ride.

We stopped in Decorah on the way up for some pre-gnome gnoming. The guys were a big help when I needed to change a tire.

Once we got to Levis Trow, in central Wisconsin, it was most assuredly ON.

Even great rock chasms were powerless to stop us.

Phil showing sometimes a guys gotta seem epic.

Flexing just seemed appropriate.

Matt examines his instructions and reports "Guys, it says here everything sounds funnier with a French accent."

Narrowness

Sidewinder gnomeyness

Spooky light

Follow the yellow brick road

It aint called Goat Dance 'cuz its flat.

Big - I mean HUGE - air.

Not wanting the festing to end, we rode the Human Powered Trails in LaCrosse on the way home. I highly recommend it.

More Gnomelishesness here. Page 3 of the thread for some of this year's pics.

Big props to Nick who took all these pictures as I ditched my camera too.

Fantastic time once again.

Fall = Football

2010-09-01T17:52:00.006-05:00

To the ancient Greeks autumn marks the return of Persephone to the Underworld and to Hades, her captor. Her mother Demeter, Goddess of Harvest, mourns her loss and the Earth is slowly frozen into barren sadness.

To scientists Fall is simply ushered in by the path of our celestial home as it races around the Sun, at 67,000 miles per hour, while tilted at a 23.5 degree angle.

To me the autumnal season is inaugurated by the return of football, glorious football.

Weber, God of the Tailgate, provides a mighty bounty for his faithful.
Bands play, crowds cheer, players compete, referees spontaneously lose both sight and cognitive function.

Hey, science has its place here too. The eggheads point out that, on the molecular level, football is the smashing together and pulling apart of carbon atoms with G forces greater than those found in a Space Shuttle launch or a fighter plane roll.

I fear attempting any further description of the spectacle that is football is pure folly. I leave it to Coach Lombardi to wrap us up.

"I firmly believe that any man's finest hour, the greatest fulfillment of all that he holds dear, is that moment when he has worked his heart out in a good cause and lies exhausted on the field of battle - victorious."

You said it Coach. Now, let's play some football.

Ok, Iowa Has Some Rough Weather.....

2010-08-30T16:30:00.002-05:00

but this is a FLAMING TORNADO OF DEATH.

Its a TORNADO and its made of FIRE. That just can't be safe.

So, the next time you're thinking "Dang, its humid out here" or "I wish it weren't so overcast", just be thankful there isn't - oh I dunno - a FIRE TORNADO.

A Small, But Full, Circle

2010-08-22T18:23:00.008-05:00

Dear Springbrook State Park,

You were the campground of my youth, but I haven't seen you in 25 years.

Even though I was here all the time as a boy, I doubt you remember me.

That's ok, I remember you.

Your lake for swimming and fishing,

your creeks for wading,

your trails for exploration.

Lots has changed since we last saw each other.

I'm grown now, with a family of my own. I'm sorry, introducing them to you is long overdue, but Dad coming along really plugs the ends together, doesn't it? After all, he started it.

You remind me that, if you're lucky, life's best moments recycle. A simple, beautiful place - like a campground - can complete a circuit in your soul.

Yes, you are just like I remember. Riding my bike on your trails, wading in your creeks with my kids and soaking up the campfire with my Dad - you give all these things without hesitation. You do this for my family, as well as countless others, every summer as the years march on.

Thanks Springbrook, you're the best.

Sincerely,

Brian

Enough Already, Volume 1

2010-08-12T21:07:00.009-05:00

Sometimes I just get fed up. Since this happens periodically I think “Enough Already” might turn into a multi-volume installment of crotchety complaining.

For starters I’m focusing on the indisputable fact that we’ve completely run out of ideas for reality shows. Isn’t it ironic that we’re running out of reality? Maybe not as ironic as Alanis’ song “Ironic” being mostly devoid of irony, but still….When a show about two Iowa boys rummaging through old barns and garages for rusty junk is a runaway hit, you know the end must be near.

TO and Ocho Cinco have dating shows. Yeah, I get it; these guys have trouble meeting women. I guess one of them is named Ocho Cinco.

The MALL OF AMERICA security has a show (yes, MALL cops have a show). They authoritatively cross their arms and stuff.

I will say they do have an inexhaustible supply of topics - Episode 21: The Gum Stuck Under the Table Caper. Episode 22: Runaway Shopping Cart in the Parking Lot.

This show reminds me of the first time I went to the MALL. A buddy from the area was showing me and another friend around. He was quite proud of the facility which inspired him to keep spouting off MALL factoids such as the number of shops, total square feet and how long it would take you to visit every shop. I just kept saying, “I don’t think it’s that big” and “Yep, it’s definitely about the size of Merle Hay”. This made our tour guide quietly fume a bit, which was the object of the game. Now the MALL “cops” have a show. I guess he gets the last laugh.

Next, The Real Wives of (fill in the Blank) shows are irritatingly ubiquitous. I do think “real” is a bit of a misnomer. These programs feature a wholly different brand of “real” wife from what I’m used to seeing (careful now, thin ice directly ahead). Oh sure, I could write a little ditty about making a “Real Wives of Polk County” show. The compare and contrast of our ladies to those primped, poofed and orangy spray tanned broads might even be funny, but then again you don’t live at my house do you?

No, you don’t.

It just-so happens a real wife of Polk County does live at my house and I don’t want to have to move to another county.

Moving on...having 6,7,8,9 kids all at once, or 19 over the course of several years, does NOT qualify you as must see TV. In contrast, pretending to float your kid 5,000 feet in the air in a balloon might qualify your crazy ass for the airwaves, provided the show airs from jail.

Lastly, I guess two or three cake shows just wasn’t enough. Now there’s multiple cupcake spinoffs. I’m sure the studio execs got together and said, “You know these cake shows are strangely popular, but they’re getting a little stale so, I’ve come up with the next best thing in bakery based broadcasting.........(dramatic pause as the underlings prepare to be dazzled and)……….we do smaller cakes and….wait-for-it……..put them in cups!

Underlings: Ingenious.

Execs: I know.

Execs: Then, to zazz it up a bit more, we will put “Wars” or “Battle” in the title.

Underlings: Glorious.

Call me old fashioned but if its going to be a “war” or “battle” shouldn't those frosted little delights explode or something? I mean, frag some snooty lady with an actual sugar bomb and you might have something worth watching.

Until then…..

Enough already.

Lime Creek, Check

2010-08-08T12:40:00.005-05:00

I like to ride my mountain bike.

I like to ride in fun new places.

I live in Iowa.

There are no mountains in Iowa.

Still, some fun can be found.

I've found most of it.

I've ridden:
Center
Sycamore
Easter
Pioneer
Moffit
Banner
Ahquabi
Whiterock
PetersonPits
McFarland
Decorah
Creston
FDR
Boone
Manawa
Lewis & Clark
Sugarbottom
Beverly
Brushy Creek
Red Rock
Elk Rock
Igwanis
Scott County
Sunderbruch

Its a good list I think.

Not quite complete, but close.

Add Lime Creek now.

North of Mason City, it has...

some good fast doubletrack

and tightly hidden singletrack

Do the Quarry, Turkey and Old Stage loops.

Don't bother with the Red Hawk and those prairie trails.

Can you ever really know a trail without seeing a hanldebar shot?

We camped at Clear Lake.

There was a cool classic car show going on.

(sorry no photo)

it made it easy to have fun with friends and fam and to check off another mountain bike trail in Iowa.

Quad Cities Trifecta

2010-08-02T07:10:00.008-05:00

We call it a mountain biking "daytrip". Its like a "fieldtrip" only for adults (or quasi-adults).

To execute one of these you must take the day off work, haul your behind out of bed earlier than what is reasonable, and head out of town for a good trails in a far (but not too far) away land. Then you reverse it all and wind up back at home before the sun rises on tomorrow. The beauty of the daytrip method is that it allows for some fine adventure without disrupting the home and family life too much.

Our daytrip radius has only recently been expanded to about a 3 hour drive. It used to be a shorter 2-2.5 hours but we've basically ridden everything in that radar range and daytrips are primarily about riding new trail. After this doozie I think the radius should stay at 3 hours and below.

We originally had our sights set on one of two big destinations; Lebanon Hills near Minneapolis or Landahl Park outside of KC. One north, one south we would pick the one with the best weather and trail condition reports. It was indeed a fine plan but, as with most fine plans, it was doomed from the start. Rain, of course, threatened both sites and trail conditions were iffy as well. Last minute I offered up the Quad Cities as an option. It was slightly closer to Des Moines than the other two and had several (reportedly) good places I had not been before. The forecast wasn't great there either with spotty rain predicted, but the trails seemed to be in good shape, so with a little prayer we departed early Friday AM and headed due east.

The local club, Friends of Off Road Cycling or FORC, builds and maintains these trails; big time howyadoin' to those guys ova dare.

First up was Sylvan Island in Moline. This little labyrinth of trail is actually on an island in the mighty Mississippi. Once being the site of a factory, the trail is embedded with steel and concrete features that give it a cool industrial reclamation feel.

Man gives way to nature; what else is new? Here's a very nice video I found on Vimeo. Sylvan is great for a warm up, which is exactly how we used it.

Sylvan Island PreRace Riding from Jordan Hanson on Vimeo.

You knew there would be a handlebar shot

Corey dodges, dips, ducks, dives and dodges.

Next up was Sunderbrush Park. Located on the western edge of Davenport, these trails were trumpeted as the "crown jewel" of QC riding. I hereby deem this crown title proper and in well keeping with the accepted standards of trail jewelness.

Right away you could tell it was going to be interesting.

They've named the trails here after other regional trails of high acclaim. All of it flowed quite nicely, with Sugarbottom (not surprisingly) being one of my favorites. There's not too much elevation gain and plenty of roots, creek crossings, switchbacks and funky bridges to challenge you. It was sprinkling a bit and the trail was just wet enough to make a lot of those root switchback step-ups slicky tricky, including one that rudely introduced me to a tree I was trying to climb past.

I don't know if this big log pile has a name, but I'm calling it Slick Rick. I came off Rick a little to the left and barked my knuckles on a itty bitty tree. No biggie, I'm tough and stuff.

We finished up the day at Scott County Park. Apparently the goal here was to create many miles of flowing trail with long sight lines and lots of available speed. They have done a really nice job laying it out to that affect. There's a significant sections of twisty prairie riding, full of wild flowers that drop into nice wooded singletrack. There really is something for everyone at Scott. My favorite was the Cannon loop. Pair that up with a big park featuring several nice campgrounds and beautiful facilities and you've got a real winner.

I came away impressed and a little jealous of what they've got going on over there. Several nice trail systems are already built and more are being added all the time. They are also fairly close to places like Sugarbottom to the west and Peoria to the east.

I will definitely be back, maybe next time I won't have to drive home.

Jerry, Trail Gnome Extraordinare

2010-07-27T06:52:00.005-05:00

Shrouded in mystery, Trail Gnomes quietly live among us. These generally jolly creatures lovingly care for our trails so that others may enjoy.

One such Gnome, we will call him "Jerry", was feeling a little guilty this summer. See, Jerry likes to ride his Gnomecycle much more than he cares manual labor, so he'd missed a few of the CITA sponsored trail work days.

His absences were gnawing at him, and Gnomes don't do well with gnawing, so Jerry decided to make amends by fixing a particularly deep mud hole at Banner. If you are unawares on Banner, or Summerset State Park, this unique trail makes good use of the acutely undulating terrain left behind by an old mining operation. A gnice roller coaster ride, it is also prone to prodigiously collecting runoff in certain spots.

One portion had gotten so bad it could have easily swallowed a gnomecycle whole and Jerry just couldn't cotton to that anymore. Luckily, the offending bog was located where the trail cuts close to a gravel road, so access was easy...'cept he'd have to wade through a bog just to get there.

Gnomes don't swim, but their little boots do get stuck in the mud and gnearly pulled off their stubby little feet. Hmph.

Ew

Yuck

Jerry dumped 5 bags of gravel in there plus 5 or more buckets he scavenged off the road and its STILL mushy. Gnomes don't like mushy trails, but if it ever stops raining for more than one day at a time it should dry out....maybe.

Sorry about the blurry photography, Jerry isn't good at taking pictures especially when being menaced by a horse fly that is big enough to pick up a Gnome and carry him away.

With the left over stones he fixed a couple other spots too.
Like the one just opposite of Jerry's Bog.

And the one at the end of the loop.

More gneeds to be done at Banner, but hopefully these spots hold for awhile. Jerry's conscious is now clear and he's off on his gnomecycle once again.

The Porridge Imperative

2010-07-19T17:55:00.003-05:00

For years Goldilocks was content to ride her good ole’ 26 inch wheeled mountain bike. Things were awfully fine in the forest as she happily whizzed down the trails, nearly impervious to roots, rocks, logs and (of course) bears. With such sheer contentment there was nary any reason to change anything about her bike.

Then one day Goldy heard about these new bikes with fancy 29 inch wheels. Talk from the forest folk was that bigger wheels magically smoothed out trail nasties and eased the climbing of troublesome hills. Golly, to Goldy, it sounded too good to be true.

As we all know from the well-documented porridge incident Goldy has this deal about self control, particularly pertaining to the next best bike thing, so it was no surprise when one (or more) of those fancy bikes found its way into her stable.

And so, she was pleased. For once upon a time the porridge had actually lived up to the hype. Goldy gleefully bounded down the trail on her rad new hoops. Bears to could only stare in wonderment as she bunny hopped over them and sketched ill tricks off their snouts.

All was well again in the forest until one day Goldy made another startling discovery, there’s a size in between the 26er and 29er. What? A new mythical beast lives that in the sweet spot in between wheel sizes. It has all the powers of a 26’ and 29’ bikes….combined.

It’s called a 650B – ah, huh, what?

Oh Goldy, that’s just some Euro sheik way of saying the wheels are 27.5 inches around.

Clearly bound by the porridge imperative, Goldy embarked on a quest to add this 650Beast to her stable. It was new, so it must be better. Much to her dismay the forest dwellers were largely unsupportive. Haters emerged from hollowed out tree stumps, “Silly girl, you don’t need that.” they said. “You wanna whaaaaat?” the boo birds chirped. Even the bikesmiths themselves had yet to forge a fair amount of frames, forks, wheels and tires to fit the beast. Undaunted, Goldy soldiered on. If she couldn’t buy it, she’d build it. She liked that better anyway, rolling custom. She tirelessly researched this part and that bit, it was like a puzzle and Goldy has always liked puzzles.

She eventually arrived at Ole Blue, a stunning bit of British steel mated to the highest quality wheelset she has ever owned. Goldy has only been out on a couple rides so far, but she is quite pleased with the carvability (meaning able to carve) of the slightly smaller hoops in the tight, twisty track that populates the Midwest (when its not under water).

Bears beware.

Of Bikes, Tunnels and Never Saying Die

2010-07-15T19:54:00.016-05:00

Cyclists are a resilient sort.

Rain out our dirt trails, we ride paved ones. Flood our paved ones, we ride roads. Run us off the roads with your big bad cars, we ride gravel roads. Chase us on gravel with county dwelling dogs and we....well.....run (or ride faster).

So don't go thinking some little 106 degree heat index is going to scare us, especially when we have a tunnel for shelter.

I know that for the small part of the cycling community that is me not riding Wednesday was simply unoptional (this is a good new word), especially when two local traditions: the Taco mountain bike ride and the infamous Tunnel Party ride were converging on the same night. The fact I had just finished building my new mountain bike made things such as heat stroke seem like a trivial matter.

I admit it

2010-07-08T17:41:00.003-05:00

Ok, fine.

I haven't posted in over a month.

I just haven't been feelin' it.

This absence could be due to the RAIN, which has soaked our trails into mud laden mosquito traps, or the SICKNESS which descended upon me in the form of the dynamic duo - COUGH and WHEEZE.

Of course, it could also be my aching VERTEBRAE that don't want to stay in their proper place or the big GRANT I have due in a few days. Perhaps it 'tis the WORK TRAVEL that has recently beset my WIFE that's bumming me out.

I know boo frickin' hoo.

Truth is - more than anything I have a touch of this little ditty called Oppositional Defiant Disorder, which is a fancy way of psychologically/behaviorally diagnosing teenagers that don't dig on being told what to do.

I first came across ODD (yes, its acronym is unfortunately "odd") when I was working as a counselor for adolescent treatment unit. I thought at the time, "Man, I'm glad they didn't have this when I was growing up". And if they did have it, I was glad (and still am) that my parents didn't know about it.

So, how does my "odd" relate to not writing anything in over a month? Well, the word drought happened about the same time the whole Register blogger came along. I guess now that I thought some more peeps might be reading my words I kinda didn't dig on writing them anymore. Or maybe I don't have much to say. I don't really get Facebook in that way. I mean, I don't mind reading about some of the everyday stuff my "friends" post, but when it comes to writing something myself it just feels....I don't know....douffy to type "I'm just sitting down to eat some BLANK and watch some BLANK and then I'm going to catch up on some BLANK. I know that writing in this blog is really no different, but still.....

I think I might be messed up.

Anyway, I haven't been totally useless during the last month. We went camping in a monsoon, followed by a Death Valley heat wave that was followed by another monsoon.....that was "fun".

I am building (another) mountain bike. I will post more about that hotness when its ready for the unveil. Unlike the Voodoo, which I blogged about piece by piece as I built it, this machine is too bad for a bite at a time. I will say this - its the first bike I've ever built or owned that I felt was just too purdy to get dirty.

Yes, I said it.

I'm not proud of it, but there it is - I have a mountain bike that's too dern purdy to git durty.

I'm sure I'll get over it. I'm sure the giant mudholes at Banner will help in the process.

Short Weekends

2010-06-05T10:07:00.012-05:00

Weekends are never long enough, especially Memorial Day ones. Heck, this year I even took Thursday and Friday off and guess what? Yep, still not long enough.

Bonus Thursday I went down to Lake Ahquabi hoping for and available camp site for us and some pals. The Quab has a nice little campground along with a beach, boat rentals and a 5ish mile hilly doubletrack trail that basically loops the lake.

Getting lucky I found some spots and expertly staked our claim. I then unexpertly attempted to set up our tent all by myself. After much tent pole geometry, and related murmuring, a neighboring camper came by to help. You gotta love Iowans, always willing to help those who struggle.

Bonus Friday I headed out of town early with Nick to ride three trails in the Omaha area. First up: Swanson Park. I had never been to Swanson but I had read enough reports and seen a grainy You Tube video, so I knew we were in for a little sumptin-sumptin. I was still pleasantly surprised with what it had to offer. There’s only about a 5 mile loop, but it is sufficiently twisty, rooty and swoopy in true Midwest trail fashion. There’s even a little climb that takes you under some ominously buzzing power lines before diving down into the park via a long, fast downhill. We did 2 quick laps, smiling all the way.

Thanks to Nick for some of these photos.

Cool in B&W (Nick).

Cool in color.

That sign says don't ride wet. I guess the "or we'll will smash you in the head with a tree" is implied.

Me, absoultely killing this log obstacle. I'm so cool.

Tricky

The obligatory handlebar shot.

We hit the Lewis and Clark trail next. It begins right at the L&C Monument which is perched on top of a high bluff overlooking the Missouri river.

(old photo)

I have been here several times but not since they redid the infamous “Mount Neverest” hill at the end. L&C is now configured into some sort of out-n-back, figure 8ish loop and Neverest has been tamed with switchbacks that cut back and forth across it. The trail building club, THOR, had to address the continual erosion of the long, steep and relatively straight behemoth, so I guess it had to be done. This makes bookend reroutes at L&C as a couple of years ago they had to redo the beginning due to land access issues. That redo cut off a deeply grooved, bobsled style drop in that was unique and a real scream. Still, L&C has a lot to offer and it’s good training, with all the up and down the bluff stuff, for the Boone race.

We didn't take many photos at L&C, so this one is from a couple of years ago.

After one lap, also 5ish miles, we moved on.

Last, we stopped at Lake Manawa. We didn’t have much time to play, but still got in around 5 of the 7 miles the including the teeter totter stunts (this picture is also from a couple of years ago)

and the “camelback” section.

Manawa is pancake flat and tightly wooded in some spots

and open in others

It reminds me a little of our good ole Denman’s Woods in DSM. All by its lonesome it would not be worth driving to Omaha (actually Council Bluffs) to ride, but when combined with a couple other trails it makes a nice end to the day.

I spent the rest of the weekend relaxing at Ahquabi. I rode the lake trail a couple of times, but there's some killer hills like this one (too bad you can't tell how steep it is from this pic, but trust me)

so I mostly woosed out. Good weekend, but not long enough.

Who Done It?

2010-05-26T06:52:00.006-05:00

ALRIGHT.....(dramatic pause)

Who's the wise guy (or gal) that "nominated" CDNM for the Des Moines Register's online collection of "lifestyle" blogs?

Don't speak up all at once now....Cat got your tongue? (and what's with these creepy tongue stealing cats anyway?)

(Cue CSI music) Well, I know it must have been a current reader, so the field has been narrowed down - shall we say - dramatically. I will find you and when I do....I'll......oh yeah, I will.......probably do nothing. (fade out CSI music)

So, I agreed to link my little bike-heavy corner of the internets to the DMReg but unfortunately for me, and all of you, I am freshly out of interesting things to write about. I already did my big mountain biking trip for the year and I've told the story about riding down a volcano, so what's left?

Hmmmm.

The last weekend in June I will be doing my second mountain bike race of the year at Seven Oaks in Boone. That's 2 more races than you would expect a not-a-racer like me to be doing. I guess I can write about my muddling and mucking up of that event.

In the meantime let me quickly relate another time where I encountered a mysterious agent, moving behind the scenes, against (or for?) me.

Jackie and I had just gotten married, it was Year Of Our Lord 1458 (give-or-take). At the wedding I spied a large box, artfully wrapped with silver wrapping paper and white ribbons, on the gift table. Perfectly square, strangely light and from some "distant" relatives, this enigma was sure to be opened first the next day.

So the morning after the wedding, with family and friends gathered 'round, I eagerly dove into the shiny mystery. It made an odd swishing when I gave it the Christmas present shake. Hmmm. Not towels, what could it be? Ooooo, the suspense............aaaaaand -

Tah Daah! A wooden cat.

Yes, with all the fervor of Geraldo opening Capone's vault I pulled out giant wooden cat from the box and plopped it down on the table. There were chuckles, snickers and assorted theories.

What is it?

I dunno.

Is it awesome?

I don't think so.

It had a vertical wooden dowel rod placed in between the cat front and rear. "A paper towel holder!" I boldly declared as if I had just solved a Wheel of Fortune puzzle with only 2 letters showing.

Ah Ha!

(doesn't fit on the counter due to cat's tail)

After many failed attempts at forensic identification we finally determined it was a toilet paper holder.

Good, we needed one of those. Our toilet paper is currently unheld.

This one is a dog, but you get the idea.

Unfortunately TP Kitty didn't even fit by the toilet, so she eventually had to go. We lived in some apartments so I loaded her up one day with some other junk (Oh, sorry Kitty) and took her to the dumpster that was "conveniently" located halfway across our sprawling complex. Just as I was about to throw TPK in the dumpster I felt - I dunno - bad. "Maybe you'll find another home, Kitty" I actually said out loud before setting her off to the side instead of throwing her in.

A couple of days later I woke up a went into the living room to watch my morning tv and there was TP Kitty sitting outside the patio sliding door. She was right up next to the glass like she wanted back in. Now, I'm not buying that TPK was able to magically animate herself in order to seek revenge, so some wise guy (or gal) must have put her there. Maybe it was the same somebody that suggested my blog to the Register.

The TPK case has never been solved, I doubt this blog one will be either.

Nada and Hitler

2010-05-20T06:54:00.002-05:00

Nothing.

Much.

Going.

On.

This is funny, but a warning - Hitler, in addition to his standard evilness, has no patience for cheap mountain bike wheels and roadies...and such language too.

All Good Epicness Must Come to an End

2010-05-09T22:20:00.007-05:00

This ole' boy creaked his eyelids open on the fourth and final day of the Utah adventure. By now Matt and I had this morning pre-ride routine down pat: stumble around the luxuriously appointed Rodeway Inn room, find shoes and a shirt that doesn't smell too bad then duck out into the windy and cold (yes COLD) morning and run across the street to a conveniently located breakfast buffet. All the carbs you could eat.

I like carbs.

On tap for the last day of our vacation (alas vacation, I hardly knew ye) was the highly touted JEM trail. This beauty was named, by Bicycling Magazine, the second best trail for flow in the country. For those not familiar with the lingo, "flow" is a subjective term for having that just right combination of up and down, back and forth undulation. When done properly it can make riding a trail just about effortless. To mountain bikers its akin to the perfect wave (preach on Brother Bodie).

I like flow.

We rode JEM as a loop starting at the eastern trailhead, which meant beginning with a gradual uphill for several miles along a fireroad featuring some nice views.

Once we got to the cattle gate we knew we were about turn around and head back down. Everything I had read talked about the "motorcyle speeds" you can carry down the 6-mile downhill of JEM. Beep beep, toot toot. C'ming through folks.

The bit right after the cattle gate was a little white knuckly.

I like downhills.

Sure enough, once the downhill started it only took a few turns of the peddles before I was going fast enough it didn't matter if I peddled anymore....even in my big ring up front.

Woosh, off to the races.

It was so much fun. The rain from the day before had left the red clay/dirt soft and slightly tacky, like a velvet ribbon through the sagebrush littered desert. Occasionally some rock would pop up, to keep you on your toes, but for miles it was gently twisting, cleverly undulating smooth clay. It really made you wonder how the trail builders did it. Anyone foolish enough to think trailbuilding isn't an art form has never ridden JEM.

A little past midway through JEM connects with the Hurricane Rim Trail, so we decided to take a side excursion. Not having enough time for the whole trail, we climbed some rock stairsteppy stuff to great views of the Virgin River.

Eventually we looped back to the JEM downhill again, this time riding on to the end. No problem, 'cept between us and the car was about a half mile of this cliff line cruising.

It never got real close (depending on who you ask) to the edge, and the trail was kindly free of rocks, but there were still a couple of places that gave you da hee bees-gee bees.

As strange as it seems, this cliffhanger stuff was really close to the parking lot.

That's it, we're done. Epoch.

4 days = 77 miles, almost 9,000 ft of climbing. Zero ouchies.

One big smile.

Utah Trip Report: Better Late Than Never

2010-05-05T06:22:00.006-05:00

I was only about half way through with bragging about my trip when the Bone Bender race and a big grant at work tripped me up...

So, without further Ah-doo....

Day 3 we headed out of our home base in Hurricane, Utah back to St. George and the highly popular Bear Claw Poppy trail. This is the bike powered roller coaster I first referred to in my post on jelly (by the way, "Jelly" doesn't seem to be catching on as a saying, I might need to come up with something new).

Bear Claw is basically right in town and is a fairly short 5-6 miles out. Most people ride it as an out-n-back for a 11 mile round trip. We did it a little differently, adding the parallel Bloomington Mircoloop to take us back to the beginning of the super fun "BMX" section again. So, for us it was more of an out-n-halfback-n-out-n-halfback-n-off to the side-n-are we lost?-n-its raining-n-back thing.

Almost immediately it starts off with what they call the "Three Fingers of Death". Not nearly ominous as it sounds this is a series of very steep hills. There's a few ledges thrown in for added pucker, but no real drops.

Enter, all who dare...

The big-un.

A little-un.

Next up were what they call the Acid Drops. This is a series of smaller steeps. You can't miss them as they appear when the dirt turns from the distinctive SW orange clay to a white base.

Me doing my best Johnny Cash impression. "I stepped into a burning ring of fire."

Get it? All black? Johnny Cash?....nevermind.

Once you got past the drops the real woot-woots start. The BMX portion of the is some of the most fun I've had on a bike. Its a gradual downhill with oodles of gullies to whoosh through with berms and alternate lines everywhere. It was awesome. I hit 25.7 mph somewhere in this bit. That kind of speed was available without much work and without feeling out of control. You would dip down in a gully and zip back up a 15 foot bank on the other side like it was nuthin'.

Awesome.

As I said, it was so much fun we looped back and did it twice.

Later we tried to do the Prospector/Church Rocks loop, but it was raining and very windy. We rode straight into the wind/rain, gradually uphill for 2.5 miles before it started getting really nasty (sleet)and we decided to head back. While it took us 30 minutes to ride out, it only took about 10 minutes on the way back, amazing what a little downhill and a 25 mph tailwind will do fer ya.

Wet orange slickrock looks pretty ominous, but its not too bad.

Next up, I blog on the last day of the Utah trip (as long as no shiny objects distract me between now and then, but what's the odds of that happening?)

Ain't He Cute?

2010-04-23T22:14:00.004-05:00

This is Hal.

He is a sophisticated medical simulation mannequin. He's cute, but don't make him angry. You wouldn't like him when he's angry.

He'll do things like breathe, cry and shake. He has heart and lung sounds; his chest moves up and down. He has a pulse.

He'll turn blue or red.

I'm writing a grant so we can adopt him and his 3, progressively older, brothers. Heck, while we're at it we might as well ask for 2 adults that convulse, bleed, diliate their pupils and do a whole host of other creepy things. They're not as cute.

I hope we get the grant, adoption ain't cheap.

Bone Bender (Not a Racer) Race Report

2010-04-19T15:52:00.004-05:00

Ha, me filing a "race report".

Ha.

I'm not a racer, really I'm not.

I mean - I like to go fast but I can't see being able or willing to dedicate the time and pain necessary to be truly competitive. The whole sprinting for the start, rubbing wheels thing isn't my style either. Still, I love to ride hard and challenge myself, so endurance style events are more the ticket.

The Bone Bender 3/6 hour enduro race was held this Sunday at Smithville Lake just north of Kansas City. Me, Nick and Courtney loaded up at 5:00 am and headed out of town. The venue, organization, weather, trail were all perfect.

I had a few goals for this race:

1. Finish - my only other 2 races ended in DNF's, so simply making it to the end would improve my finishing rate by 100%
2. No hard crashes - Always a good goal
3. Not dead last - ambitious, I know
4. Get to the 3rd lap - if you couldn't do the first two laps in 3 hours you couldn't go out again.
5. Finish within 20 minutes of Nick

Turn out was great with somewhere between 250-300 racers. The only drawback to such popularity was a heck of a bottleneck at the beginning of the race where slower, technically timid riders that were holding up the line. Bone Bender was billed as beginner friendly, but I don't think that was quite right for the true novice. As it was I rode with Nick, Courtney and Maria as we warmed up and passed who we could on the first lap.

The trail reminded me a little of Sugar Bottom outside of Iowa City. It was twisty HARD packed dirt with roots, rocks, ruts and creek crossings. There were a couple of technical trickies led by a side angled rock drop that might put you in the lake if you messed it up and another stair step where I saw people crash on both laps 1 und 2.

There were no killer steep climbs but it did meander up and down quite a bit more than I expected. It was a really fun course, but 11.5 definitely seemed long for one lap. The mixture of intermittent rough rock sections with baked hard dirt and roots really pummeled me. My hands/wrists, followed closely by back/neck took it the worst. I ran high pressure in my tires because I didn't want to flat, so I guess that's the price you pay. I also ran my rear shock at the firmness pro pedal. It was probably more jackhammering than I needed to take and I should've adjusted the shock and/or let some air out the tires at some point, but things were going well so I didn't mess.

Passing someone on the first lap I sucked a stick into my rear wheel and broke a spoke. Courtney, who was behind me, kept commenting on the wobble of my wheel. They're only 28 spoke rims and I'm a bigger fella (should have at least 32 of those buggers to ride rocky techy stuff). So I was careful and concentrated on picking clean lines and descending out of the saddle from then on. I cut the broken spoke between laps 1-2, asked God to kept my wheel form folding up on me and kept on ridin'; cuz that's what John Wayne woulda done.

The first lap took longer than expected due to traffic jams and my pit stop was longer than I wanted due to wrestling with a broken spoke. Ergo, I needed to do a good second lap in order to get the third. I actually felt pretty good during lap 2. Settling into a good rhythm, I was passing and getting passed but not much and not until late in the lap. Mostly I was riding by myself. I'd spot someone and ride to catch them. Once I reeled someone in I don't think I got repassed, which seems like a sign I was keeping a steady pace. I was confident in being ahead of a slew of people that wouldn't be doing a third lap so my goal of not being last was looking attainable.

Speaking of that - you know, self-doubt is a funny thing. Before the race I was walking around looking at people - fit, serious looking people - and thinking this could be a disaster. I'm probably slower than all these people, I'm going to be in the way and its going to be turrible (which is way worse than terrible).

Well, I was wrong. I'm not fast (because I'm not a racer) but I'm not totally inept either. In fact, I'm a hella lot more 'ept (?) than lots o' those folks. My bike handling is pretty good and I'm unslow on downhills. If'n I weren't so hefty I could be.....I don't know.....something. But it doesn't matter anyway, because I'm not a racer.

When I pulled up to the timing station to end lap 2 the Timer said I was at 2:50 and the "good news is you can do another lap if you want." I said, "I think I'm supposed to be happy about that."

I took a little longer break this time, working on stretching out my lower back which was taking a beatdown. The beginning of the 3rd lap was ok but the gas gauge on the ole' funmobile was running on fumes for the middle 2/3rds of the lap. I was never really miserable but I knew I didn't have a whole lot more to give either. The the short stretches of paved trail toward the end of the loop brought me back to life a little. I was finishing.

Nick and I left together on the last loop but he quickly jumped out in front of me. I thought I might catch up on a downhill or some rough section but I didn't see him again until somewhere around the 8 mile mark where the trail bent back on its self. Then I knew I was only a few minutes behind him. To tell you the truth it never really dawned on me to try catching him (see, not a racer) I guess I was most concerned with self preservation at that point.

I finished at just over 4 hours. I think I was only 3 minutes behind Nick in the end. There were a ton of 6 hour people dropping out with 3-4 laps, so it was pretty brutal for everyone. Even the mighty Blackford looked pretty wiped out after five, but he still had enough in the tank to offer a powerslide slidmark to thrill the crowd.

I had a ton of fun, met all my goals and then-some. Racing can be fun, but I'm still not a racer.

That Goose Be Cooked

2010-04-15T22:20:00.004-05:00

After surviving the sharp rocks of Bootleg Canyon Matt and I trekked north east to St. George Utah and the venerable Gooseberry Mesa.

I've read much about riding slickrock and seen mucho pictures and videos, but somethings you just have to see and feel to believe.

It's a little like God squeezed a tube of toothpaste out and it turned to rock. The rock is coarse as rough grit sandpaper. Even a little crash here would take some
serious skin with it.

While taking a break out on the point Matt munched on a granola bar. In a moment of weakness he let the wind grab the empty wrapper and carry it off the cliff. "Yeah, I'm that guy." He said in disgust as his trash swirled off the mesa. Several minutes later when we had finally moved on from what a deplorable litter bug he was that same wrapper came flying back over the top of the cliff. Unfortunately we were still unable to nab it because you don't go chasing stuff around 5000 ft above the valley floor.

The only thing that would have made that better is if it would have hit it him right in the face. That would've been truly cosmic.

Just a few miles into our skateboard park ride I noticed my Green Lantern mojo was going with the heavy metal, arm raised, fist pump action going on. He had always been fully poseable, but he apparently never felt the need to break with decorum until now. Rock on GL.

The riding was a blast. Countless dips, steps and gullies to play on. The rock gave you amazing traction to get over things you would never think possible. After awhile you start to feel like you can ride over almost anything.

Matt telling himself double red diamond (instead of black) and "Extreme Difficulty" can't really be as bad as it sounds. For once, he was right, it was exhausting but it was sawright.

Bootleg v 1.2

2010-04-10T19:15:00.006-05:00

As for the rest of our first day at Bootleg Canyon...

After resting a bit we headed out Mother, the first trail built at Bootleg. We hadn't been climbing very long when Matt stopped and said, "If I remember right, this next part is completely terrifying."

Greeeat.

He was right. There's two 2 foot drops carved into the rock between me and Matt below. The notched out nature of the drops would've made it easy to catch a peddle. You can't really appreciate the exposure from this angle, but it would have been a disastrous place to fall - along way down to some nasty looking rocks. We walked it.

Check out the vidiyah of some place on the trail.

Connecting to Mother we found the long swoopy downhill of the POW trail. That was definitely the highest speeds of the day and some of the most fun.

After another break we climbed the road that leads up the canyon (that was a serious grind) and rode down East Leg and then Girlscout again. Here's a cool helmet cam video of GS. I watched so many vids in the weeks leading up to the trip that it was like I had been there before. It was definitely a weird feeling.

(Not me)

Before calling it a day we headed out of the Middle and Lower Lake loops which criss crossed a bunch of downhill runs while dipping in and out of gullies and cruising along ridgelines.

It was a very auspicious start to the trip. I capped it off with some well earned ZZZ's next to my pal Louie.

And Yes, I'm Still Alive

2010-04-07T18:22:00.004-05:00

Almost everyone I told about my up-coming bike trip to Vegas and Utah said the same thing: "Oh...ah...uhm........please be careful." (grimace).

I wasn't sure how to take it. I mean, sure, I've had a misfortune or two....but c'mon people - have a little faith.

My-buddy-Matt-and-me arrived in Vegas on Friday with just enough time to put the bikes together and plan our attack on Bootleg Canyon for the next morning. My buddy Darren and his wife Kristen were kind enough to take us in so HUGE thanks to them.

If you don't know about Bootleg Canyon, its just outside of Vegas and it boasts some of the most renowned downhill trails in the world. Its cross country trails are highly thought of as well, having been named an IMBA Epic, and the huge Interbike trade show holds their demo days here. More about the trails here.

Ride everything (or almost everything) XC was the plan. The next day we got out there early and, in typical Brian fashion, I discovered my bike computer had not charged. Oh yes, it was plugged into my home computer to charge, but see, when the computer goes into sleep mode it doesn't charge through the USB.....and hahahaha.

No computer numbers from the first day.

I'll tell you this - it was about 6-7 hours and, by my guessitamation from the map, about 21 miles. Elevation? A pantload, that much is assured. I can't even hazard a guess.

This is the first picture of the trip. We referred to it several ways - "the before photo" the "have you seen these two?" photo.

We asked a local in the parking lot for advice. He recommended a route that started climbing the steep rocky West Leg trail first. When I said we thought most people rode up the Girlscout trail, he said "Girlscout is for girlscouts."

It might sound a little jerky, but I really didn't take it that way. He seemed like a nice guy and I was in a good mood. We decided to ditch the mas macho attitude and look for the easier Girlscout trail.... Well, we ended up on West Leg anyway. So much for easing into a groove.

Looking down at Girlscout from West Leg. Yeah, it does look a little less rocky.

The breath....it needs catching.

There were a bunch of these sketchy rock step ups. I rode a few, I passed on a few more. It was tough to gauge how much the tires were going to stick to the volcano rock (the answer is alot). The penalty for failure was often quite high. There's no shortage of sharp rock at Bootleg.

After a bit we did join Girlscout and wound our way up the canyon. GS is a twisty ribbon of bench cut trail and most of its turns are bermed, at least a little, on the outside which helps with climbing but really shines when ridden downhill. Oh yes, this Girlscout sells downhill cookies and they are tasty...but that was for later in the day.

Basically, we just kept climbing the west side of the canyon and when we got to the top of the Caldera trail I think were at the highest point of the day.

Matt preparing to do what Matt does.

From there it cruised ridgelines for awhile gradually descending to Boyscout.

That's only about 7 of the 21 miles we did that day. I will tell you more when I can think straight.

.... So, Yes, I'm still alive. My arms are full of lead and my legs have been dipped in concrete. Tumbleweeds blow through the space between my ears, but I still know I had a great time.

Where's all the Bike Related Content?

2010-03-30T07:05:00.003-05:00

I thought this was a bike blog after all. I come on here and all I find is ditties about cheerleaders, haircuts and the new hipster sayings. I've got to say, its very unjelly Bro....

Everybody's a critic (even me to myself - especially me to myself)

My trip to Vegas/Utah starts Friday. I'm going with Matt who is a strong rider and only a slight 60 pounds lighter than me. I've been riding as much as I can to reduce the distance that wascally wabbit is going to put between us on the desert singletrack. Although its never as much as you would like, I think I've been doing a pretty good job of getting out.

Here's a couple of pictures from Saturday at Banner, thanks to my riding buddy and photog extraordinaire, Nick.

I call this Elevator hill. I can punch the UP button and wait all day, the 'vator to the top isn't coming. For now I have to take "the stairs" (walk up). This is the only bit I can't do out at Banner now, maybe by the end of this season.

This is what I call Fox Hole Hill. That mound in the near left of the picture is a fox hole, or some other critter's lair. We built a burm on top of it. I guess that's sorta like having a freeway bypass going through your backyard.

You can see the "O" on my face from the "WoooHooo!" I'm doing.

Jelly.

The Cheerleader in my Gym Bag

2010-03-24T06:54:00.005-05:00

I have a cheerleader stashed away at the bottom of my gym bag. I keep her there, just for me.

Ok, fine its just a picture, but it is personalized. It says, "Cheers Brian" and I know she really means that.

Jackie picked this gem up for me at a charity benefit dinner she went to for work. Bringing me my own personal cheerleader, is that a great wife or what? I threw my cheerleader in the bag to take to work and she just kinda stayed there. Its a good place for her to provide encouragement.

Her name is Elizabeth, but I call her Liz. She likes that.

Despite the sweaty clothes, shoes and stuff thrown on top of her she always stays high energy and perky-positive for Team Brian.

She always thinks I can do it. I like that.

Black Tie Affair...of Death

2010-03-16T21:50:00.005-05:00

A. Doctors wear neckties

B. Doctors see sick people

C. Sick people cough, sneeze and otherwise project their germyness precisely at tie-level.

D. Ties rarely ever get washed

A+B+C+D = a brightly colored, interesting patterned landingstrip of disease and pestilence hanging from the neck of your physician.

Who knew? Well, apparently these guys did, back in 2004.

Luckily you can now buy antibacterial ties. I like this one based on the H1N1 pandemic. You know, because pandemics are just so whimsical.

Or you can go in another direction with these "awareables" ties. Not only do they adorn necks, they also "educate" the public. I like the Mad Cow one,

or maybe the Ebola.

I'm guessing people with Ebola probably don't need their awareness raised, what with the bleeding eye sockets and all....but just in case we have these cute little reminders.

I see plenty of doctors everyday at work. Starting tomorrow I'm eradicating any non-antimicrobial ties that I see. Its me against the bacterial neckwear. They're gross, but I'm pretty badass too and I have scissors. We'll see who wins this one.

Oh yes, we will see.

It's all- Jelly Bro

2010-03-09T07:23:00.003-06:00

My soon-to-be 14 year old daughter tells me one of the new hip words is "beast" (incidentally "hip" isn't "hip"). If I understand usage correctly "beast" can be proclaimed any number of ways "that's so beast", "I'm beast" or simply "dude, beast".

That got me thinking (dangerous) there must be some group of kids, probably in So Cal or someplace "beastish" that sits around trying to come up with the latest sayings. Its probably a pretty trial and error operation with lots of attempts that never catch on. The satisfaction they must derive from getting one to actually stick must be pretty....well....beast.

So then why does the So Cal teenie beasters have all the influence? Why can't any one of us start a saying? I think I'm going to give it my own try with "Jelly". Obviously, I was making a PB&J when it came to me that PB's lesser known partner, Jelly, deserves its day in the sun. Most everyone likes jelly and its musical cousin, Jam, has a long history in certain circles. Jelly is sweet tasting and "sweet" is another bit of nomenclature that has stood the test of time.

So, if you would remember you heard it here first that would be totally jelly dude. By way of visual example, one of the first trails we will be riding in St. George is the Bear Claw Poppy trail, its a bike powered rollercoaster that gonna be righteously jelly (hey, bearclaw pastry kinda has jelly in it, doesn't it?).

Anywho, check out the Jellytude.

What is it With Me and Haircuts?

2010-03-04T21:07:00.005-06:00

Some of my more loyal readers (2) will remember a past incident involving a very complicated haircut.

Well, it happened again - haircut weirdness. I think I attract this haircut weirdness, sort like a lightning rod attracts electrical particles from the sky.

While this was not as dramatic as the last time (as if anything could top the Mad Hair Scientist). It did make me laugh.

I had some time to kill after Allie's concert at the MALL because I had inexplicably agreed to let her do some MALL ratting for awhile after her performance. So I thought I'd slip out of the MALL (my favorite place to be) and go just down the street to "Create Glips" (the place where the previous incident went down).

Due to various logistical problems I had all-but decided I wasn't going to slip out after all and would instead find another way to kill a half hour. Then I walked by what-I-will-call the "hair place". It actually had "Design" and I think "Studio" and maybe "Style" in the name, (none-of-which my usual hair place have) so I was a little out-of-sorts right off the bat.

I actually did the walk by double-take - walked by, turned around...uh, nah....turn around again...wait, too much MALL time to kill....turn, hey that sign says $10 off haircuts...pacing a bit now, hmmm, that's a lot off a haircut, how much are these fancy haircuts?.....sign says "walk-ins welcome"....

Ok, ok, fine...

Boom, I'm in.

A guy is at the counter paying for what looks like a very ordinary haircut. This is a good sign.

I'm next and my "stylist" walks me back to her "station" but then tries to detour me to the sink/chair line for a quick shampoo. "Oh no," I tell her "I just want a haircut."

"But it relax you" (I'm not saying anything about ethnicity here)

"That's ok, I'm pretty relaxed."

She was not buying it, but we were moving on.

The haircut was going fine. She was nice and made decent small talk. Then I made a crack about "hating" a small streak of gray hair in the front of my head. This innocent (I don't really care) remark launched a cut, color, style, feather, comb-down barrage of possible techniques. At one point she said some people shave off the little patch in the center of your head to get rid of bangs that hang down (really?). "Wow, that just sounds like shaving a hole the middle of your head to me" I said.

And were moving on again.

I was learning a lot and it was really augmenting my training from last time, it was like earning CEU's.

At one point she told me how she cuts big (see "Fat") guy's hair to be contoured in the back so it hides their neck fat.......I'm going to say that again - SO IT HIDES THEIR NECK FAT.

Gotta say I did not see that one coming. Lesson on neck fat camouflage, check.

Moving on.

The hair cut is over, I'm heading toward the front to pay, she says "I know you don't want it, but let's rinse the hair off you, that hair not good for you, get in eyes."

".....uhm....ok...wait...what?"

(I'm sitting down in the sink/chair now)

(water runs)

"You relax."

(Um, ok)

Just water so far then, BAM, shampoo in my hair...aaaaand rubbing.

(Hey, this feels pretty good, I guess)

The other stylist, from the back of the SALON, says "You have a good shampoo."

I said, "She tricked me."

We all laughed, I'm still laughing.

The rest of the experience went off without a hitch and I'm sure to be looking 15 years younger with my new skill set. If I ever really let myself go and get unsightly neck fat I'm set for what to do there as well.

PS:

I really think I might be turning into a freakish little man that weird stuff just sorta happens to....until finally one day......he goes loony.

I'm going to Uuuu-tah, I'm going to Uuuu-tah

2010-03-01T19:22:00.004-06:00

Sometime in the early throes of the nastiest winter on record I declared, "I'm riding someplace warm for my birthday!".

And so it was: the gauntlet thrown down, the ship set a course - I would RIDE, it was a matter of HONOR. My birthday was January 10th.

You know what I did 1-10? Well, that's-really-none-of-your-business but, I can tell you this: I wasn't riding someplace warm.

As it turns out, even matters of HONOR are no sure bet. So, after several tries - including a double spearheaded attempt to take in the ISU bowl game and some Arizona singletrack - I had given up and resigned myself to a spring full of a snowy, muddy, mushy, mess.

Then, what's this? The pieces starting coming together (even if I wasn't escaping winter anymore). An available mountain bike buddy, cheap flights to Vegas and the ability to crash with another friend made the plan complete. The Utah mountain biking haven of St. George and Hurricane are only a few hours drive from Vegas, so we will be staying a couple of days in canyon and mesa country in addition to taking in Bootleg Canyon and maybe Red Rock Canyon and/or Blue Diamond.

To say I'm excited doesn't quite capture it.

Here's a cool video that compiles 3 of the trails we plan to ride.

Giddy Up.

Awww, Phone, Yip Yip Yip Yip

2010-02-26T06:55:00.003-06:00

One of the many important things I was doing while I was away from my blog was dealing with the departure of my long time secretary (and friend) at work. She left for greener ($$$) pastures and I was left picking up the pieces. Having a good (okay, great) secretary means you don't have to worry about a myriad of things like, "Where's this get filed?" "How does this get paid?" "How do you put out this fire?"

In short, you become something of a helpless little work baybee. Working in a field such as biomedical research doesn't exactly simplfy matters either, but it wasn't the complicated stuff that tripped me up, it was the little stuff.

One of the worst things about the whole ordeal (and there were many) was her phone, the main office number, was forwarded to me. Great, the general public calling me on my fancy shamancy Nortel phone which has lots of buttons which are a mystery to me. One day it went like this:

"Hello"

"Yes, may I speak with Dr. (Blank)?"

"I'm sorry, he's not in the office at the moment, can I take a message?"

"Oh, well, could you transfer me to his voicemail?"

(pause, long pause)

"Um yeah, I'm real sure I don't know how to do that."

(laughter)

"...but I do have a pen and paper and I know how to write"

(laughter)

"Ok my name is (blank) and he can reach me at (blank)"

Figuring out that damn phone looked a little something like this:

We'll Call it a Hiatus

2010-02-23T19:19:00.007-06:00

Ok, so I've been gone for awhile, off in my own little JD Salinger style reclusion.

Been kickin' it hermit style.

Although I know people (2) might have missed my little speck of the internets, I can offer no apology for my absence, primarily because I was off doing stuff...

...lots of important stuff; things I'm sure you wouldn't understand....

What?

Hey, I couldda been doing stuff, you don't know.

Don't try to guilt a recluse like me, you'll only force me back into the tree stump a la Punxsutawney Phil, post scary shadow (by the way, screw you Phil).

Now, about the things I may or may not have been doing while I was away...

I might have been:

1. Shoveling snow - Snow blowers are for the weak and unprincipled elitists. At least that's what I thought before I shoveled approximately 100,000 square inches of snow this year. These figures are based on a 15 ft x 9ft driveway x 58 inches of snowfall.

Here's a little tidbit fer ya - we've had more snow than Anchorage Alaska.

Um, Yeah.

Jackie tried to call BS on my shoveling calculations, but I didn't even include sidewalks, drifting and snowplow piles. Don't go there Woman.

2. Getting fat

3. Contemplating a 650b bike

4. Playing Bejeweled Blitz on Facebook

5. And not much else.

Anywho I'm sorta back. I think, maybe.

Spooky Woods Mud Style (Just So Ya Know)

2009-11-02T18:55:00.008-06:00

Last year Spooky Woods looked like this:

and this:

This year, because it was the third wettest October ever, Spooky couldn't be held at the traditional Sycamore trail, or at last year's highly successful Denmans, due to mud. This year a small band of "Plan Bers" rode out the Great Midwestern (paved) trail and built a fire under the highway bridge.

Rockin the Halloween hobo style.

I didn't take any pictures, but it looked sorta like this.

Nick and I stopped back in Orlandos for some grub after the fire. There were only a few people in the bar and they were screeching out some Karaoke. While I was polishing off a lovely house salad I had a charming young lady inform me, "Just so ya know, I am a midget stripper from Hollywood." This, as far as I could tell, was accurate. She certainly was a little person...as for her profession and hometown, I can only take her word.

I think I said, "well...ok." or something devastatingly charming like that.

A grade for the night? Well, it was a little lame, but still strangely fun. When you (basically) end it with "Just so ya know...midget stripper...Hollywood."

Well, then I think you've got something.

Just so ya know.

Crowder Revisited: Always Have a Map

2009-10-21T11:29:00.017-05:00

Corey and I made our way down to Crowder State Park for some good clean mountain biking fun last year. We were pleasantly surprised with the hilly, rocky and rooty trails we found in this northern Missouri state park. Since we didn't get to ride all of it last year, we vowed to return...

For this year's trip we recruited Nick and Sam into the crew and headed down on Monday.

Crowder is purdy.

I had printed off some local riding tips off the interwebz last year but conveniently forgot to bring them along. This time around I had our little nuggets of wisdom. Apparently Corey and I rode the opposite of the recommended route much of the time last year, but I'm not convinced it matters much as either direction has plenty of hills.

This year we were determined to hit what we missed, the farthest loop, North Thompson. Last year we had a sweet topo map that we got from the trailhead, this year no dice. I could've brought the online map, but I don't think it would've done us much good.

What we should've done was this:

View Larger Map

What we did was this:

We basically missed the east sides of North Thompson and Tall Oaks Trails. We didn't have enough gumption to tackle the River Forks this time around. We also missed the Steep Creek connector on the way back. Its too bad because, with the exception of North Thomson, we missed some of the best trail at Crowder.

There's not a lot of signage at Crowder, but at least what's there is a little confusing. This junction is where we wrong on the Steep Creek and Tall Oaks return route.

Crowder has a lot of wide, double track trail, but it is littered with roots, rocks, ruts and this time of year...leaves. Occasionally a boggy wetspot will slow you down and in the multi-use sections of trail deep pock marks caused by horses hooves try to swallow you whole. It was just wet enough in the low spots and creek crossings to remind me of my beloved Voodoo's biggest weakness - mud clearance.

Action photos

Here's the photo for our (pretend) band's album cover. We're so introspective.

We found the 1800's Thompson manor house, it's very ghosty.

Even though some better navigation would have made our excursion better, it was still an exhausting good time.

Don't Say "Hike"

2009-10-14T07:04:00.008-05:00

Even if you really want to, or need to, don't say "hike" around the dog; unless you're ready to go (NOW!) and you are prepared to take him along.

Allie let our intentions slip Sunday morning well before we were ready to leave. Her unauthorized release of information casued quite the frenzy of jumping, pleading and spazzy doggie dance steps all around the house.

He can't help it, he likes:

the car,

and associated wind

and, of course, the trail.

We went to the Center trails and then hit the new sculpture park downtown. I was worried about Trail Dog keeping his city manners in check and mainly not peeing (or doing other bodily functions) in the park.

Luckily he was a model citizen, a refined dog out for a high-brow afternoon of viewing art.

Whiterock Again

2009-10-11T16:19:00.002-05:00

Hey, found my camera cord. Here's some photos from Whiterock Conservancy and the Ales and Trails CITA event.

WR is getting a large federal grant to construct dirt trail on their land. Let's hope bike friendly singletrack gets the nod.

The land is beautiful, it could be a real midwest mountain biking destination if they do it right.

The End of Gnomerlcy

2009-10-04T21:18:00.009-05:00

The frontier chill crept in to where he slept and enveloped the Outlaw, pressing down on him with the finality of his Last Day. On the nightstand sat a weathered, leather bound Bible, its tissue thin pages ruffled open to John 14:27. It read, "Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid."

The grizzled old Pastor knew exactly which verse to leave. That was the easy part, he'd sent many a condemned man to the gallows pole; ushered many a soul to its Earthly end...

...ok so, once again, that was over dramatic. I wasn't exactly a dead man walking, but it was the last day of the Gnome Fest and that's a bummer too. Maybe not as much as being executed, but I'm not splitting hairs with you.

We made sure to get up and get moving early enough to break camp and hit the Mounds one more time. There were a couple of short stretches of trail we hadn't hit yet and we were motivated to do 'em all.

Melissa headed out early on her second ladies only ride. She discovered that although she's only been riding a short time, she can already hang with the ladies of Gnome Fest.

I should probably mention now that Melissa dubbed herself as unofficially, officially in charge of our mini-fire making. She demonstrated her prowess by executing the rare and difficult double handed lighter fire starting technique.

Melissa's Estrogen Ride left the boys to do our thing. We again headed out on Dump, Snodgrass and Prime Cut mostly to show Matt he was incorrect in his claim they were "boring". We hit Porky Point and Upper Glen this time along with Toad Raod and Northface again.

We found the lookout.

We staged some epicness.

We treed some porkypines. Yep, real live pinchusions. I didn't even know they lived in the Midwest, let alone Wisconsion.

We rode the Plummer's Crack in the opposite direction this time (my idea). This way meant hitting a very long, fairly steep climb before getting to the Crack. Remember, it looks like this:

Coming through the very narrow part I rubbed the rock a bit with my hand. Once I got it straightened out I thought the best thing to do would be to give it a power stroke on the peddle. Well, I wasn't straightened out enough or I was too wobbly from 2 days of riding plus a long climb. Whatever the reason I quickly realized I wasn't going to stay on the nice little bridge. I bailed out, basically setting my bike off the side while coming down lightly (as can be expected) on the bridge. I landed a little further down from where Corey is standing contemplating my failure. I was most worried about getting my fingers cobbled up in the wooden slats, but I escaped with just a little tweeking of the digits. Whew! That was Type 2 fun for sure.

Unfortunately it was a long drive back to reality and we needed to get on the road. I thoroughly enjoyed the laid back atmosphere, crazy events, unique characters and above all the miles of great trails. I would be remiss to not make Gnome Fest a priority in future Festing plans.

Gnomenclature

2009-10-01T17:55:00.023-05:00

The sun, playing a golden reveille over the pines, announced to camp that another day was not going to wait for them to recover. Inside haphazardly set tents the weary eyelids of soldiers cracked open, their fatigued minds replaying a litany of triumphs and tragedies from the previous day. Outside, the remnants of yesterday’s battle lay strewn across the sand choked grass. In places embers still burned. Several hulking metal carcasses lay in ruin, their insides empty as a string of broken promises…….

...Ok, so that was overly dramatic again. No, it wasn’t exactly a Civil War battle scene. The parts of "soldiers" were played by a ragtag band of mountain bike festivalers and technically speaking the embers were from a festive roaring bonfire…

and I guess the metal carcasses were actually just kegs. Hey, they were empty (as broken promises) though.

We went out three separate times on Day 2. Some of the following gnomeyness was borrowed from this treasure trove of elfin goodness.

'Nuther map in case your following along.

The first time out we rode up North Face, along Cliffhanger and Switchback and back down Hermosa's swoopy descent. We cut it pretty short because some people in our group were still feeling the first night afterfest effect.

We found the infamous Plumber's Crack on Toad Road, riding it up the slope this time around. We would reverse the direction on Sunday with interesting results for Yours Truly.

Is that Corey hiding behind a tree, or perhaps a gnome?

5.8 miles. 1055 feet of climbing.

In the early afternoon, we hit the skills loop for a couple of college tries. I liked the stunts because I'm really terrible at skinnies and these were a little wider and sturdy. Even though there was only one truly anorexic stunt, they were all still challenging.

More stunt pics from Lucy's Loop here

Instead of the Alley Cat race, Nick Corey and I opted to head off for trails furthest from camp, Goat Dance, et al. We knew a trail with that kind of name would feature some painful climbing...and it did. We took Snodgrass and Prime Cut out there, nice flowy lowland trails, perfect for warming up.

Aw, a fern gully, there must be gnomes in there somewhere.

Top a ' the Goat, Ma!

11.78 miles, 1488 feet of climbing.

We again hem and hawed about a night ride, but who would want to miss the Mini Cycle Death Race? This clip was from an early race, it went down (or up?) hill from there. Either way, this is a family blog and what happens at Gnomefest, stays at Gnomefest (kinda, sorta).

Our Very Own, Melissa, tried her hand (and tutu) at the race. She was the only contestant that sat on the bike the whole way.

This pictures sums it up pretty well. The Flickr caption is Caveman v. Zebraman. The names of the racers were colorful, the heckling/cheering (?) was hilarious. It was quite the spectacle.

Starting early and rollin' on into the evening...handlebar rides for many of the ladies....play on Playah.

Beer potluck; I couldn't resist having a Hamm's (the beer refreshing, the beer refreshing...Hamm's) .

Coming next: Happy Trails to us on the final morning.

Adventure in the Land of Cheese

2009-09-25T22:42:00.013-05:00

The brisk September pre-dawn was an unremarkable grey, the way fall mornings often are when they march on toward winter. This morning, however, brightly distinguished itself over its monochromatic clones by offering the vibrant tinge of anticipation. The sun, straining to peer over the horizon, slowly began to fray the blanket of autumnal sky, which first let in wisps and then broad shafts of warming peach and blue light. In the cool, still air hung the scent of drying leaves, grass and adventure.

My bags, packed tight with meticulously inventoried gear, impatiently awaited the approaching caravan. They seemed to know, like I did, this would be a journey like none before it. We were taking a sojourn north, into the wild….

…Ok, so that was a little over the top dramatic. What I meant to say was that me and a bunch of mountain bike buddies headed to Wisconsin a couple of weeks ago in search of sweet singletrack mountain biking, great camping and festivities and…..gnomes. We found all three during Gnomefest 6 at Levis Trow Mounds.

Luckily we had a sweetass custom gnome parking pass, made by my sweetass scrapbooking wife (oh yeah, I said it.)

We were welcomed to camp by this big boy and his nearly identical mate. I don't remember their names but they were as gentle as can be. In the picture Ole' Boy is 'bout to swipe some of Cooper's food on-account of him being so good at being sneaky.

Our Day 1 plan was to: A.) set up camp B.) eat lunch C.) ride. In our excitement to get gnome hunting we forgot B and went straight to C. We headed out to take on some wonderfully varied, sometimes tricky and always invigorating trail. Our initial route took us up Lower Glen to the aptly named Swamp Cut and then to Yellowjacket before arriving at the widely recommended Sidewinder.

Lower Glen, along with the other lowland trails at Levis reminded me a lot of the twisty, rooty hardpack dirt of Sugarbottom. Swamp Cut takes roots to a whole other level though. Sometimes the roots are the trail. Where the roots subside the trail builders have patched in corduroy, which is a method for making chronically wet trail ridable by using wood as an embedded bridge of sorts.

They have all sorts of boardwalks and bridges. All of them were sturdy and fun to ride.

Those two pictures lifted from here.

The thing I remember most about Yellowjacket is the killer climb at the end. It doesn’t get extremely steep, but it is very long and had me huffing good by the time we reached the top. Sidewinder, what to say about Sidewinder? Don't look down. Its not too technical, with only a few rocks and some sand, but it raises the pucker all the same.

Not us, video lifted from Tou Yube

The bridge toward the end kinda appears outta nowhere, but its nice and wide as well as short. No freakout zone.

My pal Corey made it neatly through all the sketchy, exposed stuff only to have a tree jump out in front of him and take him down on the backside of the ‘Winder. Mischievous gnomes perhaps?

We headed back toward the campground on Upper, Middle and Lower Hermosa. Hermosa featured some swoopy, highly banked downhilll switchbacks filled with sand and roots. They were perfectly spaced and shaped for some natural wall-riding(ish) action. Matt coined the term “switchpipe” to reflect the section's halfpipe nature. It was ridiculous fun.

There's a fair amount of sand at Levis. On the uphills it steals your spirit, on downhill turns it can hug your front tire and send you scrambling off the front, or side, of your bike. I had a couple of decent sand saves including one that seemed to last 10 minutes. After washing out in the sand I scrambled off the falling bike but it wasn't done with me yet. The bike chased me down the hill while I hopped, skipped and jumped around to keep my balance. Heck, I even ducked a limb in mid save. Ninja.

After getting back to camp we hemmed and hawed vigorously about going out again or doing the planned group nightride. Most opted for naught, but Matt did head off into the dark, headlights blazin'. He said the Hermosa switchpipe was something else at night. We chose to play it safe and live to fight another day. 7.5 miles, 800 feet of climbing. It doesn't sound like much, but it was highly satisfying none-the-less.

I shouldn't be allowed to have this much fun.

Whiterock Rocks

2009-09-21T20:55:00.006-05:00

I know I still need to pen a Gnomefest ride report, but I went to CITA's Ales and Trails event at Whiterock Conservancy this weekend, so I'll have to get back to the gnomes at another time.

Despite our relative inexperience as a camping family (nil) I'd say we did pretty darn good. All family members had a whiterockin' good time, particularly Trail Dog who has decided he is now Camping Dog.

Without a leash law Captain was free to roam the campground, making best friends - canine and human - everywhere he went.

He was bombed by the end of Saturday.

Jackie and the girls had a great time. Katie made a new best friend in Teri and Squirrel's daughter Izzy.

Allie had a good time with Matt and Melissa daughter, Mica.

Ryan's kids were adorable dynamos as well.

Late on Night 2, after 2 rides, some good food and a beer or two my back started hurting a bit so I laid down flat on a picnic table seat. Inside the barn Brother Trucker was warming up, outside kids were playing and the adults were mulling around. The next thing I know little Amos is right at eye level asking me "Are you down?"

I affirmed that I was, in fact, down. He confirmed "You are down." His older brother, Parker also came over to verify that I was indeed "down". All this helped to get me back up. Thanks guys.

Here they are motoring in Izzy's superfly pink Jeep.

Brother Trucker rocked that little old barn hard. Since the crowd was pretty modest it was like having our own private show. At one point in the night I made the mistake of parking my bike next to the keg. Later when I returned it was missing. I looked but didn't see it anywhere. Eventually I found the bikenapper (Matt) and he gave up its position (tree). Why I didn't think to look in the tree right next to the keg I'll never know. Let that be a lesson to all of you - if you lose a bike (especially in the vicinity of a keg) always look in the trees.

My wife has temporarily relieved me of the cord that connects my camera to the computer by putting it somewhere that she would remember it. Ah yeah, I've done that about a million times so I can't say much. I think I have some really cool scenery shots. There is no shortage of impressive river valley views at the Rock. I'll post 'em up when we solve our little technical difficulty.

As for the trails, I will do another post on them when I get the GPS data loaded up and find that pesky camera cord.

Overall it was good times with some good friends.

Beam Me Aboard, Specialized

2009-09-17T17:30:00.006-05:00

We interrupt the regularly scheduled Gnomefest Ride Report for breaking news about a stunning new addition to the Specialized Trail Crew….me.

Well, ok, not yet.

I still have to convince the benevolent and wise reviewers at Specialized (Yea Specialized!) that I’m the right dude for the gig. If I’m deemed Crew worthy they will hook me up with a 2010 S-Works Stumpjumper FSR for a year.

Oooooooo

And a bunch of cool gear

Ahhhhhh

And arrange for a couple of bike trips to fabulous destinations in order to get the most out of the whole shabang.

Woot.

All they want from me is to do what I love to do anyway – ride bikes and spin the tales that ensue. The more I write the cheaper the bike gets….until eventually (drumroll please)…….its free. Does it get better than that? Not without doing something illegal.

As anyone who reads my blog knows, I have a real affinity for making lists and stuff, so check it out:

Humanitarian Angle:

I suffer from a condition known as Bicycle Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I, uhm, think about bikes a lot.

Ah yeah, I, like love them.

If I’m not riding a bike I like to read about them, or look at pictures of them, or write my own little ditty about their awesomosity. I’m sure the other Crew members will be fellow sufferers. I need this support system to help manage my condition. Only you, Mr. / Ms. Trail Crew reviewer person can help me. For pennies a day, won’t you help me?

Communication Angle:

I’m good with words and stuff. Some might say I’m loquacious, but I prefer to think of myself as a blackbelt in the little known martial art of Word Fu. I write grants, technical reports and things for a living and blog about bikes and things for fun. I always seem to find some little adventure or mission to occupy me. If there's nothing interesting I'm not adverse to making things up, just a little. Fortunately, I rarely have to improvise because I have a way of finding the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune.

Target Demographic Angle:

I am an overgrown, middle-aged, Manboy. At 39 years old I like nothing better than dropping the 3 off the front and acting like I’m 9 again. Mountain biking provides the best platform I can think of for doing exactly that. I’m betting a fair amount of Specialized (Yea, Specialized!) consumers are squarely in this demographic. We’ve got a little change in our pockets going jingle-langle-jingle and we can’t wait to drop it on the newest, bestest bike stuff out there. In addition I have carefully positioned myself into the most relatable, least threatening style of rider around. In most cases I’m not the fastest guy on the block and not the guy you end up waiting for hoping he’s not dead on the side of the trail. I am the exact right amount of proficient and deficient at the same time. Don’t ask me how I do it, true averageness is just a gift I guess.

Amateur Hypnotist (aka Pathetic Angle):

Look into my eyes….you are getting sleepy….giiiiive…meeeeee….the…..biiiiike.

Lightly Veiled Threat (aka Really Pathetic Angle):

Hopefully this plea will work so I don’t have to go all Plan B and send my legions of blog readers to boycott and protest. They’re a peaceful bunch, but I wouldn’t push it if I were’s you.

I Wish I Was A Gnome

2009-09-14T19:15:00.009-05:00

I wish I was a gnome.

I really, really do.

So's I could live in the woods,

and ride my bikes in them too.

If I'd be a gnome

I'd hanker for a Fest,

where's me and my pals

could do what we like best.

If I were a gnome

I'd ride all the time

and not even care

that I cannot rhyme.

__________________________________________________________________

Obviously, I had a hoo hoo hoot of a time at Gnomefest VI. I'll post more of a ride(s) report later. The trails at Levis Mounds are pretty fantastic and they were in perfect shape.

Your Fortune is Moot

2009-09-09T21:52:00.002-05:00

I went to a Chinese buffet today for lunch.

When I opened my fortune cookie at the end of the meal I had NADA in the cookie (its not really a cookie, but that's a whole 'nuther post)

zero,

zilch,

nothing.

I figger it either means my possibilities are WIDE OPEN...

or...

I'm doomed.

Not sure which yet...I'll haveta get back witch ya on that one.

Gnome Fest VI Roll Call

2009-09-08T17:35:00.006-05:00

Jerry is in...

...his friend Jim is in too.

Those two make a caustic pair, I'm sure.

Squirrel and Teri are out. I like Jerry and Jim, but this is not a fair trade :-(

At least Jerry doesn't make me feel slow and Jim...well he just has a way of encouraging you to achieve greatness.

Nick, Corey, Matt, Melisa and maybe Sammy are in too, are you?

Football Eve 2009

2009-09-02T16:00:00.008-05:00

In case you are unawares, the day before the kickoff off to the college football season is now officially known as Football Eve. Modeled after Christmas Eve, this holiday rings in joy (and pain) for a solid five months of the year. With football in some form on Monday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday and Sunday you have games 5 nights a week for 5 months, equaling roughly 100 days of entertainment. Football Eve is the day before all that goes down.

Yeah, it’s a real holiday; and it’s awe-some.

I should know; I invented it.

Every holiday has to have traditions; Festivus has feats of strength and airing of grievances, Football Eve has the annual rule/policy change proposals. Gather 'round kids, they're so much fun!

1.Encourage Coach Melt-Downs:

Men, there’s nothing more cathartic than blasting a 120 pound, bespectacled reporter for asking some asinine question right after bleeding through your eyeballs and still losing the heartbreaker. You are hereby directed to just let ‘em have it. No really, you have our blessing.

2.Cheerleaders: more of ‘em.

3.Mascot Battle Royale:

Sometimes when the game is out of hand the interaction between the opposing teams bird or beast is the most interesting thing to watch. Some of the best sports TV ever filmed is of mascots getting genuinely irked and throwing down on each other. Its wrong to promote violence but this has to be an exception. I think we should encourage it (alcohol, whispered taunts). In addition to the charged up sideline antics we could pit mascot vs. mascot at centerfield to start the game. When the feathers and fake fur settle the victor gets the ball first (you will see how this relates to my kicker clause in proposal #10).

4.Gladiator Style Games at Halftime:

Similar in principle to #3 this proposal aims to take it up a notch. No more lip-syncing Ashley Simpson “musical” renditions, no more marching bands (sorry to those band fans). Instead the opposing team's equipment managers, athletic trainers and water boys/girls duke it out in tests of strength, speed and cunning. Again, weapons would make things more interesting, but we do want to keep things family friendly.

If the marching bands want to get back into the action I say make both take the field at the same time and battle for musical supremacy. May the baddest muther of a Sousaphone player survive (and play his/her band's tribute to Michael Jackson)!

5.Did I mention cheerleaders? Stack ‘em high. I like my cheerleaders in complex geometric shapes. Instead of the traditional towers and pyramids coulda a brother get a trapezoid?

6.Play the Final Jeopardy music when the ref is reviewing a play “under the hood”. Nothing to really be gained here, I just think it would be funny.

7.Actually keep the backup quarterback in a glass case, with the familiar “In case of emergency break glass” sign on the front. It would be so dramatic - the starter hobbles off, crowd is hushed, the trainers are looking at his knee, they shake their head "no" to the coach who turns and gives the nod to the equipment manager (the only one to survive halftime) who takes the little mallet, tells QB2 to shield his eyes and then literally breaks the glass because this is an emergency. Drama I tell ya, damn near pageantry.

8.Somebody round up Terrel Owens, Jerry Jones and his Jumbo Dumbatron, Ocho Cinco, Favre, Tony Kornheizer, Phil McGwire, Michael Vick, Gene Chizik and even John Madden and set them a drift in the Indian Ocean. Could we do that? I think they would be relatively safe, even sharks have standards.

9. More Erin Andrews please.

10. Eliminate kickers: I mean get rid of them altogether. Fire the kickoffs out of a mini cannon that could be pulled off the field (or not?) after the kick. That would add a certain something to the gameday experience I’d say.

Extra points are out too; there’s just something very unfootballish about kicking a little extra point. Oooo, PUFF! (that’s the sound the ball makes when its kicked) we got a whole extra point! Yea Team!

B.S.

Either make touchdowns 7 points or require the team to go for two every time.
Just pull down the goal posts, ‘cuz we don’t need ‘em anymore. Field goal?! Don’t get me started. We have a whole nuther sport for kickers, it’s called soccer.

Punting would also have to go. Either make teams go for it every time or see previous provision for mini-cannon.

So, that’s my 10. I haven’t heard back from the leagues yet, but I’m sure they're just trying to sort and process all the badassness that was just conferred upon them.

FOOTBALL EVE!

New Crew Member for Gnome Fest

2009-08-30T10:47:00.002-05:00

Because everybody needs somebody, I thought our resident Gnome, Billy

could use a little company at da Fest.

Through the miracle of Ebay, enter Jerry:

This is what Ebay had to say about him:

NEW Farting Gnome Sassy Novelty for Garden Yard

He looks cute enough, but when you pass by this Farting Gnome lets out unexpected gassy explosions along with a series of several seam-splitting comments sure to stun his victims. Hidden motion sensor is sure to surprise all that cross his path. Durable PVC. 11" Tall. Uses 2 AA batteries, not included.

Now, how was I supposed to resist that? I mean REAL-LY.

There's a little back story to choosing the name Jerry. My pal Joel used to call all his friends (so it wasn't a big problem) either Billy, lil Billy, Jerry or maybe Captain or Cap. He said it was to simplify things. Truth is it amused him in a way only your own little asinine joke can. He'd call me, say "Hey, Billy." I eventually learned to reply "What's up Jerry?". We still play this game from time to time. I used to try thinking up other names to call him, usually something feminine. (Ring) "What's up Jerry?" (sometimes he'd switch it up on you) "Not much Lilly.......Tomlin". Ah, the things you do to amuse yourself....

...like buy a farting gnome.

Green Lantern and a Wolverine

2009-08-24T20:21:00.007-05:00

After taking the dog out to Banner for a hike on Sunday I had to get back out there on the bike.

I also had a new mojo, the Green Lantern, to test out. He is more formal than Fez (my single speed mojo). For example, he insists on calling me "Citizen". "The trail looks clear, Citizen." Thanks superhero dude.

Green did his job admirably early in the ride, stopping me moments before I destroyed my headphones. I haven't been doing much solo riding this year, so I completely forgot I'd hooked my iPod up but didn't put the headphones in my ears. About 30 yards into the trail it felt like a vine grabbed me from behind, when I looked back this is what I saw.

They are a wrap around design, just not wrap around your cassette. It is amazing I didn't cut or nick the cord or chew up the earbuds. They did need a little reshaping, but all things considered I got off easy. " Your headphones are now safe! Onward with easy listening, Citizen!" Uhm, yeah....thanks dude. We're going to have to work on his demeanor.

Banner's north side was in great shape and Riverside wasn't too bad. The big bridge is back. I don't really know how, but its back.

It reminded me of Richard Chamberlin's shipwreck in Shogun.

I don't know why I thought of the old TV mini-series based on James Clavill's book, but it did. I remember watching it in elementary school and wanting to be a Samuari, bad. Me and the rest of the boys would battle (BONZAI!) with sticks during recess for the sake of Bushido. I should watch that show again to see if it stands the test of time.

On my 2nd of 3 laps I had the misfortune of encountering a wolverine heading in the opposite direction. No not this kind:

this kind:

A serious disagreement about trail right-of-way ensued. Unfortunately, for us both, it escalated to a throw down. Wolverines are tough customers so blood was spilt, but he finally succumbed to reason, along with upper cuts and left hooks.

At least that's how I think it went down....It was either that or I ran into this bunch of roughly broken off tree limbs that were hidden by the light/shade shadows and obscured by the low hanging branch...either way, I won (kinda, sorta, but not really).

Minor arm carnage.

Stupid wolverines.

High Trestle and Trail Dog

2009-08-23T20:42:00.004-05:00

Nick and I rode the Ankeny to Woodward (A2W) trail on Saturday. I guess its recently been renamed the High Trestle Trail for obvious reasons.

Its smooth pavement, complete with paved dirt road crossings all the way to the yet to be completed trestle bridge right outside Woodward. When its done (2010) this bridge is really gonna be something; 13 stories high, with an impressive view.

It was so nice with temps in the 70s that we decided to explore part of the Heart of Iowa Nature Trail too (Slater to Cambridge). This section was well manicured crushed rock and dirt path along with some brief chipseal pavement and some road, perfect for a cyclocross bike. After Cambridge it is "undeveloped". I'm going to have to check that out some time.

All together we rode just over 62 miles.

Sunday I took Trail Dog (aka Captain) out on a hike at Banner. I was wondering how overgrown the north trail would be, but it was not bad at all. It looks like its getting a fair amount of riding. It was a little rough on the ole pooch since we hadn't been out of awhile. I'll have to remember next time to ramp up to a place like Banner. You can almost see his butt dragging...

We still had a good time.

What to Expect When You're Expecting, Dad Version

2009-08-18T20:41:00.016-05:00

I have two friends who are both about to be new fathers. Of course, I have taken several opportunities to razz them about their impending doom…I mean soon-to-be blessing. Since I’ve had some fun at their expense it is only fair to balance it out with some fatherly wisdom.

Admittedly, my perception could be a bit…skewed. I am what the Bedouins call Abu el Banat, or “father of daughters”. In their culture these men are treated with the utmost kindness and respect for their burden is heavy…..Tell me ‘bout it.

Ok, so here’s what I’ve got:

Babies

Once you get past the fact they are letting you take another human being out of the hospital to keep, without a license or certification of some kind, you’ll be fine…kinda. Put those thoughts of a 90 day cash back return out of your mind, all sales are final. Buyer’s remorse is moot.

The basics (repeat frequently 24/7/365): feed ‘em, change ‘em, bathe ‘em, clothe ‘em, don’t forget where you put ‘em (that one is important) take pictures, pictures, pictures, drive ‘em all over to meet family. Prepare to carry bags and bags of everything you need everywhere you go. It would help to grow an extra set of arms. Turn your hip into a shelf to sit them on, cuz you’re carrying them everywhere.

Be prepared to draw attention from strangers everywhere you go. You’re a spectacle now. Tell the nice waiter or waitress you're sorry about the mess before you even order because you might forget later.

You know those people that say their dogs are their “babies”? Its best not to have anything sharp in your hand when you’re around them.

Don’t forget to smell baby’s head after a bath. That’s got to be the best smell ever.

Sleeping (and lack thereof) has to be mentioned here. I hope you’re not too attached to slumber. I'm sure you knew that, but here's something you might not be keen on and this is important --> If Mom is in the vicinity (make that the area code) don’t try to “catch a nap”, just don’t do it man. No matter how tired you think you are you can never be as tired as She. Don’t even try to sneak one in, somehow She can tell.

Sometimes it helps to have a big sister around...

other times it doesn't.

Money – oh so sorry, you’re poor now. The sooner you come to terms with it, the easier it will be. Despite the obvious efficiency, you can’t actually feed the kid money.

Toddlers

We do not bargain with terrorists is easy to say, hard to do.

If DANGER is point A and TODDLER is point B, how long do you think it takes for these points to intersect? You’re wrong, it’s faster than that.

Prepare for the “I DO IT MYSELF!” phase even if it takes them 20 minutes instead of 5 and you’re already 20 minutes late. I don’t know if you were punctual before, but you’re not anymore.

Mess – you've created a professional mess maker, a true artisan, and now you must deal with the consequences. I don’t know if you were a “clean freak” before, but that will surely be beaten from your psyche. It’s a war of attrition and my money is on the kid. Sometimes you just have to say eff it, let 'em messify, even if it is with paint.

Closely related to MESS is TOYS – you should probably just plan on moving out of your house, there’s no room for you anymore. You know those rooms you quaintly call other things like; living room, den, dinning room and master bedroom? That’s gone now. Its all "toy storage" or "children's annex".

Christmas is pretty awesome though.

Potty Training – Ugh, I haven’t the strength to describe….you’ll see. I will say I considered suing the makers of Diaper Genie for false advertising and really instilling false hope (this is especially sinister since hope is in such small supply).

The fact is that there’s no Genie that magically appears to change the diaper for you. That’s bull, all this thing does is twist up the garbage bag.

Don't forget to rake up a big pile of leaves and let 'em go to town.

Preteen and Teenagers

What the hell do I know? I’m Abu el Banat, I know that much.

Drama – what to wear, my hair, text, text, text, who said what about whom, you’re wrong, no you are, no you are, no….Dad, can we (insert an infinite number of things) I’mmmmm boooooored. Oh yes, there's drama.

Its a a bit of an allegory, but it goes a little something like this:

Occasionally the calamity is interrupted by a genuine act of kindness, moment of insight or other gesture that lets you know you might be doing something right. Blind squirrel, meet nut.

Report cards – the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat.

Boys – Grrr. I know you. I was you. You get outta here.

Go on, git.
_________________________________________________________

Its an uphill battle for sure, but the cool part is they make you realize that you can love someone more than you thought was humanly possible.

The End (and the Beginning).

Creatures of the Night

2009-08-17T07:37:00.004-05:00

Nick, Corey and I went for a night ride at the Center on Friday. With temps topping out over 90 degrees during the day, it just seemed like the right thing to do.

We had tentatively planned on doing a 3 hour tour (a 3 hour tour) but since conditions were so perfect we ended up extending it to a 6 hour tour.

Why so long? Well, for one thing we were being really safe.

For another thing we took 20 minutes or more just to set up this shot. I don't think I'll be making a living as a nocturnal wildlife photographer anytime soon but I was able to wedge my camera between two trees for this shot.

If you haven't seen the bridge across Grey's Lake at night up close, you should. It is really cool.

I'm no Weatherman but...

2009-08-12T22:03:00.004-05:00

I don't think they should ever forecast a 0% chance of rain.

Ever.

This insight came to me this morning, as I was about to leave for work. I had finished my shower and walked into the other room to continue my beauty regimen (oh yeah). It sounded like my shower spontaneously came back on, but it was really the sudden deluge outside.

Great, I thought, the Taco Ride is toast.

I didn't think it was supposed to rain, so I pulled up Weather.com. They said there was a 0% chance of rain, which was as a matter of fact 100% wrong.

Don't you think there should be a minimum of at least 5% chance rain to account for the i-dunno factor?

This uncertainty principal is depicted here by the Underpants Gnomes of South Park

(sometimes its odd the things you talk about after a Taco Ride)

Speaking of Gnomes...Gnomefest is quickly approaching. It looks like a pretty good contingent of Iowa freaks will be headed north to the Land of Delicious Cheese (you might call it Wisconsin) to camp, ride, party, ride, party and repeat over a two day hippie dippy lovefest (not like-that, ya pervert).

I believe veteran of last year Billy "the stolen" Gnome will be making another run. Last time he had a bit of a rough go, so hopefully things work out better for him this time around.

I hear Gnomefest is a "singlespeed celebration" meaning if you bring a geared bike it might have something, like a peddle or a grip or a wheel, go temporarily missing overnight as Gnomes do not like gears (or gnears) at their Fest.

It is not wise to anger the Gnomes.

I took that Boom Boom Pow

2009-08-10T06:42:00.005-05:00

Funny how you come to think you're bullet proof on your home trail.

I was showing Nick my old stomping ground at Easter, including one of the downhill runs where you can get a little air off of some embedded roots in the trail. Sounds innocent enough...
_____________________________________________________________

I was going fast,

caught some good air...just like I said I would,

landed a little crooked,

felt the front tire flex....then pop of the rim,

Nothing to do now but hit the ground...hard.

The ground didn't move (funny that) but I bounced, rolled and skidded to a stop.

My water bottle flew 10 feet past me down the trail.

It hurt my:

hip,
shoulder,
knee
(in rank order of ouchiness)

Inertia is stupid.

My helmet that was only slightly cracked is now...

C-r*A~c+K^e;D.

It rang my bell.

Ding, ding, time to come in from recess. What's a matter Brian? "Oh, Ms. Whatsyername, I seem to have lost my mittens." "My mom said not to lose them". "Can you help me find my mittens?" "I have to be in when the street lights come on."

My mojo, Fez, said he was "sawright", which was nice for him.

I thought about keeping it my little secret from wife und kids, but ultimately knew my hobble would betray me.

I fessed up, showed her my shoulder which is missing some epidermis. She said, "and this is fun?"

She's used that line before, so I had a witty retort ready. I said,

"No."

Fez and the Purple Unit

2009-08-04T20:48:00.009-05:00

Rigid single speed mountain biking is a subculture of a subculture. I mean, mountain biking itself is off the beaten path (by definition) but singlespeeding leaves any remaining path and dives headlong into the underbrush. You're damn-near Rambo. You and one cog against the cold world and its backward hillbilly police force.

"Nothing is over! Nothing! You just don't turn it off! It wasn't my war! You asked me I didn't ask you!

It’s an enclave, a brother(and sister)hood who seek a return to the minimalistic approach of tires on the ground, grips in the hand and a solitary gear v the wild. The burning in your legs and lungs, along with the throbbing in your hands and shoulders is your tuition to the eldest of skools.

My entry into this not-so secret society comes in the form of this beauty. A Kona Unit 2-9. I built her up custom with a White Brothers Rock Solid carbon fork, Easton carbon riser bars, Bontrager Duster Rims set up tubeless with Panaracer Rampage 2.35 tires. Thomson post and stem, Avid BB 7 brakes, Bontrager Race Lite 32t crankset and a Surly 18t cog. You can't tell from the picture but yes its even blinged with a PURPLE KMC chain. Oh yeah.

A couple of quick clarifications before we proceed:

1.No, a purple bike is not girly. Purple is the color of kings, of Gods, of the artist known, then formerly known, the re-known as Prince…..ok, forget that last one. Hey, what color is the medal they give to wounded soldiers?

I rest my case.

2.No, that is not a stuffed animal. It is a Mojo, a commonly used trail guide and karma protector of mountain bikers everywhere. Every Mojo is unique but this one, I feel, is exemplary. His name is Fez and he is both Co-Pilot and Cosmic Advisor. Our dynamic duo began when I noted that McDonalds Happy Meals were coming with Beenie Baby toys. I had one in particular in mind so off we went to Mickey D's. I asked the pimpley young man at the counter if I could "choose my toy." He had a puzzled looked but ultimately confirmed I could pick from their roster of plushness. Eagerly I said "I'll take Grimace." He's a fat, purple blob that likes cheeseburgers too much, it just seemed appropriate. Imagine my dismay when moments later he said, "We're out of the Grimace." Seeing my disappointment another lady behind the counter quickly said, "We have a purple monkey." After an extraordinarily brief comtemplation I said, "I'll take 'em" and our Butch and Sundance partnership was formed. In our few rides together I will check in with Fez periodically.

“Hey Fez, How ya doin’ down there?”
“Sawright” is all he ever says.

So far, he’s been right, it has been “sawright” but I am waiting for the day he answers, “Uh, not-so-gude”. In that event, we will stop immediately to rest and reassess. A canary in the coalmine is he.

3.Yes, technically it is my purple unit and it is a 9er. Ok ladies, I’ll let you draw your own conclusions.

4.Yes, if you ask me and Fez nicely chances are good that you can touch my monkey.

I have exactly 9 rides on the Grape Ape for which to contemplate this new uno gearo, no squishy shock thing. Its been to local haunts the Center

Peterson Pitts

McFarland Park

Manawa

Lewis and Clark

and a little place I like to call The Stash.

The first thing you notice is the TOTAL POWER TRANSFER. If you put it into the peddles, you get it back out of the bike, there’s nothing lost in the bob of shocks or clicking of maladjusted gears. The second noticeable thing is what Nick calls IMMEDIATE FEEDBACK. That means when you jam into a corner or over a rise there isn’t any wondering what the shock will do. Unfortunately, it also means you hit it, you feel it – ALL of it. I do like the straightforwardness of it all. You either make it up that hill or you don’t, you pick the right line or you pay.

Fez and I ran into a ton of those pesky little green sticker bushes at Manawa....We'll be sawright.

As for my new singlespeed life, my back and neck is taking awhile to adjust to the beating I'm giving it, but I'll be sawright.

Cheater's RAGBRAI

2009-07-23T21:05:00.009-05:00

Ok, I know RAGBRAI is the “great bike ride across Iowa” but many forces conspired to keep me from doing more than uno dia, so I did the cheater thing and rode the day it traveled closest to Des Moines.

Nick and I drove out to Monday’s overnight town, Greenfield, butt-early. We planned to ride the 77 mile course to Indianola and then ride back to Des Moines, making it a 100 mile total. The weather forecast predicted rain in the morning, followed by a little clearing and then “scattered thunderstorms” starting late afternoon. I have ridden and played golf enough to know “scattered” means raining right over your head the whole time, so I was a bit skeptical.

We drove into dark grey, ground to infinity, cloud cover that spit light rain on the windshield. Temps were soaring into the low 60’s with a steady 10-15 mph wind. I wished I had a rain poncho. Nick, who had a poncho (aka parachute), wished he had my arm warmers. We geared up about 7:30 and rolled around town a bit looking for another chum, Matt, who was doing the whole across Iowa thing. He was going to wait out the rain so Nick and I pressed ahead.

Greenfield was hoppin'.

Once on the route we were greeted with hill after rollercoaster hill. At least a nice downhill accompanied most every uphill. For quite awhile we were tracking directly behind the rain clouds, watching them lightly water the road ahead of us. The headwinds were steady, so the first 20 miles went slowish, which was fine since we still had 80 to go. Here's a nice DM Register photo, its actually from later in the day but it gives you a good idea of the general hillitude.

Orient was the first town. My wife tends to worry a bit, and if you've read my blog before you can probably see why. She was out of town on business so I told her I'd text her along the way. All these pictures were supposed to be picture/text messages, but she didn't get any of them. I didn't find out about the FAIL until two days later. What's that they say? It's the thought that counts.

We were welcomed into Macksberg by the sounds of a crowd hootin’ and hollerin’ accented with the clank of metal on metal. A closer inspection found a frying pan toss game set up with side by side cages containing crash test dummy style targets. A dollar got you two chances to knock the basketball head off the dummies. This Des Moines Register video sets the scene.

There was a tense moment when the thrower in alley #1 got his pan offline and sailed it into alley #2 and waaay too close to the cranium of a young lady who was retrieving pans. When good clean hillbilly fun nearly turns tragic its time to move on. Before we departed Matt caught up to us. He was none too happy about all the hills and rain from the previous day and the resulting dampness of his shorts, but he got over it.

On we went, mile after mile, hill after hill. Gradually the light rain stopped and it warmed up. Getting pretty hungry, we stopped to eat in Peru where I had the world’s smallest beef burger. I’m still irked about it. Someday Peru (shaking fist), I’ll be back for my other scoop of hamburger meat! You owe me, you know you do.

Peru, pre-sandwich incident.

Actually, I’m not so sure I want to mess with Peru. Their EMS vehicle may be circa 1971, but it says ATTACK on it. I assume they would use this to chase me outta town, should I ever return for the rest of my (where's the?) beefburger. We did have a few beerz there, which softened the blow of the bun-heavy sandwich.

The sun came out around 2:30 or so, when we just about to leave Truro (I think). Riders started shedding clothing. Almost immediately a guy dressed in only a speedo cruised past……I thought some more clouds might be nice.

Rolling on, we found the Rassy’s repair stand set up about 2/3rds of the way through the route, which is a good place to be if curing sick bicycles is your aim. We stopped to lightly heckle Squirrel who was doing his best to beat problem bikes into submission.

RAGBRAI bike rack

The last few miles into Indianola were hilly, only without the accompanying downhills to give you greatly needed MO for the climb. Nice touch. Coming into town the course cut across a very rough, but short, stretch of gravel/blacktop/something road. It seemed rougher than it actually was because it was mile 75 or so. Getting to smooth pavement was a relief but there were two short, but substantial, climbs left. The last one was a real doozy, definitely the steepest of the day. Col de la Indianola. Whew! Done.

Wait.
Crap.
Forgot.
Riding back to Des Moines.
Ugh.

A $3 steak sandwich served the dual purpose of bringing me back to life and making recompense for the sandwich wrong that had been perpetrated in Peru (shakes fist again).

We made our way back to DSM via the Summerset trail and back roads. The gradual downhill out of Indy and gentle grades back home were a pleasant change of pace. We looped Banner Lake twice before leaving Summerset just to make sure we’d have the 100 needed for my first century (Nick’s too). Woot.

As if that wasn’t enough biking…..

The Master Plan called for us to retrieve Nick’s car in Greenfield the next day, so we threw the mountain bikes on my car and picked up Corey for a ride out at The Stash, a little "sorta secret" mountain bike trail built and maintained by a friend I'll call "Natt". More on that and some rightous content on my new - PURPLE - singlespeed in another post.

Horseman # 5

2009-07-13T22:27:00.007-05:00

Those of you familiar with Revelation and - you know - all that End of Days type stuff will surely recognize the Four Horseman of the Apocalypse. When the seals are broken y'all better watch out for: Conquest, War, Famine and Death. They're a real fun bunch, these guys. I think I encountered the slightly more benevolent 5th Horseman, Haste, on the bike trail Saturday morning. As in, make Haste young cyclists or I will smite thee in a hail of thundering hoofs.

Nick and I sat out Saturday AM to get a little Ragbrai training in on the Chichaqua Valley Trail, which runs 20 miles from Bondurant to Baxter. Shortly after starting we encountered two old farmers that had managed to wedge their beater truck onto a small wooden bridge on the trail. When they saw us coming those ole boys started jimmyin' that truck back and forth in a highly ineffective effort to get out of our way. As we passed they informed us they were out looking for cattle on the loose. I thought they might have more trouble pulling their truck out of the creek after the bridge collapsed but, hey, whatev. You could certainly see and SMELL the evidence of the rogue cows all over the trail. Ugh.

As if that wasn't strange enough, when we began nearing Baxter we passed a horseman at one of the road crossings. Thinking nothing of it we kept cruising right along. A few minutes later we hear a faint, but distinctive, sound of hoofs clip clopping on the pavement behind us. It was hard to tell how far back it was, but it was certainly gaining on us, quickly. Nick and I, not being down with the whole trampled to death bit, pushed the pace. The CLIP CLOP only got louder...and louder and louder. Soon it was ringing in my ears with every peddle stroke. That's not clip...clop as in a trot, that's clipclopclipclopclipclop as in a gallop (and not the poll....Get it? Gallup Poll? Aw, nevermind, its not funny if you haveta explain it). Anyway, I was behind Nick and saw him occasionally sneak a peek back, but I didn't want to play Ichabod Crane to the Hessian (Headless Horseman), so I didn't look, I just kept on peddling.

After what seemed like the length of the Tour De France we arrived at the next road crossing. Thankfully Haste gave up the chase at this point. Nick said he was right behind me off to the side a bit. I know I have an ample draft, but COME ON.

Just plain weird.

Next time I go to Baxter I could do without the Armageddon (and cow) crap.

Man Card

2009-07-06T21:43:00.011-05:00

I want an extra punch on my Man Card for last week, I really do. I mean, usually I’m not all-into that self congratulatory, attention seeking stuff but this time I think I’m gonna break my arm patting my own back.

Ok, it starts with our regular Wednesday night Taco Ride. Unfortunately for the locals Des Moines has been doing its best impersonation of the rainy pacific northwest lately. Since we don’t have a huge freeride park under a Interstate bridge system we’ve been kept off our mountain bikes for awhile.

Our hiatus meant this Taco Ride was pretty well attended with 19 riders eager for dirty frivolity. We rode through Denman’s and, after regrouping, headed off toward Squirrel’s Nest. Most guys are cautious and walk their bikes over the train tracks that separate the two areas, but…

I don’t have many skillz on the bike but I’ve always been pretty good at taming the tracks. “Ride the bucking bronco!” I always say (only probably not anymore). The last few times I’ve done them I’ve had trouble with coming unclipped from the lead peddle halfway through which kills your momentum and this, my friends, is vury, vury bad.

Letting none of the previous warnings dissuade me I hop over the first rail, come unclipped, get my other foot caught on the opposite rail and slowly tip over, taking all the weight on my knee, on the rock, on the railroad tie. Uhm yeah, if somebody woulda yelled “TIMBER!” it would have been appropriate.

Now, I’m not gonna lie to ya, it hurt.

It did.

It swelt up too, almost immediately.

As I was still trying to tap into some mental Chi, to rise above the pain in my knee, I hear Justin yapping as he rolls on by “C’mon man, you’re fine! Let’s go!” (or something to that affect). About a minute later I pass Justin by the side of the trail. Seems that right after heckling me…hisssssssssss (air leaving his tire). Ah, karma.

The Man Card part comes when I suck it up and ride Hillside, Rollercoaster, J-11 and Denman’s. For our reverse track of Denman’s I somehow got into the lead of our smaller group of 4-5 riders. Never wanting to slow anyone down I tried to keep the pace up. After we finished my compatriots commented on the nice, quick pace setting and I heard one guy say that was as fast as he had ever ridden it. That made the throbbing in my knee a little less potent, I guess.

If it ended there I could see how one punch on the card would do it, but….before the knee smashing I had made plans to hit my semi-regular noon hour pick up basketball game the next day. It’s the only chance I have to see some good old friends of mine so I was looking forward to it. It’s a great game with guys I’ve known for many years, but its a small court and it can get pretty physical sometimes. I knew going in the conditions were ripe for a knee resmashing incident. I clearly instructed everyone prior to the game to NOT TOUCH my knee. “Hey, you and you and YOU…nooooo touchy.” I even texted my ole’ buddy Joel before hand, knowing he would be the weak link in my knee-protection plan. I informed him of the restrictions, and what was his reply?

“Consider it touched.”

Luckily my knee made through the game(s) with only Joel’s obligatory poking at the start (he met me at the door) and one bounce pass that bumped off of it a bit. Whew!

So if it ended there, that’s maybe a punch and a half, but I’m not even to the good part yet. The next day we headed out of town to an extended family member’s wedding in Dubuque. Never to miss a chance at riding some place new, I made plans to hit the lightly publicized FDR park. I’d heard of it before, but nothing too exciting, so I was really debating on whether taking the bike was worth it. Then fellow local Rick said it was a blast on his recent visit and another local guy, Steve, said he grew up there and also recommended it.

Everyone said it was hard to find and boy was it. I had good directions, tips about it being next to the Children's Zoo and on a unmarked gravel road and I still drove by it twice. When I got to the trailhead I was surprised to find several cars at the end of this dead end road in front of a gate that said no entrance.

Here's a GPS track someone posted online. Its not helpful for navigating on the trail, but does demonstrate just how much twisty track is out there.

View Larger Map

You do a lot of "Did I do this before?" "Is the parking lot that way?" "Wait, I think there's more trail this way....noooo, maybe that way." at FDR.

The reports of it being a bit plagued by a confusing spiderweb of sidebar trails were dead on. You jump in at the first trailhead and immediately its choose spurs A, B or C. That's followed shortly by a D, E, F option and so on and so on. This wouldn't bother somebody familiar with the network, but I think it would take you a pretty long time to get familiar.

Despite this drawback FDR really has a lot to offer. The trail is well maintained. The tread is packed down and burned in about as good as anything I've seen. It looks like it been there for 10 years or more.

Although there's some rip-your-legs-off climbs, there's plenty of flowy goodness that all mountain bikers love. Mix in some long ripping descents along with a fair amount of rocks and roots and you've got yourself one heck of a trail.

Here's a creek crossing. That's an old decrepit HERS outhouse door they're using as a bridge. High marks for creativity, says I.

It was at this crossing where I met Adam. He is from Cedar Rapids and had never been to FDR either, so we rode together for awhile. Adam explained that he is fairly new to mountain biking but has been doing his best to beat the crap outta his bike. He grabbed his back wheel and shook it side to side, showing it had plenty of rattle. "It keeps coming loose." He said, as if it was a spontaneous occurance and he really had nothing to do with it. Later, when he launched off a rickety plywood jump I understood better why his rear hub keeps coming loose.

Adam also gets an extra Man Card punch for recovering from a nasty crash that dented and punctured his helmet in...oh, I don't know just...the TEMPLE area. He was a little groggy from the impact but rode on like a champ. Hopefully he didn't need his brain for anything later that day. We also discovered that Adam had actually read my blog before, having come across my write up of his hometown Beverly Park a year ago. That was kind of super D neat O to meet someone out on the trail who had read my drivel.

FDR is rockier, bluffier and more technical than I gave it credit for, truly it is among the best riding I've done in the state. Like I said, the only problem is the short stretches of confusing trail. If it had better signage and maps as well as closing off some of the less valuable spurs this would be a tree-men-dos improvement.

Its blurry because I was huffing and puffing. No worries, just the side effects of being fat and old.

So it is = my Man Card gets two punches. I think that brings me up to..........two punches (this tally is accurate by +/- 2 punches).

Surely I'll earn a few more punches these next 3 weeks as I will be solo fathering my 10 and 13 year daughters much of the time while the Lady of the Manor is out of town transitioning to, and training for, her new job. Tonight I found myself with Princess #2 in a little girly jewelry shop in the mall, wondering what the hell I was doing there. Maybe I lose a punch for that......damn, just when I was getting ahead.

Uninspired

2009-06-29T21:21:00.004-05:00

I think my mental ink well has run dry. I've still been riding, hiking and generally making a mess of things but for some reason I haven't felt the fire to write about it.

I wouldn't call it writer's block, its more of a writer's bleck. So until the word faucet gets turned back on, here's some pictures to tie you over.

Katie commandeered the Camelback, and the camera on a recent Trail Dog hike. She just couldn't resist taking her own picture. She's such a beautiful girl.

Allie rocking a piano recital. She was pretty spooked, but got through it fine. Such a beautiful girl.

Weird fungus thingy at Ahquabi. Nick wouldn't take a bite. What a chicken.

Betrayal - the Yeti is currently up for auction on fleabay. Currently 25+ people are "watching" it. C'mon Bike Voyeurs, don't just watch - bid!

New helmet light, super cool Dinotte.

Here's a cow that's a little lost. He looked at us like, "Do you know where I'm supposed to be?"

Moo (?)