Rubber Side Down

Bad Street Meat, Bad

Woke up at 2am last night feeling like a just got kicked in the gut. Tossed and turned till 6:30 when I finally realized this was going to warrant a sick day. That italian jumbo sausage I had from the guy on the corner of 3rd and 7th sure tasted great at the time, but I suspect it was the cause of my agony last night and today. Spent the day at home watching the rain with the dogs, in between running to the bathroom. I'd like to say I'll never touch the street meat again, but its oh so good.

This kinda brought up a debate in my head. The biggest obstacle to me heading into work later on in the day, was that I didn't feel up to riding in and I definetly didn't feel up to paying $20 to park just to work for half a day. I probably could have driven and been fairly productive in the afternoon, but I was too weak to ride. Is this a valid reason? I think in the end I was justified since I haven't missed a day of work due to sickness since I got my wisom teeth yanked, which had nothing to do with being unhealthy. I'm sure the fact that I'm on my bike pretty much everyday has a lot to do with the lack of sick days I take, especially when viewed in relation to the smokers in my office who are sick once a month. So in the end, I just ended up hanging with the dogs and watching lawn tractor races in the afternoon (I'm not kidding).

A Couple of Funny Conversations

Here's a tidbit of a couple of conversations I've had on my way to and from work:

Some dude in a long sleave jersey on a hot day: Hey nice bike! Does it only have one gear!?!?

Me: Yup. Hey, aren't you hot? Its like, 32 out.

Some dude in a long sleave jersey on a hot day: Naw, I've figured out how to deal with the heat.

Me: How's that?

Some dude in a long sleave jersey on a hot day: Just before the hill, at the Crowchild bridge, I jump in the river!

Me: Oh, ever thought of just wearing a t-shirt?

Some dude in a long sleave jersey on a hot day: Smartass!

and the other one

Some dude all decked out in a racer kit on the path: Hey nice bike! What's the deal with the number plate?

Me: It makes the bike faster.

Some dude all decked out in a racer kit on the path: Ever thought of running something thinner than 26 x 3 inch tires?

Me: But that'd mean I take my commute to work seriously which would really suck.

Some dude all decked out in a racer kit on the path then rides away confused.

Slooooooowwww Day

Lately, work has been painful. Not stressed out painful, Office Space painful. I've been having fantasies of just not showing up to see if anyone notices, that and fantasies of taking a golf club to the new well-log printer that's been printing excessively since we got it installed last week. When 4:45 rolled around today, I was done, I had to split.

An uber strong west wind hit me hard right out of the parking garage. In some ways I was happy to be riding the cross bike today and not the cruiser, since I had some gears and a more aero position. But the other side of me wished I was on the cruiser, because on the cruiser, I don't give a shit about headwinds. Halfway throught the tough commute home, the cell goes off. I take a look at the number as I pedal along and realize its a well, crap. I hastily try and come to a stop and pull the iPod phones out, but I'm too late. I debate for a couple of seconds whether to call back immediately or to wait till I get home, then a strong gust of wind tells me to screw it and start pedalling.

The dogs are there to greet me in the backyard as I roll up, Yoho in her usual perch on the picnic table, keeping watch on our little corner of the neighbourhood. Between her and old man Jack, nobody gets away with anything here. The mutts are extra rowdy on my arrival after being home alone all day. The day before, Maria realized how close the new school year was and figured she better get the hell out of dodge one last time before dealing with snotty kids are their more snotty parents. "I'm goin to Jasper with Robin, leaving the dogs" was about the extent our conversation on Monday. I couldn't argue since faced with the same prospect, I'd probably drive to the freakin Yukon.

The day left me feeling pretty worn, my brain was mush from trying to find something interesting in the mapping I was doing. The spring in the dogs step told me there was only one real option, to ride. I boiled some water for some yerba mate and quickly did a few dishes before throwing the bike and dogs on and in the truck. An annoying 15-minute drive later and I was at Nose Hill. It was times like this that I wished I lived in a small mountain town where I could ride from my backyard.

One hour, several hills and even more several bird chases later the dogs and I are heading back to the parking lot. Rawley's especially beat after a fruitless chase of a grouse family he stumbled across while barelling down a hill. Good thing there were no Tilley hats nearby, or I'd never have heard the end of my horrible-nature destroying dogs.

I'm back home feeling recharged, cooking dinner, making lunch, sneaking cheese to the pooches and trying not to think about tomorrow and that fackin printer. Outside a thunder storm is rolling through.

How to cool off, according Rawley

Its quite simple really, wade into a mountain stream and lay belly down in the water:

Bicycle Exhibit and Wired to Win

A couple o' weeks back Maria and cruised down the science centre to catch the movie Wired to Win and the bicycle exhibit they had there.

The movie was freakin cool, an Imax flick about the Tour. The most impressive parts were the sweeping shots of the alps. Equally impressive was how they managed to re-edit the movie to barely include Tyler Hamilton, whom the original movie was about, until they found out he was injecting monkey blood or something into his veins.

The exhibit was neat, especially since I got to see my firt penny farthing up close.

We also came across a bicycle made by Arvon Stacey.  Some really sweet designs. Guess I'll have to find room for yet another bike.

A Couple of Mucho Cool Hombres

Yesterday while cruising home on la maquina, an unexpected guest caught up to my rear wheel and started making bird(?) noises. It turned out to be none other than Fuego Caliente, the latino heat on his cruiser which appropriately has flames painted on the top tube.

Me and Fuego cruised along the pathway at an exceptionally slow speed to make sure everyone took in our coolness. I would say we were as cool, if not cooler than this guy. (Yes, I know the clip is en espanol, its funnier that way).

I think I need to talk Fuego into meeting up to ride home everyday, in purple jumpsuits and hairnets....

Not something Calgary does everyday

Its not often that the City of Calgary actually makes a pragmatic choice, its usually the more political and brain dead choice thats made (look up our current smoking bylaw). However, this was a good move. Instead of sending out the cops to ticket cyclists from riding the wrong way down this street, they realized no matter how much they ticketed, people were still going to ride the northbound on this southbound-only street. When I lived in the northwest of the city, I used to ride up this street all the time, and I couldn't have given a rat's ass that it was illegal to ride north.
Quick Explanation: A pathway actually emptied you out going the wrong way on this street, leaving cyclists the choice of riding the wrong way up this quiet street or riding the right way up the exponentially busier 10th street (a main artery out of downtown).

Rocky Mountain High

Okay, its a real cheesy title, on a cheese factor of 0 to this song, its only a five. I'm pretty sure it was Team America that inspired Diamond Rio to record that trash. We seriously heard this while we were having a pint in the Post Hotel at Lake Louise after last weekends backpacking trip, needless to say I went home and listened to some Judas Priest backwards to clean out my ears.

Last weekend was our first "official" anniversary (we've realy had like 9) and we decided to celebrate the achievement by throwing 40 pounds on our backs and hiking up to the Little Yoho Valley (yes, the valley thats named after my dog). As usual, the rockies were awe-inspiring. After 10 years of living out this way, I still can't believe the views we have at our doorstep. So without further ado, here's some fotos:

Yoho River

Laughing Falls

The President and Vice President

One of the many views from our campsite

Opening the anniversary bottle

Maria enjoying the wine

The campsite

Maria hiking along one of the many end moraines

One of the many streams of glacial meltwater

One gigantic freakin moraine

Getting close to the descent with the Kicking Horse valley in the distance

The Emerald Glacier

Takakaw  Falls (car down there somewhere)

Why I love the Boss

Okay, I'll admit it, I'm a born again Bruce Springsteen fan. But here's one of the reasons. Now I just have to convince him and his 20-piece band to come to Calgary.

135 km and feelin fine

Just got back from an awesome "spin" down to Elbow Falls. I woke up this morning planning to go for a longish ride, but had no idea it would turn out to be such a great day.

5 km into the ride I was thinking I was only going 60 km. Since I quit racing, my long rides have been pretty sporadic. I'm no longer rushing out 2 times a week for an intense ride and I'm not trying to get in 100 km on both Saturday and Sunday. Needless to say my level of fitness has declined. So this morning as I was pedalling out, my legs felt like mush and I was starting to convince myself that a 2 hour ride would be fine and for plenty of people thats a helluva ride so I had nothing to feel crappy about.

I really don't remember making the decision to push to Bragg Creek at the 22 turn, but somehown I found myself pedalling on my to Bragg Creek. I couldn't stop then, I had to at least make it Bragg Creek where some pastries were calling my name. Once I got to Bragg, and pounded back a blueberry streudel, I realized I wasn't ready for the ride home, so off I went down 66 heading towards Kananaskis.

At this point I was figuring I'd just head to Station Flats then turn around. But just outside of station flats I came across a "group" of triathletes out training (I put group in quotes because I've never seen a paceline of triathletes, just a disorganized mess of riders). As I neared them, I realized I didn't want to get caught up in this chaos, so I had to make a choice, hammer past them or slow down. Well slow down really wasn't an option, so I stood up and passed the group. The only problem was that Station Flats was only 200 m or so pass this point and I'd look like quite the jerk for hammering pass these guys only to pull in to a parking lot, so therefore I had only one choice, ride to Elbow Falls. Crap, I thought, Elbow is like another 10 km down the road, which means another 20 km total of riding. Nothing to do at that point but keep going, after all it was (and still is) a beautiful day.

In 20 minutes I reached Elbow Falls where I braved the holiday-crowded parking lot to make my way down the river where I had a bar and washed the sweat off my face with the amazingly refreshing river water (The Elbow glacier isn't far from this point, so the water can be frigid).

I mustered up the strength to get back on the bike and start heading home, 68 km away and immediately realized I was in for a headwind for the entire freakin 68 km. Oh well, I cranked the iPod so I could hear some music over the wind and started cranking back. The entire way, I hardly tired, able to pound out a 33 km/hr average. I passed the gaggle of triathletes again, but this time there was no debate at all as to whether I should pass them or not.

4 hours later and I'm home, drinking pil, loving the fact that tomorrow's a holiday. The only thing I'm having difficulty with is trying to "will" the lawnmower to cut the lawn without me pushing it. Maybe after 4 more pil's, I'll have breakthrough.

Finally, Maria reports today that Yoho ran the entire flyball course herself, grabbed the ball on the other end and ran the hurdles back. She may get picked for the team for a tournament at the end of the month.

Oh yah, Floyd, you suck, way to ruin an amazing tour.