As it does every year, Thanksgiving has come and gone. Self-centered and self-absorbed ass hats, not unlike myself, realize for about 15 minutes what we are, and realize the great degree of humility we need, then proceed to shovel thousands of calories down our craw. It's a brutal cycle like no other.
I actually had two moments of clarity (as the alcoholics say) this year. Wednesday night the epiphany of how well off I was hit home, harder than usual. These things are bittersweet, the sweet moment knowing that my disposition can't get much sweeter which is immediately overwhelmed with vicious pangs of guilt. Such is the price of a conscience, I assume. The second was Saturday afternoon leaving my father's home town and my crazy grandmother. Seeing the, for lack of a better term, hole of a city he came from is mind boggling. I loathe Kingsport with a passion and wish little more than to leave the entire area, but to know that I could have been raised somewhere smaller and MORE podunk simply stunned me. I'm not sure if it's natural to have a conflicted relationship with your place of birth, but it sure seems to run in my family.
I guess I tried to pay some sort of penance through training hard. A couple days of two-a-days have left me entering Monday totally beat. A simple roller workout did me in on Friday and a late night trainer session on Saturday drove the fork deeper. Add to that running an extra five and a half miles during the week and closing Sunday down with a five mile hike. My legs are beat. Should be a good week for a mini taper heading in to the weekend.
As I mentioned last post, the 'cross season is wrapping up. There are three races left in my 2009 schedule, Two MSG and the NCCX finale. The North Carolina race should be fun, and it gives me an excuse to hang out with my best friend, evar, which I'll gladly take. Not to mention traveling to a new city always interests me, especially when that city is the home of the daddiest beer store ever, City Beverage.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Gracias, Thank you, Danke Schön and all the rest.
I'm going to be proactive today. I'm going to preempt the holiday of Thanksgiving with a quick message; I have a lot, more than my fair share perhaps, to be thankful for. I just wish I were the insightful and considerate type who realized that more often than once a year staring at a massive stack of calories.
In related somber news 'cross season is going into hibernation. Nationally, the Stanley Portland Cup signals the end of the U.S. pro season. That's in two weeks. The best series ever, MSG 'Cross will host it's finale the week after, December 12th. After that last Steele Creek race, is an eight week layoff before Tennessee's State Championships held in our own Winged Deer Park. Two months to drink, revel and drink some more. Parting is such sweet sorrow, as they say.
On the bright side, you can't have the mountain bike season until the 'cross season is over. Bring on the gnar!
In related somber news 'cross season is going into hibernation. Nationally, the Stanley Portland Cup signals the end of the U.S. pro season. That's in two weeks. The best series ever, MSG 'Cross will host it's finale the week after, December 12th. After that last Steele Creek race, is an eight week layoff before Tennessee's State Championships held in our own Winged Deer Park. Two months to drink, revel and drink some more. Parting is such sweet sorrow, as they say.
On the bright side, you can't have the mountain bike season until the 'cross season is over. Bring on the gnar!
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Another fortnight sabbatical?!
So it would seem I've been "blog free" for over two weeks. This is simply unacceptable! For better or worse though, blogging takes a back seat to other pursuits. Most recently school and cyclocross have been those pursuits. The education continues to grow, as the semester continues to grind to it's conclusion. Every professor has now said "Your final exam is getting close," or some derivative. It's a bittersweet state. I enjoy most of my classes, I'm comfortable with the rhythm and changing it all just isn't appealing. Of course knowing that the first degree is less than a year away is outstanding.
Outstanding is also having a full weekend of 70 degree weather in November. MSG #5 was this past weekend, and while the weather would fail any "True Belgian" test, no one was going to complain. The course more than made up for the lack of environmental misery. Boasting wide, sweeping corners paired to a long climb and one wicked run up, Winged Deer's layout was spectacular. Most people seemed content to bitch about how hard the course was, what great difficulty they had with (seemingly) every section. I might just be some sick, demented, wack job, but nothing on that particular layout struck me as difficult. There was one pair of turns, in the middle of each lap, that gave some difficulty.
The lead in was downhill to a 90 degree right up a short (10-15 feet at most) pitch, with another 90 degree right hander at the apex of the pitch. The roll out was a false flat before more gentle recovery. This was not at all hard, yet on 2 laps, I was forced to run it. My first lap I was stuck at the back of the pack, courtesy of a bad start, which doomed me to taking my place in the conga line. My next lap I easily rode it. The third lap involved another rolling obstacle and more running. The last glorious lap was almost a solo time trial or so it seemed.
After some fun heckling and "recovery" drink, Saturday came to a close. Sunday was the big trip to DuPont. Early morning departure from the Herren residence, long mountain bike ride, Papa's and Beer after. The plan was set, just execute. An auspicious start, nearly getting hit by two cars riding to Bill's place lead to a great day of fun, fun, fun till daddy took the T-Bird away. The trails at DuPont were awesome, especially with an experienced guide and professional map-man Mr. Benjamin M. Applebeast.
Looking forward, school will be finished inside a month. The only UCI 'Cross event in the southeast is coming to Hendersonville, NC this weekend, and I'm all set to go. Well, mostly set to go. I have the basic needs met, but the legs aren't quite where I want them. Another weekend of solid results would probably justify my entire 'cross season. Here's to hoping!
There's supposed to be more good weather up and coming, go enjoy it however you know best!
Outstanding is also having a full weekend of 70 degree weather in November. MSG #5 was this past weekend, and while the weather would fail any "True Belgian" test, no one was going to complain. The course more than made up for the lack of environmental misery. Boasting wide, sweeping corners paired to a long climb and one wicked run up, Winged Deer's layout was spectacular. Most people seemed content to bitch about how hard the course was, what great difficulty they had with (seemingly) every section. I might just be some sick, demented, wack job, but nothing on that particular layout struck me as difficult. There was one pair of turns, in the middle of each lap, that gave some difficulty.
The lead in was downhill to a 90 degree right up a short (10-15 feet at most) pitch, with another 90 degree right hander at the apex of the pitch. The roll out was a false flat before more gentle recovery. This was not at all hard, yet on 2 laps, I was forced to run it. My first lap I was stuck at the back of the pack, courtesy of a bad start, which doomed me to taking my place in the conga line. My next lap I easily rode it. The third lap involved another rolling obstacle and more running. The last glorious lap was almost a solo time trial or so it seemed.
After some fun heckling and "recovery" drink, Saturday came to a close. Sunday was the big trip to DuPont. Early morning departure from the Herren residence, long mountain bike ride, Papa's and Beer after. The plan was set, just execute. An auspicious start, nearly getting hit by two cars riding to Bill's place lead to a great day of fun, fun, fun till daddy took the T-Bird away. The trails at DuPont were awesome, especially with an experienced guide and professional map-man Mr. Benjamin M. Applebeast.
Looking forward, school will be finished inside a month. The only UCI 'Cross event in the southeast is coming to Hendersonville, NC this weekend, and I'm all set to go. Well, mostly set to go. I have the basic needs met, but the legs aren't quite where I want them. Another weekend of solid results would probably justify my entire 'cross season. Here's to hoping!
There's supposed to be more good weather up and coming, go enjoy it however you know best!
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Rain Strikes Back!
Rain has the funny little tick to it. Much like that weird kid in school, the one with the twitchy eye, you remember him, right? No? Well, just pretend, ok? Thanks. Now, what was I saying? Right, right, rain, and ticks. Ticks don't like rain. Unless they can find a warm... wrong tick? Whoops.
Rain has this funny tick. It doesn't screw around. Listen to enough chemistry and biology lectures, and you'll think water is the coolest substance in the history of cool substances (Don't look at your "water pipe" and laugh about cool substances, you need water to grow the fun stuff!). And while on an academic level water certainly is awesome, on the level of "I want to ride my bicycle, really fast, outside," H2O is far less awesome. Saturday wasn't terribly rainy, but the near constant mist/drizzle/sprinkle really worked a number on everyone. The temperature dropped every hour, the course got progressively worse after every rider and everything was wet.
All that said, the MSG Spooky Cross race went down well. We were graced with another fun course design, replete with sweeping corners, stairs, 4 sand crossings and one sketchy-as-hell corner. Any time the MSG course designer is given two beach volleyball courts, misery will ensue. Everyone should remind him of this as he runs by during his race. The aforementioned sketchy-as-hell corner was a total doubly whammy. It was awful to ride because it was ludicrously steep off camber, sharp and narrow. The tape didn't make a smooth arc around the turn, instead it cut in on the exit, forcing everyone back up high. Remember that progressively worse comment earlier? Half way through the day and people were struggling to walk the damn thing, much less ride it. And that's the second whammy, it wasn't really that fun to watch. Most people had figured out to run or tripod around it, either way it was slow and not entertaining.
I felt really good for most of the race. There were gaps to close and riders to overtake. My new tubular tires are hot shit on a tin roof. I'm in love with those things. They've so vastly improved the feel and handling of the bike, I could gush for days. They've been well worth the arduous P.I.T.A. to glue them to the rim. On the second lap, I glanced up the start/finish hill and saw stripes. I recognized the rider as a potential rabbit. I'd been riding with him at the Tornado Cross, and figured I had a shot to beat him with all the climbing here. From first sighting he was a couple hundred yards ahead out. Up the hill, across the false flat straight away we charged, pushing with all that was left in the tank. This was the bell lap after all! Through the sweeps, traversing the small gully, I was all over his back wheel, but never could take a corner fast enough to assert myself. The sweeps spit us out in to a downhill straight then on to the first pavement segment. It was time for me to hold on for dear life.
The rabbit is a powerful rider, get him something straight and he'll hammer like a carpenter. Consequently, that's a big weakness for me. I reached out and latched to his wheel, hoping the bungee cord would hold. At last we made a few more turns, and I was still in a good position. The sand pits wrought havoc on me. I ran them, practice saw me stack it every time I tried to ride. Of course, running happens to be another chink in my armor, so another gap opened up. Not to worry though, the last third of the course is up hill, and so is the finish. I dare say I was in good position. Negotiations with more cornering put me in a great position, until the sketchy-as-hell corner. The rabbit flopped about half way through. I was following closely, and watched him crash. A smile on my lips, a downward glance to make sure I wasn't going to run the man over and kaboom! Down goes Aaron! Every profanity in the English language shot out, as well as a few bit of garbled gibberish.
I grabbed at the bike, knowing I was hemorrhaging time. In one of my smoother remounts, I lept over the saddle, stomped my foot down and the cranks spun. The bad spin. The spin that says "Hey, look ma! No chain!" More profanity, a deluge of profanity in fact. After a painfully slow repair I had lost two spots and finished the race with mixed emotions.
Sunday was a sight better. Seven Devils hosted the NCCX #3 race. They have a different setup for races, with the CX4s going dead last. I thought this was kind of cool until I saw how destroyed the course was. More of that rain and its total lack of screwing around, chewed up the old golf course spitting out deep mud and lots of hurt. The start straight had two big streaks of mud, the first about 50 feet, the second was probably 75. The first pit wasn't too terrible, it was deep, but some hard mashing would send you over. The second pit was the deal breaker. I rode it on the first lap, but after 50 men chewed it up, there was a black night syndrome, "Thou shallt not cross! Unless you're on foot, than maybe!"
The straight ended with a spiral, which was pretty cool, but confusing as riders became more spread out. I'd see guys on different lanes, and wonder if they were ahead, or behind. Out of the spiral went hit another straight building speed in to the barriers. After the barriers was a gnarly off-camber, which had become little more than an angled slop pit. On the second lap through this, I had a great line and was riding beautifully. I noticed a bit too late the guy flailing in the middle of the road. Of course he kept sliding closer to my line. I shouted "On your ri..." He dismounted in grand fashion, swinging his foot as far away from him as possible. Who cares? I care, because he kicked me in the chest. And people say cycling isn't a contact sport.
After climbing back up and circumnavigating the spiral, another short straight ran the racers back through the same two bogs from the start, only this time there was no spiral, there was a hellish run up awaiting. I mean hellish in every aspect of the word, except for the being hot part. The left side of the run was 6 inches of slop, and impossible to climb without ropes and some pick axes. I found that out on the last lap when every upward step sent me back down the slope, like walking up a downward escalator. However, the money on the run up was neat. Thanks to whom ever for the dollar!
The top quarter of the course was pretty neat, it had a lot of great flow, in spite of the still copious mud. Brakes were optional here, and really not recommended. At the end of this fun section was a long sweeping downhill corner. The top was steep, and heavily chewed up. Half way down, an old cart path crossed, but so much mud was tracked over the asphalt, it was almost impossible to find. Holding momentum through this section was key, anything for more speed in to the sloppy start/finish straight. On the last lap, after flailing around on the run up for at least two minutes (it felt like 30 or 40 minutes of wrestling an octopus), I flew down the straight, hands in the drops head down, maximum power! *Splorch!* I think was the exact sound my Grifos made as reality came screeching to a halt. I had to run across the freaking finish line. And that almost didn't happen, the mud was atrocious.
Thankfully, this week is an off week. So I'll have plenty of time to work on my running and clean out every part of my bike. Those that aren't getting replaced anyways, Brian is hooking me up with some sweet new gear, pictures to come after they're all assembled!
Rain has this funny tick. It doesn't screw around. Listen to enough chemistry and biology lectures, and you'll think water is the coolest substance in the history of cool substances (Don't look at your "water pipe" and laugh about cool substances, you need water to grow the fun stuff!). And while on an academic level water certainly is awesome, on the level of "I want to ride my bicycle, really fast, outside," H2O is far less awesome. Saturday wasn't terribly rainy, but the near constant mist/drizzle/sprinkle really worked a number on everyone. The temperature dropped every hour, the course got progressively worse after every rider and everything was wet.
All that said, the MSG Spooky Cross race went down well. We were graced with another fun course design, replete with sweeping corners, stairs, 4 sand crossings and one sketchy-as-hell corner. Any time the MSG course designer is given two beach volleyball courts, misery will ensue. Everyone should remind him of this as he runs by during his race. The aforementioned sketchy-as-hell corner was a total doubly whammy. It was awful to ride because it was ludicrously steep off camber, sharp and narrow. The tape didn't make a smooth arc around the turn, instead it cut in on the exit, forcing everyone back up high. Remember that progressively worse comment earlier? Half way through the day and people were struggling to walk the damn thing, much less ride it. And that's the second whammy, it wasn't really that fun to watch. Most people had figured out to run or tripod around it, either way it was slow and not entertaining.
I felt really good for most of the race. There were gaps to close and riders to overtake. My new tubular tires are hot shit on a tin roof. I'm in love with those things. They've so vastly improved the feel and handling of the bike, I could gush for days. They've been well worth the arduous P.I.T.A. to glue them to the rim. On the second lap, I glanced up the start/finish hill and saw stripes. I recognized the rider as a potential rabbit. I'd been riding with him at the Tornado Cross, and figured I had a shot to beat him with all the climbing here. From first sighting he was a couple hundred yards ahead out. Up the hill, across the false flat straight away we charged, pushing with all that was left in the tank. This was the bell lap after all! Through the sweeps, traversing the small gully, I was all over his back wheel, but never could take a corner fast enough to assert myself. The sweeps spit us out in to a downhill straight then on to the first pavement segment. It was time for me to hold on for dear life.
The rabbit is a powerful rider, get him something straight and he'll hammer like a carpenter. Consequently, that's a big weakness for me. I reached out and latched to his wheel, hoping the bungee cord would hold. At last we made a few more turns, and I was still in a good position. The sand pits wrought havoc on me. I ran them, practice saw me stack it every time I tried to ride. Of course, running happens to be another chink in my armor, so another gap opened up. Not to worry though, the last third of the course is up hill, and so is the finish. I dare say I was in good position. Negotiations with more cornering put me in a great position, until the sketchy-as-hell corner. The rabbit flopped about half way through. I was following closely, and watched him crash. A smile on my lips, a downward glance to make sure I wasn't going to run the man over and kaboom! Down goes Aaron! Every profanity in the English language shot out, as well as a few bit of garbled gibberish.
I grabbed at the bike, knowing I was hemorrhaging time. In one of my smoother remounts, I lept over the saddle, stomped my foot down and the cranks spun. The bad spin. The spin that says "Hey, look ma! No chain!" More profanity, a deluge of profanity in fact. After a painfully slow repair I had lost two spots and finished the race with mixed emotions.
Sunday was a sight better. Seven Devils hosted the NCCX #3 race. They have a different setup for races, with the CX4s going dead last. I thought this was kind of cool until I saw how destroyed the course was. More of that rain and its total lack of screwing around, chewed up the old golf course spitting out deep mud and lots of hurt. The start straight had two big streaks of mud, the first about 50 feet, the second was probably 75. The first pit wasn't too terrible, it was deep, but some hard mashing would send you over. The second pit was the deal breaker. I rode it on the first lap, but after 50 men chewed it up, there was a black night syndrome, "Thou shallt not cross! Unless you're on foot, than maybe!"
The straight ended with a spiral, which was pretty cool, but confusing as riders became more spread out. I'd see guys on different lanes, and wonder if they were ahead, or behind. Out of the spiral went hit another straight building speed in to the barriers. After the barriers was a gnarly off-camber, which had become little more than an angled slop pit. On the second lap through this, I had a great line and was riding beautifully. I noticed a bit too late the guy flailing in the middle of the road. Of course he kept sliding closer to my line. I shouted "On your ri..." He dismounted in grand fashion, swinging his foot as far away from him as possible. Who cares? I care, because he kicked me in the chest. And people say cycling isn't a contact sport.
After climbing back up and circumnavigating the spiral, another short straight ran the racers back through the same two bogs from the start, only this time there was no spiral, there was a hellish run up awaiting. I mean hellish in every aspect of the word, except for the being hot part. The left side of the run was 6 inches of slop, and impossible to climb without ropes and some pick axes. I found that out on the last lap when every upward step sent me back down the slope, like walking up a downward escalator. However, the money on the run up was neat. Thanks to whom ever for the dollar!
The top quarter of the course was pretty neat, it had a lot of great flow, in spite of the still copious mud. Brakes were optional here, and really not recommended. At the end of this fun section was a long sweeping downhill corner. The top was steep, and heavily chewed up. Half way down, an old cart path crossed, but so much mud was tracked over the asphalt, it was almost impossible to find. Holding momentum through this section was key, anything for more speed in to the sloppy start/finish straight. On the last lap, after flailing around on the run up for at least two minutes (it felt like 30 or 40 minutes of wrestling an octopus), I flew down the straight, hands in the drops head down, maximum power! *Splorch!* I think was the exact sound my Grifos made as reality came screeching to a halt. I had to run across the freaking finish line. And that almost didn't happen, the mud was atrocious.
Thankfully, this week is an off week. So I'll have plenty of time to work on my running and clean out every part of my bike. Those that aren't getting replaced anyways, Brian is hooking me up with some sweet new gear, pictures to come after they're all assembled!
Friday, October 30, 2009
On the eight day, God created ROCK!
I'm not good at catchy titles. If you've read this blog for any length of time, you're well aware of that. Consequently, the blog title is in danger. It's on the hot seat, much like Cleveland Cavaliers coach Mike Brown. But, much like The LeBron's coach, there are only shadowy figures lurking in a misty haze of rumors. An uneasy truce shall continue until there is a clearly better alternative. Ideas, suggestions and thoughts should be left in the comments section.
Halloween is upon us! Most of the local cyclists are headed to Knoxville's Haw Ridge for some twelve hour off road insanity. I managed to wuss out, and decided that some local cyclocross racing would be more fun. So that's where I'll be prior to noon Saturday. Hopefully a fun party will be the night cap for the evening. Sunday morning will find me careening across windy mountain roads to visit Boone, NC for, you guessed it, more 'cross!
Halloween is upon us! Most of the local cyclists are headed to Knoxville's Haw Ridge for some twelve hour off road insanity. I managed to wuss out, and decided that some local cyclocross racing would be more fun. So that's where I'll be prior to noon Saturday. Hopefully a fun party will be the night cap for the evening. Sunday morning will find me careening across windy mountain roads to visit Boone, NC for, you guessed it, more 'cross!
Monday, October 26, 2009
What a weekend...
... Wow. There are scant words to describe this last weekend. I'd been looking forward to these few days for a while, plans had been made a while back, but I didn't realize the level this voyage was going to take.
My best friend lives in Winston-Salem and works as a grad student, I think his formal title is "Lab Rat," at Wake Forest. A few months back he calls me with a wild hair up his ass about something or other, which is unusual. Then he says "Hey, AC/DC is coming to town, we need to go!" I concurred. if you've got the chance to go see a legendary rock band, that may or may not hang it up soon, you've got to do it. The weekend was set, and all that was left was the waiting.
Friday that waiting ended. I cruised the three hours up, over, around and down the mountains in to the "rolling foothills" of flatland central North Carolina. While not eventful in it's own right, the pumpkin carving party set the tone for the weekend. Good beer, nerd jokes and a bunch of strange people who all have degrees of science. After the slicing, dicing and decorating shenanigans, it was late-night movie time, and Hot Fuzz was the choice. I laughed my ass off, Pegg and Frost were brilliant once again. A great night cap!
Saturday was even better, we got up, and went straight to a sports bar. Since John is a Tennessee alumnus, he found the most orange bar in the area. I hadn't watched a full football game in a bar in years. Sipping more fine beer and chowing on fried fatty fat was an appealing way to spend and afternoon. After the game I got dragged to the WFUBMC laboratory, which was cool. The amount of stuff going on was incredible, research on almost anything and everything medicinal. As I said on Twitter, Zombieland was fucking amazing. John said it best "it's like a non-stop stream of awesome!" And it was. We howled. Take the time, take the kids, take the dog for that matter, just go see Zombieland.
The Lord's day was uneventful. Most of the day was spent watching episodes of Firefly, because a certain useless science monkey doesn't have cable TV. I like the show, which laid a great base for the movie, Serenity.
The Lord's evening on the other hand was a sight to behold. AC/DC in all their geriatric glory were about to lay the hurt on a few ear drums. All I can really say about the concert is this: it fucking rocked. Read that again, but more emphatically. Ok, try it one more time, with more enthusiasm and louder. Repeat a few more times and you'll get the gist. The mixed crowd roared for every old hit, and merely screamed for the new stuff. Angus Young and Brian Johnson showed great savvy as veteran performers, electrifying the whole crowd. It occurred to me about half way through the show just how old these guys were. That was disappointing, until the realization hit me; AC/DC rocks twice as hard as bands in their twenties. That means at one point, they were rocking eight time harder than anyone around. It's mind blowing to try and comprehend, so don't try.
My ears are still ringing twelve hours later.
My best friend lives in Winston-Salem and works as a grad student, I think his formal title is "Lab Rat," at Wake Forest. A few months back he calls me with a wild hair up his ass about something or other, which is unusual. Then he says "Hey, AC/DC is coming to town, we need to go!" I concurred. if you've got the chance to go see a legendary rock band, that may or may not hang it up soon, you've got to do it. The weekend was set, and all that was left was the waiting.
Friday that waiting ended. I cruised the three hours up, over, around and down the mountains in to the "rolling foothills" of flatland central North Carolina. While not eventful in it's own right, the pumpkin carving party set the tone for the weekend. Good beer, nerd jokes and a bunch of strange people who all have degrees of science. After the slicing, dicing and decorating shenanigans, it was late-night movie time, and Hot Fuzz was the choice. I laughed my ass off, Pegg and Frost were brilliant once again. A great night cap!
Saturday was even better, we got up, and went straight to a sports bar. Since John is a Tennessee alumnus, he found the most orange bar in the area. I hadn't watched a full football game in a bar in years. Sipping more fine beer and chowing on fried fatty fat was an appealing way to spend and afternoon. After the game I got dragged to the WFUBMC laboratory, which was cool. The amount of stuff going on was incredible, research on almost anything and everything medicinal. As I said on Twitter, Zombieland was fucking amazing. John said it best "it's like a non-stop stream of awesome!" And it was. We howled. Take the time, take the kids, take the dog for that matter, just go see Zombieland.
The Lord's day was uneventful. Most of the day was spent watching episodes of Firefly, because a certain useless science monkey doesn't have cable TV. I like the show, which laid a great base for the movie, Serenity.
The Lord's evening on the other hand was a sight to behold. AC/DC in all their geriatric glory were about to lay the hurt on a few ear drums. All I can really say about the concert is this: it fucking rocked. Read that again, but more emphatically. Ok, try it one more time, with more enthusiasm and louder. Repeat a few more times and you'll get the gist. The mixed crowd roared for every old hit, and merely screamed for the new stuff. Angus Young and Brian Johnson showed great savvy as veteran performers, electrifying the whole crowd. It occurred to me about half way through the show just how old these guys were. That was disappointing, until the realization hit me; AC/DC rocks twice as hard as bands in their twenties. That means at one point, they were rocking eight time harder than anyone around. It's mind blowing to try and comprehend, so don't try.
My ears are still ringing twelve hours later.
Monday, October 19, 2009
The song remains the same...
... Or so they say. 'Cross season is starting to pick up a bit, the news from the UCI race in Granogue was pretty messy. The course looked horrible, with it's mucky off camber turns and slop too thick to run through in places. What a perfect place for a cross race! Jim, The Unholy Rouleur has a good take on the race, since he lives up there and all. Cyclingdirt, has some great footage of the races, per usual.
Ryan Trebon, running and riding away with the victory, and good on him for it!
In more local news, Tornado Cross, a benefit race for the King College Cycling team rocked Saturday morning. The weather was nippy, but not unbearable. The rain came and went in spurts, much like it's nemesis, the sun. The mixed conditions kept the course in a limbo of sorts, never really drying out, but not becoming a total bog either. Half the course was smooth grass, or wooded sections, the rest was little more than pock-marked dirt. The clods of grass and the pits between rattled everyone's teeth loose, and destroyed speed. There was a pretty steep incline that most people ran, except the Pro-1-2 winner. He focused his machismo and bested the hill! Very cool to watch.
On a related note, fear for your ears all who race after the CX4s, for I now have a cowbell!
Ryan Trebon, running and riding away with the victory, and good on him for it!
In more local news, Tornado Cross, a benefit race for the King College Cycling team rocked Saturday morning. The weather was nippy, but not unbearable. The rain came and went in spurts, much like it's nemesis, the sun. The mixed conditions kept the course in a limbo of sorts, never really drying out, but not becoming a total bog either. Half the course was smooth grass, or wooded sections, the rest was little more than pock-marked dirt. The clods of grass and the pits between rattled everyone's teeth loose, and destroyed speed. There was a pretty steep incline that most people ran, except the Pro-1-2 winner. He focused his machismo and bested the hill! Very cool to watch.
On a related note, fear for your ears all who race after the CX4s, for I now have a cowbell!
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