Thursday, October 30, 2008
Despite aligning your hips, keeping your head down, and letting the club head speed do the work- sometimes you pound one into the bunker and face what is known as the "fried egg." Although there is nothing glamorous or visually stunning about hitting the fried egg every player must have this shot in the bag.
A successful sand save is 3 parts technique and one part faith.
Most importantly, lofting the fried egg out of the trap takes guts. You have to step down in that hole, choose your spot and swing with all you got.
That is just what I intend to do.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
After last Sunday's ride I am trying out this new format. The Titus ought to purchase a nice set of Callaway's and a membership at a modest club somewhere far from Tallahassee where I can live out my days in ignoble defeat, relying on the succour of pitching, putting, and bingo-bango-bongo.
Friday, October 24, 2008
You hear it out there, purring steadily.
The forest Zamboni is cruising the trails, packing down the pine needle cover that recently mimicked a 1970's era pornographic cinema artist's genitalia on my last visit. Smoothing out the wrinkled corner responsible for my recent goring by chainring, the forestZamboni kneads sand and clay together into one battle-ready surface. The Munson Lupine is growing tall and strong, leaning into the path of the singletrack so we can ride for miles high-fiving nature at speeds greater than 10 mph at times.
Some soft patch of earth will be drying out by morning, waiting for my ass to come sit on it and relax- one last ride before the descent to South Florida Babylon (and more Santos) on Sunday.
Have a good weekend. Don't forget to vote early for Barack Obama and Joe Biden. If you plan otherwise, don't let the blog door hit you where the dog should have bit you.
See you in the forest tomorrow between 8:30 and ?
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Powered up on the corn I worked on my saddle height and angle late into the night. San Felasco is still two months away which means I have an outside chance of getting my saddle adjusted back to "slight discomforting" before the big event.
I can say with confidence that saddle adjustment is an art, not a science, and there are many theories on how to get the job done. Most make as much sense as Intelligent Design- measure your inseam by 1.09, hang a plum bob off your knee, put your foot down, pick your foot up, shake it all about, and whatnot. There are just too many intangibles to consider for anyone to claim true knowledge. Of course, if you think you know- please do share.
I am only really sure of one thing, this needs to meet these guys.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
It is not enough to pile on the miles day after day after day never taking a day off the bike no matter that your legs feel pressed in the vice and the blood runs through them like pancake batter the point is to not run out of candy candy candy.
It was only Sasquatch and a lap of Munson not a problem even after 30+ crushing miles being pulled around by the nose or worse by that damned CL Smooth up in the real hills north of town where the true cyclists ride. A handful of raisins and a diet Root beer fortified with nutrional Sucralose got me 9/10's of the way around Munson and then the tank hit bottom and on mile 5.9 of the 6 mile ride Sasquatch made his big move. I never should have waited up for him after the trees.
Great move Sasquatch next time I will bring more candy candy candy.
It is time for the annual Cheaha camping trip where you can sleep in a tent then get up and ride all day or sleep in the dirt next to the fire and continue drinking when you wake up. Fewer and fewer are able to exercise both options as the insidious limitations of age set in. We will be returning to the Ocoee/ Tanasi region which is in Tennessee I think, click the title link for details.
It is a good thing that this site is not one of those vanity pages where I try to keep you posted on the details of my life such as,
"Dear readers, I totally squeezed too much toothpaste out this morning and spent like forever trying to get it back in the tube, LOL, OMG!! : ) ; )"
The weekend had it all: rock and roll, strange women who were pretty normal, raw oysters, fast boats, and of course a bike ride or two.
I can say with absolute authority that if you start a blog, feed it frequently, and keep the lies to a minimum that after 3 years you will be rewarded with new friends and kick ass swag like an official "Pootle Crew" jersey from the Bad Brains MTB Club in England, which is another country from this one you buttwads!" This jersey is so awesome I am wearing it and nothing else as I write this epistemological missive.
But- the camping trip. The trip is characterized by no amenities besides that which you bring, all night fun, no whining about the howling drunks the next morning, lots of oysters, baked goods, roasted meat, epic rides, wholesome family fun with the children of other people, and one of a kind musical performances late into the night. e-mail me at email@example.com if you are interested in joining us November 8-? (Veteran's Day weekend) and I will give you the location of camp headquarters and assign you to a squad.
Just google Thunder Rock Express, you will see,
Friday, October 17, 2008
Around mile 759 of my 900 mile run I came up on the exit for San Felasco and the full and gravid moon filled the sky above it. It looked like you would ride over the moon to get to the trails. That seemed fine to me, as things should be even.
I will ride from the top of Malapert Mountain to the far end of Longomontanus Crater for all I care-that Moon ain't so big.
Those turtles say the same thing while they stare across I-75. That ain't so far. Those cars ain't that fast. I'm going to do it. Seriously other turtle, I'm going for it-- and then that turtle goes, out into the serious and the right now.
Sometimes they make it and sometimes they don't.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Somebody get this shit away from me.
No wait, don't touch it! Come any closer and I'll claw your eyes out!
Another 500 miles in a rental, another lap of sweet Santos soil. I'm getting quite familiar with Bellview, Florida.
Some riders asked me if I was local and could I suggest which trails to ride. I didn't even think twice. I said, "Sure, follow me." Away we went on the best trails in the state, me and some dudes from Hernando.
Yeah, I kicked their asses.
What a town, a fine pueblo, and it is always 1979 in Bellview. A simpler, gentler time.
Now-- dug in here in Ft. Lauderdale across the street from the dogtrack, down the block from the strip club, and next door to the Isle of Bile Casino the times are not simple, nor do they appear to be gentle.
I'll try not to touch anything.
1,000 miles round trip and never leaving Florida, I will be back tomorrow night.
I suggest any fo the following for updates on the revolution-
Southern Poverty Law Center
If you have ever ridden Markham Park and have an opinion or useful information please send me the trail beta at firstname.lastname@example.org
Sunday, October 12, 2008
I thought in an instant, this is a moment you have captured in time. Sunday morning on the way to the races, but not racing, I see a boy riding a bike with his cat.
We are not racing, and so we go as fast as we can, especially if anyone stops paying attention for one second. This is the type of thing that makes us go faster.
The race scene is giant cars and rolling gangs. Forearms with extra muscles flicker through gears. "COME ON!" One racer lady yells at me. I must have been standing in a bad place. It is all terribly confusing- these momentary subdivisions in the park. Everyone else seems to know what is going on. I however, could not figure out what was going on. I felt like I did in College Algebra. I got a C in that.
I got on my bike and rode as fast and as hard as I could, frequently attempting to push my riding associates further back down the trail. Racing, however, just isn't for me.
Wrecking Ball beat Big Jim Slade but the 'Ball had a hard look to his face while Big Jim looked serene.
Sometimes there is just no explaining things.
On the way home a little girl dressed like Cyndi Lauper rode a skateboard out in front of me on Beard Street. I slowed down to avoid her and saw the sign, Lemonade 50 cents. Times are getting tough and I know a deal when I see one. Despite the strongarm marketing tactics I bit. Fresh squeezed honest to God lemonade, on an overcast October day with Halloween decorations on every other house.
After that I passed a bluegrass band playing "Home to east Virginia."
Summer says a slow goodbye.
Wednesday, October 08, 2008
Excerpted from MTBReview.com: Alafia
The intermediate (Blue) sections, Bridges and Rock Garden, are really fun with lots of medium-sized hills, some short and steep, with others more gradual for a speedy downhill. There are several very challenging sections along the blue trail (even for experienced riders) and the sudden drops, climbs, twists and turns are just plain fun to ride.
The Rollercoaster and Moonscape trails (Black) form a 4-mile advanced loop which MUST be ridden one-way. Gatorback and Rabbit Ears are very difficult shorter loops off Bridges and Sand Pine, respectively. These sections all include steep roller coaster dips, technical rocky sections and very difficult climbs and drops. Many of these have a steep, straight line descents followed by a short valley before the trail climbs rapidly up the opposite side. It is a roller coaster sensation that takes your breath away and gives extra "G" forces as your swoop suddenly transitions from a dive into a climb. Not all of these are a straight line down and up. Some drops have relatively sudden turns. Knowing what to expect and controlling your speed accordingly is necessary here.
I will be calling one of your asses before I take off on this thing solo. Sounds fun.
Santos could not have been more different by comparison. A steady rain shower packed the sandy trails down as I rode them, like a constantly unfurling red carpet. Even the stiff and stingy John Brown sections around the the Vortex rode easy even as the rain seeped through the limestone activating that mucous that sends you slamming to the ground.
I was totally in a singletrack barrel.
Now I am holed up in a fascinating theme park, "Old Hotel-arama" where you pay the price of a normal modern hotel, but you actually experience the hotel rooms of the early 1970's. It is so awesome! I wish the floors weren't so sticky though, it makes my socks
Beta on Alafia from anyone who has ridden it please.
Tuesday, October 07, 2008
I hereby declare this snake a juvenile Water Moccasin and I defy you to prove otherwise. It lunged for CL's "jug'ler vein" right after the flash went off.
The more interesting thing about this picture is that it was taken last night on a distant corner of the Pedrick Greenway. On a ride that started out hot, full of traffic, with legs of pancake batter- I rode myself sane again. This feeling of exquisite ache is my central perspective on the world and the more distorted that image is the scarier the garish funhouse angles are on the world around me.
A four hour ride on Monday night was definitely unexpected, but I am a better human for it and CL and I had a blast. I spent most of the ride hanging onto his wheel from the hooks in my chest, my bottom lip quivering with the constant pain and panic of the pace. He chatted like a freestyle rapper about what a good boyfriend he is, how much he likes his kitchen, wondering why Republicans hate America so much, and how his allegiance to Biggie kept him from ever giving Tupac a serious listen.
I think he was starting to hurt towards the end though.
I have a decision to make today, and I could use your help. There are four significant trail systems between home base and my destination of the week, Tampa.
Crooms, San Felasco, Santos, and Alafia
I can ride one on the way down tomorrow and one on the way back on Saturday morning.
WWJD? (What would Juancho do?)
Monday, October 06, 2008
Everything I touch turns to shit lately. If only I could get close to GOP Headquarters, although from the looks of them lately you would think I was giving Johnny Mac private lessons in getting it wrong.
A day late for all the Friday night fun, a broken down truck, a broken down bike, a broken down other bike, and in two days I leave again, neglecting this broken down Tallahassee life to its own devices.
Rocktober is going to be a difficult time to schedule those mega-mile weeks. That means a fast pivot to focusing on exotic locales, speed, and more risk.
I will be lucky to ride twice this week, but those rides are going to be Santos and Alafia soooooo, I guess I should stop feeling sorry for myself.
Last time I checked I was a white man in America with a Titus Racer X and a job.
I followed the Fat Lad adventures from Louisville, KY and I have to tell y'all; I'm going to need a week to write up all the new inductees to the Clydesdale Hall of Fame. Aside from our great trails, which speak for themselves, you all represented our town at its best and still rode the Lad into the ground with smiles on your faces. Despite the vitriol most often found here, I am humbled.
Thanks for making the world a little smaller for all of us,