On your left...

2011-12-16T15:50:00.001-07:00

He puts on his glasses like he puts on a sweater. The full effort that comes with a familiarity not yet honed to efficiency. More colors than I’ve seen; a subtle hue new to my palate not yet identified as a shade of blue, green or beige. Not the stark white of fresh snow or the brown/black of a winter’s forest but that light at the margin of the day where earth, sky & light mesh into one common point on the horizon.

Temporary Change

2011-10-01T06:43:00.000-06:00

I consider myself somewhat tech savvy, however the current iOS of the iPhone and iPad are not working/playing well with blogger. I'm hoping greater access will allow more and better posts. For what it's worth I'm going to use the tumblr I created a while back for most of my posts in the next few weeks and see if that helps me get the non-creative/creating monkey off my back and write/draft less shit and make something worth reading.
www.radker.tumblr.com

Inner

2011-09-25T07:30:00.001-06:00

Warmth in the turns and warmer on the straights, the tires sing over the dirt and hum on the asphalt, finished for the day I tumble thru the race in my head, the result matters less than the disappointment of it. Hours later I'm figuring out what it was I lack and the answer is nothing, I gave it what I had, beyond that I'm just not capable. I cannot take the pedals back, without them I'd be screwed, instead I have my own modest goals, all in, every one.

2011-09-25T05:27:00.002-06:00

Pushing thru the days hiding the disappointments,

Aging gracefully, or so I think.

Without a healthy outlet I fade,

Waiting for the bumper with my name.

2011-09-21T22:15:00.001-06:00

The solitude of riding dirt roads for miles and miles is with out fail the best thing I can think of to clear my head. At this point I need other things beyond my music to limit the din.
MTB requires too much focus but 60 miles on dirt roads with the CX bike is quieting.
The brain finally shuts the fuck up and allows a subtle calm,
a peace not found as easily in the more populated aspects of life.
Trees, changing leaves, big elk being chased by hunters all slip through my bubble as I roll down the roads, inside a cocoon of my own creation.

Mechanical form

2011-09-19T06:32:00.000-06:00

Sometimes emotional availability is on par with accumulation of things. A lack of satisfaction is maybe what drives the successful but also the journey isn't always the goal. What if you constantly pick up and go to the next place, mentally or geographically? What about the enjoyment of what's there. I'm shutting out more and more things, less attention paid to the newest and nicest two wheel oriented bits and more to the experience of using what I have. I used to lust after the fanciest things for the bike, ignoring that the bike is simple in nature, missing the point of the process, efficiency in it's mechanical form.

2011-09-13T21:28:00.002-06:00

Chopping wood to prepare for the next set of barriers,
Pushing through the too late breakfast, not enough coffeets.
One in the books, the next coming up, thick and fast.

2011-09-06T08:11:00.002-06:00

I'm outside all the time seeing the season fade and blend into the next and all the while reaching for what I'm not sure is there, not sure if it's mine but the only certainty is that I get there. No convoluted metaphor here; just the simple task of doing something for a lifetime. At least the next fraction of my own time here. My only saving grace is the therapy I get, self analyzed, self diagnosed and self medicated. "Well, Mr. Faia, it seems your levels are low today, I think 90 minutes at threshold will have you right as rain in the morning." If only it were that simple. Hitting the anaerobic lottery, winning one race.

2011-09-02T21:29:00.000-06:00

I wish I had started chip away at all of it years ago, I can't figure out exactly when it began but since then it's all been better. With a few tools and a not too daunting pile I've found a pleasant stasis. Whatever it was that started the movement has kept me rolling thru all of my stuff. I've cut away and cut down, found light where I thought there wasn't. Now I went from an already small stack to a mini lump. Smaller is better, less stuff has helped immensely.

2011-09-02T21:28:00.000-06:00

Walking home from a late evening party and seeing the sky light up with lightning backlighting the mountains 40 miles away is better than fireworks, almost as good as singletrack and not nearly as good as barriers at speed. Empty streets are like crowded trails, anathema to what seems right. Maybe if I were a city person I could see the beauty in it but instead it makes me uneasy, unaware of the subtlety that makes cities appealing, I'm clear to a point but beyond that I'm only as good as my next step, cup, pedal stroke. Lost is the default setting, confused with what it is I need outside my own walls, whether real or imagined I glide with all the friction of 40 years of wear and tear.

Harissa & Fuzzy Math

2011-08-25T22:44:00.000-06:00

For the first time in a very long time I didn't eat too much Harissa. Over doing dinner isn't usually an issue but this Harissa, holy shit. Kind of a metaphor for my summer, too much on occasion spells crap for the following days. Like when you do 6-7 hour days and then expect the legs to show up on time when you want them to, as opposed to when they are ready. Miles doesn't always equal speed. And form isn't the sum total of your time and distance. This fuzzy math is always what slaps me in the face when I expect it to be hibernating. Like an ill-times encounter with a bear, only wrestling the bike up and over the hills results in less injury than an ursine encounter. I'm guardedly approaching cross, cleanly viewing my season as a total effort, not three separate ones. It's been winter melded into summer racing smeared into CX. We will see how that works out. I'm not looking to force anything, just hoping for good legs and clean, muddy races.

Loopt

2011-08-12T23:03:00.000-06:00

Somewhere in the pedals and away from the din today it all came clear. Clean and good with nothing much beyond a flat at 72 miles and rotten stomach around 102. Finishing made the head ground back to the beginning of the day and the other flat I had to deal with on the car and the picking up of kids. Equal parts reality and fantasy. In and out of the wind and crisp finishes to the day.

Update

2011-08-11T05:59:00.000-06:00

I lost the timfaia.com url because the email address attached to the godaddy account was cancelled when I lost my job. Bummer, I hope this post finds the very small group who read my words.
In the meantime it's now late summer and with cross coming I'm in purgatory, riding the mtb better than I think I have in a while and fighting the late season break down in gear, with the roads and bike paths too crowded to ride- it's dirt that's been the default destination, and last night's race showed just how much I've been riding the fat tires. A quick inspection after my legs earned a Stan's shower and I knew I pushed those tires one ride too far.
I want to have a good cross season but it's going to be battles better fought just to get there, I'm not really giving up on it just trying to justify the time gone and build up in my head for the intensity. I'm riding well and if someone decides to put on an uphill cross race, I'm in!
Please change any google reader feeds or whatever aggregator you use to the new timfaia.net link.
-Thank you for reading.

Sun

2011-07-30T22:25:00.001-06:00

I'm listening to Pandora a lot lately, funny how your tastes are your constant even when switching up channels, mentally, musically or philosophically. The music that powers the time on the bike isn't the engine, it's the oil.
Riding the long miles in the sun brings on less fatigue than the shorter winter rides in the snow. The sun adds power, flattens hills, fills muscles, another day over 6 hours is easy, 2 hours in 15 degrees? Hard.

Copper

2011-07-24T07:09:00.000-06:00

The early morning light has it's copper hue, not quite bright, and certainly not warm. While the rest of the country sweats I wake to a hoodie and the thoughts of my first hot espresso of the day. Maybe the -30 degree nights we had in February are still chilling things here, at least the snow is faded all the way and it only lingers in couloirs up at 11,000 ft.
My head cold has taken residence in my chest, maybe it'll just move out this weekend but truth is I've been abusing it too. Not really wanting to let up as the weather shifted to proper summer temps and no 3 inches of rain 90 minute deluge.

2011-07-15T23:12:00.002-06:00

For all 3 people who read this excuse the mess going on at timfaia dot com while I figure what happened. Sorry.

After Firecracker

2011-07-05T06:28:00.000-06:00

I love the crisp fatigue lingering in my legs right now, a hard earned discomfort that is forever mine. I can't take my head out of the good, the bad from yesterday isn't lingering the way it usually does. I went to the place and stayed there, largely in comfort, not knowing what the legs and body could do I just rode the bike and let the sticks fall. The rocks were kind, the shoes now smell like too many late night bar urinals. Easing into recovery is not an option, it all goes back up the tree for Saturday.

2011-06-28T23:35:00.000-06:00

I wanted to pull but instead I pushed the whole way today. If this keeps up maybe I'll have some form for about 8 days in November. Unacceptable.

Totals

2011-06-24T21:58:00.000-06:00

I keep wanting to go long on a single day, but it seems the cumulative total is getting the marathon closer than the one day sprint. It feels like a cop out though. I want to do the big day of 150-180 miles and days on end of 50-70 are weighing on the system. The legs, shoulders, neck, all of it is getting the work and wearing me down. I want to see the finish line through a telescope. not just up ahead.

Lime

2011-06-09T21:25:00.000-06:00

Somewhere around hour 4 it hits me, that subtle hunger at first telling me I've pushed it pretty far but that it's not over. Battles between the hunger and the legs, the motivation and the crisp reward of too much food. After 6 hours a warm bowl of rice with crisp cold veggies and a bit of peanut sauce puts out the fire. Fighting with myself, the battle I KNOW I'll lose never ends. Legs quietly asking for a respite but it feels too good to go without a little longer. Cutting away, always eliminating the extra, cycling by it's very nature is prone to surfeit, extra wheels, extra bikes, extra, extra, extra, the more I ride the less I want in the garage, the less I want to need. The tools are there to cut away at the excess, a constant project of my creation. Off site storage, out of my sight, not pushed in the direction of more, always less, of everything.

Skewed

2011-06-09T04:10:00.000-06:00

I'm bargaining again, the not so subtle give and take between what amounts to desperation and success, the measuring stick is faded, about to be resurfaced and re calibrated. I have my own goals, not the regular year in and year out grind, these are coming up different, trying to crisply define a new view. Sleeping on the other side of my head, turning East for South to view my world not changed outwardly but viewed with a better clarity for the importance of intangibles.

Coriolis Effect

2011-05-30T16:35:00.000-06:00

I could look it up on wikipedia or simply google it but I'd like to ride from a few hundred miles north of the Equator to see exactly where the toilet water switches from going one way around the bowl to the other. At the geographical center does it just fall straight down the sides of the bowl? Or, does it go one way in one house and the other way in another house next door? Hmm, I think I could get my head around my quest to shit way to the Equator and beyond! Sure, Google probably has the answer but I'd rather go on a quest. I think South America is the best choice for the search, but then perhaps I could try it on all three continents that are touched by the Equator. How sweet would that be, make a documentary on the subtleties of waste water processing across the developing world. I think I'm on to something here.

Texture

2011-05-28T23:25:00.001-06:00

Patterns repeat, that's why they're called patterns, I guess.
The texture changes only slightly but the weave, the essence remains.
No matter; sun, snow, rain it comes back, familiarity bred over years on crystalline layers of sweat, the by product of my work, wasted to everyone but me.
I leave behind a minuscule trail, forgotten tracks but clear and flashing like neon in my head. Never finished, never enough.

Aggressively Mediocre

2011-05-19T23:23:00.000-06:00

Narrow road tires going thru freshly fallen spring snow, the offspring of a squall I'd been dodging for days. Always wanting a little more chamois time even if it meant a pair of burning feet in the post ride shower. Regardless of the weather I was going, it didn't matter to me. Only the feet. I should have worn better socks or winter shoecovers, gear is just crap, if they have it, it sucks, if they don't it's why they didn't go out. Mine is fine, no reason for being slow. Aggressive in my mediocrity, void of excuses for not being better. I'd like it less if it came easy. The wins or the time. If I was at sea level and warm all the time I'd feel guilty. I prefer my cocoon of vapor barriers, wool and synthetic armor to help quiet the wind, bide my time, hide out where it's warm only after the work is done.

Time

2011-04-29T10:50:00.000-06:00

In between dodging flu/cold bugs and the incessant snow the whole system gets loaded. The more I try the spring (late winter) gets harder each year. After all the pieces get fit and the order is taken I always realize that the one piece I needed has been left out. Time. Time gets subtracted, never added. Aside from throwing away sleep I can't find more. Gliding across the snow and the asphalt, looking for stashes of dirt I'm left pushing as I'm pulled the other way. Maybe next year, too many times that's been said. Too much in the queue, too little in trash.

An Emotional Robot

2011-04-19T22:54:00.000-06:00

An emotional robot, stuck between 2 places, one side is soft the other analytical and eerily well, void. empty spaces filled with the 1000 yard vision, looking too close obscures the whole picture, the focus needs to farther down field, avoiding myopic thoughts in favor of long(er) views. Clear.

Short, Sharp

2011-04-18T22:53:00.000-06:00

Listening to whatever weather phenomenon is happening in the darkness puts me back on the 3rd climb today as I rode out of the wind into the cold, knowing full well it was coming back at that same point, the swirling winds didn't change directions at all on the short 2.5 hour out-and-back ride. I can't really call it training because it lacked any structure, at all, if the hill seemed friendly I'd ride better, if it was an angry climb I'd react in kind.
Stopping to pee and adjust my stem (it's never truly straight) I wondered what it was that pushed my pedals, up thru the clouds and clearly not the work I was familiar with, this was real work just, ahh, unfocused-to put it nicely. Not far, not hard, not anything aside from my time, alone. I guess there was another cyclist on climb #1 who wanted to ride, he forgot the friendly disposition that climb has, it's friendly...I rode it alone.
The buzz of the embro on the legs only added to the comfort the snow banks on the road side on climb #3 gave me, as the line recedes uphill you know the climbs get better when the 6 foot bank mocks your progress and the mud is from the slowly melting snows more than anything resembling a recent storm.

Late Day

2011-04-17T22:11:00.000-06:00

I liked it while I had it but now a few months on I'm not so sure. I'm on the next stage and the reflections are past looking forward is better than back. Last Sunday cleared a lot and made me realize how far away I am from form. It's comforting, I haven't been cold since; knowing that good legs are 6 weeks way and I didn't overdo anything too much since January. It keeps me warm to know I have this heat built up, it's warming me from the inside. I'm excited to smell pineapple and look at cliffs instead of cornices, green not my monochrome late winter landscape.

Long View

2011-04-08T06:54:00.000-06:00

To ride clean right now is to lie to yourself, fake form you know deep inside isn't there and will not be for a long time. I am a liar, my rides already done since December are a farce, smoke and mirrors to quiet my head and ease my legs away from the ledge. Zoloft for the lazy, feckless winter rider. More miles could have been mine but I succumb to the draw of warmth and shelter. I had it all for the taking, instead I failed. Sunday calls for penance for the work I didn't do, the cold I couldn't take, the dedication I wanted. I wanted it that way maybe, I needed a cold winter to realize my errors, breathe in my weakness and smell more failure. Without that why keep going? If it came without time and effort would October feel as good? Would the blood in my throat be less sweet?

Air

2011-04-04T06:18:00.000-06:00

I want to be more grounded, sometimes I find myself feeling much too up in the air. I am constantly looking for solid ground, whether I slip for real or metaphorically I lack good footing. A product of poor planning no doubt. In the end (sooner?) I'll maybe know what that is but until I can't find an answer. Maybe that's the trick, try to find your ground, your cleats, the special traction that is uniquely suited to fill the grooves that belong only to you. I know mine to be different from most but also a similar pattern to a few. As I watch the calendar move it only muddies the water adding to my slippery footing to where they've not yet been. I think the key will be to understand that the ground moves, not one way, many.

Moist

2011-04-02T22:29:00.002-06:00

I missed the timing Thursday, I thought it was going to get worse, it didn't. Mid afternoon sun instead of more snow. Instead I skated and slid across the paved road to the plowed dirt road, all morning until I pulled the plug. The pedals and the snow worked in harmony, what I assumed was going to be shitty was better up higher, less sitting slush, more firm snow.

Sloth

2011-04-02T22:28:00.000-06:00

Friday made me feel better about the world, finally the first ride without slush in about 2 weeks. The dichotomy of drawing motivation from riding in shitty weather so I can enjoy the longer days in the sun. I think if the weather was always good I wouldn't appreciate the beating I get from grapple, and being soaked thru from the road spray around my fenders. Being out for almost 4 and a half hours settled me, not only the legs but further up from there. Breaking a few dishes in the process but not crushing. The subtle humming in my legs is an alarm clock, waking up the lazy bones.

Geared

2011-03-30T11:06:00.001-06:00

Lately for whatever reason I have been lusting after the experience way more than the constant effort to keep up with the latest technology. I'm not driving anywhere to ride, I'm kitting up and riding out my door, bundled almost as to test the limits of the so-called winter gear. One tip from me for all of the companies out there; make your shit breathe. We generate plenty of heat in the winter but the moisture lingers, and I'm not a big sweater.

When I was in high school I had a few years of riding already in my legs on a hand-me-down Ross 10 speed and I finally got a pair of road shoes, I couldn't afford Sidis (not much has changed) so I ended up with a sweet pair of Dettos.

These lasted years, I used to re-glue the upper to the sole every month and the toe clip strap wore a hole in the side of the shoe next to my pinky toe. Everyday, about 2 hours before school and then another 90 minutes after school. Only using old issues of Winning to figure out what training was. Dodging stoned classmates and wanting to be Dave Stohler out on the roads made me smile, usually alone, who else rode before Lemond and then Armstrong put road cycling on the map in the Eastern US? I had a wool jersey and 1 pair of shorts I washed every day. Not much else was needed, I'd wear jeans if it was cold and/or long underwear, who could afford tights back then, coming from a traditional sports family I would've had better luck asking for a new baseball glove (I didn't play baseball after age 10) than help getting me winter/cold weather cycling gear.

Pedal

2011-03-24T22:42:00.000-06:00

I'm out on the road, hiding in plain sight, putting in my early miles thru the late winter sun/sleet, instead of complaining about it all I'm instead closing out the noise, pulling on the shoe covers everyday to clear my head and fill my legs. No feigning apathy or ennui, just a clear determination to make the most of the good weather. No car time to ride, there are roads at 9000 feet that are out my door. Not going for the roads that are at 5000 feet that may be cleaner, warmer and more hospitable. At least the pedals are turning.

Negotiation

2011-03-16T22:48:00.000-06:00

Negotiating with myself to get the most time I can for the window with which it needs to fit. A bit more of a buffer than I have had in years past but nonetheless I welcome the time and subtle ache after a few consecutive hard(er) days. I know the acid builds like water behind a beaver dam until it breaks, whether I opt for time off the bike or the weather beats me to the punch. Train with the sun right now and when the snow comes an hour on the rollers feels earned. Work done, not a source to walk through kitchen empty handed, for fear of slowness later in the spring. Bargaining with the head in place, so the legs to go fast later.

Digging

2011-03-14T12:46:00.000-06:00

The ache from yesterday sharpened overnight into the unclear fatigue that comes from nothing. I mean nothing- as in I didn't do a goddam thing. Weak and tired I limped through the day chased by the hunger that comes from a bigger week. Today is better, happily pseudo rested and ready to start digging another hole.

Crisp

2011-03-12T22:38:00.000-07:00

Crisp, but not fried... Broken dishes, clearly there is much more work to be done before number 1. Listening to the wind quiets and drowns out the negative, leaving more than just good and bad, happy to be pedaling and feeding the addiction of the nightly ache in the legs. I don't know what the substitute would be...without the bike I'd find something I suppose. At least for now I'm clear, not good, not fast, but I get to feel like I'm getting to that place.

Buffalo

2011-03-09T21:55:00.001-07:00

All parts of the buffalo have a use, whether they are the offal cuts or the prime it all has a purpose. The work is finding them within the piles. Leaving behind heaps and mounds too thick that the sounds are faded and the rotting of the flesh mixes with the too sweet, the saccharine wafts out to leave the nose stronger than the shovel, more focused than the eye. I try to listen and fail, then the good pieces are left over where I haven't been, left in plain sight. Crisp and clear like a ribbon of asphalt pushed thru the forest, meandering where the topography allows, like a swiftly established stream, days or weeks instead of eons.

Clumsy

2011-03-08T21:40:00.000-07:00

Monkey in the middle with who knows what on either side, I guess that puts me in the middle. I have the wheels and the long view. The edge, long point of the view isn't a sunny place, Sunshines only so far, so long and then it's light fades, the trick, the key and the solution is to get your own light on and clear the path, cut out a patch of light from the long night.

Seeing things quite close to what they really are

2011-02-23T23:21:00.000-07:00

I see things that aren't immediately disparate. I always look for the negative space, waste makes me unhappy, food, resources whatever it is but I get bothered by it. I know surfeit is our undoing as a culture, as a world, but I can only control what is in my vicinity, I lack the power to change beyond what I can touch, only to get the most out of what I have. Sure, the activist sees everything as bigger than it is, I want things smaller, I want less, of nearly everything except miles. My pieces wilt in the shade, outside in the sun, snow and rain I thrive and the negative space fades into a clearer picture of my future, whatever it is it's better in the saddle, better inside my head and much better out. With the caffeine fading 10 hours after and my ears more full than my stomach I have a longer view than I've had in months. The longer days and shorter nights are good for the legs.

Untitled

2011-02-18T16:47:00.000-07:00

When I was in 2nd grade I became friends with a kid who lived real close by, only about a half mile, but it was across a cornfield, which was fine, it was a safe walk but since he was gone every summer I only had a few months of the year where we would play after school and walk home from each other's houses. The corn grew (it's now houses) and was pretty high by the time school ended and was about harvested by the time school restarted in the fall and he was back from summer camp. But mid winter I'd be walking home from his house in the dark and sometimes snowy harvested cornfield for 15 minutes of fear. You see, I am and always have been afraid of the dark, It's been a constant, that thing I can't see is going to get me and if it's dark-it's there. If it's light out-I'm safe. I've mentioned it before here but lately the situation has had me doing my skis and rides in the light. No operating on the margins. Free time, right?
I can't help but draw parallels between sprinting thru a cornfield after dark and where I am right now. In the dark but close to safety, only a little sprint to the warmth of the next step. I know support isn't endless and at some point I'll commit to a new path. Just like running in the dark across the cut corn it's a broad swath, I only need a narrow one cut out from the breadth of that field. I don't ask too many questions only giving myself answers to the ones I know.

Nada

2011-02-17T05:41:00.001-07:00

Hours before the sun comes up you can see that purple light coming out in pieces. Thru the snow, It's February, in August it pushes me out the door. Today it's different, today I have nowhere to go but where I am, comforting and defeating at the same time. No hats to wear, no lines to cross. Manufacture success and build a better future.

Nada

2011-02-17T05:40:00.000-07:00

Revisions

2011-02-12T09:26:00.000-07:00

If you could go back, would you?
A left, not a right, up, not down, every reaction to the initial action.
I'd like to think I made the best possible choices because if not the pool is and I'm still struggling to swim, in water over my head. Treading water for that long-80 years +/- What else can you do?
Easy to say this was good, that was bad, sometimes. In the end you're left with the pile of good and the pile of bad. Does it matter which pile is bigger on the last day?

Taking Away

2011-02-06T04:38:00.001-07:00

Early is relative. looking at clocks at the wrong times and without the right amount of fatigue eases my mind to a different place. I find myself here a bit more often lately, rested in the physical sense but battling the mental din. How do I rest that part? How is it that the two aren't woven together? That they coexist on different planes? The new order of days is less new and I press through, cutting away all of the time to a more simple, pared down pile of shit. Everything is reduced in my head, my own pile smaller so I may more easily see my own excess, the surfeit that I know is my own, and cut that deeper. I'm not seeing the result, only focusing on the process.

Chemistry

2011-02-05T10:15:00.000-07:00

I have very few absolutes, the list of eventualities is seemingly endless even when the scope is narrowed and I look down my little tunnel. Nothing too broad, sharp surgical strokes, no great swath is being cut here, just pointing it straight as I can right now and taking my own lines, however skewed and varied they can may be. In the meantime several below 0 days have put the focus inside, doors and head, no dearth of introspection in these dark days. Managing nothing and accomplishing only slightly more. Roasting past mistakes on a spit. Restless and bordering on rested in the same breath.

Too

2011-01-30T22:41:00.000-07:00

I want the quiet of the woods more than the quiet in my head.
Listen to the noise too long and you start to believe in it.
You listen to the shit and then it gets too loud, superlatives aside
Be out and believe, it can't rain all the time.

Friday only not so much

2011-01-29T10:37:00.000-07:00

I felt it yesterday, it wasn't the wind or the bike moving around under me or the too warm day outside of Denver, it was more the feeling I had in my legs, the feeling that I had too many days with skis and not enough with pedals. Tightness where there shouldn't be and short lived efforts that usually are longer. Maybe this is all a product of a 200 inch winter and a long list of XC skiing days coupled with a short list of rides. I know it's late January but I like the work, maybe I need more of the work with wheels and less of the pleasant and mind soothing sliding thru the woods on skis.
The wind was just right, no leaning into the cross wind to keep from getting knocked over, usually what a warm winter day holds, Finishing with a 7 mile climb and a mind quieting descent to the car was better than Prozac. I think.

Woods at night

2011-01-25T22:06:00.000-07:00

Today the push was more about the loss than the gain. Inside my head I argued with the trees, the sounds, & the shadows, knowing I was only paranoid just to kid myself into thinking I wasn't going to get eaten, clubbed or speared. Sliding across the snow I argued with myself. Forced my effort and made it through. Opening windows, turning up my headphones to not hear what isn't there.

New

2011-01-18T23:10:00.000-07:00

I want to have new ideas, young thoughts, let them grow and mature, kids now to grow into adults later. Whether they be articles not yet written on prose not yet laid out. For whatever reason the well has gone dry. I know there is more warmth in thought and more food in ideas. I just need to find it. Keep with me, I have it somewhere in the head, it's just that that door is closed right now, I need to find my keys. Or, pick my locks and get in the kitchen, cooking up fresh thoughts while burning off the shit I don't need crowding out the goodness to see the light of day.

Bargain

2011-01-06T22:07:00.000-07:00

More clear that the vision is, and less voice behind the wind has the winter work progressing.
Trying to trade, bargain, the way in a second you lie to yourself mid race that if the body allows another few minutes of pain you'll be extra nice and give a rest, not do 3 hours and eat a half peanut butter sandwich, hydrate in favor of refueling. All of the white lies we tell inside our head, too many to list, to embarrassing to own up to. All of them in line waiting for the reward they were promised.

12/29

2010-12-29T22:59:00.000-07:00

Like losing more than myself, pushing thru the boundaries, real and imagined.
Guilt is easier than success, it brings more good work.
If it were easy the guilt would evaporate, I like that it doesn't.
A random thought I had a while ago 'self loathing is a better training tool than an SRM.'
Pleased, insofar as a candid snapshot mid stream, not quite able to touch either side,
But in the middle I swim.

Want

2010-12-27T06:17:00.000-07:00

For all of my life, especially as a kid I had want, whether birthdays or Xmas, I wanted. Silly, materialistic, things I had no business desiring. Perhaps that's why as an adult (read-parent) I have had to come around to liking the holidays/birthdays, no kid wants a curmudgeon for a father, baby steps. Not that I was alone in wanting- I just never quite managed my expectations, something as an adult I have become quite adept at accomplishing. Presents or less concrete, ethereal goals were commonplace. Now, as I place more of my life in the past than the future I want time. Time, to climb passes I cannot pronounce so well. Time to have the fortitude to ride too far and come home shattered. Limping in on fumes, so blown food is an after thought. Chipping away at the pile of stuff that becomes more of who we are than who we are is cathartic and cleansing. Personal space in a shrinking world.

New leaf

2010-12-24T14:21:00.000-07:00

Trying to push thru what is left of the cross season and get thru the holidays has me coming to terms with the fact that - though I may try otherwise- I am at best a club cyclist. Diminished returns, unrequited lust for bigger races and better results has left a mark on my season. I know now that I do need better rubber for certain heavier days and the preparation will begin sooner in 2011. Also looking ahead while looking over my shoulder has me setting unrelated to CX goals. I think the idea of a century a month will get me out for some real base work thru September, that'll be 9 of them before the first CX race. The Rapha crew's Festive 500 inspired this idea. Trying to get in 500km (310 miles) at 9800 ft in a ski town over Xmas week is not only unrealistic it borders on suicidal. Between altitude sickness addled Texans and txting teens my ass would certainly not make it to the new year alive. Instead I'll try to do a festive 310 mi on my own schedule before January 15. Start the year off right!
I guess on some level the fact that I am putting this out to all 4 of you that read my drivel has me thinking I may follow thru on this one. It might suck but isn't that the idea? Cross is about done so how else to suffer than in the wind and motor-wash of winter. Expect more crappy reporting on my efforts to get it done. I figure the first 3 months will be the hardest, after that slightly easier.

Playground

2010-12-22T15:19:00.000-07:00

I'm off the teeter totter and on the merry go round, you know the one, around in circles and you don't get anywhere. That's what it's like, a little bit "Groundhog Day" and a little bit Sisyphus. Trying to be happy about the holidays while looking ahead. Always ahead, but savor the now all the while.

Nagoya

2010-12-13T20:03:00.000-07:00

Riding around pretty much aimless with maybe 2 landmarks I could use to get me back before I was deemed missing. Not that I was going to be missed, that's different. I knew of a few high points with which to see how far off I was, then I could find my way to the central TV tower. And, from there the way back. All on a pre sunrise ride on a 3 speed early 80s era city commuter bike. I couldn't have asked for more.

2010-12-12T21:56:00.000-07:00

Video is cool, good audio is great but good words go a long way.

Cash

2010-12-09T20:35:00.003-07:00

Over your shoulder

2010-12-09T15:35:00.000-07:00

He had been climbing trees since he was 3, nothing too high until mid elementary school but then it became a game. She hadn't walked around the woods too much aside from hiking with her father. Now into the their late 20s they both found themselves camping and enjoying what the other knew. He was afraid of the dark and she was afraid of heights. Together they went on overnight trips and conquered their fears. Nighttime was tough for him, at least she was there-to rub his back and tell him the forest was not going to cave in on him. The trees and heights stopped scaring her very soon, it gave them smiles to help the other get over childhood apprehensions.

Time

2010-12-08T22:34:00.000-07:00

There's nothing ideal about the situation as it stands only that it offers free time, free? Semantics aside I can't do anything about this other than look and see what else is out there. I'm happy when I walk in the door, home is tranquil and makes me smile, the time thing will be good in that I have plenty to do, plenty of projects to busy the head when the legs are recovering. But, legs are screaming to be pushed through to the spring. Wasted time is never coming back. Made time is good.

Unfinished

2010-11-29T05:47:00.000-07:00

Saturday's race didn't hurt that bad- the suffering is easy it's the remainder that's rough. If getting there, pinning the number, pumping up the tires and racing is the hard part then racing is easy. It's all of the other stuff that washes over as soon as I leave the venue, roll away and my head turns back on. I have about 2 hours to take a vacation while kibbutzing, racing and packing up to leave. I rode hard and even mid race my head was telling me things I didn't want to hear. Sad stories of conflict and unsolved unrest. Slamming the door shut by riding harder was the one solution I had for about an hour.

Sunsets Earlier

2010-11-26T13:56:00.000-07:00

I feel the knots untie and the chill grip the muscles tighter,

Winter in full effect, affecting my own clear vision with frozen tears.

Cross is fading into Nordic skiing but I'm still hungry. I'm not done eating

Tubulars and vibrations up through the bars into my still damaged shoulders.

I am looking down the tunnel of winter into the cold long rides with the Sun

Low in the sky, at mid day.

Even as another season goes by I smile knowing I did what I could,

Always wanting more.

I'll push through another next year.

Extra Gravy

2010-11-24T05:33:00.000-07:00

It's not all doom and gloom, sometimes a little light shines through the clouds. The idea of the hours of sliding solo through the trees on xc skis or the bundled tight winter rides listening to the studs grip the snow-packed roads is getting through my cross focused, eerily centered head. I'm ready for winter and the next step.

On Cross

2010-11-22T09:06:00.000-07:00

It flashes past in a blink. Cross is so fucking hard but then over too soon. Power-sapping grass and long laps put the hurt in front. You're not thinking about refueling or much beyond swallowing the blood in the back of your throat. The subtlety of the bike on off camber grass, the feel of the planned drift setting up the next turn before the one you're on is done...all of it rests in your brain like a bee hive. Buzzing with doubt, brimming with questions about how much is left in the tank. Did that last effort empty it? Are there any chasers knocking on the backdoor? Then you get the bell and whatever-it's over. But I want more! I'm not done. What about the pain I haven't yet had? I want that. I paid good money for some abuse and god damn it I want my fucking pain!

Spilt

2010-11-17T05:56:00.000-07:00

Pressing into the mud and the snow leaning into the sweet spot was easier on Sunday, race reports bore me, especially if I'm in them. Instead, I stayed in, as long as possible until the bike said enough. Washing away fails to compare to what it feels like to stop. That's where it gets rough on the system and creeps in that the season is sinking. Only now I have the reasons to pursue, pleasure is mine.

Posted

2010-11-15T11:39:00.000-07:00

I want write a postcard and put in a time machine, and send it to myself, I'm not looking to change the world, maybe alter mine a bit. Less hand-wringing than you'd think, more educated guesses and a few more successes. I have the mistakes, they are clear, the victories are few and far between. More often than not you float to the middle, rare occasions are up or down. The meat of the curve, thoroughly mediocre and passionately average.

Enough

2010-11-12T05:26:00.002-07:00

Looking outside at the gathering snow while I feel winter creeping into my bones the constant urge and regret covers me like a cotton t-shirt mid way thru a roller session. Did I ride enough on the nice days this summer/fall? Was I doing enough to not only quiet the head but to also prepare for the rougher cross races? My mind races faster the legs ever could, the visible wear is nothing compared to the desire to do well.

Spinning Plates

2010-11-09T05:21:00.000-07:00

I see a typewriter when I close my eyes, the click-clack rhythm of my typing soothes the sleep deprived, the clear landing of the key on the platen sandwiching the paper between, leaving it's mark makes me smile. Instead of going slowly across the bumpy field I went fast, the goat head came to rest in my tire instead of where it was attached to it's plant. I see the chilly lake as I roll past, my crystal clear breath forced out into the cold air as the path rolls under my wheels. Tired to the point of sleep, paying my bill for a few days of not listening to the body's scream, whispering all the time to take what is mine. My ownership, control what you have not what you want.

Let Go

2010-11-08T08:29:00.002-07:00

The fact that America spends twice as much per person on healthcare as most European countries factors into whether or not I should have a snickers bar after my lunch ride draws an uncomfortable nexus between my fear of being fat and/or out of shape and the general state of my country. Should any of this concern me? I know that the line isn’t direct but I am a prisoner of my own thoughts. Can I do anything to fix these things in my head? Doubtful. Will a win this weekend change the chemical composition in my head to allay these fears? Perhaps for an hour, then it’s back to the obsession machine.

16

2010-11-04T14:40:00.000-06:00

Keys cooling off nicely in my pocket. Little knives of cold piercing the too thin Lycra that's between me and the chill. Pressed into the wind-the geese looked chilly sitting in the lake this morning. Me? I was pleasantly cold, pedaling, avoiding ice, trucks and hypothermia.

2010-11-02T08:15:00.000-06:00

Sometimes I feel like my own beast ~~of burden~~. The work I try, with even good guidance is limited, mostly by my own shortcomings, mostly by the puzzles I can't finish. I hitch the cart, plow the field, the more it hurts the better it feels.

Wheeze

2010-11-01T05:44:00.000-06:00

Loads of laundry piled high in the basket, plain clothes mixed in with stinky lycra peeled off sore legs. Wheezing and pulling the body out of the hole. I put it there, I better do what I can to prop it up.

2010-10-30T23:36:00.001-06:00

Ring my bell

2010-10-30T23:18:00.000-06:00

Going into this fall I thought I had done everything right, no injuries, little or no sickness, diligent with my equipment set up and maintenance, all of it. Now at about the mid point I'm off the back. Derailed. I need to make some lemonade and get my shit together. It's not my first cross season and I hope it's not my last. Quitting isn't a good way to look at it, it's too important to me, I need this sport! I try to limit my wants, and there are only a few needs and cross is one of them. Besides shitty results and stupid mistakes the head isn't the quiet and centered place I'd like it to be on the last weekend in October, shit only makes more shit. So, I need to learn to race a new way, not from the front like I am so accustomed. Instead, I'll be the outlier, be the one trying to make the race, it's not mine anymore, I was on borrowed time and the bell rang.

Way

2010-10-28T21:26:00.000-06:00

The knife loses it edge about 3 hours in. I'm far beyond that, I feel a little worn, a little tired and the edge fades only so far, different degrees of dull, different edge to fade to the dull point. Worn thin by too many days in the sun, the sand, the wind. I wouldn't want it any other way. Pushing up this hill to find the newest challenge on the other side, hopefully more hills there to climb. Coasting makes me feel guilty.

icebergs flow onionrings.

2010-10-20T12:58:00.000-06:00

I like not knowing the words sometimes. Letting the images take their place. Slower than words, pictures flow differently -like icebergs, blatant and deliberate. Words have a less distinct destination. They flow like a spring stream-crisp, plentiful, but still indeterminate.

Out

2010-10-18T13:53:00.000-06:00

"Who's going to cast the first stone? Who's gonna reset the bone?" Less pushing and more of what seems like a subtle pull backward, too many thoughts and lines off the course I need to follow-metaphors mimic the real, they lack the separation I need, too close for comfort, literally.
When the few good things get eclipsed by the too bright light of reality it all makes less sense, I want more clarity, not less, more direction- less loss. The darkness warms, instead of functioning in the bright light of day the shadows are more comfortable, either side, they're equally warm, get it right, it all feels that much better. Wrapping myself in the layers of wool and rubber, my days get longer, sleep becomes a more valuable commodity, more than heat, more than tires, more than everything. It's never enough to quiet the head's constant stream of useless shit. Push through it, then pulled backwards, a smile sneaks across my face as I know I get my chance to shut it all out.

Oversight

2010-10-14T22:46:00.000-06:00

A little oversight like not tightening a valve stem nut leads to filthy hands and a healthy amount of stoppage time on the side of the road looking for the offending staple, tack... debris. Clicking thru the gears forever searching the contact patch for the return of softening tire. Getting back after the tempo allows precious little rest, put away the past- look forward, we are only as good as our last result, mine sucked- so I train like the next is the last.

Knees

2010-10-13T22:16:00.000-06:00

When it's warm enough to not have any covering on his legs he always notices his knees, looking for that slight irregularity in the pedal stroke. Where that leads, tendonitis? Worn out too soon meniscus? All of it runs on a loop in the head, the wind and the cars, the trees and the trail isn't enough to distract the formation of doubt. The creation of problems that don't yet exist. Though they grow, steamroll, snowball into the invisible 400 pound gorilla.

Dinner

2010-10-12T23:03:00.000-06:00

Piss

2010-10-12T22:36:00.000-06:00

easier

2010-10-12T22:34:00.000-06:00

Pouring rain didn't make getting out any harder today, the promise of mid day snow made mere raindrops easy. 2+ hours in a downpour, soaked thru put on more of a smile than a grimace. Rewards are a little way off but in the meantime I'll take my little mid week victories over laziness and ennui.

Percent

2010-10-11T22:57:00.000-06:00

What's the matter with riding around a farmer's field? What goes better than peanut sauce and rice and hot proper jalapenos...the perfect dismount, getting over the fucked and getting the shit back together and lined up like the right way to move it. What is cross 5% racing and 95% preparation, maybe something like that. Don't let yourself get complacent and lose the opportunity you had close at hand. Keep your ass in line. Don't fuck it up again.

Mumford And Sons - Maroquinerie - Little Lion Man from valerie toumayan on Vimeo.

2010-10-10T13:38:00.000-06:00

Limping thru the day without so much as a good warm thought, until I get it together and push the shit out and clear the mind thru the wringer. I like what I have but want more, not necessarily more of the same. Pleasantries aside, more, fucking more.

Sore Sunday

2010-10-10T04:08:00.000-06:00

It's 4am, I've been up an hour and the soreness just kind of hovers over the outside of my wrists and the back of my neck. I hate the feeling, I'm not broken (wrists, that is) but the rest of me feels like shit. I think I'll skip the race today and live to fight another day. It blows, but with a broken bike and wheels to sort out-it's best. Not a good thing, I was comfortable riding in the front and then the bike and I split up, a soft Dugast and concrete. Ouch.

2010-10-08T21:58:00.001-06:00

If I had to choose a new saddle over new pedals I think my feet would win over my ass. The feel of fresh meshing of the foot and bike, tactile sensation.

2010-10-08T21:58:00.000-06:00

Legs twisted like short vines to warm up,
Racing the race over and over in my head,
By myself riding the course, vision of the root, the off camber stretches.

Noise

2010-10-04T22:29:00.000-06:00

For some reason the races are silent. in my mind I know there were sounds but I don't quite recall what. I can hear the wood chips under my tires, and I remember picking up the nail in the brand new Grifo, the clicking it made across the seatstay brake bridge. But overall it's quiet. In my head the din of the week fades into a focus on the shifting weight left and right, fore and aft. Then later it gets quieter, the other racers are gone and I get my time. Front or back doesn't matter, time solo over the course. Ride at the hardest pace, left the din melt like shitty chocolate.
The feel of the embro stinging the legs as the cold air and warmth fight it out, hoping fresh legs rule the day. The gummy 2nd day legs for the first time since November are tested to see if the summer's work was up to snuff.

Sight

2010-09-29T22:22:00.000-06:00

The file is wearing me down, taking away a little material every day.
Tonight I'll build it back up, not enough, we'll see it show,
But not until the weekend. The tests are taken in full sight.
No where to hide.

Clear Window

2010-09-25T22:00:00.000-06:00

Sometimes It's like I went into the shower in a wool suit.
Others a neoprene suit, now wet, but not slow.
Today was a little of both, slogging through the race at my own pace.
All at once the end arrives, legs wanting more than the day could give.
Rolling away with a clear system and ready for more of the same.

Light

2010-09-21T22:59:00.000-06:00

Little bits of dark replaced by bright sun.
Squinting to clear the sunspots-Little stars float thru the haze,
Replace the dark with the light. Fresh underneath, crisp morning into bright sun, and random rain.
All in a day, an hour a second. At once clear.

Din

2010-09-15T10:32:00.000-06:00

Days that the music can't be loud enough, the din seeps into the thoughts, mixing the light and the dark the real and the imagined. Always trying to quiet the voice of doubt and capitulation. It's always possible, but sometimes you can't even lie to yourself. Pushing off the negative in favor of the one thing that shuts it all up and out. But, some of it gets through and sticks like the too heavy pack it is.

Moose

2010-09-10T21:43:00.000-06:00

Rolling around in the woods in the middle of the day I guess is the good time to see a moose. He didn't seem too concerned with the creature that was rolling closer to him. When he turned and stared I went back the way I came. He followed slowly, I looked for denser trees to hide in/behind if he decided I was worth a charge. I got out OK.

Clawing

2010-09-09T23:28:00.000-06:00

Clawing thru what's left of the Summer season, the chill ebbs and flows like pushing up from the bottom after you've gone too deep. I need that extra spring off the floor to propel thru the dense to open into the light. At this point I think the light will be that first set of barriers in race #1.

Horizon

2010-09-08T21:47:00.000-06:00

Pushing the legs over 2 days with the first real test coming into focus on the horizon, a happy feeling that the work is going somewhere good. Inside the head an odd sense of peace, clear that the sacrifice is paying off and the pay off is close. Rain, thunder, yeah, late summer is pulling fall closer.

Traction

2010-09-06T20:56:00.000-06:00

You can't get mad at the hill, the mud, the trail, the road, the lack of fitness, the flat tire, or the frustration- it is always yours. We go out everyday of our own accord, no one pushes us more than we do. Whatever it is; self-loathing, sore losing, or that extra few pounds, it all matters more to do it, than what results from it.

Listening to the wind all night thinking it brought fresh rain made the dry dawn ride that much clearer.

Sprinting and Limping

2010-09-03T22:24:00.000-06:00

Sprinting and limping trying to close the gaps I let open.
Closing in on the only real goal I can find.
All of the others fade into the miles around trees that they are.
A steady diet of nothing pushes into September.
Beautiful crisp air, darkness more than light.
Swap out the fast for the steady.

The whole time

2010-08-29T14:01:00.000-06:00

How big is your bubble? When do you think it's going to pop? Are you functioning in an ever expanding, dense fog? Often the fog gets confused with the dark, the rare moment of clarity short lived. Suffering at 5 am for an ethereal, not yet determined goal; other than the obvious (trying to put the sand back into the top of the glass) gets heady when the only friends there are the bears and the darkness. My head wanders, thoughts go far and wide as the calendar sheets pass under me. One certainty that is unavoidable, one thing you can't escape, even if you are gifted, one of the fast ones, a club I flirt with yet can't hang. Instead it all goes in, the early rides and the constant thought, races are great but the work is where the clock stops, 5 am at 41 feels the same as 5 am at 16. I've been in the dark the whole time.

Confidence

2010-08-27T15:26:00.000-06:00

Confidence and fitness seem to run pretty close together. I was recovering between intervals the other day when I was passed on the singletrack by a less fit looking cyclist. If I were confident of my fitness it would have bothered me less or not at all, like how on an easy day on the road you don't mind getting passed by Pathletes. This bothered me, it made the next 3 x 20 minute efforts fly by at threshold, work gets done regardless of the mindset, it has to right now, if not I'll suck more come October. If it didn't eat away at me I'd be less motivated at 5 am to go shiver thru the first 15 minutes of the next workout. Always racing away from the self loathing.

Hold

2010-08-23T16:46:00.000-06:00

I feel a little plush right now, the legs are a pleasant constant ache. Soft tissue beaten up like an old couch cushion. That meat tenderized feeling after weeks and days of closely monitored flogging. The season is knocking, the bikes are just about dialed and the crisp air appears and goes at a moment's notice. My vision is narrowing, every move seems more calculated, the current guilt level is pretty pronounced as the Breck Epic goes on without my lazy ass on the startline. Instead I see things not in days but in a 45-60 minute blocks of special, blood in the back of the throat, cross eyed goodness. Purging 8 months of decadence in favor of 4 months in my own choosing, my Penal Colony.