your long term curse hurts, but what's worse...

Here's a few of D_____ riding in the chilly wind at Fort Ord on Saturday. He's a fantastic bike handler, and he doesn't even know it.
I love the way he stands up and cranks it out. It's only recently that he's gotten comfortable doing this. Part of it is his growth- he's really gotten to the point of being on top of his bike. So much so, that he'll outgrow it soon enough. He hadn't ridden in several months, and we raised the seat 2".He specifically requested we ride Blair Witch Trail. I think he likes the spooky name...
but he's really capable in the twisty stuff.



Today was a good one for J and I. He's been sick...leaking from both ends. Since Wednesday night! And today he got breakfast down... I put some knobbies on the Long Haul Trucker (inspired by the major ass kicking I witnessed on the Condor Tour) while waiting to see how the belly felt. He was keeping it down, so out the door we went.
We hit the trails through Pebble today! I've been thinking about them every time we roll by, and this was the day. After the Condor Tour, in my thinking about local distances my focus has shifted. My legs feel solid and everything feels within reach. So we bypassed the Mystery Spot pave in favor of some pine duffed trail climbing. Goodness.

Took the trail off the side of the entrance to Veteran's Park, and discovered a whole different side of playground. J was stoked. He didn't want to take his helmet off.

Then we took trails down into town, instead of super twisty road descent. I think the road is funner, actually. J fussed at the bouncing. Through town, and up the supersecret back entrance. Hiking guaranteed...

J got out and walked ahead of me. The trailer hung up on all kinds of roots and bushes, so it was a bear getting up. Some more spots for trail maintenance. Quick zip on dirt to check things out, and then home to meet J and N after school. We all did homework.

I'm going to have a new stem made for the fixxed Xcheck, and I borrowed the Salsa Siz-O-Matic from Joselyn's Bikes to find the position I want. I wanted the bars quite a bit higher, but not quite seat level. Funnily, the TT lengths on the Xcheck and the Long Haul Trucker are the same. The HT on the Trucker is 2" higher, though. I'm gonna need the equivalent of a +15/115mm, with 20mm of height underneath.

Tomorrow more dirt more distance. Brown Lunch, since it can be kept down...

Big Dumb Condor Tour 2008

Nope. MTBr sucks. Y'all are a bunch of bitch ass forum users who don't really ride. Go piss up a rope and review it like you know what you're talking about.

The Marx Brothers - Midget Bullying

Aaaaaaaw go ahead, it'sa allright.

Madness - Night Boat To Cairo

If Drinking Don't Kill Me

If y'all don't like it...suck it. George Jones is due respect.And will have it.

Today's the Day Jesus rose from the grave

and roamed the Earth in search of human brains.
I'm not going to get too deep into it with you, but that makes him a Zombie.




Only now I feel like a zombie, from frantically tying up all my loose ends for the Big Dumb Tour, which starts at dawn tomorrow. It's safe to post now (no spoiling the surprise for riders), that yesterday was spent driving to and from Big Sur to drop off some Easter Eggs of my own : a cooler full of iced beer and some firewood. That's gonna come in handy.

And the loose ends involved reinforcing the crappy QR rack (the only one we had in stock at Joselyn's, and no time to order anything. So, "make it work") with bamboo and twine so the panniers won't bump the spokes. Was gonna do this yesterday, but things happened, and then Easter was happening, etc. I begged off the Party today to tinker. Had to build a new rear wheel- the old one was 1.5/1.8 spokes & would not have held up to torsional loading. Replaced the brake pads. Picked out all my food, clothes, crap. We'll see how it goes...

Here's some pitchers:


Surprisingly tight load. What you see is everything I'm taking minus the camera and cell phone. More words and pictures upon my return. See y'all on Thursday, God willing.

The fucking Bike Club!

I follow the FuckingBikeClub! from afar. Man, do they have the right idea. And, lucky BASTARDS! they've apparently got the depth of talent in their locale to pull folks every month.That's big. People showing up is huge. Too many folks in too many areas do not make it happen. For whatever reason. That's too bad, because daMN! riding by the light of the moon is incomparably kick ass. If you've done it, then you know.



Tonight was the Full Worm Moon. See the sidebar for dates/times. Why it's the "Worm" Moon maybe found someplace- I sure don't know. And, as was pointed out, it's the 1st time since last July! that we've shown up out there to enjoy the lighted up goodness Ft. Ord has to offer. and it has lots to offer due to it's being so scrubbily covered for the most part, and the sandy trails glow brightly under the moon. Whew. Charging headlong thru scrub oak and manzanita lined singletrack fighting the stray grabbing branches as the sand deepens suddenly and yanks your front wheel around is a twitchy _ucking delight. Doing it while you can't really see is exquisite. The sounds that surround you are the nightime noises of frogs, or coyotes howling ridge to ridge, or your friends crashing...


Many rides many places in those conditions. When you reach the point, thru distance ridden or beers drunk or(better) combinations, at which your grip on the front end loosens of it's own accord and you snap to to find you've been riding by the seat of your pants for some time now andholyshititsfun! That floating rhythm that pulls you along in its wake, as though you are just eyeballs drifting at speed down darkened trails. I laugh out loud with the sheer joy of it.

Damn, y'all, get out and ride your bikes in it!

Very Personal Discomfort as a result of poor bike fit and maintenance?

Sounds like trouble to me.

So today was a Brown Lunch day like you've read about. Apparently so much so that E___, of poop emergency bailout fame, asked me in the middle of last Sunday's ramble if I had any lentils and a stove. I wished I had. But we had 'em today, and it was good. Added a little rice and some tempeh (+ Tabasco for me, which was spicy and reminded me of the poison oak cooking near-disaster) so it went down a treat.
It was Pebble thru the Monterey Mystery Spot, and then down the hill (swoopy twisty quickness) to the usual Frog Pond to Stairs. Overcast and cold in the wind, but with a humidity beneath it. Sun came out in the woods breifly, and it was SPRING! for maybe 20 minutes. L has the camera in the LBC for a conference, so no photos.
Keep wishing I'd changed the slicks for knobbies so we can climb some dirt through Pebble. Maybe tomorrow. Gotta bring some more variety to this whole "ride your bike" thing we've got going on here. It's time to beat the hell out of this trailer. Basically, all I'm sayin' is again with the rides down #50 in Ft. Ord, or whatever.

So. While there's all this riding going on, my brain is rattling around the physical issues I'm left with today, which are: a vague disjointed feeling in my left wrist,




a bigtime (Bigtime) pull in my left Psoas, and general dis-ease in the crotchal zone from lengthy saddle time on a -well, I'll say "Swole" crotch. "You like that? You like that?" (J says to me when he's parroting my parenting with the Golden Rule Style.) And it occurs to me that I'm compensating an awful lot for my played out pedal springs by holding my legs at the hip to reduce the slop. I had just dismissed it as play from the beatdown cleats and shims but I've replaced those and it's still sloppy. And, I'm using 2 pairs of (damn near the same)shoes, and 2 pairs of (the same model, different year)pedals so I just let it all be while I chased the variables down. I'm at pedals, now. Tomorrow I'll ride with flat pedals and check it out.

In part because I've got a recently acquired 3 Day Tour coming up on Monday and I'm thinking hard about gear choices...


At this stage in thinking about this relationship between my physical self and my bike(s) it seems that discomfort (of the very personal kind, but really, is there any other?) can result from A]Bike Fit, i.e. cleat placement or B] Mechanical Issues, i.e. a floaty pedal. And I/you have the following course of action: 1) Diagnosis (of the non-litigious non-medical common sense variety, I'm neither a doctor nor an actor), i.e. "my psoas seems effed up" 2)SelfCare, i.e. rolling on the tennis ball in the right spot, stretching, getting a massage, taking hardcore drugs 3)Maintenance/Fit Change as required. Hope that's remotely clear. It make sense to me and I'll splain it to you for $30. Where are all the damn donations anyway?!?! What a bogus congregation...

Finally. Do you think the Muslims have it all over us because they literally get off their ass 5 times a day and get down to pray? I mean, fundamentally that's got to be gooder for you in a strictly secular/physical sense than sitting on your self all day and then once a week hitting your knees. If that's how you roll...I know we all roll and roll on, and that's Church Service for us, but in general...

Who are you, and what have you done to your face?

What do you think about plastic surgery? Or, is it Cosmetic Surgery?

Do you have a feature that you'd go under the knife to change? If "No", is there some scenario in which you could envision getting something altered? How will you age? I welcome any and all gratuitous wiener jokes here, as well as legitimate/thoughtful answers, and everyone can be anonymous on this one, even though that guy says a lot of dumb shi_.


This is a thought process I go through anytime I see those surgery shows, where the surgeons are just wailing away on some unconscious person with chisels or tugging like mad below the skin with scrapers that look like flensing tools.

And, today, someone who has not known me long or well grouped me with the Rivendell Readers crew of tweed-talking bag-comparers...which, let's face it, is not too far fetched a description given that I do rock the Country Gentleman Steezyle from time to time. White (perforated!) leather gloves and all. But as an overarching impression of me, strikes me as off. This person didn't mean nothin by it, and will pay dearly for the imagined slight.

Who can know what others see in the appearance?

And don't say I never gave you nothing.

A short treatise on the differences between training and having a Good Time

It's possible you know how to have a Good Time already. If so, skip to the end. If not, it is possible to train oneself in the art of the Good Time. For our purposes here and now,the Good Time will revolve around the axle of the training ride. For our purposes in the long view, it will always have something to do with bikes or biking, or at the very least the outdoors. Or maybe sometimes only with a Blowfly show, but that's a slippery slope.

All around, and especially this time of year, folks are getting out on training rides. This is generally a good thing. This may be specifically a bad thing if you train with the wrong peloton. The wrong peloton will reveal itself to you through a number of guises, many of which may already be familiar to you. Some examples include: rampant heart rate monitorism ( the monitorism becomes "rampant" when there is comparison of personal info, or worse-any mention of this data at all); more than 1 computer per 4 riders; any discussion of what the PROs are using (unless it's medicinal in nature); ride "leaders" who feel perfectly ok yelling at other adults (while sober) about their lines, place in rotation, cadence, or pretty much anything; stone-faced pinks not acknowledging other riders within the group that they don't already know; lack of patchkit/spare tube/pump; any type of headphones. Ther're more, but enough tangent following.

A good peloton is a thing of joy. Yesterday, I rode with one of the finer pelotons in these here parts on one of the finer rides in same. It was cross bikes for the smart and 29er singles for the, um, less smart. Or more hard, I guess. All's I know is: given the first description of this ride, I was thinking of riding my single and then another source set me straight the night prior regarding the true amount of road involved. And a 60 mile total distance estimate. (Thanks, KB) And, plus I was kidding myself. The single factor I have going for me in this whole bike riding thing is that I don't stop, can't stop, won't stop. But there is no way I'd have finished at this point in the season. Hats off, Dummies.

I knew the people involved, and as preparations were being made and kit decided I knew the pack was solid. Everyone had what they needed, and some to share. Pockets stuffed with supplies, we rolled out of Capitola and headed for Nisene. Some way we got there. (I was riding loaded and just trying to keep on wheels- not a part of the decision making process on this one in the least. Hey, it's not my town.) Then it was up the heavily trafficked fire road. Lots of attacks, lots of counters. " A whole lot of ambition out here, today." I had the KOM points all locked up until I misjudged Team Husband&wife-1-2-distract-and-attack-from-the-back. I watched it all fall apart at the sprint to the bench.The Good Times continued to roll at this, the 1st of many beer stops. Continuing up from here, to the tip top for a beer/snack stop. It's a substantial (anyone?14 miles?) climb. Then down through Demo (were we on Corral there?) via another beer/flat stop with a nice view.If you look closely at the horizon you can see the Monterey side of the bay...Rippingly fast descent on the singletrack, over roots and rocks. At which point I was more than happy to take the (promise of some relief from the rattle) fireroad down and up, and up a little more, then out of the woods on Highland. Highland saw a number of flyers launch and get reeled back. Welcome break at the Summit Store, with it's exquisite Porta Potty ("no, the one on the left!")
Refueling, rewatering, rebeering here. Quality stop.

The ladies decided to launch an attack of their own away from Summit, which stuck until they stopped after crossing above 17 at my favorite road around: Mtn. Charlie. Safe to drink beers roadside there and not draw attention like the store picnic area would- I admit, I was all set to pop a top in the parking lot until clearer heads prevailed. At this point the group dynamic really deteriorated. After being stopped for a while, people just kind of drifted off... to pee, to look at something that caught their eye, to grab something from their bike. and then never quite came back around.I began to fear the coming climb up UCON. There was an extended period of helmet donning, bike straddling, lever clicking and riding in circles needed to roust the last holdouts.

I can only recall a single other time I've ridden down Mt. Charlie. It's so familiar to me climbing, it was strange to descend it so fast (so fast) and have the familiar be so unexpected. I'm fairly sure I won that section. I'm positive I have no idea how we ended up at Cowell. From the bottom of Mt Charlie it was Glenwood, then some turns.We were stopped at a light, and then we crossed a T intersection by going straight through it, over the curb and into the woods again. More shaded, duffed Redwooded goodness. The train was winding down near us, and the train whistles were dramatic. At one point we passed it as it was stopped, making huge PSSSHHHHHT sounds and clouds of white steam filled the clearing.
So Cowell dumped us out on HWY 9, and we rolled down it for a bit until reaching the trail connector for UCON. I was cooked, and had been for a while. I tried to conceal my fear by standing around stupidly as though I were merely tired and stupid- but it was all an act. I was so glad I had gears climbing that damn trail...and then we regrouped at the top and had communication breakdown for a while, until both groups realized the other was waiting for them, and reforming, decided to split again into fireroad and trail subsets with plans to regroup at Twin Gates. I again opted for the fireroad, and dragged myself up behind KB and R___, while T___, J__, and M__-A___ rode sweet twisty singletrack. E___ DNFed here, so he's a pussy. He had to "poop". A valid excuse, if he had to poop real bad...but the lie was given when he was reminded he could shit in the woods but chose not to (bibs may have been mentioned, but I was pretending to be tired and stupid and so not paying attention as closely as I might) thereby proving that his situation was not that bad. Hence the DNF, as he coasted down the hill to his comfortable and, one assumes, free from errant-wall-spatter bathroom.

Poop emergencies aside, I was not at all sure I'd be able to get up off the ground when the trail group showed at the gates. Someone may have had a beer and brought it out, there. I remember a flask, too. And, plus my legs were tired. From there it really was "all downhill" until beer and burritos overlooking the Pacific, and a brief ride back to the start.

To all involved, y'all are a fine example of a Good Time. Not so many pictures, as there was some bloggerheckling going on and the pace was too fast for me to deal with cameras.

What's missing here?

Picture lifted ignominiously from SUCKAPANTS, who takes better pichers than we do.

I don't hate William Shatner, I just don't respect him.

It's not the same thing. How could you do this to me?

one leg's both the same

Turned some circles sans trailer again today. It was N's 1st official term as Babysitter. Which meant J was napping, and she and D watched Edward Scissorhands on DVD. She's almost 11 and has been agitating for a while now, so it's time. She made J a quesadilla, and didn't set anything on fire (she used the microwave) or cut herself. Well handled babysitting season opener.

After yesterday's brief flirtation with a mixte fixed mix of road/dirt on the Gitane, I thought I'd try the Crosscheck today and see how they compare. Effing close fit is the overarching impression.

From these photos taken after riding, you can see how close they are...
The distance from the saddle nose to center of handlebar is 2cm shorter on the Gitane, but the bars are about an inch higher. Wheelbase eyeballs dang close, too. After this comparison, I rotated the bars on the Gitane up slightly for a world of difference in feel. It's so clear after riding the 2 back to back that this was required. Before the comparison I just felt vaguely that the bars were "off". This is a good illustration of the WTB DirtDrop vs. the On One Midge. I much prefer the width up top on the Midge, but the deeper drop of the DirtDrop is kinda nice, too. The Midge feels like the better bar if they're not level with the seat due to it's shallow drop.
The Crosscheck runs a 46/18 (69.0") to the 40/14 (78.1") of the Gitane. This was much more pushable on the steeps, and not an issue on the road downhills. Not as comfortable, but everything is a trade off. This is info I got here. Repect, Sheldon! I guess people who know more than I feel that 63" is the ideal offroad fix gear, but I'll chalk this up to variances in preference and local terrain. I feel a 63" would be undergeared like crazy. What are y'all running in your woods?
So a quick slip up the hill for some sneaky trails, a coolish Hamm's from under a log, and back again. Spring is sprong here, folks.

Happy Trails to you, until we meet again.

A quick fix

After the reanimation of L's old Gitane mixte, I rode it yesterday to the parent-teacher conference. The BB was loose as a goose by the time I got home. Adjusted it. Rode it for a quick spin up the hill to some secret dirt today, and it was tight as a _________ (help me out here), and just as sweet. The 40/14 was a change. Climbing the gentle grades was perfect. It's just the right gear for me to feel really on, just the right amount of power required to feel it, not too much. Like Goldilocks. The steeper stuff blew, what with the flex inherent in a too-small 1970s inexpensive unisex (Hey! men ride them in Europe) bicycle coupled with the mutant 250mm 1" stem and wiiiide WTB dirt drops (OG, too.)- but, the steeper stuff is gonna blow regardless of the gear, so I'm golden. Getting off and shuffling along is not hurting my pride. The 700/37 Paselas run at maybe 70psi added their proven touch of cushy goodness, but the forgotten gem...The Brooks B66(6)...Wow. I'd forgotten how sprung-what?sprung this thing is. Riding the Peugot was an exercise in delicacy from day one due to the crappy 7/8" pipe. No longer. The Reanimator was rock steady and smoooooth. Wow. I am stoked on this "new" rig. It's got possibilities, man. I am stating for certain here and now: If I don't break this between now and then, look for this bike at CCCX 2008 Cross Races near you. And I do mean "look out", cuz I'll have a hard time stopping or turning real sharp.

So there's that. I had the B66 from then, were I to purchase something along those (effing smooth- serious comparison to full suspension in both feel and weight penalty) lines now, I'd opt for theB67, which has the same ass lovin dimensions without the unnecessary 2nd rail. Save quite a bit of weight, too. Perfect for any Big Dummy build. Which, by the way, I got screwed out of (again). I've had that thing on Itemwatch on and off (mostly on) since it was offered there, and it popped up at night as available, only to be sold out the next day upon order attempt. And that's the 22" frame! WTF?!? I'm sour, Surly. Qbp may be the Borg.

Leo needs a new pair of shoes.

Finally, as per conference discussion I went over division of improper fractions with N tonight. Again. She has the lousiest work ethic I've ever seen. She's a smart kid. She doesn't put that into her work. Whatever work. Anything, at all. Even things she enjoys, she'll skate through. It is maddening for me. I want so much for her to grow into a kind, considerate, capable person- I see real potential for her to attempt to squeak by on looks and charm. And truth be told, she ain't that charming unless she's getting her way. Lots of whining, quick with the complaints. How to get her eyes open?
Anything worthwhile takes effort. Real, sometimes even painful, EFFORT. This plays out on rides, too. Bitch about the distance, or sand, or climbing, or blueness of the sky...then say what fun it was when it's done. Don't misunderstand, I know all about only enjoying a ride once it's over. All about it. (B___, thinking about the later sections of 35 here) N just seems incapable of connecting the overall worth of suffering. This won't be the last she hears of it, nor the last ride out upon which she's dragged. Though, I do try to balance that...within the scope of my own obsession. I witnessed too many parents in Telluride push skiing on their kids. What's not to LOVE about skiing? But sure enough, by the time they were 11-12, and they were phenomenal/sick/intuitive skiers, the kids refused to ski. They hated skiing...

Any ideas?


And, plus. Big Ride plans brewing for Sunday,Sunday, Sunday.

Touch me baby...

Tainted Meat. Oh, tainted meat. As if we needed another reason:

"The U.S. Department of Agriculture did not provide adequate support to help school districts track, handle, and dispose of tainted beef in the wake of the largest meat recall in U.S. history, witnesses told the House Education and Labor Committee today. The USDA issued the recall last month after a U.S. Humane Society investigation revealed that meat from non-ambulatory (or “downer”) cows at a California meatpacking company had been allowed to enter the food supply. Federal law prohibits meat from downer cows from entering the food supply because it poses a greater risk of salmonella and e.coli contamination and mad cow disease. More than a third of the tainted meat – more than 50 million pounds – had gone to federal nutrition programs, including to schools."


This may be old hat to many of y'all, but this is parent-teacher conference week here, so it's on my mind. My kids bring their lunches, because we're already avoiding the tainted meat as a matter of course. If yours do not, consider bagged lunches of whatever type of food you prefer- it's bound to be more carefully chosen on any number of levels.Grocery Guy has a timely post here. And there's this. The more things change, the more they stay the same. Upton Sinclair, anyone?

The largest beef recall in US history. Ever.


Meanwhile, these people are insanely over the top, and I heart the whole thing...
By day...

By night...

But then, I would wear this
if I could only find one, so take it as you will.

Runnin' With The Beatles

check it quick, afore it's gone..

You shouldn't let other people get your kicks for you

So the Countyline killed the Peugot fixie for me. The fit was never even remotely ok, and even though I've come to expect/accept that mixtes have not been designed with a 6'1" MAN in mind, it had the 7/8" seatpost of death by impalement. I mean, you saw how it bent even though I was so careful with it.
So today I disassembled it, and gave it to M____ to give to a ladyfriend of his. She's prolly short and light.

And left without a beater mixte fixie, I was bereft. So I reanimated Boba Fet's old Gitane, which is also short, but has a sturdy 26.2mm post, so I can rock it. I got inspired and broke out the drill..
That's all drilled, and insertion of the lower rivnut. Because I get thirsty when I ride. See it half done:
And all pretty with the swoopy stainless King cage. (I pulled the front derailleur hardware off after the picture)

Old School, fool...This is a cup and cone BB from a stash no one wanted anymore. Works for me.
Check the clearance! Room for knobbies or fenders. Or 37mm Panaracer Paselas...Skinwall, bitches.
And again. Tektro 556 brakes accommodate 700c in a frame designed for 27". This frame requires them in the rear due to the 40/14 wheel position. Flipped the wheel on this build, and even on the test ride the 14t feels better. We shall see what the hills and dirt have to say. Either way, there's room enough in them there slots to flip flop, and those brakes are my friend there too. Chainline came out pretty good, which is nice because there's no new parts going on this bike. Even the cables/housing were swapped over. I will probably swap over the basket and rack, too.
Took it out and rode it around the block. Feels great. Test ride manana...



Today was a bike maintenance day. Days are getting longer, and it feels good. Here's the Lemond Wedge set up discussed previously. I'm using 3 shims to get the right support for my foot angle. Nice shiny new Time cleats.
After installation. The shims got all smashed last time, you can see how they extend past the cleat.
Here's a good view of the angle the shims give, and witness the dremel clean up. No more smashy mess.
...Because it's funner if you do it yourself.



Last Friday I volunteered to chaperone the 5th grade classes' overnight trip to the Monterey Bay Aquarium. Because there weren't enough volunteers and it was in danger of being cancelled, and my daughter really wanted it to happen that's why.
No. I was not the otter.





It went like you think it did.

Gentleman Jockey wins the Derby

This...
or that?
Sorry, rubes, those are your only 2 choices. What are you gonna do?

Kiss of Death for Fredo and Tyler, too

I don't normally read pro cycling news sites. In these days of drug-addled (and not the good kind) false hard men, they don't speak to me. But I'd been directed by people who know to see Brian Vernor's (of bike movie fame?) article on the Tour d'Afrique on Velonews' site. And while there, I looked at the videos section and saw the interview with Rock Racing's Oscar Sevilla, Santiago Botero, and (yes) Tyler Hamilton. Or perhaps it was his chimerical twin, it was hard to tell with the stupid hat on. (I can't link it, so if you're innerested in seeing it, go there yerself. )
The reason I mention it is because I learned that the jackasses I referenced several posts ago weren't in fact solely corporate posers blocking traffic pretending to race, they were also "ex"doped up racers unable to participate. And the reason I'm bitter about the whole thing is that Tyler was my Golden Boy.
Everbody knew Lance was doing something, but Tyler held out the promise of the plucky underdog suffering through by grit and intestinal fortitude. In spite of his relationship with Risse. The busted collarbone in the cold and wet? I'm not ashamed to say I still have that poster up. I am confused and amazed at my own capacity for self delusion, but not ashamed of the awe and admiration with which I look at that little man squint and climb and hurt. But the lies and the unborn doppleganger speak just cheapen the pain. If the drugs they're taking aren't hindering them by making them unsteady and a little silly, then I just can't get behind them. That's not recreational drug use, that's...medication. And now there's synthetic blood that aspirates out of your illegally oxygenated circulatory system in hours? WTF? I don't wanna watch androids. Eff those guys.
I want effing Hampsten on the Gavia. I want those scrawny pro mutha _uckas to hurt beyond the capacity of the rest of us. To show us what the real capacity for suffering is. To push the edge a little further out. Riding a little further out is different from marching into Bioengineered Super Soldier Land. And yes, I realize it's thin black ice I'm coasting along on here. Anquetil hisself said the Tour was not won on mineral water alone. I get it, but I don't want to. This worship of the heroes of the Old School and denial of the new skool is unrealistic. It's disturbingly similar to the the general acceptance of Established Religions and the ridicule of upstart cults (viz. Mormonism). In each case, the old guard gets a pass because they've became enshrined in Time. No questioning them now, is there? But the new kids are playing the same con, it's just herandnow so we're able to peak behind the curtain.

So what are you gonna do? Me, I'm gonna pull the wool over my own eyes and find a Church with a curtain we can all fit behind. Safety first and all.