Carroll County

Last Saturday night the frere invited me out to his neck of the woods for a ride with himself and our good friend Howie. It's actually been a while since John and I rode together, and it's been even longer since I've seen Howie, so yeah, it sounded like a great idea.

I'd done about 40 earlier that day and, surprisingly, felt pretty good. It seemed like this terrible weather we've been having hadn't taken too much out of me. I was eager to see if it was all in my head though. You know, when you ride by yourself, you always seem fast.

Sunday morning, I got up, grabbed some breakfast at the Shell station and made my way to Douglasville. As it turned out, we had to wait a minute or two for my brother's dryer to cooperate, but before long we were ready to spin over to Howie's place.

Or so we thought.

It was at that point that I made The Discovery.

The Discovery:

Noooooo! My phone decided to focus on the seat tube, but the rim is where the action is. In particular, the crack in the rim is where the action is. Noooooo!

For the past few rides, my brakes had been pulsing a little, but when I looked at the rim, it looked normal. I didn't look at it after Saturday's ride though. Maybe I should have.

Actually it wasn't a problem though. Howie had a spare wheel and I was able to swap cassettes and use it. I had to swap cassettes because I'm still running some old stone age 9-speed. Yes. That's right. 9-speed. I like to get every last mile out of my equipment. That includes ancient components, and apparently, cracked rims.

After a quick bit of street hooking we were on our way.

Howie had some 50-ish mile route that wound its way all around Carroll County. The roads were super, super quiet. We got passed once on the road that Howie lives on, and then that was it, for hours. In fact, we might have been passed twice all day.

The route was great. I felt good.

There were tons of dirt roads out that way too. I'll have to get back out there and see where they all go. We even managed to ride one of them for a few miles.

I think it was called South Old New York Trail.

Heh. "Old New York" is funny to me.

Somewhere out there it was chicken country. Chicken farms everywhere. This one guy had a giant statue of a rooster out front of his place.

No innuendo intended there, I'm sure. Heh, heh.

I began to struggle at about mile 35 and then cratered completely not long after.

Ehh, maybe not totally crater. I was fine as long as we weren't climbing very hard, but I just didn't have it when we were. I'd recover right away as soon as it leveled out a bit though. I don't know. It was weird. Maybe I was just still a little worn from the day before.

All right, so now I need to fix my road bike. Kind-of hard to do when you're broke but I'm sure something will work out.

I've been wishing for better weather for a while. Seems a little less important now though.

This whole situation reminds of when I first got a job in high school. I wanted a job so I could make the money to pay for the direct costs of skateboarding, like new boards and bearings and such, and so I could pay for gas and insurance, so I could drive to awesome places to skate. But the work I had to do to make enough money to be able to pay for everything consumed most of the time I had available to skate and eventually I lost fitness and skills to the point that there was little value in being able to skate those awesome places.

I seem to be in that boat these days. Can't afford to play without putting in so much work that it obviates the play. Way back, I climbed the ladder, made more money, eventually got a better job with more pay and better hours. It worked out. I'd sure like for it to work out that way again.

Arctic Blast

Man, this was over a week ago... Busy, busy, busy.

"Hey dad, what degrees is it outside?"

Sophie asks that in the morning sometimes. Those words. "What degrees is it?" She and Iz have put it that way since they were really little actually.

"Hmm... (checks weather app on phone) Ten."

It was ten degrees outside. In Atlanta. That's unusual.

It was that Arctic Blast, in full Arctic Blast mode. It had been in the 30's and 20's the day before. Ten seemed like about the coldest it was likely to get though, and sitting around the breakfast table I had an idea.

"I should go ride my bike in this. That way I can have ridden my bike when it's ten degrees."

Sophie thought that was a ridiculous reason. Kathryn was ambivalent. I've skied when it was 1. I've hiked and ridden the mountain bike in the teens, plenty of times. But I've never gone out on the road bike when it was ten. You know how sometimes an idea will wake you up? It was like that. I was wide awake. It had to be done.

I had plenty of gear: fleece running tights, standard bib, thermal base layer, cross jersey, wind shell, thermal gloves, shoe covers, balaclava... I was actually quite comfortable riding through the neighborhood, although it did help that I had to climb three hills to get to the main road.

Yeah, I was feeling pretty good about the ride so far.

The Comet was all but vacant. I passed like 1 jogger at some point, much more bundled up than I.

I was still pretty bundled though, head to toe. The gear was comfortable and familiar, except for the balaclava. I think I've only had one other opportunity to wear it, and it was a little awkward.

Is it supposed to cover your mouth? What about your nose? Or is that the idea, it's versatile?

No idea. It was nice and warm though, all those different ways.

There was a little ice here and there, but nothing like I've seen up in the mountains.

It was a little disappointing actually. I'd hoped for sheets and sheets of icicles. And liquid water was actually running down the little gutters. Further on some puddles were frozen completely though, and little ponds here and there were frozen over. So, I wasn't totally disappointed.

Around Powder Springs I got off and took the roads back home. They were surprisingly vacant as well. It was like 9AM, people ought to be dragging in to work, but I guess the morning rush ends early on a cold day in Powder Springs, or maybe it doesn't happen at all.

The rest of the ride was fairly uneventful.

The cold was bearable. I did sing a little song though, to get my mind off of it:

"It's getting cold in here (so cold)... So put on all your clothes... I am getting so cold, I'm gonna put my clothes on..."

That's right. I sang that, out loud. But seriously, the cold wasn't that bad.

The worst part was that I had to pee, really, really badly and I stopped at almost every gas station between Powder Springs and the house. One of them didn't appear to have a bathroom but a guy at one of the video poker machines clued me in. If I ignored the "Employees Only" and "Out of Order" signs, I'd find what I was looking for. Thank God too, I seriously had to go.

The cold was a little difficult, but not like I expected. My toes were fine (or seemed fine at the time). My hand and fingers struggled. The bars themselves sucked the life out of my hands. Just leaning on them, I could feel the drain. Grabbing the cold, metal brakes was like ten times worse though. I had to ride with one hand under the other arm for a while, then switch when it warmed up a little. But it wasn't terrible. Having to pee was way worse than the cold.

When I got home though, warming up was much worse than I expected. My toes had gotten cold, colder than I thought. Walking around was fine, but when they hit the not-yet-even-warm water in the shower, it felt like I'd slammed them all in a door. Oh my goodness, they hurt. All I could do was sit there on the edge of the tub writhing for a few minutes. Ha! Horrible.

So, all right. Now I've done that: ten degree road ride. Probably about 25 miles was all, but that was enough for me.

These days, it's much warmer. Much more comfortable. If I can ever get all of this work done, maybe I'll be able to get out and enjoy it a bit.

Shred

Woohoo! For only the second time in over two months I felt strong on the bike today, or at least strong enough to really enjoy riding it. But, more importantly, for the first time in over two years I felt comfortable ripping singletrack.

I had a free afternoon today and made my way over to (guess where...) Blankets Creek.

Somebody had gotten a little festive with one of the little pine trees in the lot. Unless that's a hemlock. I didn't notice at the time and it's hard to tell in the picture.

Well, either way, it is getting close to Christmas and it made me smile.

I wasn't there to admire the decor though. I meant to ride until I felt good riding. Turns out that was from the get go. I was a little over-excited at first though. Had to roll it back a notch to keep from blowing up, but once I'd rolled it back a notch, I was ripping singletrack, comfortably, non-stop, for about two and a half hours. I hadn't felt that good on the mountain bike in years. Literally years.

But it wasn't all shred. I did take in a little scenery. The lake was low and strange looking and it fascinated me.

Some older guy was walking around in the draw near the beginning of Dwelling (going counter-clockwise) with a shovel. I later saw him walking out with a bucket full of what looked like 4-inch, round, flat stones. Maybe they were clams or something though. Are there clams in lake Allatoona?

I also ran into David Sagat! He was riding out when I was riding in and we were like "Mr. Muuuuse!!!!!" "Heeeeyyyy!!!!" but then we both kept going. Later I saw him near the front of the trail though and we got to talking for a while. He used to rock this triumphant stache, but now he rocks an even more triumphant long-hair/full-beard combination. It's good that I ran into him again too because I might not for a while. He's apparently living up in Asheville now, riding for somebody up there that I've forgotten now, dangit. He, and who might been his girlfriend, Sequoia, whom it was really nice to meet, were just in town for the weekend. It seemed odd to me that if they were just in town for the weekend that they'd be at Blankets of all places, but they get to ride Pisgah so much, they were missing that in-town shred. Yep. I know how that is.

Later, I realized that I think the last time I saw him was actually at Blankets, a few years ago, at the Race to Sunset. We pitted together, then during the race he lapped me and I followed him out of the woods on my last lap. Ha! Good times.

In other news, I think it might be time to do a little work on the bike. My rear brake has to be bled a lot and today it eventually became totally unusable. I've got a whole set of XT's in the garage. I guess it's finally time to upgrade.

I only got to ride for like two and a half hours, but it's the quality that counts, right? And it was some high quality riding, to be sure.

Yep, feeling pretty good. Feeling pretty good.

I hope the feeling lasts.

Recovery

My parents and my brother Daniel were in town for Thanksgiving and we spent several days feasting and making merry. I dare not even imagine how many calories I consumed.

On Saturday, it had been a few days since I'd last coughed and though my busted finger was still weak, it wasn't hurting all the time any more. Things were looking up. My dad brought his bike with him from Dallas, though he might have been a little hesitant to ride. He'd crashed on either the day of or the day before my last crash and fractured his hand. It was about as well healed as my finger.

Something had to be done though. That turkey wasn't going to work itself off, and those stiff joints aren't going to get better sitting around either.

We arrived at Blankets Creek around 3PM. Almost immediately I ran into Dave Greenwell, followed almost immediately by Tim Winters. They both seemed to be doing well, but also seemed ready to get going so we didn't talk for long. I was jealous. They both looked fit. I remember being as fit as they looked. Maybe next month.

The padre and I got going as quickly as we could.

The trail was really nice. It was the first ride I'd done since the leaves fell and the scattered abundance was still novel. Nobody had yet been out there with the leaf blower and that little pine-needly, leaf crubmly layer still lay on the trail.

Down by the lake, someone had recently added a flag pole and the flag was bumping around a little. I guess it was added recently. I don't remember ever seeing it before, but for all I know it's been there a while and I just never noticed it. I noticed it on Saturday though.

The lake itself was low. Really low. Like you could probably walk out into the middle of it without getting your knees wet low. The old creekbeds were prominent and the creeks were low in them. I wondered what the fishing was like when it's low like that. The fish would have to be concentrated into 1/20th of the water. Is that good? The weather's been nice, maybe I'll go find out.

We spun a lap around Mosquito Flats and Mosquito Bite, then up Shultz's Chute and back down the abandoned return, then a lap around Dwelling. My finger was a non-issue. I worried that it would be weak but I didn't notice at all. My Dad's hand was another story though. His thumb was going numb.

We spun another lap around the front.

It appeared that someone had been out there with the leaf blower in between our first and second laps.

By the time we'd finished the front section, most of his hand was numb. Probably still some swelling in there. We decided that it would be better not to push that and called it a day.

So, not a lot of miles, but no crashing, my finger was good enough if not well, and I didn't start coming down with cold symptoms that night. It's been a few days and I still feel fine. I don't want to jinx it, but I might finally getting better. It might be time to start feeling like a cyclist again. Maybe. I'll see if I can get some miles in on the road this week and see how that goes.

More Illness and Injury

It seems like this happened years ago too...

I remember going riding with some friends from Alabama that I hadn't seen in a few months and we both had the same story: we'd been sick for almost the entire fall with only a few good days here and there.

This fall is shaping up the same way.  I've been sick off-and-on since early October.  I think I only got 1 good week total in since then.  I can't shake this last round.  My kids are both sick now.  My niece was sick and coughing last night at Thanksgiving dinner and I was hyper-aware of it.  I'm starting to feel like Howard Hughes.  I imagine flocks of villainous germs swarming around me with bad intent.

And that's just half of it.  I smashed my finger at Blankets a few weeks ago and it's just barely well enough to think about pulling the brakes with.  Then I smashed my nose on my top tube last week changing my bottom bracket when a crank bolt gave.  It's no fun having a runny nose and a busted nose at the same time.  No fun!

I barely even feel like a cyclist any more.  I can't remember what that urge to ride feels like.  I remember that it exists, but I don't wake up with it any more.  When I think about riding, it doesn't strike me.  I went for a run a few days ago too, just to do something, and it felt like I hadn't run a mile in my life - beat me to pieces.  I'm still a little sore today.

Terrible!

Health and fitness, return to me!  Return!

Illness and Injury

Not my two favorite things.

Funny how they seem to accompany one another though.

October was pretty rough, by any objective measure. I was sick from the 5th through the 25th. I barely even left the house. It goes without saying that I forgot entirely about the existence of running and would have forgotten about the existence of bicycles if I hadn't had to go into the garage periodically.

On the 25th, feeling almost better, I ventured out into the harsh, cruel light.

Fall had apparently happened while I wasn't looking.

Most of the cherry trees in the neighborhood looked like this:

As they should. But three trees just up the street were totally confused.

Yep. Blooming in the fall.

There is a species of cherry that blooms twice a year, but it's flowers look a little different and I'd swear that these aren't they. If they are, then they're the only ones in the entire neighborhood.

I was surprised to see them.

The next day I felt well-ish and figured I'd go ride at Blankets.

The suffering was indescribable. I think I almost passed out a few times.

I did see a herd of turkeys though.

Unusual at that trail.

While struggling on the South Loop I noticed lake Alatoona looking especially beautiful and took a little detour.

Especially beautiful.

That's what I remember most about that particular ride. The rest of it was sufficiently unpleasant to have escaped my memory entirely. Well, except for the turkeys.

Over the next week, I literally rode on the road every day, trying hard to reclaim my lost fitness. And it worked. A week later I felt reasonably good and went for another spin at Blankets.

It was like night and day. I could actually climb again. Woohoo!

I had another balloon sighting too.

But I still don't get enough off-road miles these days. My roadie brain doesn't seem to be able to process dirt quickly enough. Near the top of the Dwelling Loop I caught the edge of the trail, crashed and smashed my knee. Man it hurt. I even remember saying out loud: "Man, why does it hurt so bad!?"

It just hurt though. It wasn't injured. At least not terribly.

Later I discovered that I'd managed to slice a little piece off of my left index finger, through the gloves. That happens sometimes and it always fascinates me. How can you get a clean slice, through gloves? How!?!? And yet, it happens.

Things were going well for the next hour, but somewhere on the South Loop I came around a curve into some roots that looked completely unrideable. I knew that they weren't. I'd just ridden over them the previous week, and literally hundreds of times in the past 10 years. But I was wrong. They were, at that moment, to me, unrideable.

Crash!

Come on!

That one really hurt. I managed to slap my right hand down really hard on one of the roots and it felt like it stoved my entire body.

It took a minute to shake that one off.

I figured I'd better quit while I wasn't too far behind and just went home.

The next day my knee was swollen and a finger on my right hand was swollen and purple. It was difficult to type.

But two days later the swelling was gone and I felt like getting some miles in on the road bike. I added some new roads and a bunch of climbing into one of my routes. Then yesterday I rode the same route again and felt really great riding it. I felt like I was back. I had lungs again. I could push again. Woohoo again!

But then last night. LAST NIGHT. My throat started to hurt, then my head. This morning I'm coughing and stuffy and my eyes hurt.

Sophie and Iz had come down with something last week. I figured they'd just finally caught what I'd had all October. Nope. It's something new, and now I've got it too. Let's hope it's short lived.

Illness and injury. Ever-present it seems. Not my two favorite things.

Blanket's Creek

My parents have been in town all week for my Dad's birthday. Woohoo! Happy Birthday Dad!!!

This was one of his presents, apparently.

Yes, that's a crack almost all the way around his seat tube. A crack in Titanium no less.

Funny story there...

My Dad got every last mile out of an early-2000's Gary Fisher Sugar, at which point my brother gave him his old Litespeed Ocoee. My brother had broken 3 Suwanees before eventually asking them to just send him an Ocoee, which he rode for a while, gave to my Dad, and which my Dad has now broken. Not a great run for that line of bikes.

And yet, my Toccoa is still unbroken after 15 years.

To ride together, my brother rode his singlespeed and my Dad borrowed his Rocky Mountain. And we rode all over Blankets Creek for like 3 hours.

If you live in Dallas TX, Blankets has a lot of climbing, especially the Van Michaels Trail. But the padre didn't have too much trouble. Neither of us made it up Hurl Hill though. My technical climbing skills are not yet quite all back yet, it would seem.

Either way, it was great getting to ride with my Dad again. It's been too long. A year or more I think. Too long!

They're still in town too, so it's not impossible that we might get another chance.

Perhaps!

I guess we'll see.