The Nature of Things

Sometimes people ask me why I ride, or why I run or hike. The short answer is I am not sure. Something inside me wants me to be moving outside. I get antsy if I go for more than several days without some sort of physical activity outside of the usual work stuff.

The long answer is... I like being outside. A while ago I told my sons that I think I am part druid. I need to be around trees. But it's not just trees. I think I am a reincarnate of a nomadic tribesman. Being indoors is all well and good and I don't argue with the virtues of a roof over the head or electricity for my coffee maker. Just like being outdoors.

Heading up the hill near Clarion, PA

Yesterday when I was riding the mountain bike trails at Royalview mountain bike trails (Strongsville, OH) there's a section that goes through a grove of pine trees. I love going through that bit. The smell is almost like perfume to me. (Don't say I'm a weirdo now, you knew that much long ago). I can tell when lilacs and honeysuckle are in bloom as well.

Not to mention temperature differences. When I was riding the Decker Creek Trail out of Morgantown, WV it was a pretty warm day. However, a good section of that trail is under a tree canopy, making it an easy 6-10 degrees F cooler. Not to mention there's a section about half mile or so that is even cooler. It is situated just right in this valley for the winds to blow through. Not strong but certainly much cooler. You notice it on the bike but walking I think you'd move too slow to really notice the drop and rise. In a car it wouldn't be noticed at all.

Very close to the road, but you'd never see it unless you followed a tiny little dirt path off of the road.

Animals are more easily spotted as well. Sometimes that's good. Other times you have a dog chase you which is not always bad as most times the dogs are like me. They just want to play. But once in a while it gets dicey. Mean dogs will come after you and I don't need a dog trying to take off the very leg I need to get  home. Most of the time small rodents don't bother but sometimes they feel the need to run out if front of you. Sometimes disconcerting. A squirrel through the front wheel will bring everyone to a screeching halt. I do that enough on my own.
                                                                                                                                                     
Being on a bike I get to see things you wouldn't normally see from a car or would just be a blip. It's like exploring.

While it looks like mud, it's deposits/buildup from iron in the water. Found along the Greater Allegheny Passage.

But aside from the physical world riding my bike, or sometimes running, is my meditation. Zen time. A good friend of mine says he likes to sometimes just ride until his head is empty. I feel the same way. It's a good way to clear the mind. I'm not trying to convert you... well OK, perhaps I am.

Yes, after a long or difficult ride I am tired and sometimes sore. But my mental well being is usually much better. Even if I've gotten caught in the rain or one of those silly races I do where it's very cold and very muddy. And while if you tally up how much I've spent on bikes, parts, tires, etc. it's not cheap, it still seems to be cheap therapy to me.

Thanks for reading. On with the show.

My first bike

The first bike is usually one where you discover the world at a speed faster than your legs can take you. You can now go further as well. Almost like becoming the Six Million Dollar Man.

Mine was a Murray 20" single-speed designed like a "British three-speed" as we folks in the U.S. dubbed them. I liked it great for the first year (I was 6) but the next year I wanted a BMX bike. All the cool kids had BMX bikes. So what happed? The next year, my Dad made my rather pedestrian bike into a BMX bike. He spread the stays in the back so it had room for a big knobby tire, repainted it black, made me a number plate. He bought motocross (motorcycle) handlebars and cut them down to fit me better. Dad put a lot of effort into transforming this perfectly good bike into something his son wanted.

Bu I was upset when he first showed it to me. I did appreciate what my Dad did (sort of) but it just wasn't the same. I wanted a new bike. This was not a new bike. This was not much like the other kids bikes with the springs on the front forks and such. But as time went on I began to love that bike. It had a bit steeper gearing than the other kids' bikes so I could get a better top-end speed. It also made it easier for me to do wheelies with. I rode that bike everywhere, jumped it over any ramp we could rig up, learned to ride wheelies down the block. I eventually delivered newspapers on it for a couple years.  

We did a lot of tweaks and modifications to that bike. Dad thought it’d be cool to add a 3-speed crank thing to it. It was sort-of cool. Multiple speeds! Go faster! But I don’t think this device was ever designed to take the sort of abuse a boy who’s hero was Evel Knievel. It didn’t always shift right. I broke the right crank arm several times. My father had my uncle weld it together a couple of times but after the third time it was plain to see that we just needed to go back to the original crank. I also had a parade of banana seats, sissy bars, “motocross” seats and such.

When it was time to retire that bike I don’t think I really gave it much thought or appreciation. I had broken the crank once again (but some years later). By this time I had a “real” bike. It was a blazing yellow 10-speed. Hey, I was growing up, I needed a grown-up bike! I was also not far from driving, too. Who needs a bike when you have a totally awesome bone-stock rusty ’73 Nova hatchback? But looking back with all the benefits on hindsight on that bike that my Dad modified for me, that may be what lead me to my passion for being on two wheels.

Dad, I'm sorry I was ungrateful at first. I loved that bike.

Halloween challenge!

At the last Cap City Cross race, I not only raced in the C category (where a guy who has only raced three races ever in his life should) but I also raced with the B group due to several people taking up my challenge and contributing to the Wounded Warrior Project.  Holy cow, at first I thought I wasn’t going to make it. I thought I was going to just suck wind all day long. But as the race for the Bs went on I realized not only was I going to make it, but I might just pass a few people! Whoah… even after completely wringing myself out for the C race I still had enough left to not just roll over and die in the B group. I was actually getting by a few people. Very few, I’ll grant you that, but I did pass a few people. Certainly that was a boost to the morale.

Which is a long way of saying Thank You. Thanks to the people who took up the challenge and forced my hand to race in a category I didn’t think I was ready for yet. Thanks also for CONTRIBUTING to the Wounded Warrior Project! Thanks to my beautiful bride for knowing that I could do it long before I thought I could. And thanks to the Wounded Warrior Project for giving me the opportunity to race for something bigger than my own ego.

But we are not done with the challenges, oh no! We need new people to donate to the Wounded Warrior Project. And we aim to do that with a new challenge. How, what, when and where, did you ask?

Sunday in not only race day, but it’s Halloween. Which means – yep, you guessed it – time to race in costume. Maybe. What costume should it be, if any at all? I’ll let new contributors to Wounded Warrior Project have their say. So if you make a contribution then also leave a comment below with your costume idea. To the 187s – you made your contribution earlier this week so you get to vote, too. And heck, I may still do both races. Yes, I know, I’ll have an oxygen tank at the finish line and the wheelchair. And *then* I will re-insert my brains.

So what do I get to be for Halloween? Make your contribution HERE and then type in your suggestion BELOW.

Thanks for reading. Thanks for your contributions.

Grog talks about bicycle racing

Some of you may know of Grog. For those who don't, grog is my inner caveman. Or alternate personality. Or part of my sadly delusional failing mind. Take your pick. But now that we are back in town, I thought it best to let Grog talk.

Grog like bicycles. He go lots of places on bikes. Grog sometimes go for faraway rides. Grog sometimes ride in circles. Grog gets grumpy if Grog no ride for several days. Grog not know why. Just is.

Grog likes racing cyclocross. Grog think it a good excuse to play in dirt like he 7 years old again. Grog think whoever dream up idea of cyclocross racing must have been really drunk. But Grog like it anyway.

Until Grog get halfway through race. Then Grog think he crazy. Going so fast he can't breathe is no way for Grog to live. Grog get ready to say hell with it all. Grog think he crazy to do this. Grog wonder what he thinking, then Grog remember that Grog don't think.

But Grog keep going. Grog no like to be quitter. Grog think "Die first, THEN quit." Grog finish race and feel tired. Very tired. But good. Grog feel alive.

Grog not know what he can do until Grog try. Grog not do any better unless Grog keep trying. So Grog keep trying.

Grog be back. Maybe you see Grog at next race? It on Halloween. Maybe if Grog get new person to contribute. Grog like that, too.

Grog thank you for reading.

What? Over where? Are we lost?

As I mentioned the other day, I did have the opportunity to ride with my brother. Two good things from that are 1) He's faster than me, so if I am going to race, I better work on the "fast" part... oi.  II) That quote about "Inspiration can be found in a big pile of junk...". Well, Matt has an entirely different pile of junk than my own and hey! He's got the bottom bracket I needed to get the old heavy bike to shift right. And I was right on the cusp of going and buying a new bike. Seriously. So the old and heavy bike has been revived for the old and heavy rider.

Which worked out well, as last night my last job was in Monroeville, PA. And with some daylight left, it was time to hop on the bike. I headed over to Boyce Park to find the trails that were supposed to be there. But where? Find the tennis courts... yeah, right. It's a BIG park. 1,096 acres to be exact. Not exactly with the best signs. Which is OK if you're a local, but for an out-of-towner who's spinning his wheels it's a bit frustrating. Ah, OK, now I've found the tennis courts! The trails are... are... keep going... turn around... I think I see something... hey, found soemthing! But are they hiking trails where I'm likely to run over pedestrians? Hmm... over here I see tire tracks, so let's try it out.

Turns out there's a LOT of trails out here but the trails have no signs posted. Again, OK if you're a local but for someone trying not to get lost in the late evening all I can do is pedal on and hope. The good thing is that most of the trails I found were all contained in a certain area of the park so I always ended up not too far from a recognizeable area. It was kind of like being 9 or 10 all over again, out exploring. "Where does this path go? I don't know, let's find out."  Glad I brought my lights, as I didn't really get started until 7pm. And the old heavy guy on the old heavy bike did pretty well. OK, I was sort of slow. Yeah, yeah, probably a lot slow. But it was fun. Which, all said and done, is the main thing.

But we're not lost when it comes to donations for the Wounded Warrior Project. We're picking up steam in the right direction. But we still need your help. So be sure to donate, please.