Sunday, October 31, 2010

Role Model? Can You Just Hit the Damn Ball?

In the aftermath of the cheating crown prince of the PGA, don't you find yourself wondering why we gave a shit?

I loved watching Tiger play golf. I didn't much mind seeing him in Nike, Buick, Tag Heuer, Gatorade, etc ads. I didn't watch Tiger because I was on the edge of my seat, awaiting his take on the virtues of a mid-week religious service for the purpose of maintaining a strong marital foundation. I was on the edge of my seat waiting for him to make an impossible drive, or an impossible putt.

I didn't count on Tiger for spiritual guidance, marital advice, or for f'n directions to the store for that matter. I counted on him to be the magnificient golfer he has become. I don't give a shit what he's doing in his private time and wonder why the hell anyone else does. Is anyone in the country actually expecting him to be an incredible human? He's an incredible athlete! Human? Well, that's questionable and you should be asking yourself why the hell you need him to be human at all.

Hit the damn ball, Tiger. Don't talk to me about anything more than golf or the products you endorse. I'm sorry, were you endorsing marital counseling? No? Good, I wouldn't trust you to give it. Hit the damn ball.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Missing

Missing: The strangest thing happens in your head when you miss someone, separated from someone.


In the separation, you recognize that you are happy to be separated, or unhappy to be separated. In the unhappiness, a comprehensive ache develops. You ache when you think about them.



It doesn't matter if you are talking about someone you are intimate with sexually, or just emotionally, like a child, a sibling, even a parent. But, when it is someone you are intimate with sexually, there are things that you will remember and the memories will make you breathless when you recall them; the brush of a finger, a particular look, a touch, a kiss. The memories can bring back the most intense, vivid sensations. Something really interesting happens in your brain. I want to know what those chemicals are... they make me want that person... they make me want that person BACK. That is the ache that I am referring to. That is the ache of missing someone, something; a part of you

Wednesday, March 31, 2010

Wooly Mammoth Climbing Kittens

I am on a team with incredible and diverse women & men. The men are great, the women are my best friends and I love'em.

We set out to conquer the hills and took'em like the 300 (before defeat). Our ride for a Saturday, created by the inimitable Micky McNair, began at Shoal Creek Saloon. From the Saloon we rode toward the Lost Creek, via Rolling Wood, (warm-up?). Barton Creek next, and on to a downward spiral to the bottom of Cuerna Vaca, so we could climb out on Rivery Hills. Then, into a headwind on Bee Caves, to 360 and the meat of the route to come. From 360 we turned onto Westlake... Toro Canyon, then The High Road. It sounds lofty, because it is! Off of High Road (a beast of a hill climb), we hit Terrace Mountain. Terrace Mountain is 5 "terraces". The first two make you think, "this is a bit of alright." Then, you hit the 3rd. Its a bit of a surprise after the first two. It hurts, really bad. The last two are just hard, but not as bad as the 3rd.

We came off of Terrace Mountain, with relief and hit the down on Red Bud, with a tailwind. Turning right onto Stratford, we climbed a few hills, (one that I was accidentally in my big ring for, wtf?), before the descent to Zilker and the pedestrian bridge over to Lake Austin.

Up next, Scenic & Mount Bonnell. Scenic isn't even a warm-up for Mount Bonnell. Mt. Bonnell is a steep baby, and long. Katik's and I were encouraging eachother to push up. I can never hold her wheel when she takes the lead. Fortunately, the backside is mostly down and I'm a descender (hahaha, that is really not a skill). Once over, we head quickly across FM 2222, and up a short bit of the other side of Mt. Bonnell, before Upvalley Run. Upvalley Run, to Mountain Villa; Mountain Villa to Ledge Mountain; Ledge Mountain to Cat Mountain... to Mesa and its all down hill and home from there.

YEEEHAAAA! Go Wooly Mammoth Climbing Kittens!

Black & Blue

Been trying to think of a name for my pretty little baby (Look 585 elle). He was super pretty until I wrecked at the Driveway on opening night. I won, then I wrecked. Ugh.

Anyway, a friend called my bike "L'il Blue". Well, he is blue and white, but after the wreck, (I trashed the fork), the fork replacement is going to be black; At least for a while, because Look would have otherwise needed to order the blue & white fork from France, (at a scary $600), so I'm taking a black one.

Does this mean I should name my pretty baby "L'il Black & Blue?". Or, should I name him "L'il Bruiser?"

Monday, March 29, 2010

Who's that Dude with the Giant Lens

I see him all the time; Every race, sometimes a long way from home.

Have you seen his photos? The dude has talent! The last Driveway, I saw him out there with a lens that was as tall as a toddler!

I only know him as "DCM".

Seriously, if you see him, get in front of the lens. He makes you look so FAST!

And, he races too! He's seriously good.

Friday, March 26, 2010

It was an old kit anyway

Seriously, when you have a fall, (I'm just sayin', they happen people), the last thing you want is to ruin your kit.

The Driveway Series, Thursday night crits, just recently started. A week ago Thurs, to be precise. I was AMPED & excited that my youngest daughter was going to at the races with me. I planned to do the first Women's 3/4 race, then take a little break, and do the next Women's 3/4, mixed in with the Men's 4/5's.

The evening started out great. There weren't too many in the first race, but a few were very competitive & the race came down to the final sprint. Photofinish & I won, by a whisker with a bike throw. Awesome considering first race of the Driveway, and my daughter was watching, camera in hand; Great cheerleader.
My next race staged and we had a pretty big crowd. We started out and immediately the pace was high and there was plenty of jockeying for position. We completed the first lap and started to take the tight turns at the beginning of the next lap and there it happened. As if in slow motion, the rear wheel of the rider next to me, just kept moving closer and closer to mine. Then I was down. I watched a rider launch over and land in front of me with a thud, like some macabre Cirque du Soleil act. Then, I hopped up and tried to turn my bike wheels... No Go. Crap. I ran to the mechanic's tent.
"Your fork is cracked.", he said. "Huh?" I'm so eloquent. "Your fork is cracked. See? & you have blood on your kit."

I'm not writing down what I thought or said. My racing for that day was OVER. I packed my crap and had my new road rash and chain ring laceration tended by the medic on duty, and my daughter drove me home. BUMMER.

The next week, I returned to the Driveway. I'm not back on my pretty little bike yet (fork ordered, ouch), but I was able to borrow Andrew W's bike (& Mel's too, so sweet). I rode Andrew's bike to a 2nd in the Women's 3/4 & 1st in the second Women's 3/4 race, again combined with the Men's 4/5. No collisions!

I still may wear the kit again. The bibs and jersey are blood stained, but it'll do for training. It was an old kit anyway.