Alaskan Pack Fodder

I haven't been posting. Nobody really reads blogs anymore and I don't have anything interesting to say. I don't race, barely ride outside, and mostly flog myself on a stationary trainer these days in a hopeless attempt to fend off the approaching darkness a little longer. I will say the Tour of Anchorage sounded somewhat interesting to me this year, but I decided to put it off until I actually build some sort of base of fitness for that sort of thing. Riding on a trainer for 45-90 minutes is not the same as race pace riding. I would be dangerous, and I would potentially hurt myself and others. Plus, it rained for the first couple of stages, and I really don't need the extra misery right now. Maybe next season... Saturday morning I got all suited up for another exciting trainer session and clomped my way into the garage. The bike had felt "off" for a couple days, shifting strangely and feeling mushy. I ran through the gears and adjusted the derailleur a bit, an...

It's a pattern I fall into every time. The smallest acquisition will inevitably lead to a deep dive into the intricacies of a particular subject that will become all-consuming until I invariably and quite abruptly lose interest, casting aside the thing that once so entranced me. Then it sits on a pile until I either rekindle the spark or pass it (and all of the other things that I acquired to go with it) off to someone else- usually at a significant financial loss. I try not to. I tell myself I won't. I strive to talk myself out of it. I distract myself in countless ways ("look at the bunny!").  I still do it. It's sorta baked into my character. Right now I'm looking at my bikes again. It's one of the starkest examples of the aftermath of that sudden loss of interest. My garage is a mess, which isn't unusual. My garage is not someplace to park a car, because the dual doors make it impossible to park in the middle. Depending on which side you park in, e...

I have had a hit-or-miss relationship with the bike recently. Up until January, I was cruising along with regular trainer rides, feeling some sort of fitness returning. I really should have known better. In December I decided to get a flu shot. My kids have a way of getting me sick on a regular basis and in the most inopportune times. While I was there, they offered me a COVID booster, so I took that as well (forgetting I had already gotten one in October). Then they looked at my records and told me I was eligible for the pneumonia vaccine. I figured I might as well while they were poking holes in my arm. The kids spent most of the Christmas break sick, so I was trying to immunize myself against everything. Because, why not? I took a quick vacation with the wonderful woman I am dating to see where she grew up and meet some of her family. I was extremely touched to be included and spend that time with her. A couple days after we returned, I started feeling really, really sick. Great, in...

Almost exactly eight years ago the Storck threw me over the handlebars , which resulted in a broken collarbone. Five months later it was relegated to trainer-only use. Today I returned the favor. During a sprint effort it suddenly creaked and went mushy. I spun to a stop only to discover the down tube almost ripped in half. You break me, I break you. Who knew that clamping down a hydroformed aluminum frame to a rigid structure and subjecting it to years of repeated stress would result in such a thing?   Well, I guess I can strip it down and recycle it.    I have other bikes that have no current purpose, so I pulled down my crit bike and set it up on the trainer for tomorrow. This is an old Trek-Livestrong Development Team Madone I had painted over black because, Lance. It may seem like a horrible waste to stick what once was a very expensive, top-tier bike on a trainer, but stick with me, because there's some poetic symmetry going on here.   The last time I rode this...

I'm not that guy anymore. Too much time off the bike, too much sitting around, too much extra weight. Too little aerobic capacity and lean muscle mass. I've been tooling around the Biloxi area in the small ring, trying to train away my natural tendency to grind, which uses muscles I no longer possess. My average speed for these jaunts was pitiful, but it was more about getting out and building some sort of a base of cycling fitness. From pretty much nothing. So obviously it was a great idea to tag along on a weekly hammer ride. In the dark. On twisty roads I didn't know. With riders I didn't know. Having flashbacks of my last crit crash, the one that effectively ended my racing days. I was a ball of tension, redlined and closing gaps I should have never let open. Yeah, I was dropped. Once we re-grouped, I hung on. Once on familiar roads, I did ok. I wasn't at the front, but I wasn't dropped, either. The saddle sores I have been cultivating were screaming every t...

  The last time I was in Biloxi was in November of 2016. I was recovering from a broken collar bone, but otherwise was relatively fit, lean, and getting fitter and leaner. Because I had nothing else to do and energy to burn, I rode a lot. It was wasted effort that translated into burnout during the trainer season, but I really didn't care. I hadn't been riding at all. A handful of road rides before the season ended. A couple fat bike rides when the trails near my house were packed well. Mostly I've hiked, cross-country skied, and sat on my fat ass. Primarily the latter. I knew I was going to be spending the month of February in Biloxi. I swore I was going to get back on the trainer in preparation, but I never did. I came in cold. I packed all sorts of warmers and raingear and stuff that I have yet to use.I forgot all sorts of tools. My tires were excessively worn and my tubes weren't in great shape either. I ended up buying new ones after a horrible first ride led to 4 ...