Narcissus Spinning

Just call me Narcissus for a moment. Since I started riding my bike again a year ago I had been curious about muscle development and changes in my body profile. Let's just say that I started this process last September as a doughy man in search of exercise. I think I'm still on the doughy side, but in much better shape and I've found an obsession.

Since it's cold outside (or, actually, today it's warmish and wet . . . I could have ridden outside but the wife and I are coming off nasty colds and I didn't want to spend the afternoon as a snot fountain) I was doing high-speed sprints. The Carmichael Do The Tour Stay At Home Stage 17, to be exact. Yes. THAT Stage 17.

When I'm out riding I see other cyclists who are clearly high-level riders. Often, as they pass me, I marvel at the striations of their muscles and the clear dedication they have. I often think, "Hey, I'm dedicated. And, also, I've noticed a huge change in my body profile and see new musculature on my legs. But given the placement of my head, I can't tell what's really going on."

Admittedly, I've wanted to do this for a while. In fact, I should have documented the whole physiological change I've gone through. It would have been interesting. To me, at least.

Anyway, to those with strong stomachs, here is a brief history of my calves (not including the boring, sedentary version):

May, 2006 (Rearish view):
Six months of riding, non-action shot. The calves are coming along nicely. The V of the musculature is developing. I also remember at this point when I was stretching prior to a ride I had to pay particular attention to the calves because they always felt a little tight and, if it were cool out, I would develop cramps on longer climbs.

December, 2006 1 (Rear View):
You can't see much in this photo, but I'm in mid sprint, standing in the pedals. Yes, I'm wearing white athletic socks (cycling socks dirty) and I have black shoes, which are so two years ago. Whatever. My wife couldn't quite catch the right moment where the downward force of my pedal stroke causes the muscles to flex. However, I can see the total change in the leg as a whole.

December, 2006 (Side View):
Ugh. I'm reluctant to show this photo because it shows how sloppy my pedal stroke is during a sprint. Haven't quite gotten that down yet. But, I'm proud of the development of the musculature.

Why am I proud? Because I've become athletic. I'm in the best shape of my life and, honestly, I've found a hobby that I love. It's an expensive hobby and it really is more of an obsession.

What this represents for me, other than grossing you out, is a huge accomplishment. An accomplishment that I'm proud of for more than personal reasons:

Perhaps because of my constant riding, I can count at least five adults who have taking up riding. Whether I'm responsible or not, I'm happy that these people have found something that they can enjoy and put them on a path health and happiness.

What's great about cycling, that I hope they will discover, is that you can choose your daily path. One day you can take the bike out and torture yourself with a brutal, fast ride that tests the very limits of your abilities. Or, instead, you can go for a ride with the family and enjoy a nice day as a family. If you wish, the bicycle can be your vehicle to a hidden world, and you can take a bike trail (such as the KATY trail) on a weekend adventure.

The bicycle has opened up a whole new world for me, one that I had glimpsed when I was 12 and obsessed with the moving Breaking Away. When I rode my 10-speed, which was a heavy, Sears special, I felt like it could take me anywhere I wanted to go. It never really did, of course. I was a kid, but it took me all over the neighborhood and survived some pretty stupid, dangerous races with my friends.

Now, that little black Specialized? It really could take me anywhere. Except, now I understand that it's just the wheels. I'm the engine, captain and navigator.

So now it's time to set my goals for 2007. I accomplished all but one of my 2006 goals (alas, I did not ride a century), so I'll move that one over. I wouldn't have guessed that I'd ride 4,600 miles or ride through a national park, climbing climbs and passing people on the way while still being able to chat and talk on the climb. In January of this year, all of those goals seemed impossible. And I'm sure that's how I'll feel in 2007, but I'm dedicated to trying. Because, after all, one thing I've learned that a bicycle is good for is showing you where your personal limits lay and giving you the motivation to test and overcome those limits.

Please Help

I've been sick all week, yay. So I haven't felt much like posting, though there are things I'd like to write about, such as memes and kid crap and testing subscription music services to my bike's new tires and cassette (which I still haven't gotten to try out).

But, instead, I want to know something very important:

Why are the lyrics to Steve Perry's "Oh Sherry" still stored in my brain? Couldn't they be overwritten? Why, after not hearing the song since fifth grade, am I suddenly able to call up the entire song by simply hearing the first chord?

This is wrong. And it also brings up a list of songs I'd like to purge. Including, but not limited to, Kajagoogoo's "Too Shy". I need the memory space. Jeeze, I can clean my hard drive but my brain is cluttered. I can't tie my shoes, but I can sing Def Leppard's "Rock of Ages" in its entirety.

Sigh. Can't there be Floyd Landis News so I can bitch about something?

Edited to add the following songs:
The Power of Love by Huey Lewis
Freeze-Frame by J. Geils Band
Almost Paradise by Mike Reno and Anne Wilson.
And also, but mostly, every Loverboy song.
Most Van Halen songs (I have a disturbingly detailed memory of the catalogue from between 1978 and 1992. From drum fills to guitar solos--called up from the reserves at a moment's notice.)
Any song released to capitalize on the 1984 Olympics*, but mostly The Runner by Manfred Mann

*I worked with a guy who, I shit you not, bragged about how he met Cuba Gooding, Jr. as part of the break-dancing team that performed at the opening ceremonies. I'd tell more of the story, but he would be easily identified and humilated. If he hasn't been already.

So, This is Christmas?

Here I sit in an easy chair in our bedroom typing on the laptop, hoping to squeeze in a few minutes, maybe even hours, of work while a pathetic five-year-old lays delirious in our bed, fighting a high fever. Her preteen sister is completely unconscious in her own bed, hopefully to wake before dinner. She’s not sick. She just sleeps a lot these days. And doesn’t bathe, unless we force her to. It’s like living with a monkey with fashion sense and good grades.

But the little one is fighting a high fever. She was attacked by the fever yesterday during the winter party in her Early Childhood class. Five minutes into it, just as they were starting all the activities, getting out the games and spreading out food, she had to go home. She cried. Nay, she wept.

You see, she had been waiting for weeks for this party. She had planned her outfit, made sure it was clean, tried on special shoes. She was dressed to the nines, in her velvet winter dress and fancy shoes that didn’t match, but were purchased for her cousin’s wedding. It didn’t matter. They were the nicest shoes she owns and this party was important.

She planned ahead. She had to go to the sitter’s before school and she planned on telling her to let her eat light because there would be lots of food at the party. And they did have good food. But poor Gert never got to eat a bite. Instead, she was at home burning like a furnace.

Now she’s lying on my bed watching Christmas specials. That’s right, she’s sick only a few days before Christmas, the Super Bowl of a kid’s year. There are parties and family gatherings that need to be gone to, presents to be gotten. But if this fever runs the course the school thinks it will run, she will be doing exactly this until next Thursday. Seven days of fever, high fever and general malaise. We’re hoping they're wrong. We’re hoping that Matilda doesn’t get it. Mom and I can handle it. Jack us up with enough Advil and coffee, we can do anything. But a kid? Missing a Christmas party?

Life sucks.

Last night she came into our room at four o’clock and crawled in bed with us. She told Mom that she heard a voice in her room and that’s why she was here, not because of the nuclear reactor generating heat in her body.

“What did the voice say,” Mom asked.

“Have fun,” Gert replied in her Tom Waits voice.

Not sure if the voice belonged to the Ghost of Christmas on Layaway, we all decided at that point it was safer to stay in bed until the sun rose. It was a chore because I really had to pee.

But there she lays. Three days before Christmas, two days before my family’s Christmas blow out. Sad, little lump that she is.

She’s perking up now thanks to the alternating course of Tylenol and Advil (whatever doctor came up with that idea was a genius), but we know that it’s fleeting. Soon the fever will rear its ugly head and send her back down. She’ll look at me with her heavy-lidded gaze and I’ll wish I could fix everything.

Instead, we’re going to the kitchen to have some Cinnamon toast. I think I’ll use red and green sugar to make it a little more festive. And maybe we’ll sing a carol or two while she feels okay.

After all, she deserves her holiday party. Even if it’s just on a piece of toast.

Man's Best Friend's Best Friend

My wife said that Finnegan the Wonder Dog (Border Collie, esq.) needs a buddy. She thinks that watching me work all day is boring and that Finn needs a best friend he can talk to and plot my overthrow with.

I have a new proposal. Finnegan doesn't need another dog. Finnegan needs . . . well . . . watch:



I have to thank Boing Boing for reminding me of this. And Whiplash's homepage.

Diabetes Breakthrough?

This could be good news for diabetic mice. Hopefully it'll be good for diabetic people. Like me.

Here is the original article, Ars Technica, and New Scientist.

All this via Geek Press.

Now, hopefully this will pan out. I've been diabetic for 25 years. In that time I've taken roughly 32,000 injections. This, of course, does not include the pin prick to draw blood for glucose testing and, of course, my quarterly oil check for my A1c with the doctors. So, as you can see, I have a vested interest.

That being said, if I ever do get cured I'm going to eat my weight in donuts. So, maybe I need to discipline myself first.

Who Loves the Sun?

I got out of bed around 5:45 this morning so that I could make coffee and get to work about an hour earlier. Why, you ask, when I work in the basement?

Because with Matilda's middle school schedule, Gert's early childhood schedule and mom's work schedule, it's been hard finding time during the week to ride the trainer. Oh, sure, if it's nice out I'll find the time to ride on the road, but indoors doing one of my pre-designed workouts? Let's face it, it's not fun.

Well, you say, why not ride after dinner? Well, that's true. But I feel like crap when I ride at night. I don't know why. I'm a morning rider, to be honest.

So, the plan is to work for an hour or so while Gert eats and gets ready for school. Then, take her to Diana's to play for the morning. When I get back, ride the trainer, shower and work until dinner is ready. That way I keep the fitness level, ride in the morning and have time to shower before going back to the grind.

The problem is, the morning comes so early. If we could move it back to, say, noon, that would be so much better. Plus, I'm toiling over the organization of one of the books I"m working on and I fear I'm becoming obsessed. I woke up at 4 a.m. worrying about it.

I quickly pushed it aside, though, by thinking of 12 Christmas Carols That Never Caught On. They were funny. Of course, I forgot all of them. Except this one:

Santa Knows What You Did in the Garage

p.s. The local news just played The Shazam. Wow. I never thought I'd hear that.

Wanna Spend Some Money?

Ever curious about how cycling position effects oxygen uptake and preferred cadence during climbing at various percentages of peak power output? Sure you did! A guy who contributes to one of my books has recently published in the European Journal of Applied Physiology. Check out the abstract and, if you're into it, download the article. It's only $30. He's looking for feedback as well. Go for it!

I'll be buying it after the first of the year (new tax period!). Groovy.

Grass Roots

I know my regular readers (all 12 of you) all think I'm insane for my war on the alphabet (USADA, WADA), and you cycling fans (all 2 of you) think I'm barking up the wrong tree, but I honestly think the Anti-doping system is broken and chasing the wrong objectives. The more I learn about them, their standards and absurd lack of respect for their own codes, the more discouraged I get.

Rant Your Head Off has a fantastic summary and action items for those of you who wonder if our Federal tax dollars are being properly spent on the current anti-doping system. I suspect if you did a little digging, you'd discover for yourself that it's, how shall I put this gently . . . it's Borked.

Visit Rant. Talk to your congress critters. Combating doping in sport is an important endeavor. Let's not allow WADA and the USADA keep using arcane, arbitrary punishments and kangaroo court tactics.

Let's face it, for groups that are dedicated to fighting athletes who give themselves an unfair advantage to win, USADA and WADA certainly have given themselves an unfair advantage in order to win their cases.

Rich Men Want to be King

If you’ve been reading this blog since this summer, you’ve read my roller-coaster relationship with Floyd Landis. If not, here’s a summary:

July: Holy Shit! Go Floyd Go!
August: Anger. Remorse
September: Saddness
October: But wait . . . Hmmm.
November: Bring the system down!!! (I haven’t shifted from this. Test? Yes. Get rid of cheaters? Yes. Are we doing it the right way? No.)

Now, here in December, I’ve had quite a bit of time to digest the whole thing. I would go back and forth between did he, didn’t he? Would he, wouldn’t he? Why? Why? Why? If you don’t care, skip to the end and check out the music mix I’ve made.

I’ve decided that, after nearly half a year of this, it’s time to take a definitive stance. After reviewing the evidence, the constant PR battle, and posturing from Floyd to the lab, to the aptly named Dick Pound to seemingly brain-dead Australian teens, I’ve decided on my stance.

Using the basic legal tenet of “Beyond a Reasonable Doubt” I have decided that I’m in the Free Floyd camp. I have decided that I support Floyd 100% in his battle to clear his name. I have more than reasonable doubt. If this were a criminal case, it would have been thrown out. But it's not. It seems more like Woody Allen's Bananas.

Am I naive? Probably. However, if you follow the story, maybe not so much. There’s a lot more going on than A and B samples here. For example, if you lined up the WADA labs and looked at their criteria for a positive test for Testosterone levels, they would all agree right? Regardless of where Floyd was tested, he would have been drummed out of the sport no matter what, right?

Not so much. But I won’t go into that. Instead I’ll send you to the sources:

Trust But Verify
LandisCase Wiki
LA Times Series of articles on WADA/USADA. Pt. 1, Pt. 2 (troubling stuff here)

From those sources, you will be able to find everything you need to know about Floyd’s case. The good, the bad, the ugly. If you follow through you’ll find yourself going through the same stages I have gone through and you may realize Floyd has gotten the shaft. Take the time and inform yourself between what you've read on SI.com and saw on Bryant Gumbel. There's a lot going on here.

Will he be found innocent? No. There’s not a chance in hell. Gandhi would have been found guilty for eating on a hunger strike in this system. Even if they could prove he hadn’t eaten, the arbitrators would have ruled him “Hungry, but still suspended.” But I like an underdog.

So, since I’m an official Floydinista now, I’ve made a Floyd Landis musical mix on RadioSFT*. On it you will hear songs meant to spur Floyd on in battle. He’s on a suicide mission and so the songs are all about that. Angry, worried, and defiant. It begins with the song Floyd sang to himself on the disputed stage to Morzine and ends with a rallying cry.

And yes, copies are available on request to select individuals. (Hey, it’s the holidays. I can’t spend my days sending everyone a CD.)

For those not familiar with The Negro Problem, please go here before you call the PC police.

The Earth Died Screaming

You know, I work at home. Alone. In the basement. With a vast store of music at my fingertips. I tend to listen to things based on obsessions. For a year I mined Wilco and every permutation of Jeff Tweedy's wet dreams. It's not that I stopped listening to Wilco, just my obsession has waned. Neil Young had a month-long stint in my head last year, Bob Dylan did a few months. For the past three months Tom Waits has been occupying the main stage, so his music pops up for hours.

Tom's great because I can program moods for him. Jazzy, wistful, blusey, angry, frightening, etc. But, most of the time, it's just fun to put the whole library on random and see what happens. Because sometimes "I Hope I Don't Fall in Love with You" followed by "The Earth Died Screaming" is exactly what a day needs.

But, honestly, usually it makes me feel like I live in a circus that's run by Luis Bunuel, drawn on a piece of paper by Salvador Dali, crumpled up in Charles Bukowski's pocket and stolen by Raymond Chandler.

Anyway, it's going to be around 60 here today, so I'll be riding later. It'll be wet because of all the snow melt, so if you see a grey, sodden guy riding a black Specialized and smiling like a moron in a macaroni factory, say hi.

All I Want for Christmas

Is to be John Hodgman. Not to be like him, but to be him. He is funnier than me. And you. And, almost everyone.

So there. 4 out of 5 Crimean Tatars agree.

California Dreaming

They announced the route for the Amgen Tour of California recently and, as it was last year, it's interesting but nothing to do back flips over. It's still going to be the crown jewel in the US racing calender because of its beauty and accessibility, but as far as complexity and difficulty? Not so much. Their climbs will mostly be really long hills because the best mountain passes will still be snowbound at the time of the race.

Okay, before you Cali riders yell at me, I know they are tough climbs and that I would be spewing blood out of my lungs and seeing dead relatives on the easiest one. However, they just aren't very sexy. And that's okay because I'm still excited.

According to this Velonews article, Versus (aka OLN, aka Home of Moose Hunting) will carry nightly race coverage. Which pleases me to no end. Last year ESPN2, which was a race sponsor, gave us an hour at 1 a.m. and half the time it was pushed out of its timeslot because of a late hockey game. Yeehaw. You'd think they would have given the race a little more prominence than that, given their financial stake. But I believe Versus will give it worthy coverage. Probably Bob Roll and Paul Sherwin and not that goofball they have doing the Nature Valley Grand Prix with Bobke. Bob's goofy enough, but in a lovable way. And don't get me started Al Trautwig.

I was concerned that cycling was going to get screwed by Versus, and television in general, because of the Floyd Landis affair. It's a black eye on cycling, to say the least and certainly is an issue for advertisers and sponsors. But, USA cycling is certainly growing. So it's a strange situation.

I don't know what this means for the Eupropean race coverage. I would sure hate to have to watch Paris-Roubaix on the computer. Oh, sure, it was hard, very hard, last year to stay off the Internet all day to avoid the results. But when we were watching the race and watched George Hincapie crash we all gasped and screamed. And that damned train! Somehow I doubt I'd have a very big group sitting at my desk watching it on my new Vista ready box.

I became concerned in August when OLN didn't run their scheduled Tour recap because "the results are not decided". Though, honestly, with the results up in the air it would have made one hell of a recap and would have provided a great opportunity to inform the cycling public (all seven of us) of the process Floyd was looking at. But, rather, it was simply ignored.

We won't hear much from Versus until the spring when they announce their schedule. Hopefully they'll include some of the Spring Classics and give me a full Tour coverage. I hope. Then I'll pay for the daily online coverage for the Giro and the Vuelta.

Still, the issue all comes back to Floyd. This situation is causing a public relations problem with cycling. Most people have condemned Floyd because, after all, he failed both tests and, no matter what he says, he's guilty now. And yet, if you were accused of something that you say you did not do, would you sit down and accept the judgment? Of course not. You'd take it to the streets.

Floyd's problem, however, is that he's a terrible television interviewee. It's not his fault, it's the way he speaks. He also has quite a twisted wit, but that never comes across. He's much better in print.

Here's what I sincerely hope, and it may sound evil: Floyd is declared innocent (because I want him to be . . . I'm very much "Say it ain't so" with him; Floyd's my Shoeless Joe), the UCI is completely reorganized because it is finally realized it is being run by a bunch of morons who can't decide which way to go, WADA is shown to be just as disorganized and is revamped with STRICT controls on testing and procedures for labs and the appeal process so that integrity is restored in sport and athletes are given the benefit of the doubt.

Nothing is infallible and if the USADA says that not one single athlete has ever won their appeals process, to me that shows very flawed thinking. Not one athlete? To me that says they've convicted quite a few guilty dopers and ground up a few innocents to preserve their record.

Mystery of the Universe

Has Floyd Landis found a new job as a television commercial actor? Hmmm. You tell me (look at the guy when he laughs):



Edited to add: I smell a new team sponsorship opportunity here. 20Q is the perfect teams sponsor for Landis. After all, given he's under a cloud of suspicion, every single news item about him would also include "Landis rides for the ironically named 20Q team." Brilliant! And if Floyd is cleared, you could have Ulrich, Hamilton . . .

The Twelve- Speeds of Christmas

Specialized, who were kind enough to craft my own bike (which I still like, despite the fact that my second set of wheels is still having a truing problem . . . not Specialized's fault, but still . . . not everyone is a 140 pound climber, you know?), have put out a creative Christmas card that includes "The Nutcracker Suite" performed entirely on bicycle parts.

Pretty damn cool.

The Inelegant Universe

"Hey Gert, what's this drawing on a giant piece of paper?"

"Those are the planets. We are learning about them in Early Childhood."

"Cool. I like planets. What are you learning?"

"I don't know. This is a picture of all the planets."

"Which one is this?"

"That one is Mars, because it's red. This blue one is Missouri."

"What's that planet?"

"That's where Uncle Jeff lives."

"Wow. I hope he doesn't invade."

I'm Going Alp d'Huez on Your Ass

I actually said that today. Plus, I did an amazing imitation of Armstrong's "Look" to Ulrich. In slow motion too! Ever gone in slow motion on a bike? It's not easy.

So, Thursday was Thanksgiving. I didn't partake in too much self-abuse. That was smart. And the weather was incredible. So that meant I could ride the bike, right?

Friday morning I put on the leg warmers, the arm warmers and headed out for a ride. By mile 20 I was bare-legged and sweating. In November. Awesome. I put in about 35 miles, came home and relaxed with the family for the rest of the day.

Saturday, it was nice again, so we decided to knock out the leaves. We were done by noon. We were sore and exhausted, but it was well worth it. So we took the kids to see a movie about the love between a mouse and a toilet. Since it was Ardman, we thoroughly enjoyed it.

Sunday, once again, it was beautiful. Not quite as warm as Friday, but warm. So I went for a ride. Just a quick 30, I told my wife. Well, after that thirty I still felt spry. So I called my wife and said, "I think I'll head out over the river again. Should only be about 30 minutes or so." Well, I went out over the river and I still felt great. An hour later, I had hit 50 miles. Sweet, I said. So I decided to pack it in.

There was the mistake. I came home and decided to mow the lawn (well, vacuum up the rest of the leaves) and run the mower out. Then I cleaned the mower. Then I put down winter fertilizer. Then I packed everything away and stowed the 22 bags of yard waste we had accumulated. Then I collapsed.

Yesterday I hurt so bad that I think the only thing that wasn't aching was my hair. Even that was questionable.

So what did I do today? Went for a short recovery ride. 22 miles of relaxing cranking. Seriously, it was relaxing. I might have gone into the red zone with some hill sprinting. And one quick four mile speed-fest (20 mph, for the most part). But, other than that, it was just what the doctor ordered.

Tomorrow, I'm going back out for a hammerfest that will leave blackened chunks of my lungs on the asphalt. That'll be fun too. Because, after that? Well, look at the ten day forecast. Sigh. Back to indoor riding and that weight training I keep telling myself I'm going to do.

Maybe I'll take up knitting. Oh crap, I said that out loud. I need to hide from my wife.

Drool

Wow.

Gert Quote of the Week

Upon seeing a scene in the film "Flushed Away" in which a male mouse falls and lands crotch first on a various things in quick succession:

"Wow, that really hurt his vagina."

Supplement. Upon seeing a commercial involving the Incredible Hulk she asked if he was a good guy or a bad guy. I explained his complicated situation, which she seemed to accept. She responded:

"He sure is one angry guy."

Hankering for a Hunk of Cheese

This is my plan for Thanksgiving.

On Birthdays and Boors

Every year, on a certain date, you get older. It's not something you can stop, so you embrace it and enjoy each coming year as a gift.

Yet, there are also those people who like to make aging jokes, despite the fact that they too are getting older. They make jokes about your hearing, sight problems, senility. They also think these jokes are funny. Unlike aging, this should be something that you can stop. And, yet, you cannot. These boorish morons jabber on and on and on using the same tired jokes for everyone of their friends, every year ad infinitum. You are powerless to stop them despite the fact that the jokes are now so forced and painful that they require Flomax to simply get eundure them.

But, naturally, you're the bad person when you kick them in the crotch until they shut up.

Cool Video

Shows some of the less pleasant cycling moments. I mean, other than having your blood replaced by a virile Spaniard sheep farmer's prior to climbing Mt. Ventoux.



Good video. Even more impressive? This video of some random guy descending Col d'Izoard. I like how he passes the cars. What a bunch of wusses in their motor vehicles.

On Overeating During the Holidays

In times of great stress, many humans turn to food for comfort. For many humans, because of the close proximity of their family members, the holidays are times of great stress. Therefore, that is why we need an enormous roasted animal to place between us and Grandma. The turkey helps us deal with the stress of listening to Grandma explain why you have never lived up to any of her expectations.

And because there's not enough spiked egg nog in the world to make that bitch pleasant, even if you do share DNA.

Bottom of the World, Top of the Playlist

I know I could tell you to go out and buy Tom Waits' new three-disc set next Tuesday, but why would you listen to me when you can listen to a fantastic sci-fi author/electronic rights activist/essayist like Cory Doctorow?

That being said, since I'm not trusted with advance copies, I'll be first in line on Tuesday.

I can't wait to play Tom Waits for the family on Thanksgiving! It's possible that I may get sent to sit in the backyard all by myself because of it. But who cares? 50 songs baby! That will last me.

Of Clowns and Ninjas

It occurred to me that if a group of ninjas came upon a group of clowns there would be no fight because, like the ninjas, the clowns follow a code of honor. However, if the ninjas came across a group of pirates, much blood would be shed.

Also, contrary to popular belief, should a group of pirates come across a group of clowns, they would, in fact, fight because pirates will fight with anyone. It would be an epic battle. However, the clowns would be victorious because they fight dirty.

Why We Need Science

Because this transcends awesome. (Via Boing Boing)

Five Years Old

Save the Cheerleader, Save the World,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

Happy Birthday to my little girl. Hard to believe it's been five years. It's gone fast. Next thing I know my little shadow will be dating and causing me ulcers.

In the meantime it's stories with funny voices, chocolate milk in shot glasses (a game we call "Hit me up barkeep" . . . maybe that's not healthy . . . it's a cowboy game I played as a kid) and princess parties.

Sigh. I wish I could bottle little Gert and keep her forever. She's one of those kids who has something different deep inside of her. She's funny, vivacious, smart and compassionate. Very compassionate for a little kid.

Sins of My Father

I have visual and audio proof of my young daughter's Tom Waits impression.

Scene:
Mom and dad were getting eyes checked. Gert and Matilda were looking for things to do. Matilda sat playing her Game Boy. Gert had no such device, so she looked to Daddy. Daddy sent her off with his phone cam to take pictures of weird things and he'd guess what they were. That was fun. For a few minutes. But she needed more. She we started making phone cam videos.

"Hey Gert," I said, "sing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' in your Tom Waits voice."

So she did.

I know what you're thinking. How could we allow a nearly five-year-old to listen to Tom Waits? Well, it's not like I let her listen to "I'm Your Late Evening Prostitute" or "Pasties and a G-String." There are plenty fantastic Tom Waits songs she loves to listen to. Hell, Matilda has a song I don't even have on a soundtrack to a movie. So there.

But mostly she likes to sing like Tom Waits.

Notice Matilda in the background completely oblivious to all the strange things we were doing.

What's Cute?

"Hey Gert, sing a lullaby as Tom Waits."

"Croak Rockabye croak Baby croak In croak The croak Tree croak Top . . ."

"Ha!"

Bonus points for syrup dribbling down her chin.

The Truth About My Novel

Okay, so I am doing National Novel Writing Month with my wife and daughter because it's a fun way for the family to spend time together and not talk. Dinner time now sounds like this:

clackyclackyclackyclackyclackyclackyclackytaptaptapclackyclackyclackyclacky

"What's another word for anemic bastard?"

Worse, there's a strange competition going on in our house now. My wife and I now measure our worth by word count (so kicking her ass, which means I don't have to make dinner until she earns the literary right to take the night off--that means none of my famous balsalmic chicken or stir fry until that day) and my normally sweet eleven-year-old daughter has acquired some sort of arrogance and wit that has turned her into Mrs. Parker and the Vicious circle. I really wish she'd stop asking to spend time at the Algonquin.

I'm learning some things about myself. For example, I'm a supremely lazy writer. My use of grammar is, shall we say, slovenly. It's not that I don't respect the rules of our language. It's that I really don't feel like using them most of the time. Am I capable? Yes. Do I do it? Frequently. Will I ever correct myself? I suppose. Do I care? Not a bit.

So for all you grammar cops out there I have one thing to say: Bite the big one. I'm essentially free writing. When it's time to edit--strike that--IF it's ever time to edit it, then we'll discuss Strunk and White. Okay? Now take your blood pressure medicine and go focus on your own comma splices.

So, you can see my progress here. I'm not posting the little badge on my site because, ultimately, I'm too lazy. You can also read an excerpt there.

Note on the site: It's slow, uses clunky flash and makes my brain hurt. But it looks pretty.

Note on my story: You won't care about it. But you can still read the excerpt. Odds are you'll never see any more of it. For the most part, it's literary masturbation.

But here's the premise of my original idea: Floyd Landis is sitting in an Alpine bar, tossing back a few Amstel Lites with his buddies when, suddenly, his ratio of Testosterone to Epitestosterone goes completely out of whack. His skin turns yellow and he grows to be, something like, 6 feet tall and 200 pounds (Hey, he's a cyclist. For them that's Hulk size.) Then, he goes on a rampage through France searching for something that can only be described as "(s)". No one understands what he's talking about because he's speaking in incomprehensible bursts like, "The 30ng/ml limit is not the threshold for a positive but is the reasonable limit for detection the lab must demonstrate (like the 2ng/mL for [T] or [E])."

Then, just as Floyd is about to eat the Eiffel Tower, a guy in a lab coat comes up and tells him that he accidentally spilled white out all over his lab documents and it turns out that there was nothing wrong with his T/E ratio, but some jerk from the drug testing lab had written a lewd comment about Floyd's wife with similar letters and that this whole thing was a mistake.

"My bad," says the lab dude. Then Floyd shrinks back down to normal size, takes a shot of Jack Daniels and says, "Hey no problem." And he goes on to win every race that ASO sponsors for the next five years. Including the Tour de l'Avenir, which causes a whole new controversy.

I thought this was a good idea. Turns out, I was wrong. There's a website out there that's telling a much better story and, apparently, it's all true. Damn it.

Oh well, back to the sophomoric drivel I'm writing.

The Butler Did It

Somehow, my lovely wife convinced me to participate in National Novel Writing Month. I hemmed. I hawed. Then I complained, refused to start and whined about how I had no workable ideas.

Then I saw an elderly couple cuddling on a park bench during one of my bike rides. Proverbial inspiration struck. So I agreed.

But I didn't stop complaining.

So, yesterday it started. I made myself a playlist of music that fit the mood, and worked all day with the knowledge that if I want to hit the 50,000 word goal by the end of the month I'd have to really crank through and not give up.

By lunch, without a word written, I had quit twice. But, thanks to the playlist, had fallen in love with two Tom Waits songs I had ignored.

The wife came home and told me she'd make dinner while I wrote. So I did. I finished work and sat down. An hour and a half later I was 2500 words into what might actually be a novel.

Go figure.

Enjoy this, though. Odds are you'll never see a word that I've written. Okay, okay. That does seem mean. Here, I'll give you this:

Virginity.

I wrote that word in the novel. Only 47,500 words to go!

Halloween

Before the Fall,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

We survived, but barely. There's nothing that will motivate a child to exercise and walk for miles than pounds and pounds of candy.

I, being a diabetic, have been in a contact coma for the last few hours. So, I need to ride my bike today to shake off the sugar in the house.

Please Kill Me

Are those floppy-eared dogs bouncing on yoga balls? What the fuck? Damn the Internet and the ease of finding crap like this so easily (Stereogum deserves punishment for this one). I now have auralthelioma.



Here, rinse and spit with this, with a touch of Levon Helm:

Billy, Don't Be a Hiro

Good news for Snowcrash fans. Really good news. Alarmingly cool, yet disturbingly weird news. But cool! In a strange way.

At least this is the kind of stuff they are doing and not something like Soylent Green.

Oscar the Grouch?

Possible Tour de France Winner Oscar Pereiro is proving my point about how screwed up this process is.

Let's look at the steps according to Oscar, and apparently the Tour organizers (not assuming that they knew Floyd tested positive before the end of the tour, because of course a doping scandal on top of a doping scandal is just fantastic publicity for the Tour . . . I mean, why not let the guy win and then take things away? Makes more sense, right?).

The World According to Oscar
1. Floyd Landis wins.
2. Floyd tests positive, is suspended. Fair enough.
3. Floyd relinquishes the jersey.
4. Oscar wins.
5. Floyd disappears forever, never to be seen again so that Oscar can be the twentieth greatest Spanish cyclist ever (he did ride off a mountain last year while eating a sandwich). If that.

This whole process according to Oscar is swift and if guilt is without any doubt, fair. Except for one thing. Guilt isn't without any doubt. Or it shouldn't be. And that damn hearing where the rider has a chance to prove innocence, or faulty testing, or a French conspiracy (which is totally true, unless you're a sissy). If there is true balance in the process, then the accused rider has a chance at innocence. Hell, if this is all done right, WADA, the UCI and ASO would be following the same rules.

So, in the World According to Oscar, since he is deserving winner of course, Floyd is guilty, guilty, guilty.

But suppose he's not. Then you have the following steps in Oscar's world.

6. Floyd proves his innocence.
7. Floyd is declared the rightful winner of the Tour. ASO, the UCI and WADA, all ashamed of how hypocritical they are in a variety of situations, giving passes to guys who have "asthma" but going after guys for butt cream or because their dog might have visited a Spanish doctor, all give Floyd a gift certificate to Cracker Barrel. Oh, and the yellow jersey.
8. Oscar is demoted back to second place.
9. The Tour, of course, doesn't look like a farce because they keep changing the results.
10. We all laugh.

Look, again, not saying that you shouldn't go after the guilty riders. All I'm saying is if there's a process, follow it. You can't execute a guy before the trial. Unless you're in a secret CIA prison.

Right? Maybe I'm just stupid, but it seems like the riders aren't the only ones who cheat the system and ignore rules. It looks like the governing bodies also take a very loose stance on said rules.

WADA You Mean?

Yes, this is about Floyd Landis. The great shame of U.S. cycling these days, it seems. And, if he’s guilty, rightly so. If he’s a cheater he needs to be dealt with accordingly. Just like all suspected dopers, Floyd is denying that he cheated. It’s a likely story. After all, it’s rare that anyone admits to being a cheat. Even if they are caught red handed.

Now, I’ll be honest I have no idea what I’m talking about here. I know nothing of UCI, WADA or any other rules. I’m just having an emotional reaction to what I think is a situation that unfairly assumes guilt and leaves little room for innocence. And, let’s face it, cycling has a checkered past so it’s not surprising that there is very little trust for a cyclist.

For the record, I want to believe Floyd and am inclined to believe him.

Again, this is all emotional. I am not speaking with any sense of authority. Just sadness and confusion. If you truly want to keep up with this case, make sure you check Trust But Verify, the online clearing house for all things Landis, all the time.

According to the UCI (cycling’s governing body), the organizers of the Tour de France and the leader of the World Anti-Doping Agency, Floyd did it. In fact, they were pronouncing his guilt before Landis had even seen the results of his own tests. Worse, they were touting to the media that he should be drawn and quartered before his B sample was tested. According to the rules that these organizations themselves set up to protect an athlete from a false positive, no one should have been told about a positive test until the B sample was analyzed. Instead, the story was in the media before the rider himself even knew. Go figure.

Now Floyd must defend himself to the anti-doping agency, his cycling federation and to the public. Only, the problem with that is the public has already made up its mind based on news reports that, in some cases, weren’t even reporting actual facts. Here’s what the public knows.

1. Floyd won the Tour.
2. Floyd cheated.
3. If he says he didn’t cheat he’s lying.
4. Any possible recourse he can follow is just a ploy.
5. If he’s trying to prove the test was flawed, he’s guilty and trying to get off on a technicality.
6. If he’s innocent then he has to prove it.
7. But he can’t prove it using any explanation that involves someone else giving him something, the test being flawed, that there was a natural explanation, nor can he say that the lab screwed up. Because none of these will prove he’s innocent, it only shows how guilty the lying son of a bitch is.

Here’s my problem with this. According to the court of public opinion, Floyd has been convicted. However, he still has the right to prove his innocence at a hearing with the USADA early next year, which is why he is currently mounting his defense and allowing a bunch of cycling geeks to analyze his test results. So, obviously, if he didn’t dope he can argue that at the hearing, right?

Not exactly. You see, he really only has two options: 1. That the test was right, but he accidentally took the banned substance, making him an idiot or 2. The tests were wrong, or compromised. Option two doesn’t clear Floyd, exactly. It just shows that there was a mistake.

So, if I understand the rules here, no matter what Floyd is guilty. He’s either guilty on purpose, guilty by accident or guilty but going to get away with it due to a faulty test or sample.

I’m not saying that Floyd is innocent. I’m just astounded by a process that is supposed to be a form of “justice”. Guilty athletes must be dealt with quickly and harshly. They mustn’t be allowed to cheat. However, no process is infallible. There is a chance that an innocent athlete could be caught up in a mistake, a lab error, or falsely accused. But, according to these guidelines, there is no innocence. According to these guidelines if you’re standing in front of a hearing you are guilty of something.

I guess that’s my problem. If, by chance, Floyd is telling the truth and he did not dope, there is nothing he can really do to prove it. The samples are gone; he can’t ask for a retest, he can’t pee again for that particular day. He can’t ask for the samples to be re-examined. All he can do is answer the accusations. There’s really no way for him to prove that he did not take anything before Stage 17.

In my mind he’s screwed. If he’s guilty, then forget it. It’s over. If he’s innocent and he didn’t do it, it’s too late. The only way he can get off is by proving that the lab screwed up. But in the eyes of the public, he’s still going to be the doper who got off on a technicality.

I guess that’s my problem. How can one defend one’s self in a situation where you can only defend yourself with “I cheated by accident” or “My pee was mishandled”.

Shouldn’t there be a system that could be used to protect an athlete who might actually be innocent? Again, I’m not saying that Floyd is. But what if he is? What if there’s another guy out there who gets caught up in something because samples were messed up?

It’s simply too late for them. The “lab messed up” defense is problematic because, even if they did and you are 100% clean, the public has already decided based on the accusations that you are guilty. Hell, I’ve read arguments that Floyd is guilty simply because he’s defending himself. Huh? If he hides, people assume he’s guilty. If he puts out all the evidence against him for people to analyze and distribute then, obviously, he’s guilty because it’s all a ploy.

So, if that’s the case, why have the hearing? Why give an athlete any opportunity to pretend they aren’t guilty? Because, based on the very system that’s supposed to “protect” them, they are guilty liars.

A Clarification

It's come to my attention that I need to clarify my comments in my previous post. Something, to follow the current fashion, got all roostered up. While I find Carlton's recap of the Lim defense admirable and feel that it is something that should be discussed along with the possible artificial elements that could have lead to Floyd Landis' dramatic Stage 17 ride, that was not the quote I was referring to. Though, it's a compelling two minute argument on Carlton's part (for the record, I like Carlton, he's a passionate, smart individual).

The quote I was specifically referring to was Carlton's turn of a phrase "Man Juice Patch". I found that funny. In the midst of all the commentary on metabolites, lab errors, calibration and more, I just find the phrasing he used funny. It felt like he brought things back down to my level with that.

Freshly Squeezed Quote of the Day

The Spokesmen Podcast, a kind of round table discussion of cycling with some of the best cycling podcasters, covers the release of Floyd Landis' evidence last week. In doing so, they discuss the possible reasons other than testosterone for Floyd's amazing ride on Stage 17.

Carlton Reid discusses what Allen Lim sees as Floyd's secrets behind the stage win:

1. Descending: Floyd gained all his time on the downhill portions. He's a former mountain biker and he proved his skills.

2. Power Output: If you look at the data from that ride, Floyd's wattage was similar to a training ride. He kept his core body temperature down and was able to ride like a demon because he was comfortable, hydrated and motivated. In fact, looking at the numbers, he didn't even do that stellar of a ride. His numbers matched those of a typical training ride.

3. Mistakes: Floyd's opponents made a lot of mistakes and Floyd took advantage of them.

But that's all moot. Floyd's innocence or guilt comes down to the discussion of the contents of two vials of urine now. However, Carlton really put this whole situation into perspective with one key quote.

I can't justify it by typing. So I've edited down his comments to this key moment. Listen all the way through. It's worth it. This clip gives you the full context. The key quote is at the very end. The word "juice" is involved.

Now go listen to the podcast. This episode has tons of great content, beyond man juice. David, of the Fredcast, does a fantastic job all around producing the podcast. In fact, listen to both. David puts out some great shows. Yet, why he didn't seize on this quote as the title for this episode, I don't know.

Tour of Missouri: It's Real

It's official. The governor announced it yesterday, with the help of Fast Freddy Rodriguez, of all people. I'm not sure why he was there, as I don't think any Pro Tour teams will participate. I guess he's a high profile American racer. Or something.

I'm going to be following this as much as I can. I think I'll skip the early days, but I'll probably go stake out some spots in the Ozarks during the "climbing" stages or maybe I'll head down south when they hit the Branson area. And, you can bet I'll be at the finish line on the last day here in St. Louis.

Now I just need to figure out a way to work for this thing. So here you go:

Sponsors, organizers, local bike shops and anyone who is planning on having a group of people doing something on each stage: I work from home. I love cycling. I'll work hard. I'll do what you want. Please? I just need an excuse to follow the race from start to finish and if I have to drive a van and hand out key chains, I'll do it. If you want to organize a "Ride the Tour" event, I'll drive the SAG wagon. Whatever you want. Seriously. Call me.

Flower Girl

Flower Girl and Daddy,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

Gert made her major-label debut as a flower girl this weekend at my niece’s wedding. Though Gert never wiped the goofy smile off her face, she hit the ball out of the park. Her only disappointment? She said she missed some flower dropping parts as she walked down the aisle. She tried to hit them on the way back, but alas it was not to be.

She partied on into the night and had a fantastic time dancing, eating chocolate and drinking Shirley Temples. Sadly she ended up whacked out on cherries and Sprite. By ten she was telling everyone she loved them and by 10:15 she had gotten into a fight with a flower girl at the wedding reception next door. Though the police weren't called, it was decided she would be better served if she went home and went to bed. Which she did. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

My point? She's cute. You can't deny.

I was going to link up a Joe Henry song called “Flower Girl”, for obvious reasons. However, I realized that someone would eventually actually listen to the song and wonder what a song about a depressed miner had to do with Gert.

Lance Armstrong's Revenge

This is offensive. Insanely offensive. But when I watched it on TV on Sunday I nearly wet myself laughing (which is usually the case with Robot Chicken, but this was especially funny).

If you're at the office, you may not want to watch because your boss will make you sit in the corner for the rest of the day to think about what you've done. If your kids are around, they'll want to watch because it's animated. But don't let them unless you want to explain a few things . . .

That being said, get out the depends.

Update!

I know I said I wouldn’t talk about cycling anymore, but this is important. Matilda came home excited. Bouncing even.

“Dad! I have superlicious news!”

No, I don’t know what superlicious means. However, I assumed it was good because when a pre-teen is happy about anything and not glaring at you like she’s about to eat your internal organs with the next hormonal surge, then it’s a good thing.

“You’re going to be really excited,” she chirped as she sat down next to me, practically on the laptop on which I was typing.

“What is it,” I asked. Sure, it was three words, but oh did they open the flood gates.

“Well,” she said, “todaywasthedaywefoundoutaboutthefrenchclubmeetingsandiwanttosigh
upforitbecauseireallylikefrenchandbecauseemilygracieandhannahareallthinkngabout
joingingpluswhenitookcomparativeculturesireallylikedthefrenchpartalotbetterthangerman
orspanishandwegotthesignupsheetstodaydidimentionthatitsontuesdaysbutnotonthesametuesd
aysasmyotherafterschoolmeetinganywayigotthesignupsheettodayandguesswhattheyneed
volunteersforsomeofthemeetingsandyoullbereallyhappywhenyouhearwhattheyaregoingtod
inaprilguesscomeonguessokayilltellyouthetourdefranceyoutotallyhavetodoit!”

“Well,” I said, “that sounds amazing! I only wish I understood what you said. Could you maybe slow it down and tell me again?”

“Sure,” she said, taking a really deep breath, “todaywasthedaywefoundoutaboutthefrenchclubmeetingsandiwanttosignupforit
becauseireallylikefrenchandbecauseemilygracieandhannahareallthinkngaboutjoingingplus
whenitookcomparativeculturesireallylikedthefrenchpartalotbetterthangermanorspanishand
wegotthesignupsheetstodaydidimentionthatitsontuesdaysbutnotonthesametuesdaysasmyother
afterschoolmeeting anywayigotthesignupsheettodayandguesswhattheyneedvolunteersfor
someofthemeetingsandyoullbereallyhappywhenyouhearwhattheyaregoingtodoinaprilguess
comeonguessokayilltellyouthetourdefranceyoutotallyhavetodoit!”

“Wait,” I said, “Huh?”

“Dad, I totally paused that time! Fine. Today was the day we found out about the French club meetings and I want to sign up for it because I really like French and because Emily, Gracie and Hannah are all thinking about joining, plus when I took Comparative Cultures, I really liked the French part a lot better than German or Spanish and we got the sign up sheets today did I mention that it’s on Tuesdays. But not on the same Tuesdays as my other rafter school meeting. Anyway, I got the sign up sheet today and, guess what? They need volunteers for some of the meetings and you’ll be really happy when you hear what they are going to do in April! Guess! Come on guess! Okay, I’ll tell you. The Tour de France! You totally have to do it!”

“I’ll be happy to do it,” I said. “I think it would be fun to talk about it, how the language has actually become a significant part of the sport and how French culture is intertwined with the race. Luckily I’ve done a bunch of reading on the race and its history, so it should be a breeze. Plus I can even bring some DVDs and other stuff.”

“Cool, I’ll go get the form!” When she came back, I signed it and it went into her backpack. Before she went to go watch TV she looked back over her shoulder at me.

“Oh,” she said matter of fatly, “please don’t embarrass me.”

I’m not sure if it was a request or not. But I’m going to assume it was a challenge. I’m preparing my speech about how a man with one ball won the race seven times in a row, which is better than any two-balled racer ever!

He’s Got Bigger Balls than Armstrong (Or At Least One)

Today I’m going to make two brief cycling points and then I’ll leave you alone about cycling for a bit. If you’re only interested in the cute Gert story, skip to point two.

1. Today Floyd Landis, the embattled winner of the 2006 Tour de France, has posted a PowerPoint presentation and other documentation of his defense against allegations, and a positive anti-doping test, that he cheated on the miraculous Stage 17 where he defied all conventional wisdom and smeared the field. Floyd has always maintained his innocence, albeit sometimes not very convincingly, and has come back out swinging.

More importantly, Landis has published the full documentation of his positive test, both A and B samples, from the French Lab. Raw data for wonks, geeks and fetishists to pore over and help publicize their findings.

This all leads up to Landis’ public hearing with the USADA that will likely occur early next year. Landis has taken the option to make this hearing open and public. It is important to note that thus far only one athlete accused of doping has ever used this open, public hearing option. That athlete is Floyd Landis.

Does this say to me that Floyd Landis is innocent? I cannot say. I do not know. I’m not well-versed in statistics, chemistry, biology or physiology, so I can’t comment much on the published material. What’s more much of it is in French. Unless it’s in Fry form, my French needs work.

However, for me, this does give me a measure of the man’s character. To represent himself to the world, provide the raw data on the accusations against him, allow the public (and the media) to interpret this material for themselves and open a debate on his guilt or innocence that is based fully on facts tells me that Landis is a man who will put his cards on the table.

Look, Floyd did an amazing thing on the bike in this year’s Tour, that’s without a doubt. Did he do it under his own power? I don’t know. But he’s going into this battle showing off a heck of a lot of character and honesty. That takes a lot of guts. He has chosen not to hide and wait, maintaining his innocence through press releases and moronic website postings (ahem Mr. Hamilton).

Is it a ploy? Could be. However, I’m willing to give Floyd my ear because, as some people might say, his mom seems to have raised a good boy.

2. Gert has frequently asked of we can hook her bike up to my trainer in the winter. It seems as though her little legs get antsy and need the workout. Plus, you know, she is training. Until recently, the answer was always no. Her bike’s just too small and doesn’t fit in the trainer. However, Carlton Reid at Bike Biz points us to a new product that will chase Gert’s winter blahs away. Perhaps I’ll get her a Spinnervals disc and train her to be a sprinter.

Actual Morning Conversation

Me: Gert, go brush your teeth.

Gert: But I already pulled up my pants!

Me: Um. If you need to have your pants down while you brush your teeth I think you might be doing it wrong.

Family Portraits

Sure I have stories to tell about MP3 players, Santa Claus and really awesome cold weather gear for cycling. But I'm busy. So I'll do this.

A few photos.

Finnegan as Harpo Marx.

Gertrude works it rock star style. (This was my fault. She had chosen an outfit that was too skimpy for a chilly day, so we had to find a new outfit. When Daddy dresses you then you look bad ass.)

Thank you and here's my address.

Weird Convergence

Bikes and Tom Waits. Who knew it could ever happen?

Following the coverage of Interbike I've noticed a few smaller companies whose bikes I happen to like (not that I'm planning on buying a new bike . . . just lusting). Granted, I like their looks. How I'd like 'em if I sat on 'em is a different story.

If I had a dollar for every time I've said that.

Under the Influence

My wife was recently talking about whether or not we live out our own paranoia and fears through our children. She ultimately allowed Gertrude to conquer her own fears without intervening. It was a big step for Mom, one giant leap for Gertrude kind.

But my problem goes further. While Gert and I share a number of fears, I’m starting to think that, perhaps, my daughter is becoming me. Literally. It’s as if my mother had me cloned as revenge for 1978 through 1993.

It’s not my fault. Gert and I both have abandonment issues. I can trace mine to a specific event. I think, though I have no statistical evidence, that a parent’s death when you are five-years-old might make you a little paranoid about being alone. It’s a problem I’ve dealt with for years, the constant fear that somehow I will end up alone in the world. A shrink would have a field day with that paranoia. But let’s not get into that.

Gert has many fears, and she’s quite open with them. Currently she is afraid of:

Storms
Fire
Tornados
Boats

She has recently worked through fears of:

Her closet
Bugs
Spiders
Political bloggers

In fact, she was so proud of one of her recent accomplishments that she bragged to me about it.

“You know dad, I’m not afraid of the dark anymore. I used to be scared and would lay in bed stiff as a board. I was so scared I couldn’t even call you. But, I’m not afraid of the dark because I realized that the room is the same, just without enough light.”

“That’s great Gert,” I said sipping my coffee. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Yeah, now I’m just afraid that everyone I love will disappear and I’ll be all alone. That’s why I always call you if you’re in a different room.”

Sigh. I’ve somehow caused my daughter to have horrible, horrible fears. Why? I’ve tried to encourage her to be a strong, independent little girl. And, for the most part, she is. She’s one of the smartest, most well-spoken kids I’ve ever met. And yet, she’s terrified that I’ll disappear.

I’m sure this is all normal. But I’m afraid I’ve saddled this poor girl with all my baggage by simply donating half of her DNA. Is it genetically imprinted?

So, she and I went for a bike ride to wipe out our fears. We rode hard, we rode on hills, and we had a good time.

“That was a great ride Gert. You’re getting really good on a bike. Most kids your age can’t even ride a two-wheeler, much less hammer up a hill like Miguel Indurain. “

“Yeah,” she said, “it’s because I train a lot. I train even more than you. I don’t take days off. I ride every day.”

Yes, she said “train”. She doesn’t ride her bike, she trains.

What have I done?

Ah Frazz . . .

It's an experiment that's been tried in my house. Results were much as expected.

Get it While It's Hot

This will be gone later this week. You like that song on NBC's Heroes last night?

It's Rogue Wave's "Eyes".

Fantastic track. It's on iTunes and a crappy soundtrack, but it'll only cost you a buck on iTunes. Tasty.

The UCI Is Toying With Me

Apparently, this is real. Apparently, the plan would be to start in Kansas City and end at the Arch.

I say "apparently" because there seems to be no official information other than:

1. It's on the UCI calendar.
2. It has the governor's support.
3. If it comes to pass I'm so taking that week off and following it.

Seriously, real North American pro teams. Toyota-United? I hope. Jelly Belly? Most likely. Health Net? I'd bet. J.J. Haedo? Nope, he signed with CSC. I knew he'd go to Europe. He was too good for continental racing.

To quote something that Harry Potter fans apparently say, "Squee!"

Being A Parent vs. Being A Dog Owner

Situation: A peanut, or other small food object drops on the floor.

As a parent:
OH MY GAWD! Pick it up! Pick it up! Pick it up! The baby will choke! SHE HAS A VERY SMALL ESOPHAGUS! SHE COULD CHOKE! Wheeze! Pant! Huff!

As a dog owner:
Don't worry, the dog will get it as soon as he's done with that turkey leg I dropped earlier.

Husky Rescue

This is my wife's new favorite band. She just doesn't know it yet.

Summertime Cowboy


New Light of Tomorrow


And here's a live video that showcases how cute the little milkmaid singer, Reeta-Leena Korhola, can be. Somehow I probably offended every person from Helsinki. So be it. She's cute and she looks like Swiss Miss. What the hell do you want me to do? I have to make generalizations! That's how everybody makes decisions.

Hear Some New Tom Waits

Well, "new" in the sense that it wasn't released before. Not so "new" in that he didn't exactly write and record it yesterday. But still . . .

Anti Records (home of Neko and Joe Henry too!) has posted the first MP3 taste in the form of "Bottom of the World". Go here to read and download.

I've Been Hit!

I got beaned. Since it's a last request (now you see her, now you don't), of sorts, I'll fill it out and maybe, but probably not, be honest.

Why do you blog?
It started out as a way to keep myself sane while I was working at a horrible, horrible job that offered me no sense of the outside world and sucked all happiness from my soul. Now I think I do it out of habit or for self-amusement. I haven't been really trying that hard lately, have I? In fact, for the most part I see blogging changing away from personal blogs to more topical sites. Thank God. I've been getting tired of vanity blogs. Especially mine.

Oh, and also, blogging makes it so I don't have to communicate with anyone directly. Want to know what's going on? Just read the damn thing and you'll get the basics from training bras to dogs with bike horns.

How long have you been blogging?
Five years in August.

Self-portrait:

Though I need to give myself a haircut.

Why do readers read your blog?
I have no idea. Maybe because of my rapier wit? Because my kids are weird and there are usually strange and funny stories about them? It can't be because of the "style" given that it's turned into a Daddy/Cycling/Music blog. I don't really have a subject anymore.

What was the last search phrase someone used to get to your site?
"Last Night I Had a Horrible Dream", but the most common is "leeches".

Your current favorite blog:
Boing Boing. It's the best, prototypical blog on the net.

What blog did you read most recently?
Er, Boing Boing.

What feeds do you subscribe to?
A bunch of cycling feeds. Sadly, a good number of the stories that come across are about cyclists killed by cars. Been considering starting a new blog about cycling safety and advocacy.

Who will I tag with this meme?
My wife. If I actually had any friends, I'd tag them. However, apparently, if you call people "dirty bastards" enough, they'll stop responding to your messages. I suppose I should work harder to be a kind and gentle human being. Ah, well. Those dirty bastards can suck it.

Just Returned From Our Anniversary Trip

Married 7 years and counting,
originally uploaded by scifitwin.

And it was fun! There was cycling, sun, cool cottages, rain, thunderstorms! And yes, there are pictures.

Look For Me And I'll Be Gone

Gone riding. Taking my trusty steed. And my mild-mannered sidekick. And lots of extra tubes. Expecting flats.

Be back Sunday. Don't expect any calls.

I Found a Reason

It's early, but I wanted to do this before we left on our trip tomorrow.

On Monday, officially, my wife and I will have been married for seven years. And you said it wouldn't last! In those seven years my love for this goofy woman has not waned a bit. In fact it has grown measurably. I'm happier today than I was the day we were married and I grow happier every day.

Here's to the next century together (I figure by the time we're old we'll be able to replace whole organs with ones we grow in our closets).

So, today, I shall give you my tribute to my wife. In music and video. And you're going to like it! Damn it. It's a down tempo tribute. But the words are all true. Feel free to discuss the videos. I mean, cute little dying bunnies and people weeping and showing themselves to be vulnerable. What am I saying about love? Aren't you remotely curious? How, you ask, can a dying and weeping and discussions of whether or not there is a higher power possibly make your wife feel good about herself?

My answer is this: When you are in love, these are the things you talk about late at night. You tell her she's not allowed to die. That when you're 95 and in a nursing home together, you'll still be holding her hand. And if, at some point, your souls part ways into the ether, that she shouldn't worry because you will come shortly after her. Because, sometimes, there is another human without whom you realize there can be nothing if she no longer was there. Literally, "God only knows what I'd be without you." So, yeah, I know how that bunny feels.

And, Nick Cave? The key words there are "I know that you do". The people crying? Vulnerability is part of love.

1. Cat Power - I Found a Reason

2. Death Cab for Cutie - I Will Follow You Into The Dark


3. Nick Cave - Into My Arms


4. Because It's Funny

That's How To Win a Bicycle Race

Poor racers. Hey, I have a question, how come even cycling in Japan looks like it's created by a Sony game designer? At first I thought this was a Skittles race.

Zero 7 - Somersault

Damn. I knew this was a good song, but have never heard it performed live. And Sia really blasts it out. Damn.



Here's more Sia

Your Daily Tom Waits

Yep. Totally addicted lately. Sorry. Plus I keep playing with YouTube. It's fun. Videos of two of my favorite Waits tunes. One mentions St. Louis, too.

Tom Traubert's Blues


Hold On

It Can't Be, The First One's in My Pants

I'm on a Tom Waits kick this week. Pretty much all I've been listening to. "Dead and Lovely" is currently my favorite songs. Unless you count "Pasties and a G-String". Which I would, but not in public.



What's funnier than that clip (and that's pretty damn funny) is when a four-year-old says, "Is Tom Waits going to put a fish in his pants?"

Hopefully her teachers will find it that funny tomorrow. That's not something I want to explain to a sweet pre-school teacher.

This Is Incredible

Wait for the song to start. Well worth it. This song will be on Tom's new rarity collection coming out in November. Looking forward to it. Very much. Especially if this song ("Lord I've Been Changed" is the official title) is half as good as this.

A Bummer in the Summer

Mom's been out of town for a work retreat. She went unwillingly, but sounded like she was having a good time when she called. Ironically, she's only about 30 minutes from home. Practically in her parents backyard, actually.

Anyway, Gert suddenly realized this morning that she misses Mommy terribly. It hurts, almost, how much she misses Mommy. She's not crying or anything. Just filled with existential angst.

She wanted to call Mommy at 6:30 this morning. I told her it was a little early, but that we would be picking Mommy (and her bike) up from work after I pick her (Gert) up from school this afternoon.

"But that's sooooooo looooooong," she said.

"Tell you what. Get dressed, eat breakfast, brush your teeth and we can watch your favorite TV show and make a card for Mom telling her how much you missed her and how much you love her." This got her moving, albeit slowly. Finally, an hour later, she was ready to make a card.

She tore out two pieces of paper from a small notebook and laid them verso and recto (hey, I'm in publishing), and taped the gutter down. Then she drew two self-portraits. She signed each with her name (her real one, which you might be able to decipher if you're smart) and asked if we could put it in the mail.

"Well, she's coming home today, so she won't get it by mail." It was decided that putting it under her pillow was the best idea.

When Mom gets home and sees this photo, she's screwed. Gert explained it showed how sad she was and that she drew in real tears.

Good luck Mom, because when you see this your entire life is over. You may never leave home again without your sweet little Gert.

A Fading Summer

As I mentioned last week, I'm celebrating my one year anniversary of riding my bike seriously. Eventually I'll post why this is important to me. And it involves wearing shorts that are nicely slicked up with lotion. Trust me, it's a good thing. I think. Maybe that's why the neighbors won't let the neighborhood kids near our house anymore.

Anyway, today I offer you a post in which I thumb my nose at the RIAA and give you a mix. In my defense, I'd make you a mix on CD, but let's face it, we don't know each other that well.

So, here is my homage to cycling, the end of a great season (summer, in this case) and the sadness I feel that the time I have to spend on the bike is dwindling until next spring.

Oh sure, I have the trainer and some cold-weather riding, but it just isn't the same as a sunny, warm morning that you plan on riding 20 miles and end up riding 50 just because the air smells so clean, the hills don't seem that steep, the wind is gentle, the animals are lively, the cars are friendly and your legs just feel damn good.


1. Queen - Bicycle Race


2. George Harrison - Any Road


3. Cowboy Junkies - Miles from Our Home


4. Tomorrow - The White Bicycle


5. Jazz Butcher Conspiracy - Bicycle Kid


6. Tom Waits - Top Of The Hill


7. Clem Snide - Moment In The Sun


8. The Now Time Delegation - Keep On Pushin'


9. Dinosaur Jr. - Feel The Pain


10. David Byrne - Road to Nowhere (Live at Union Chapel)


11. The Ditty Bops - Walk Or Ride


12. Beulah - Burned By the Sun


13. Jennifer O'Connor - Hole In The Road


14. Neil Young - See The Sky About To Rain


15. Beulah - What Will You Do When Your Suntan Fades?


16. Wayne Hancock - Man Of The Road


17. The Clientele - Bicycles


18. Tom Waits - Broken Bicycles

Giro della Montagna

So, we went to the bike races on Sunday to watch the day's final crit in the Gateway Cup's Giro della Montagna on the Hill. Overall, it was a fantastic event. Disappointment? We were in the city's Italian district and most of the restaurants were closed and the event ran out of food. Sad, really. But we saw some really great racing and Gert got a souvenir in the form of the broken mouthpiece of a water bottle. Mom yelled at us for keeping it. I would have taken the full water bottles that we found, but some woman was watching us and we felt oddly weird about taking things laying in the street. Conscience is a strange thing.

My wife suddenly thinks I should race in the Citizen/Cat 5 races (we saw the Pro 1, 2, which was quite a bit faster). I keep telling her that I'd need to buy a new bike, considerably more expensive than what I ride, and that I don't think I'd be very good at it. But she's unconvinced. Granted, on a lighter bike I could probably increase my speed a bit, but . . . I lack confidence. Maybe if I had someone who races currently to ride with and yell at me periodically, but I'm too lazy to seek that out and too random in my training to accomplish anything.

The girls had a great time, from the moment they felt the blast of air as the pack zoomed by at the start to the finish. Naturally I forgot my camera, so you'll have to live with the crappy phone cam pics. Most surprising to me was Matilda, who really got into it and even started screaming in the end:



Gert's interest ebbed and flowed, but she was particularly interested in the nasty crash that took place about forty feet from us. She was excited to see the only rider who had to drop out of the race getting his leg iced. Go figure.



I do have some video from my phone cam. It's in 3gp, which may or may not play for you. It should open in QuickTime. Or maybe not. It's tiny, but give it a try.

The Start
Final Laps

If the video does open, notice Matilda on the second one. She's getting excited for number 66, whose name I never caught. He was consistently in the back of the pack, so she keyed him as a favorite. Go figure.

Anyway, the whole family is hooked. We'll probably attend even more in the future. You should too! It really was exciting, even if you don't wear lycra yourself.

I'll be Here Today

Gone fishing.

Actually, gone to eat food and watch people careen around corners. This should be an exciting fast event, so even though the kids say they won't be excited, they will when we get there. Gert claims that, while no bloodlust is involved, she wants proof that she's not the only person on a bike that ends up with skinned knees. I assured her that it's a common biking injury.

We're actually going to miss most of the early events, Cats 1 - 5, women's and even the kids' race. We might arrive for the end of the kids' race, which will give the girls a chance to see what it is and actually participate next year. Nerves, you know. We're going here first. So we will be a little late.

But the races are in the heart of our storied Italian neighborhood. I'll be stuffed with ravioli and prosciutto when I get home.

This Makes Me Happy and Giggle Like A Child on Crack

Not really on crack because that would be wrong. Kids shouldn't buy crack, no matter what Whitney Houston says.

Excelsior! Excelsior!

Success! Look at number 32 in bold. That's me, and this tally should hold on the site that I use to log my miles and calculate my stats:



That's 32 out of 294. And I know for a fact that #1 and #2 both race in Europe, though not for any ProTour team. Might I add my wife clocked in at a respectable 213 for her first serious month back on the bike, with a respectable 116.54 miles.

My goal for the month was 600, and I put some in the bank today with a 33 mile ride.

How many have you ridden? I bet you can do more than you think. You'd be surprised.

I'll have my big post on my first full year of riding a bike later, and it will include music for you. Just don't tell the RIAA.

Here's a preview:
*August is my "longest" month by distance, with 632 miles. Beat my previous record by 109 miles.
*August is my fastest month, with an average speed of 17.5 mph.
*August marked 8 of my 10 fastest rides, clocking between 17.94 and 18.45 mph per ride.
*I started out with an average of 14 mph last September.
*My top speed was 31.5 mph. That was on flat road. I had help from the nice tailwind.

Since Labor Day of 2005 I have ridden 3,872.36 miles, with roughly 247 hours in the saddle and an average speed over the year of 15.6 mph.

Prior to Labor Day of 2005, I averaged maybe 10 miles a year at a speed of crawl.

So, as you can see, I have made improvements.

More later . . .

Meet Safety Girl

Gert is a worrier. She worries about everything, from fires to tornados to alien invasion. Nothing is too impractical to cause her to fret. I have no idea where she got this, because I am a solid rock of sureness and determination. I, for one, am never worried about anything and I have never (EVER!) woken up seven times in an hour to ensure that the front door is locked because there could be a roving band of angry attention-whore bloggers, to whom I haven’t reciprocated links to because I honestly don’t give a shit, who might try to break in and tattoo their .blahblah.com URL on my forehead.

An example: Lately she is convinced that Chris and I will up and leave. Not get a divorce, or die. But literally look at one another and decide that it isn’t worth it, abandon our children and all of our possessions and take to the road in search of enlightenment and dispensing Kung Fu justice while defending the weak in the Old West.

While, at times when the girls are in a screaming match over who gets to watch the new Cheetah Girls movie on the Tivo for the fortieth time I might secretly wish I was an alcoholic playing basketball with my cirrhotic liver at the local dive bar, where the desperation is as quiet as the atmosphere, but I have never actually considered disappearing on my family.

Gert doesn’t care. After all, an irrational fear by definition lacks rationality. In fact, she has so much irrational fear that she told us that, if we do indeed go to Disney World next summer that she won’t ride It’s a Small World because she doesn’t do boats. Why? There is exactly a .0000000000000000000000000001 chance that it could spring a leak and we’d all drown in the murky water of all nations. (Never mind the fact that I believe that those little dolls are actually cyborgs who are trying to brainwash us all. That doesn’t bother her.)

Yesterday she was at school.

“We had a fire drill today,” she said.

“Really,” we answered. “How as that?”

“Fine. We all went outside. My legs were a little shaky though.”

I can picture her, too. Her teacher probably told her that there would be a fire drill and that they would practice their safety plan. In Gert’s head, what this meant was they were lighting the school on fire and they would all flee in panic, possibly losing a few members of their class to the flaming carnage.

“Hey,” I said, “now you know what to do in case of a fire! That’s the best thing to have, is the knowledge.”

“Yeah,” Chris added, “because knowledge is power.”

”Uh huh,” I kept up, “Because the more you know . . . “

“Absolutely,” Chris said, “Because knowing is half the battle.”

By the time we finished quoting the 80s educational programs and public service announcements of our youth, Gert was long gone. I called to her. She was in the basement.

“What are you doing down there,” I asked.

“Digging.”

“Um, why?”

“Dad, Iran is inching closer to having nuclear weapons with every day and we can’t just ignore another rogue, anti-American state with weapons of mass destruction pointed right at us. The dude from North Korea is crazy, but this new Iranian president is just plain scary. You may be a pacifist and believe that we can all sort out our problems through hugs and Tron: The Video Game tournaments, but I’m a realist. Now, would you please make yourself useful and hand me those MREs I got from the Army Surplus?”