One is Silver and the Other's Gold

I made a bike purchase this week, purportedly in the effort to streamline my fleet, but really just to experience that *rush* again.

It's a Stevens cross bike but will function mostly as a road bike; Rimmer, St Marie, and T Cowie all rocked cantilevers on the road, so why can't I? The candy cane bike (for which I admittedly never held deep feelings) must depart the quiver to make room for this new arrow, but I'm holding onto the Redline, because it's a lovely lovely bike, a great commuter, and very dear to my heart.

I took the still-unnamed beauty on a short ride today and was quite happy with the experience. I seem doomed never to break the 20 pound barrier but I can't muster the energy to care; the geometry feels racey and it quite possibly descends waymorebetter than the Allez (although that may have been because I haven't taken off the cross tires yet). The Cane Creek cantis are a delight, and the Sram Apex group is snappy and feels more expensive than it is. (The jury is out on the double tap shifters though. I struggled a bit with the long throw. Methinks some adjustment is in order.) It also came with full Thomson bits and who doesn't love some dirty south bling? The wheel situation is still in flux, but as long as it rolls I can't complain.

It was just blue and white but...I couldn't resist imposing an Uhmerica color scheme on this German steed.

So there's a fresh-outta-the-box review, colored by excitement and by no means comprehensive. But on the other hand, I've owned the baby dinosaur for almost a year now and it deserves more praise than I've thought to give it.

Dear Specialized (and Sycamore Cycles):

I love my Era more than life itself.

K thanx bai

Also, loving the XX crank. A compact makes a durn lot of sense for mountain biking, and this crank is CRAZAY stiff. So stiff that even I notice it. And I cannot say often enough or with enough breathless emotion that my I9 Ultralites freaking rock. I would get in a bar fight over these wheels, if some hapless patron dared to claim another wheel was superior. This baby dino "review" may seem a fit of gratuitous eulogizin', but my point is more that I've now spec'ed my mountain bike EXACTLY as I want it and couldn't imagine it being any better.

I can't ride it so I take pictures of it. Sigh.

Twentyeleven

cool stuff that has happened in '11 so far:

-the saint and i hiked up to big rock on new year's eve and ate chocolate pecan pie at midnight.

-i've only had to work three or four days a week.

-a posse of us went down to ride at paris mountain. new favorite south kack trail system, fo sho!

-cross country skiing. fun and tiring, although i am totally shite at it. yep:

-new decemberists album!

-new cross bike!

This Makes Me Smile

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i24IKWqfTGc

Aftermath of a White Christmas

Yesterday I went for a snowy bike ride and today I went for a snowy run, and I was tickled to follow my own tire tracks down the trail.

Maybe the only cool thing about lingering snow is that it works almost as a census taker. In town you call tell who doesn't drive very often by the sheets of snow on their cars; some people have pristine yards, proof that they either don't have children (or a sense of child-like wonder) or that their children were too preoccupied with new Christmas video games to bother with sleds and snow pants.

In the woods you notice that for some reason Upper and Lower Sycamore are the most heavily traveled trails; that lots of people are trying out their shiny new hiking poles or xc skis; that there's some fascinating carcass or excrement down below Mountains-to-Sea that has all the dogs investigating; that only one person has been dumb enough to ride Grassy and she was running a Captain in the front and a Sauserwind in the back. Best of all, you see evidence that families make full use of the forest--and each tiny set of bootprints trudging behind grown-up size steps, with paw prints dancing in and out among the human, is a little love letter to Pisgah.

Photos Found

So here's the best cx race ever, in Unicoi, TN. Some of these are messed up because the camera was on a weird setting.

I was having a blast. If these were bigger than thumbnails you could actually tell.

The setting was very pretty. If you squint you might almost think we were in Colorado or something...ish.

Before and after. The Era has about ten extra pounds of grass/mud weight.

This was before T Cowie stopped having fun.

And that's all I got. Mad photo-documentation skills? Check.

oops

the days and weeks continue their inexorable march and i have failed to document them. after each race or "race" i attend, i delay blogging in the hopes that i will come across a photo or two to adorn an otherwise stark entry...and every time my search fails. the world wide web does not deign to acknowledge my existence.

and so a month has passed.

in that month i poached a couple of tiny cross races to make money while skirting anything challenging for the most part...except for hendo. my first ever uci race and LORDIE was i outclassed. i stayed strong the whole time and didn't piddle around moping about my poor performance, so that's something. fighting tooth and nail for 19th place is a new and humbling experience. plus, uci races require FOUR NUMBERS, UGH, so needless to say i'll be avoiding them in the future.

i would like to get into cyclocross shape, but suddenly it's december and the season seems to have passed me by. now i'm getting a bit amped about next season, despite all my protestations about "retirement" and such nonsense. i just bought a sram XX crank for my sweet baby dinosaur and am close to puking with excitement about it--nicest component i've ever owned, sexysexy industry nines aside.

have you ever seen anything so beautiful? i mean, besides my bike.

of course, st marie heard about my purchase and upped the ante by ordering a couple of new carbon xc bikes and a dh bike, so......dick move.

what, you're still talking about that? here's proof that i actually did the shut-in, although my face is lying. it says: 'i am taking a merry jaunt in the woods,' while my brain says: 'i can't feel my left leg and this was the worst idea you've ever had. i hate you. i'm going to sleep now.' pic by paul christopher.

cross in tennessee. there are better pictures hiding somewhere and i'll post them, but for now believe that it was veryvery muddy and veryvery fun. not pictured: me slipping and sliding around on a full suspension, grinning from ear to ear. also not pictured: t cowie eating it in a race that consisted of him, himself, and he.

sorry.

i am also all a-tingle about next year because (and understand that my plans are entirely fluid and liable to change) so far scheduled:

santa cruz in january, to visit my cousin and ride as much mtb as possible

saint pete in march, to hang out with caitlin and do silly florida things like drink wine on the beach at night...in 70 degree weather...

crete in june (and maybe london beforehand), to play archaeologist with some of my favorite bc professors.

more proof that i am deferring 'life' in order to live.

And Now, Without Further Ado...

Before delving into my own personal sufferfest, I want to extend high fives to other people in this long weekend of sufferfests. Here's a vague high five to everyone who raced that marathon in New York or wherever, and to everyone who did the Iceman, which looks super stupid, and to all the loud and encouraging spectators who swarmed the Shut-In. A very specific couple of high fives to Jenna and Lydia for being wonderful volunteers on the deserted, snowy Parkway. And a whole round of "up highs" for all my friends who crushed the Swank. The KOP proved that he will probably get faster every freaking year until he is eighty, Geoff B got fourth with a broken rib, and Derek finished strong on three different bikes, which tickles me to no end.

So.

Confidence, which is supposed to have all kinds of miracle uses and magical results, has never really done good things for me in competition. Whether it be soccer games, XC meets, or bike races, I perform best when I've achieved a subtle blend of grumpiness, pessimism, apathy, and disgruntlement. I approached the Shut-In feeling prepared, eager, and confident of success, and just like those malignant clouds over the mountains, I should've known this peppy optimism did not bode well.

Dear Julia: Fear me. Love, the Parkway

No, I can't really blame the awfulness of the experience to some abstract concept like a good attitude. Contributing factors included: the cold; the cramping; the coldness of my calves; the coldness of my water; the coldness of a single GU lodged in my gut, which kept me from eating anything else the whole run.

All right, no more excuses. The Shut-In was very hard, very painful, somewhat rewarding, and veryveryvery beautiful. Even as I zombie-staggered up the brutal final two miles, sobbing from oxygen debt and hating the panting progress of other runners as they passed me, I couldn't help but notice the sun piercing the snow clouds, and the glitter of the frost-laced puffs of weeds lining the path. If I had to die the dramatic, absurd death I was envisioning for myself, at least I would be in heaven on earth.

Oh, and to everyone who said, "Beat Baker Bill,": not even close. He had a great race and beat me by ten minutes. Despite falling apart, I did meet my target of a sub-4 hour finish (which I realize now was not an especially lofty goal).

A less than rosy experience after the finish did not help matters, but eventually we escaped the sub-freezing windy venue and returned to real life in the valley below. It's kind of hard to walk now, but safely ensconced in my warm bed, I am (as usual) forgetting that promise I made to myself during the last ten miles: "Never again, never again, never again."

Maybe again.

The view from the top (images courtesy of Ian Hilley)

Four Weeks in 500 Words or Less

i'm settling into life post-college quite nicely. apparently all i ever wanted was an ambition-free, responsibility-free existence. it's possible this pleasant floating sensation won't last, but for the time being i'll enjoy my leisurely breakfasts, relaxed work schedule, and the occasional late night out.

the shut-in is in two days. perhaps after this weekend i'll give that a more in-depth treatment, but i've shirked a couple of race reports now, so:

at the tree shaker 12 hour sycamore cycles had a mighty showing, taking first and second in the three-dude team category. kwood, derek and i had to battle to the final hour for that podium spot, but in the end we got it. third place was well aware that they had been chicked.

some bakery patrons are still congratulating me for the collegiate team's showing at tahoe, and i have to gently remind them that although i WISH i had been there, i was slinging pastries while the kids racked up the stripey jerseys. i am super proud of them, especially captain america and tina.

i joined a posse of brevardians in boone this weekend for halloween festivities, downhill races, and some cross. i registered for the cross race to spite myself and i never stopped complaining, from the time i woke up until i pinned on my numbers. (two of them! ugh! nccx, it's like you HATE me!) by around thirty minutes in, when i remembered how to ride a bike and decided i was comfortable with my eighth place position, i started enjoying myself (sort of). it sure didn't compare to last year's second place, but it was the most encouraging crappy finish i've ever had.

and now those familiar symptoms, in remission for two years, are quietly regaining strength. hill repeats? carbon forks? series points? UGH! cross fever is like malaria...once you've caught it, all the quinine you take can't hold it at bay.

baker bill informed me that his sole purpose during the race was to make the course markings his bitch.