cycling


27
Jun 11

Doe, John Doe

Pay

The out-in-the-country wall post. Saw that on our bike ride this morning, an easy 23 miles out and back. Interesting how hills that once seemed daunting you can work through with comparative ease.

The last time we were out this way there were three names on that sign, but two of them must have settled up. And so I looked up Trey Gunter … and I’m thinking that might be a masterful alias.

What alias would you use? I think I’d cobble together a name from literature, or go with an obscure president.

My name? Cal Coolidge.

Might work.

Visited Walmart because there wasn’t much keeping me from going there. Picked up Miracle Gro. It seems the things that we wish to keep small in the yard grow prolifically. The things we’d like to accentuate need some steroids from Scotts.

Picked up Gorilla tape, which is as strong as sticky duct tape, looks like electrical tape but most certainly is not. I’m going to wrap it on my handlebars, because another over-gripping primate needs to grab hold of my handlebars.

Snacks, more snacks and not any waterproof silicon, which was the actual purpose of the visit. All of the directions instructed you to not apply below the waterline. It is waterproof with conditions. This is not the sort of relationship I wish to begin with sealants.

Links: Your tax dollars, lowest common denominator, governmental humiliator at work in the form of the TSA:

A 95-year-old Barry County woman’s ordeal with airport screening — where a relative says security agents required her adult diaper be removed — has become the latest in a string of national stories on frustrations with TSA procedures.

Lena Reppert, a native of Barry County, was flying from Florida to move home to the Hastings area, where she’s living with relatives who are caring for her, said her daughter, Jean Weber of Destin, Fla.

Instead of a getting a special goodbye moment with her cancer-stricken mother, Weber said the June 18 security check turned in a tearful ordeal because of the lengthy pat down by Transportation Security Administration agents.

“She was subjected to 45 minutes of searching, and I didn’t think that should happen,” Weber said this morning from her home in Destin.

There’s now an update to that story, but the response is thin gruel, but I feel safer already knowing a nonagenarian with leukemia has been ruled out as a threat.

North Korea is starving, perhaps even more than foreign policy guesstimates. Secret footage paints a grim picture:

“This footage is important because it shows that Kim Jong-il’s regime is growing weak,” he said.

“It used to put the military first, but now it can’t even supply food to its soldiers. Rice is being sold in markets but they are starving. This is the most significant thing in this video.”

This sort of thing is not what China and the South Koreans want to hear. When the government falls, or the serfs finally have had enough, those are the two borders and economies that will be directly stressed.

Maybe they should send in these ladies to assess the situation. World War II spy ladies from the OSS have been reunited in their neighborhood:

It was the early 1940s when Bohrer and McIntosh fell into jobs at the Office of Strategic Services, the nation’s first intelligence agency, created by President Franklin D. Roosevelt and led by William “Wild Bill” Donovan, a Wall Street lawyer and World War I veteran. They were among the rarest of operatives, women working overseas during World War II.

In China, McIntosh, a “black propaganda” specialist, whipped up fake news stories to undermine the morale of the enemy — including an effort to convince the Japanese emperor’s soldiers that their wives were procreating with other men back home. Stationed in Italy, Bohrer analyzed aerial photographs of Germany, helping select sites to air drop and rescue OSS officers behind enemy lines.

Great story.


24
Jun 11

What’s worse than the post office?

Who’s giving this balloon to their kid?

Sun

I suppose one balloon of the moody sun wouldn’t be too bad. A manic three-star system … that would just be bad for more than just gravitational reasons.

This was at the Publix recently, in the produce section. They have little sprinkler systems with piped in thunder when it is time to spray the greenery, probably as a “STAND BACK!” feature, but surely they aren’t expecting these mylar stars to deliver any great photosynthetic processes.

There, there’s your band name and first album title in one sentence.

Just a quick ride today. The Yankee says there are these things called Recovery Rides. The purpose, I’ve just discovered “is to stimulate the metabolism to remove waste products and to loosen stiff muscles, not to train hard.” That page has a sub-barf quotient on it, so you know it is for legitimate athletes.

So I did a quick recovery, about seven miles at an easy pace — easy being relative as I am already not the most brisk, talented sprinter on the road at any given time.

Hit the post office to return something from e-bay. The post office here has always been one of the least fortunate places to visit. I’ve only been to the DMV here once, but I’ll take it over the Auburn post office anytime. Thought I’d timed it well, too, there were no cars in the parking lot. Filled out the envelope, sealed it up and I’m second in line. There are four postal workers at the front and two of them were working.

One of them was. The third one was busy talking cell phones with a guy who’d just shipped things.

There’s a design flaw in the building, too. While you stand in line you’re standing under a skylight. So you bake. And that’s enough to make you want the DMV any day.

Hit the sporting goods store after that, found nothing useful, and then the Sam’s Club. Picked up a forklift-full of toilet paper, an industrial sized box of gum and a box of snacks for bike rides.

Barbecue for dinner, I had the chicken at Moe’s, and the red beans and rice and the Moe’s pie, which is more like a crumbled oreo-fudge combination in a tiny styrofoam bowl rather than a piece of pie. But we tried.

And so the day has ended quietly, just as it began and held that attitude throughout. Too hot to move. Mid-90s? No one and no thing is willing to cause much of a fuss. May the weekend bring us more of the same, without searing temperatures.


23
Jun 11

“You gettin’ wet, ain’t ya?”

“Watch out for storms,” she said.

This is good advice. Useless, but good.

I’m on my bike, about 14 miles into the ride when the sprinkling started. Oh, I’d watched out for the storms, but this did me no good. My certainty of the existence of rain did not dissuade it from falling upon me. My awareness of the clouds to my left did not preclude precipitation.

There was a gas station, though, where I managed to take refuge when the wet stuff really started falling. We need the rain so bad I would have stayed under there for a long time, but I was back on the road again in half an hour.

In that time I had two great conversations, each centering around my predicament. One guy asked how far I had to go. When I told him he just laughed. Another man asked if I was getting wet.

No sir, that’s why I’m standing under the awning.

It reminded me of the time in 1994 — during the LSU vs Auburn game*, in fact — that I had a flat tire. My jack slipped and I had to try to pick up the corner of my old Buick by my shoulder. This guy walked by and asked “Have a flat?”

No, I just rotate my tires every 50,000 miles no matter where I am.

You know, it might have been the same guy.

So the rain stopped, my ride continued. And then the rain returned for about 45 seconds. I pedaled on. Stopped at my pre-arranged place to pick up a snack and some replacement beverages. And off I went for the second half of my ride. This is an area I’ve only ridden twice before, so I’m only starting to get comfortable in the hills. I struggle my way through until it is time for a snack … and realize I can’t open the packaging from the bike. So I stop. Still can’t open it. Poke it with a stick, no luck. Find a sharp rock, and suddenly I’m a prehistoric man in sweaty raglan.

Eat my nuts and honey snack, get back on my bike and realize one of my water bottles is missing. Well.

So I backtrack. I go all the way down one road with no luck. Down a huge hill and another road with no sight of the gray and yellow bottle. And then down a third stretch of asphalt.

Where I find it sitting next to a bridge. I had squarely hit the rim-wrecking pothole on the bridge and the bottle fell out of the cage. Probably I was grunting too hard to hear it land.

Now which way? I didn’t want to go up that huge hill again, and it felt as if I hadn’t reached the mid-point so I called an audible and worked my way back home. When I got in and looked at the altered route I found it was a 41 mile day.

Didn’t feel nearly as miserable as I did from our 41 mile trek last weekend. That’s improvement.

And I was only heckled twice, so clearly I’m doing something right.

Farmer’s market this afternoon, where we bought cantaloupe, watermelon, corn (from a different grower), peaches, squash and tomatoes.

I sound so healthy, don’t I? (We had cookies for dessert tonight.)

Random things: Reporters arrested for … reporting. That’s going to court with a great hue and cry.

Publishers to universities: We aren’t the bad guys. Another tough spot for everyone that devolves to control, and impressive markups.

What’s eating college radio? Bottom line issues, apparently, though we’ve been discussing it and the prevailing opinion among WEGL-alumni is that all the good ones graduated. (And I did, too.)

Dumb commercial of the night:

* This is what I missed while struggling with my car. I remember it because the seven turnovers to win was quite ridiculous. My senior year in high school, Auburn was as out of that game as you could be when I blew my tire. By the time I got back to the radio the game was over and they’d done the improbable, and thank you Curley Hallman.

Is it football season yet?


21
Jun 11

Operation Lack of Ramb

Rode 29 miles on the bike this morning. It was no longer morning when I got back in, but rather the beginning of a full summer day. I parked, checked the thermometer and it said 88 and going strong.

New route today, heading down the dangerous hill on which we live, out through a rural area where I was passed three separate times by the same FedEx truck, through construction, slicing through a rural light industrial area and then onto the hilly, curve fun of Wire Road.

That was the first road I ever drove on in Auburn. The road I hit a deer on (not the same day) and the route back to campus I preferred as a student. I lived just off it for two years. And now I am struggling up its hills.

Walked my bike into a gas station where the cashier observed it was becoming warm outside. Not sure how she jumped to this conclusion, perhaps it was my generally disheveled condition. Picked up a Gatorade and pressed on for the final five miles. It was a good ride, especially since I’m taking tomorrow off.

Just about caught up on the site after two weeks away. The WEM blog is up to date and the tea blog still makes me question why it exists. (When I was experimenting with the multiuser interface in WordPress last year I needed multiple blogs to do it. Otherwise, I haven’t touched the thing, clearly. The LOMO blog has plenty of catching up to do, which may be next week. This blog is just about back in shape, though. Later this week I’ll get the photo galleries a little more current. Hard to believe it has been four months since I built one of those here.

Edited video today for various things, worked on that non-profit site I’ve been nursing along. It should be done tomorrow.

And then, this evening we enjoyed our anniversary dinner. While yesterday was the big day, Monday seems to be a trendy evening for restaurants to close. So we had barbecue last night and got dressed up a bit tonight.

Anniversary

We visited The Warehouse Bistro which is, apparently, one of those open secrets. Never been there. Had only heard of it a few times, though it has been around for ages. It is set in the middle of an old industrial park that otherwise only vaguely looks used.

The exterior is humble enough to miss altogether, but inside, once you pass the obligatory autographs and well wishes is a nice little casual fine dining place. We were sat in the corner and met a guy a half-step too smart to be working in a restaurant, but he had the patter and did a great job. Everything was wonderful — though we skipped the $7 desserts.

I had the rack of lamb:

Anniversary

Quite tasty.

We came home for cookies, which should be a mandatory part of most any meal.

It was a fine start to year three. (We’re, clearly, still zeroing in on the clever name we’ll give this one. Let ya know.)


18
Jun 11

E-hausted

I’d tell you how tired I am, but I can’t physically reach the X key.

We rode 41.5 miles around town today. It ranged from a mild, pleasing, palatable 70 percent humidity to a meaty 94 percent humidity as we rode. We’d set out to do 35 miles, which would have been a new long for me on the real bike, but the humidity must have gotten to The Yankee (she’s not a fan). At around mile 25 she decided that she might add another few roads to our sojourn.

As we get to around mile 34 I found myself at the top of a hill and waiting for her. She decided to press on. So we did. My iPod failed. And, soon thereafter, my body failed.

My steak from last night was gone. And the two pieces of peanut buttered toast and five strawberries I’d had for breakfast had also long since departed. The last few miles were … tough.

I’m a wimp, but in a wimp’s defense, the final distance was almost double my previous longest distance. My goal is to add miles — and figure out how to defeat a few hills — but this was a bit much. (Clearly I’m not ready for a century ride yet.)

The bike itself wasn’t bad. There was simply no more fuel in my body. When we got home I started eating things directly from the fridge.

I’ve spent the rest of the day trying to feel decent again. It has been a long while since I’ve been this wiped out.

But we rode 41 miles!