Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Deep Sea
The images in this article on the New York Times are really beautiful. It's obvious, but at the same time weird, that a whole world of creatures lives almost literally a stone's throw away from us, but we've never seen most of them. I wonder what they'd think of us if they came up to the surface and could explore the land. I can see how Shigeru Miyamoto could be moved to create video game worlds based on all the intricacies of nature. I wonder what he'd make using the deep sea as a starting point.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
How time flies
I didn't realize I hadn't posted since Wednesday. WTF? I don't know what happened. Literally. I can't remember what happened in the days since then. Well, except for yesterday when Kerry's family was in town, and I got schooled at tennis, and then did a ride.
The long and short of it all is that I realized that 1) hill repeats are the bomb diggity, but I think I mentioned this already. 2) I suck at tennis. 3) Getting drunk/almost drunk and really, really, reeeeeaally full on meatloaf turns out to be a bad feeling for most of the rest of the night and the next morning. 4) When you see someone on the bus who you know, but don't have their number, it makes for an interesting wave-and-watch-them-drive-away moment.
In the off chance that you read this, hi Lizzy.
Ed. Note: I totally forgot to mention that on my drive downtown for a meeting on Friday, I saw a gal on a Masi fixie. It made me sad that I was stuck in a car, going to a meeting all dressed up in work clothes. Lame. We should all just bike, camp and drink all day, every day.
The long and short of it all is that I realized that 1) hill repeats are the bomb diggity, but I think I mentioned this already. 2) I suck at tennis. 3) Getting drunk/almost drunk and really, really, reeeeeaally full on meatloaf turns out to be a bad feeling for most of the rest of the night and the next morning. 4) When you see someone on the bus who you know, but don't have their number, it makes for an interesting wave-and-watch-them-drive-away moment.
In the off chance that you read this, hi Lizzy.
Ed. Note: I totally forgot to mention that on my drive downtown for a meeting on Friday, I saw a gal on a Masi fixie. It made me sad that I was stuck in a car, going to a meeting all dressed up in work clothes. Lame. We should all just bike, camp and drink all day, every day.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Work and stuff. Awesome!!
Like a lot of people, I don't really like to post about work. Today though a coworker sent me a link I thought was pretty interesting, and got me thinking about life and work in more broad terms than normal.
First the link.
There's lots of talk on the site about enjoying what you're doing, and having a purpose for doing it. I guess this is common sense when you think about it. No one likes busy work, or at least few people that I know. Thinking about this then reminded me of a line one of my instructors would tell me. At the beginning of any new project he'd ask if we were excited about it. If the answer wasn't an emphatic "yes", then he'd push us to get excited about it. He understood that the key to doing good work was to truly believe that the work you'd be doing on that project would be the best work you had ever done. I still tell myself that from time to time, especially on what are otherwise boring jobs. It's strange how such a simple change in perspective can dramatically change how one works, and at what degree of quality the final piece posesses.
Oh right, this is a bike blog. Tonight, I'm going to think about how great my ride is going to be, and it will likely be totally, and completely, awesome.
Awesome.
First the link.
There's lots of talk on the site about enjoying what you're doing, and having a purpose for doing it. I guess this is common sense when you think about it. No one likes busy work, or at least few people that I know. Thinking about this then reminded me of a line one of my instructors would tell me. At the beginning of any new project he'd ask if we were excited about it. If the answer wasn't an emphatic "yes", then he'd push us to get excited about it. He understood that the key to doing good work was to truly believe that the work you'd be doing on that project would be the best work you had ever done. I still tell myself that from time to time, especially on what are otherwise boring jobs. It's strange how such a simple change in perspective can dramatically change how one works, and at what degree of quality the final piece posesses.
Oh right, this is a bike blog. Tonight, I'm going to think about how great my ride is going to be, and it will likely be totally, and completely, awesome.
Awesome.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
The hills are alive
Although yesterday, they weren't alive with the sound of music, just the sweet sounds of belabored breathing and regular grunting.
Because of the wicked wind that was blowing in yesterday at somewhere around 20 mph, and because of the seemingly inevitable downpour (which never came), I decided to stick close to home and do hill repeats. I figured out that from the bottom of the Grand Ave hill to the very top was about200 130 feet. Five laps and about 12 miles later that meant I had climbed 650 feet. I was sure at the time that I had conquered a thousand feet, or right around that amount, but double checking this morning it turns out that it wasn't quite as impressive as I had hoped for.
Either way, I did learn something that surprised me. Normally I ride at a pace that leaves me pretty worn out when I get home. I don't really have much left in my legs when I roll into the driveway. This time though, even though it was hard, and I was definitely winded, my legs felt pretty fresh. I think the alternating hard workout followed by a few minutes of cool down cleared out my legs and kept lactic acid from building up. It's like a pre-built interval workout, and you don't even have to do anything but ride it. Sweet.
Now that I know I can withstand the tedium of riding a 2 mile loop over and over again, I'd be interested to see how I'd do on some bigger hills. I just checked and Ohio Street out to HWY 13 is just shy of 300 feet vertical gain. I'll be sure and post how that goes when the time comes.
Because of the wicked wind that was blowing in yesterday at somewhere around 20 mph, and because of the seemingly inevitable downpour (which never came), I decided to stick close to home and do hill repeats. I figured out that from the bottom of the Grand Ave hill to the very top was about
Either way, I did learn something that surprised me. Normally I ride at a pace that leaves me pretty worn out when I get home. I don't really have much left in my legs when I roll into the driveway. This time though, even though it was hard, and I was definitely winded, my legs felt pretty fresh. I think the alternating hard workout followed by a few minutes of cool down cleared out my legs and kept lactic acid from building up. It's like a pre-built interval workout, and you don't even have to do anything but ride it. Sweet.
Now that I know I can withstand the tedium of riding a 2 mile loop over and over again, I'd be interested to see how I'd do on some bigger hills. I just checked and Ohio Street out to HWY 13 is just shy of 300 feet vertical gain. I'll be sure and post how that goes when the time comes.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Thinking back
Last night's ride was tough. Ten minutes into the ride I hit the Ohio Street hill, and slogged my way up it. I was slow, and feeling sluggish. The next hour and a half followed suit. I was convinced something was off on my bike. Maybe a flat? Nope. Maybe a rubbing brake pad? Nope. Just tired, empty, worn-out legs.
The highlight of the ride though, and arguably of this year so far, was on the last mile. I cool down coming back in through the neighborhood, and as usual, was cruising along. I noticed after a few blocks that a kid was flying down the sidewalk on his mountain bike. We were neck and neck. I'd outrun him in spots, and then I'd hear him catching his breath and then the whirrrr of his chain as he pushed on by me. A few blocks later another kid on a BMX bike rode up on my other side and asked if I wanted to race. I agreed, and we cruised along for several blocks. He informed me that he was on a "trick" bike, so that's why he couldn't go any faster (although we were doing about 15, which seemed pretty impressive for a 12 year old on a BMX). A few blocks later he said he had to stop, because he wasn't allowed to go any further past this block. In the end he edged me out for the win.
I couldn't help but smile. It reminded me of all the summer nights as a kid that we'd race around the neighborhood. Everywhere was new back then. We would go cruise around the new development that was being put in at the end of our street. We'd make jumps in the dirt and see who could get the most air. I remember one summer day where I rode off on my own, venturing what I know now to be only about 4 miles, but it felt like a world away at the time. There's something comforting about knowing that our own experiences, however many worlds away from us now, are not gone entirely, just picked up and experienced again by someone else.
The highlight of the ride though, and arguably of this year so far, was on the last mile. I cool down coming back in through the neighborhood, and as usual, was cruising along. I noticed after a few blocks that a kid was flying down the sidewalk on his mountain bike. We were neck and neck. I'd outrun him in spots, and then I'd hear him catching his breath and then the whirrrr of his chain as he pushed on by me. A few blocks later another kid on a BMX bike rode up on my other side and asked if I wanted to race. I agreed, and we cruised along for several blocks. He informed me that he was on a "trick" bike, so that's why he couldn't go any faster (although we were doing about 15, which seemed pretty impressive for a 12 year old on a BMX). A few blocks later he said he had to stop, because he wasn't allowed to go any further past this block. In the end he edged me out for the win.
I couldn't help but smile. It reminded me of all the summer nights as a kid that we'd race around the neighborhood. Everywhere was new back then. We would go cruise around the new development that was being put in at the end of our street. We'd make jumps in the dirt and see who could get the most air. I remember one summer day where I rode off on my own, venturing what I know now to be only about 4 miles, but it felt like a world away at the time. There's something comforting about knowing that our own experiences, however many worlds away from us now, are not gone entirely, just picked up and experienced again by someone else.
Tuesday, May 8, 2007
Context
Sometimes you come across something that makes you question if someone, somewhere, was playing a great practical joke on their employer, or if they're just not all that bright.
Note how imagery and context converge to influence the overall meaning. I can't stop laughing about this.
Note how imagery and context converge to influence the overall meaning. I can't stop laughing about this.
Compelled
Although I don't have much to mention, I feel like I should update this. I'm not totally sure why.
The weekend afforded a few days off the bike since it was raining and/or crazy-windy for most of it. Saturday was Jessica and James' wedding. It was a good time. I think I was drunk for about 10 of the 16 hours I was awake that day. Sunday, Kerry and I went to the omni theater and watched a movie about Australia. Turns out most of it's dessert. Who knew?
As far as riding goes, I did a really quick, really short 10 miler on Sunday and then a nice 28 mile ride last night. I got rained on the last couple miles, but thankfully it was warm enough to not matter. Nothing too interesting to note beyond that. I was almost blown over at the top of the Fort Snelling hill by an idling tractor. Turns out the exhaust on those things is pretty powerful. Again, who knew?
Total Weekly Mileage: 38
The weekend afforded a few days off the bike since it was raining and/or crazy-windy for most of it. Saturday was Jessica and James' wedding. It was a good time. I think I was drunk for about 10 of the 16 hours I was awake that day. Sunday, Kerry and I went to the omni theater and watched a movie about Australia. Turns out most of it's dessert. Who knew?
As far as riding goes, I did a really quick, really short 10 miler on Sunday and then a nice 28 mile ride last night. I got rained on the last couple miles, but thankfully it was warm enough to not matter. Nothing too interesting to note beyond that. I was almost blown over at the top of the Fort Snelling hill by an idling tractor. Turns out the exhaust on those things is pretty powerful. Again, who knew?
Total Weekly Mileage: 38
Friday, May 4, 2007
Bring on the pain
It seemed like a pretty genius idea. After carefully observing every flag on the drive home, diligently studying the weather channel, and finally consulting a city map to get my bearings straight, I was absolutely positive that this ride, through a combination of planning and good fortune, would keep me out of the wind for all but the shortest stretches. Oh, how I was wrong.
The master plan was to head down to the river bottoms in St. Paul and follow the Mississippi all the way up to Minneapolis. The wind was coming out of the east, so this would keep the wind more or less at my back, or I would be shielded by the river bluffs. It almost worked. But wind has a way of finding its way into every cranny of a landscape, and yesterday was no different.
Everything seemed alright for the first half of the ride. Heading up the river to Minneapolis I was able to hold steady right around 22mph. My legs felt pretty good. I was right at that break point where any extra push would cause me to blow up. It was good. I like the feeling when you know you're running just under your capacity.
Then I turned east to cross back over the river and head back home. It's always slower going up and over the bridges - your momentum is lost, and you're climbing essentially a small hill. Yesterday was worse though. I got hit square in the face with a 20 mph wind. I could barely go straight; it was whipping and hissing all around me. I slogged along, looking rather pathetic as I crushed my pedals just to keep moving forward.
The pain didn't end. By the time I had reached Summit my legs felt like they were going to fall off. I was only 3 miles from home, but it felt like a marathon lay in front of me. The wind was having its way with me, and there wasn't much to do about it. I tried to fall in behind a mountain biker, but at the first light he moved over to let me pass. Bastard. I needed a break. I saw his shadow attach to my shadow, and watched as our combined two-headed shadow pushed on up Summit. I don't know why, but I was pissed. He had ruined my chance to get a break. I remembered a post I had read by sprinter della cassa about how to beat a sprinter, which amounted to making them work to hang on. I dropped a few gears and layed into my pedals. I watched my speed slowly tick up, mile an hour by mile an hour. Slowly, I extracted his shadow from mine.
Just a few more miles. I kept thinking that it would end soon, but I had promised myself that I'd go up the Grand Ave hill. At least the wind would be at my back. I started up the hill, slowly at first, and then gradually building speed. By the time I rounded the curve at the top and made the final push up to Dale I was nothing short of a vision of agony. My eyes were bloodshot and burning from all the sweat. My lungs seared, and my legs felt as though they had been filled with battery acid.
Counter to every physical impulse, I started to feel really good. I had worked my ass off to hold my speed, I had pushed harder than any other ride this year; it had totally, unequivocally sucked balls, but I had done it. I hadn't gone in early, and I hadn't given in. It felt great.
The master plan was to head down to the river bottoms in St. Paul and follow the Mississippi all the way up to Minneapolis. The wind was coming out of the east, so this would keep the wind more or less at my back, or I would be shielded by the river bluffs. It almost worked. But wind has a way of finding its way into every cranny of a landscape, and yesterday was no different.
Everything seemed alright for the first half of the ride. Heading up the river to Minneapolis I was able to hold steady right around 22mph. My legs felt pretty good. I was right at that break point where any extra push would cause me to blow up. It was good. I like the feeling when you know you're running just under your capacity.
Then I turned east to cross back over the river and head back home. It's always slower going up and over the bridges - your momentum is lost, and you're climbing essentially a small hill. Yesterday was worse though. I got hit square in the face with a 20 mph wind. I could barely go straight; it was whipping and hissing all around me. I slogged along, looking rather pathetic as I crushed my pedals just to keep moving forward.
The pain didn't end. By the time I had reached Summit my legs felt like they were going to fall off. I was only 3 miles from home, but it felt like a marathon lay in front of me. The wind was having its way with me, and there wasn't much to do about it. I tried to fall in behind a mountain biker, but at the first light he moved over to let me pass. Bastard. I needed a break. I saw his shadow attach to my shadow, and watched as our combined two-headed shadow pushed on up Summit. I don't know why, but I was pissed. He had ruined my chance to get a break. I remembered a post I had read by sprinter della cassa about how to beat a sprinter, which amounted to making them work to hang on. I dropped a few gears and layed into my pedals. I watched my speed slowly tick up, mile an hour by mile an hour. Slowly, I extracted his shadow from mine.
Just a few more miles. I kept thinking that it would end soon, but I had promised myself that I'd go up the Grand Ave hill. At least the wind would be at my back. I started up the hill, slowly at first, and then gradually building speed. By the time I rounded the curve at the top and made the final push up to Dale I was nothing short of a vision of agony. My eyes were bloodshot and burning from all the sweat. My lungs seared, and my legs felt as though they had been filled with battery acid.
Counter to every physical impulse, I started to feel really good. I had worked my ass off to hold my speed, I had pushed harder than any other ride this year; it had totally, unequivocally sucked balls, but I had done it. I hadn't gone in early, and I hadn't given in. It felt great.
Thursday, May 3, 2007
Punchy
One way to find out if you're tired is to watch this and then evaluate how hard you laugh. The ability to watch repeatedly indicates a high degree of mental fatigue.
Wednesday, May 2, 2007
Epic
Last night I found myself clipping along under a canopy of cottonwoods. Hidden deep between the bluffs of the Mississippi, quiet, under the rush of highways and din of suburban developments, lay a small strip of sand and mud, half submerged in the dark waters of the river. I pressed down on each pedal. Concentric mechanical circles, driving forward against a steady, cool wind. The sun flickered through the trees. Each trunk swaying in unison with the wind. Their leaves rushing - an invisible wave breaking over each branch.
I pushed on, and I found the comfortable solitude, and quiet excitement of discovering some place new. I saw the golden evening light. I felt the searing pain in the depths of my legs. Last night I found the heart of cycling.
I pushed on, and I found the comfortable solitude, and quiet excitement of discovering some place new. I saw the golden evening light. I felt the searing pain in the depths of my legs. Last night I found the heart of cycling.
Those days
You know it's one of those days when you have to do a google search for what order the lights on a traffic light go. Is green on top, or bottom? Memory ... failing ...
Sigh.
Sigh.
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