Monthly Archives: June 2007

I went to bed so early and slept so deeply that I think I woke up far in the future. Am I wrong or is that a hovercraft jam outside this morning? Whatever happened to that war in Iraq? Is it over yet? Did Britney make a magnificent comeback? Please help me, I would like to rejoin your futurisitic society.

After I treat these bed sores I am going to be feeling like a hundred bucks, and that is the way you want to roll into a combined Friday/payday. Rested and Ready.

It should go without saying that I stand prepared to disappoint my fellow golfers, although as the champ I think it only fair that I take some control over who gets their title shot, and when.

Aside from that I will be riding one of my bicycles some respectable distance if for nothing other than to justify the existence of this lil’ ole blog and all it stands for.

S’quatch dropped some big news on me the other night. He is planning a 3 day, 325 mile ride from his parents home in Palmetto to his own home in Tallahassee.

Notable issues:

He will be on a cruise the week prior to the event.
He has never ridden 100 miles in a day.
His bike will have to remain mechanically sound the entire time.
I’m not going to be there.

This is big folks, and he is going to need all of our help if he is to succeed. Let’s open up the advice faucet and get the good news flowing, OK?

Now I have to go price a timeshare on the Moon.


El Verano del Toro

To hell with it- Juancho loves him some golf!

I declared this summer “El Verano del Toro” last month when for inexplicable reasons my golf game started sharpening up. Until my ridiculous reign of dominance comes to a close we are all just going to have to live with it around here.

Besides, it is cross training. Why don’t you try carrying 40 lbs of deadly accuracy around in 95+ degrees for 4 and a half hours? Hmm? What was that tough guy? Burly girl? I can’t hear you.

Confidence is confidence, plain and simple. The next time I strap on the Dakar I’m going to be so used to victory I will just ride away from y’all. It will most likely be this weekend too, so let’s not get carried away. 21 years of avid cycling doesn’t disappear overnight.

It’s like Hitops and basketball. It’s like S’quatch and fantasy novels. Everyone has a “second gig”.

It’s the off season anyway.

Dr. D- I could use your advice on my short game, I’ll give you a call.


Nice day isn’t it?

As long as we are all sitting here waiting for something to happen, we might as well pass the time pleasantly. How about some small talk?

It’s a real shame about those fires in Tahoe isn’t it? I sure wish we would get some rain. Got any plans for the 4th this year?

Or we could play remember when…

Remember when we took Shins down to campus and he jumped that stairwell and it made all those sparks and he broke his frame and that cleaning lady yelled “OH SHIT NAAAAAOOOO!”

Or the first trip to Santos?

Or the old White House days? It is a Subway now. I bet they don’t know Jim Morrison used to live in that Subway.

Or we could get into some politics and get the comments section blowing up. How about that Ron Paul? He’s a real contender.

We could go find something interesting at the neighbor’s blogs, like

Then there are the twin pillars of poetic production, Fat Cyclist and Fat Lad. Fat Lad Rides Again reads like a Harlequin novel these days since me married his sweetheart and put on his kilt (or took it off more likely).

Haven’t heard much from the CC Rider lately, or Dr. D and family. I hope they are all having a good summer too.

And who is it that logged on from Vietnam? Do they ride or did they come for the golf?

yes…well… Ok then…

I could get back in the saddle and put an end to all of this. Maybe the Wrecking Ball, ole Zipperneck is ready for a ride. He’s on the mend so I wouldn’t have to pack the heater.

Have a Nice Day,


This is a little awkward for both of us-

It is tough to come back after a week of radio silence and have nothing to report other than a series of ever-dropping golf scores. No bike rides. None. I could tell you about the wedge shot that rattled in the cup from 60 yards (it came out)but you don’t come here to read about golf.

Golf is, for the record, a cruel master- just like the bike.

The 4th of July is upon us, and the corn is sure to be head high by then. The summer is slipping by me in a flurry of work trips, piles of laundry, and deadlines. “Excuse me, waiter,this is not what I ordered”.

Send this one back to the kitchen please.


Good morning, how was your weekend?

Mine was fine thanks. My celebrity guest shift down at the bike shop was honest to goodness hard labor. It isn’t the selling that’s so hard, or the occasional wrenching project, it is being held captive to every kook who walks through the door.

And there is no shortage of odd characters down at Joe’s.

I’m out of here for the week, and I don’t know if North Georgia has the interwebs or not, so unless I can get S’quatch to pick up the slack, things may get pretty quiet around here.

We’ll just have to wait and see-


Up the Pace

Like a superhero, my new regimen (or for you illiterates-regime) is changing my molecular metabolic constructorization. I only need about 3.5 hours of sleep now.

During my run yesterday I broke on through to the other side. Of the park. And I was still running. Pretty amazing stuff. Lurching through the park like a benchwarmer who got picked on and couldn’t wait to get home and tell Mommy.

Stupid snails, us sloths can leave a snail in the dust!

Oysters too, we can leave an oyster in our rear view no problem!


Speaking of benchwarmers I got the nod from coach to step in for Shins down at Joe’s Bike Shop tomorrow. If you don’t want to buy a bike then don’t come around because I am fierce on the sales floor I tell you-fierce.

“Well Ma’am it really depends on whether you are riding for recreation or a more purposeful fitness agenda”.

“You’re right that is a great color”.

“He will grow into it sir, and we won’t have to do this again for a while”.

Oh yes, I have all the lines.

If you have not been following the Team Type I progress in the Race Across America, I really must insist, as your host- that you do. The comments section of their race blog is blowing up with inspirational positivity. It’s like a Disney movie running for 5 straight days of diabetic ass-kicking- and our very own Bigworm is in the truck helping to make the magic happen. Stop by at

and check it out. It is the feel good story of the Summer except they aren’t underdogs, they dominate.

While you are out there can you help me confront the following rhetorical travesties?

Improper use of “that is” as in “This chaos that is my life” or “This trainwreck that is my prom date”. Grrrr!

Conversate: as in “I was hoping you and me could conversate about that job opportunity”.

Piggy back: as in “I would like to piggy back on what Elvira said since I think the same thing Elvira done thought”.

Really people, this is getting out of control. We need to think outside da box and find some way to stop the madness.


Burn the box and everything it stands for-


Dispatch from the Field- A Story from Below

The water level was low and the sump passageway was reported to have several feet of air at the entrance. It was decided to see how far down the sump passage we could go.

I hung out with the FSU Cave Club for a few years in the mid-80’s but never became a true Caver. This trip intrigued me though and I hauled my mask and dive light all the way back in there. As Juancho says and the link below shows, there is much crawling in Climax to get to the main passages and rooms. Three hours into it and we were ready to go sumping. Mostly, the water was chest high and there was 2 – 4’ of air above that. There were several spots where the roof and the water briefly met but hold your breath and take two steps and the passageway air is there again.

At one point, I noticed a submerged 3’ rounded hole on the side wall indicating another passage. I stuck my dive light in and could see it opened up. “Hold on” I said, “I’m going to poke my head in here for a peek a loo”. So I handed my helmet to Larry and donned my mask and breathed deep and went under. I could immediately see the passage ballooned out into a room that was about as big as a large mini-mart. Of course the water was crystal clear and it was an awesome site. I swam out into the middle of the room and gawked with my mouth shut at the stalactites and stalagmites (don’t ask me which is which). Back in those days, I could hold my breath across the Apalachicola bridge and halfway back.

It was time to breathe again so I turned around to swim back but to my dismay all I could see was a 20’ x 20’ cloud of silt and my destination was a 3’ opening somewhere behind it. I realized then that if I died, I friggin deserved it and if I lived, it was going to be at least two semesters before I did anything that stupid again. With about 5 seconds of air left in my lungs I figured I had one shot so I swam toward the middle with my arms outstretched. About 8’ into the silt cloud my hand collided with Mr. Cerro’s outstretched hand and he yanked me through the hole and up to air.

I had lived to drink another beer but no more stupid cave snorkeling forays for me. No sir, it was going to be asinine mountaineering moves or a car wreck before I danced with the Devil!


Taking stock

A year ago, S’quatch and I rendevoused up in North Georgia for a little cycling fun and that weekend turned out to be marred by tragedy. A cyclist lost his life on a country road, killed by a car during a group ride.

On the way home, we had our own scary encounter on I-75 as S’quatch’s pickup went out of control beneath the shadow of an eighteen-wheeler.

Forgive me this brief indulgence of pulpiteering.

Whether you are a careful, helmet-wearing law-abider or a shoot the intersection on drugs wild child, my wish is that all of us are faster, sharper, and more aware than the folks driving in our midst.

If you like to ride around at night, in your black shirt with your I-pod cranking, that’s cool with me, but keep your sixth sense about you. Look out for your ride buddies and expect the unexpected.

Do it for the Doc’s sake.

Runner, leave your mark…

I have a vivid memory of running “the 600” for Coach Butch Downing in Middle School. Out in front of me there were just a few guys and behind me there were lots and lots of guys. I remember the rhythmic breathing, like a horse, and my little 13 year-old arms a swinging. Out to the corner of the fence and back. “And back” was the best part because you got to see the tormented faces of everyone behind you still struggling to get to the turnaround.

In other words, I was a fast little kid.

Now- I run down the trail like a lumbering axe murderer. Fast little children, startled and fear-stricken, shoot up the trail ahead of me like panicky squirrels. My hoarse breathing wheezes out like an antique bellows as the toes of my feet drag the dirt, leaving a shuffling snail trail to mark my path. It is awesome.

I can’t remember the last time I had such an excellent blank canvas of opportunity to make progress at something.


Take the Heat

Since global warming is all en vogue now, I have decided to get with the program and learn to love the heat. It started yesterday, when all of a sudden I decided to begin running. To be completely honest, it is more like hiking in a hurry. It was 5:00 P:M, and we were pegged out at a mild 95 degrees, and like a hypothermic who wonders into the delirious snow filled night, I felt irrestibly drawn to the shimmering waves.

It was moist. I was moist.

Moist, moist, moist I tell you, but not bad, kind of pleasant in a slippery way.

1.8 miles later it was over, and I had something to feel proud about. I parlayed my victory straight into a ride at the Arvida Nature Preservation Trail, aka “Munson Hills” with S’quatch and ‘Tops.

So once again Newton is validated. A body in motion and all of that.

I’ll be doing more of this runhiking at particular venues around town and country. If anyone is interested, you are more than welcome. We can go slouching together.

I would love to hear about your near death experience in Climax, Aucilla. Please feel free to elaborate. For those unfamiliar, Climax Cave is an extensive underground system just over the GA line. I know I spent 10 hours down there and didn’t see it all. Much of that was face down in the mud too. Good times.

Other notables, FAT LAD and his lady Sarah tied the knot. Drop by and wish them well won’t you…

And, Team Type 1 is underway in the RAAM, chock full of Tallahassee lokes. See the post below if you need that address. Homie don’t link.

I sure do hope it hits 100 again today.