Monthly Archives: March 2011


I think I dislocated a shakra or two last night. I missed my usual 5:30 Hatha Yoga class in favor of completing the installation of my new Shimano Saint shifter/ levers. I made it to the 7:00 P:M “Yin” class and hit the mat a frazzled mess. My brain was spinning through the rolodex of errands, appointments, calls to be made, conversations with my 6th grade teacher, wondering what happened to my old Schwinn Scrambler, and contemplating the causality of increased personal responsibility vis a vis the bombing of Libya.

I was not exactly in the “Be Here Now” state.

Yin yoga is a practice focused on holding certain positions until the stretch goes beyond the muscles and settles into the deep fascia connecting the muscles to the bones, resulting in a deep stretch, but also a flexing and revitalizing of the internal organs. I’m talking about stretching so deep you feel it in the liver.

By the end of the hour and a half I was calmed. I was wrung out like a dishrag and I OM’ed my way home on a cloud and went to bed early. Throughout the night, when I wasn’t dreaming a calliope of old memory tapes and theoretical work conversations, I was “making water” lots and lots of water.

I’m hoping this is some sign of a great detox, a pissing away of all my troubles, but for now it just means I can put my hands flat on the floor with my knees locked and I’m tired.



Completely socked in, that’s what we are. No need to get out there and make a mess of the trails and bikes. I’ve been waiting for this. I have a long list of needed upgrades and repairs I have been postponing for such a day. I just need to get this unwieldy morning under control and then shoehorn myself into a space down at Joe’s Bike Shop and get some major drivetrain overhaul going on.

No such thing as a day off, just a chance to get stronger, smarter, faster.


Holding Out

I have been miserly with my words these last few weeks. Hiding behind the bike and some lazy jokes, but sometimes life is too real for blogging. I’ve never really been the self-disclosing type of blogger. I prefer to write about what is going on outside of me, with the occasional glimpse inside hidden subtly within a metaphor or turn of phrase so that it appears clear as day to those who read between the lines, but to the passing reader it is just more of the same.

Maybe you would prefer to read about kidney stones (not mine) and job stress (mine) but it doesn’t appeal to me as a writer to kvetch away about personal trials to friends, strangers, and acquaintances on the internet. I prefer to save my kvetching for things beyond my control, like daylight savings time, standardized testing, and the paving of Munson.

The muse will stop by and visit me again, and until then you’re just going to have to be satisfied with reading about the rise of Juancho on the trails and what I ate for breakfast (oatmeal with plain yogurt, walnuts, flax seed oil.)



After an intense hour of deep yogic stretching the Torso and I figured we would cap off the weekend with a little night ride in the forest, maybe just a lap of Munson you know. It must have been the reclining bound angle pose that made us both want to dig deeper and pound out 20 miles in the steamy, humid air. It was like breathing through a straw for 2 hours, but we grinded away, enjoying having the forest to ourselves. It still hasn’t rained and the pressure in the air just keeps building. I have a feeling this will be one heck of a storm today when we finally reach that point where the air can hold not one more drop.

I feel like I’m riding pretty strong even when my legs feel tired or I’m under-fueled. I hope this means I’m due for a “chainless” ride soon.


The Cotillion

It is with the grandest fanfare and elegance that I introduce to polite society our most recent graduate of ROBOT ARMY ACADEMY, Mr. C “Chuck” Carberera. Dancing his first solo performance on Munson and Twilight to the Thin Lizzy standard, The Boys are Back in Town.

This was not a bad performance I must say for the three time mountain bike rider. By that I mean this was literally his third time on a mountain bike. Prior to these three outings, Mr. Carberera can’t recall the last specific moment he rode a bicycle- and yet the boy has good instincts.

The Circus Cotillion also welcomed Joey Bushyhead back to the trails. He pronounced the new trail modifications as “epic” and he seems to be coming back into strong form for the summer season.

Like the Azaleas, the ROBOT ARMY is blooming.


MR3 Robot Update

I have a front row seat to agony and I’m ready to sell my ticket. One of our poor robots is still dealing with an obstruction in his operating system resulting in severe pain and pressure on some key components. This particular robot was built and designed for a tough environment and the whining chip was never installed. This means that by the time he communicated the error in his system he was already experiencing a level of robot pain well beyond anything I have experienced as a human, including my recently broken and dislocated wing, which hurt quite enough thank you very much.

He has been at the robot repair center, which is a place run by the kids in school who wanted to run everything but were good at nothing. I hope to have him back at headquarters this evening where he can run some familiar programs and begin the rebooting process.

After my quantum-paced ride with Leon on Monday, I went back out on Tuesday to ride with the Wrecking Ball gang. I limped and gimped, shuffled and galoomphed my way way around the track following on an asthmatic Wrecking Ball’s wheel. We set no records, proved no points, established no pecking order. We just rode our bikes and talked about life. I’m thinking that might be important to remember.


The Heater

Lots and lots of reasons to not get out on the bike yesterday. Grown-up important reasons, but we did it anyway, Leon and I. No pretense or gamesmanship on this ride, just flat out from the PL to the PL. It was hot, but not even close to how hot it is going to be. Whose legs are these and how long do I get to keep them?


Broken Robot

One of the robot army fell sick over the weekend, like really scary sick. Sometimes a loose bolt gets caught up in their pipes and gums up the flow of oil. Some people think robots don’t have feelings, but they are wrong. Robots most definitely feel pain. Like C3PO said, “We seem to be made to suffer. It is our lot in life.” We went to the emergency robot repair shop Friday night where they verified the obstruction and powered him down to sleep mode. Today we go see the robot innards specialist and train the lasers on the obstructing mass.

This is a durable model. I expect him to be back on the front lines soon.


The Whitney Comes to Baltimore

Yesterday was sweet payback for all of the modified short loops Pa Ingalls took me on at Razorback- the modification being that the loop was made longer and more difficult. Riding around in a motor boat all winter then showing up with your single speed wasn’t the winning strategy this time. I’ll just enjoy the moment, since I am sure to pay for my insolence at some point.

They keep showing up doubters and leaving as believers.

DTG brought to my attention that John Waters visits FSU tonight for a lecture. Although his body of work is long and counter-culture aficionados most likely prefer his edgier work, Pecker is by far my favorite of his films. Starring in the movie is Ed Furlong before he went all trainwreck, and manic sexy Cristina Ricci. It’s a fantastic story about the pretentious world of art snobbery, which is one of my hobbies.

So, I think DTG is right that if one can swing the John Waters lecture and still make it to the Slackers show then it would be almost like living in some fancy other place than Tallahassee, yet tomorrow morning it would still be the podunk town I have come to love.

And that is the long explanation for why I am heading to the forest to ride while it is still dark outside.

The Robot Army needs constant tuning.


Rude & Reckless

Lots going on at the circus today. Pa Ingalls his own self is on his way to town for a little barn-raising party. By that I mean there will actually be a little barn when it is all over. Before that though we will do some barn-burning on the trails and then tomorrow night when we all get our walkers out on the dance floor for the greatest working band in America, The Slackers. If you want a little taste then click the “Rude and Reckless” title above for a sample.

If this blog was a late night talk show, they would be my house band.
If this blog were a movie, they would write the soundtrack.
If this blog were a stage they would play on it.

Too bad it’s just a blog so I have to put pants on and go to the show tomorrow night at the Engine Room. While we are on the subject of the Engine Room, somebody explain this to me. Advance tickets are $10 with a $2.75 surcharge. Tickets at the door are $13.00. Is it worth 25 cents to go through the hassle of pointing and clicking?

We also have the Forest Ride with Bill this afternoon at 4:30 and I would dearly love to get Pa out on that run for a little taste of how it is done in the 8-5-0.

Before any of that can happen though, I better git to pounding salt at the mine.