It's Winter

Forget about what the calendar says, today we are experiencing winter.



Freezing fog; that temporary white flag announcing a brief lull in early winter's assult. Like a blanket over the land, the fog and frost dampen all sound, only the raucous Jays break the silence as they annouce that the feeder needs filling and the suet cake has once again been 'liberated' by the racoons, those masked raiders of the night.

It's not all that cold, over night temps in the high 20's. Confronted with scenes such as these I feel a little wimpy going on about the cold. But hey, it's all relative, and compared to last week, this is cold.



We were out in the shop last night fixing up our own little 'spinning studio'. I say we, but it was the IT staff (Mrs C) who made sense of the jumble of cables and the collection of old, out dated, but still functional black plastic electronic gizmoboxes. My job was to seek and find, to fish these various 'components" out of their worn and wavy cardboad coffins, and to lift that ancient electronic boat anchor of a TV (gawd those things used to be heavy!) up on to the work bench. I arranged the trainer and cleared a shelf for setting up the collection of remotes, water bottles, towels and tissue boxes, the assorted accoutrements for a successful ride, er 'session'. Much futzing and faffing later ... et viole! No more excuses.

I put in a Spinervals tape, ... yes that's right tape, as in VCR. It worked. I got those jumpy, snowy scenes, and that diagonal line that rolls up through the picture. Eventually things settled down and those preppy triathalon wannabes came into sharp focus, responding in perfect unison to coach Troy Jacobson's every command. So 1999.

Then I unwrapped and played for the first time, a CD that has been laying around here for I don't know how long. It was Robbie Ventura; racing a criterium while giving coaching tips. A full 35 minutes of on board camera work actually riding the race. this guy is truly an animal, he not only raced, but narrated (between gasps) as he rolled through lap after lap of 25 to 35 mph racing. Robbie has nothing to worry about from me. But the equipment worked and I'm sure I will be out in the 'studio' for a few short after work rides between now and spring.

Truth is, as much as I bad mouth the tour de nowhere, I've ridden the rollers and the trainer recently and my head did not explode. But I wasn't properly set up; Just listening to the buzz of the local C&W radio station, barely audible above the static is not enough to get me much farther down the road to nowhere than about an hour at a time. Maybe I'll set a few PR's on this new, more challenging course now that I'm better equpped.

It was just starting to freeze so everything was soaked going to crunchy,
and the air was thick with chilled moisture (soon to become frozen moisture). The steam rolling off the pond made it look like one of those pools in Yellowstone in winter.

It gave me pause. Cold as I was I thought about how much colder I'd be if I was naked and bobbing around in there with the fish. Obviously they are better adapted but sheesh, how cold they must be! I'm sure they could feel the pond bleeding it's warmth into the dark night.

This morning, the water temp has dropped two degrees over night, down to 42 degrees. The water fall is running but the fountain is frozen. I am dissapointed to have this problem in these temps but this is our 'learning' winter.



The fish are locked in their winter torpor, and now we enter the long hard time for them. It's a new experience for them and for me, and I hope I've prepare them well enough that they safely make the passage to spring.



Hang in there fish, only four more months till breakfast.





Post Script;


I putzed around the place a bit, the fog burned off (the sun never came out)



the roads thawed (so did the fountain) and I went for a ride. Not out in the 'studio' but out on the roads. I'm so lucky: to know what I like, to be able to do it right off the back porch, and to still be able to get the big horse up over a hill or two.


What if I lived in Baghdad, or Mogadishu?




Really, ... blessed.

Seasonal Territorial Adjustment Disorder or; How Plans and Animals Change With the Seasons

Plans; are these just feathery play toys on the end of a stretchy cord for your cat to bat around or unwieldy blocks of mental cement you have been tied to for eons?

Wednesday was a midweek holiday, an anomaly. We are used to bunching our time off into clumps as opposed to spreading it about like rabbit turds among the tall grass. Perhaps because it was an isolated day, a number of friends seemed to see it as a special opportunity. Oddly, here in the land of moss and mildew, it coincided with a slight break in the weather. Any day in November when you can see a sharp line delineating light from shadow for more than about half an hour qualifies as a break in the weather, even if the sharp line dissects a large deep puddle, rippling in cold wind.

I planned an epic ride, stepped away from the blinding glow of the weather forecast, took a deep breath and counted to 10, then scaled the plans back to a long ride and began the tenuous process of negotiating ride parameters with potential partners. There were the expected number of cant’s: Can't get the day off (it wasn’t a holiday for everyone) can’t get out of previous planned activities, and can’t really see my way clear to travel that far just to ride with you. I honor all of these. I rarely take days off just for a ride, my plans with family always outweigh riding with friends, and these days I have a hard time driving my bike somewhere to ride it. I’m getting codgery.

All the obstacles swept aside, a small band agreed to role out from Rocky Acres at a civil (full daylight) hour for a leisurely run down to the Beehive in Montesano for a bite. Then probably a somewhat circuitous return route that would result in about a century (miles, not years).

Enter the cat
Lately Chairman Meow has been engaging in late night territorial dispute resolution with unnamed interlopers. Or, ... he may be out subduing the peasant class and expanding his territory. Either way, he came in about 2:00 am dragging his caboose behind him and whining long and loud about it.

In the last few weeks he’s come home with new ear piercings, a couple new nose scars, and he even came screaming through the cat door about 1:00am one night as some demon was trying pull his hind legs off. Scenes of a Stephen King horror flick, (believe me, that cat scream in the night will get even and old codger up outta bed in jig time)

But this night he looked to be more seriously damaged. Every step was a cry of pain. He’s just getting initiated into ‘riding through the pain’ so every foot or so he’d stop to hiss, I’m not sure he’s smart enough to know that he can’t ‘scare the pain away.’

I wrestled him down and gave him a once over. No obvious open wounds or protruding bone ends. His coat is fairly thick so finding the puncture wounds that come from raccoons, possum, or other cats is pretty hard until they abscess in a couple days. But he seemed messed up, and it would mean cancelling the ride and a run to the vet instead.

After a comedy of early morning calls and email messages to the riders who had bent to my will, we were off to one of Chairman’s favorite spots: The place he lost his manhood, the place where he’s been sewed back together in the past, the place of a thousand injections, the place were they allow those annoying puppies to yap endlessly without just summarily executing them on the second bark. The land of a thousand hisses. They are great people there at Steamboat Animal Hospital and money laundering. They take their work seriously, but we always get a certain ‘cool’ reception whenever we announce that His highness will be paying a visit.

The Doc remarked that it appeared he’d been throwing his weight around again. More like getting it kicked around this time I offered. (My sister the egg lady has a cat with similar tendencies, her vet calls it fighting out of his weight class).

He gave him a closer look than I had and discovered a puncture wound in the groin, shaved it down so that I will be able to treat it when the inevitable abscess presents, and gave him a 2 week injection of antibiotics. He predicted he’d be good to go by the weekend. I was skeptical but hey, I only see one of these every so often, I’m sure it’s a near daily presentation for a country vet.

He also gave me two syringes of oral anti-inflammatories for the cat. I almost laughed: cat anti-infalammatories, does this mean Chairman will soon be riding 600K events? I did ask if he had any steroids: If Chairman is determined to engage in cat cage fighting maybe we can help him bulk up while developing the requisite degree of ‘roid-rage’. After all, in the last few weeks he seems to be getting more of his wounds in his hind end and fewer in the fighting end. A little more fight and a little less flight might just turn the tables on the night bully.

When we got home he gimped around till the Catbuprofen kicked in and then he was almost normal. By late afternoon it was obvious the drugs were wearing off; he looked like he’d just gotten home from the Three Volcanoes 300K. (I’ve seen that look before, in a mirror maybe). So much for the precious mid-week break.

PS: He’s prowling around the house like nothing happened and rushes the door every time I head that way. As punishment I’m keeping him inside till the weekend. He’ll be going out early Saturday morning as I role off for a long leisurely ride, apparently in the cold rain.

Oh Tee

I was called out in an online discussion recently for going 'off topic' with my remarks. I was also accused of 'talking down' to the previous posters.

I have a pretty strong 'push back' response. You hear about the 'fight or flight' response, suprising my line didn't die out generations ago: Screw the flight, let's fight! So my immediate reaction was to start pounding the keys in BOLD CAPS, ... oh buddy you call this talking down?! Hey I wrote the handbook on snide, cynical, demeaning, and snappy retorts. I was the first editor of the New American Review of Sarcasm and Cutting Commentary used by such luminaires of the genre as Lenny Bruce, and Don Rickles. Really, you are tugging at the tail of the tiger here. 'Off topic, oh really? Who made you hall monitor?'

But I'm older now. Not wiser, just slower. The sharp tongued retort is not nearly as satisfying as it once was, and the residue of regret has become more bitter and long lasting.

So, lost in all the reaction, hesitation, and better judgement was the topic at hand: Getting ready for Paris Brest Paris, better known as PBP. The next link in this bicycle chain to the past will be forged in August, 2011. Talking about getting ready now may appear an indication of just how damaged these PBP bike geeks are, ... except: Qualification requirements are changing, and possibly in flux for the '11 edition.

It is clear that how a person rides in 2010 will influence their qualification for 2011. So, even though there are over 18 months before the riders roll out from St Quentin en Evelines, we will soon be using real bullets with no 'do over'.

here's the deal: In 2007, it could fairly be said that PBP was oversubscribed. Too many riders and record bad weather (rain, wind, cold) resulted in near record rates of attrition which essentially oveloaded the infrastructure that supports the ride. PBP goes through lots of rural French villages. This is part of the charm of the event and in good weather a rider can actually take nap in a stairwell, doorway, or park bench. But after 48 hours of cold, blowing rain, many rides were ill, and needed to get out of the elements. with over 4,000 riders there just were not enough escape valves. Riders were not prepared for extended periods of such harsh conditions so they plugged the controls, then the public spaces, then the local health care infrastructure, then the trains. I finished, but I was one of the sick ones: I left an 800Km trail of snot and lung cookies out to Brest and back. As a result the organizing body has decided that there really is a limit and they will not exceed that limit in '11. Consequently, they have instituted a fairly complex, process by whch they will allocate registration.

For the nations that sent the most riders in 2007, there will be a quota. Nations like Brazil, China, and Latvia who had very few entrants will not be restricted.

In addition, riders will be allowed to register earlier in 2011 if they ride certain qualifying rides in 2010. Each 'quota' nation is also in the process of developing a prioritzation stragtegy in the event that they have more qualifying riders than they have slots for. This too may rely on 2010 performance.

All this uncertainty makes the herd nervous, so we start hearing people saying they 'need' to know what the US priortization criteria are so they can make decisions on how to best prepare. My suggestion was this: Yes we do need to know, but we really don't need to know right now. I doubt that if RUSA were to issue it's selection criteria today anyone would do anything different tomorrow. It's most of two months between now and the beginning of 2010. The sense of urgency is really the product of uncertainty, not need. Oh, and by the way there are lots of things you can turn your energy toward that might be more productive than complaining. I chose not to vent so was deemed to be off topic. Guilty as charged.

A lot of hot air, eh?

PBP is one of my favorite things, if I never ride it again I've got more than my share of incredible memories but of course, 'how you gonna keep em down on the farm, once they've seen Paris?' I want to go back.

It's about 19 months till the start of PBP 2011. If you're seven years old that's a long way off. If you're 60 years old, it's less than 3% of the time you've spent on this earth, ... and who knows what percent of the time you have left on earth. The point is, if it is important to you, you think about it, frequently.

In 2003, once I made the decision to try to qualifty for, and actually ride the event I came to the realization that there are lots of things that need to get done befor you ever pin on your number and roll up to the start: How will I get there, how will I get my bike there, where will I stay, how much is all this going to cost me, and where am I going to find that kind of money?

Well just like climbing a mountain if you stare at the summit you might never start out, it looks too big to accomplish. So you take it one step at a time. You do today what you know you must in order to be ready for tomorrow, and you look up at the summit periodically to make sure you have not gotten off track and that there are no big obstacles looming that you need to prepare for. It literally is a journy of a thousands miles and not only does it begin with but a single step, it only proceeds with a multitude of single steps. Patience grasshopper.

I also learned a trick that both helped me to better prepare and to handle my impatience: Set a goal to do someting, every day, that will help me be better prepared to ride and complete PBP. In 2003, I set that standard for myself about half way through the qualifying rides, sometime in about April. It worked in some ways: My bike was perfectly ready in advance, I knew how to dissassemble and pack it (and reassemble it) for the trip to France. I had my passport in hand, well in advance, I had all me trasportation arrangments made. I was not cramming for the final the night befor. My fitness could have been better.

in 2011 I moved that date up to January first. Not that I needed more time but I wanted to be able to incorporate a few conditional loops if needed. We took a conversational French class through the local CC and that helped, more than the audio tapes we had relied on exclusively in '07. I fine tuned my ride strategy and lodging arrangements. I had a bike better suited to long distances that made days two, three, and four, much less uncomfortable. My fitness could have been better.

Now folks are talking about adding 12 months to that? I don't think so. I will pay attention to the qualification criteria that RUSA is likely to post soon (I expect to see something in the November newsletter). I'll orient my riding to give myself the best chance of qualifying. In that department the old Eddy Merckx maxim "Ride lots" is probably the best advice. But I won't move up a lot of the other prep stuff by 12 months.

And then on 1.1.2011 I will offically start my own personal countdown clock. I'm inclinded to invoke the "red bike directive" here: When someone asks 'what kind of bike should I get', often people say "I've got a red one, it's perfect, you should get one too!" (with enthusiasm!!) I'm sure my strategy would be perfect for someone somewhere, but I am equally sure it would be inapproriate for many. This has worked for me, I hope it will work again.


Today, even thought August, 2011, is a long way off, I think I'll head out to the shop and ride the rollers for an hour: Never too soon to work on improving fitness.