Jersey Snore

Gonna do a show ‘n tell on a little something I got in the mail today. It’s not going to be all that interesting to anybody but me, but there’s nothing new there. I do that all the time. It’s about a jersey. An Ironman Florida “Finisher” jersey.

And nobody else has one like this one.

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Rites of Passage

I saw in the November issue of Bicycling Magazine a feature that had a list of 109 Rites of Passage. They are all cycling related (duh!). I quite enjoyed reading it, because I identified – sometimes quite deeply – with the vast majority of them. Some are good Rites, such as: 10) “Your bike computer registers triple digits for one ride”. Some are bad Rites, such as: 72) “Crashing and immediately asking, ‘How’s my bike?’ “. Some Rites, surprisingly few though, I have never experienced. Mostly because they involve things related mountain biking: 50) “Chasing a rabbit down singletrack”, or having children: 46) “Letting go of your kid’s seat and not having to grab it again”. The list ended at Number 109, but this last cycling related Rite of Passage isn’t actually a Rite. It’s an acknowledgemnet that there are many more than 109.

109) “Reading a Rites of Passage list and finding that your own favorite one is missing.”

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Wherever I May Roam

So much has happened in the past few weeks that I can’t even begin to figure out how to tell the story. Whatever follows is the best I can do. Of course it’s long, but this is a pretty big deal. Huge in fact. The hugest thing I’m ever going to write about on this blog. For some time now I’ve been dropping hints that something was up in my life. But other than a Twitter update or three, and a few briefer-than-normal posts, I haven’t said much in my journal at all. With good reason.

The time has come to just spill it.

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Has Anybody Ever Seen…

…Frank “Rocky” Parsons and Craig Ferguson at the same time, in the same place? Every time I catch Craig Ferguson on late night TV, I could swear it’s Rocky.

OK, Rocky with an entirely different accent. And crazier hair. But still.

Good-bye Gatorade

I read in the most recent Men’s Health magazine that somebody did some research and found out that you don’t have to actually drink a sports drink like Gatorade or Powerade to reap the benefits of increased endurance and performance. Nope. All you have to do is look at the bottle. I am not making this up. Those someones actually did a study. “A group of people who were shown a bottle of Gatorade were able to raise one leg for 149% longer than those who viewed a bottle of spring water”. Who dreams up this stuff? Apparently, you see Gatorade (and assuming you know what it is) the brain associates it with increased performance, and based on memory prepares the body to work harder.

This is an awesome way to save money! I’m gonna wrap my handle bars in Gatorade labels and start drinking tap water!

Warner Cable… It’s All Voluntary?

Has anybody seen the latest Time Warner Cable commercial? Sure you have. They run constantly. Even if you watch nearly all of your television via DVR, as I do, and skip commercials, you’ve probably caught it at least a thousand times. And even if you don’t pay attention to the commercials on the rare occasions they are on, your ears are probably tuning in and hearing the background music. And it probably sounds familiar.

At least… it’s familiar if you have done one of the handful of Spinervals videos that uses the exact same music!

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Delivery Friday

A week or so ago, I had a ride to work that I described as just about Perfect. Not worth writing about, because nothing noteworthy happened. That didn’t stop me from writing about it anyway. Today, something else happened. About 5 minutes after I got to work, I was hanging up my cycling clothes and stowing my other gear when I stopped and looked around, mystified.

How did I get here?

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Deep Thought Was Right

A short time I go I wrote that the Answer to Life, the Universe and Everything wasn’t 42. I said it was 27. I have since changed my mind about that. The answer to what temperature it is outside may be 27, but there’s new data to consider. I was looking at my ride statistics for last year and it would appear that I climbed about 222,000 feet. As it turns out, that’s more or less not quite exactly 42 miles. So the Answer to the Ultimate Question may indeed be 42. As long as you change the Question:

“How many miles must a man ride up?”