Where Did All the Anger Go?

I still ain’t feeling it. Blogging that is. Maybe it will get better when I can ride my bike outside more.

I commuted to work today. First time outside on a bike in 2 weeks. I saw one dude on the greenbelt, and guess what – he wanted to race. Now there is a surprise. Everyone on the greenbelt wants to race me, what’s up with that.

So it is yellow jacket guy. Everyone knows yellow jacket guy. Most cyclists have been yellow jacket guy – I think that they issue yellow jackets with tights at some places. I have a yellow jacket… But anyway. This is yellow jacket camelback guy. He sees me coming when I am 100 yards back or so and drops the hammer.

What the hell, I just want to get to work without falling off. I seem to have mis-judged the icy-ness this morning and this dude is defending the greenbelt like his jacket is the freaking yellow jersey.

Despite his narrow ‘I like to go fast on my mountain bike’ tires, and his hunkered over rocking back and fourth effort I catch him without changing speed. Passing is another matter though, as he digs for another gear as I approach – not to mention the miscellaneous icy patches that I have to go over and around while I pass…

I say good morning as I pass. He grunts. Happy New Year indeed. Effer.

There, I feel better now.

Head Spinning

So I went to a spin class the other day. The instructor said she wanted us to ride at 75%. After a while she said to give her a 5% increase…

I’m thinking, ok, does she want me to go 75% + another 5% = 80%. OR does she want me to increase by 5% ((75x.05)+75) = 78.75%.

Yeah, I know, that’s messed up. That’s how my head works…

Sucking My Will to Blog

I was thinking the other day that it has been a year since I started this blog. I guess it was a new years resolution to find a new outlet, try something new, and stick it out for the year. I know lots of people think that resolutions are cliché, but I believe that people who think that are just too weak minded to commit to something and follow through with it. There’s an Elmerism for you.

It started out as my training blog. I was going to write about things like how many hours I rode, how many intervals, how many miles, power output – you know, all those numbers that bike racers throw around when they want to feel good about themselves. Yep, that’s what it was supposed to be. Then I read some other dudes blog that was like that. It sucked. I didn’t care how much or when or where someone else was riding – hell, I don’t even care how much, where or when I ride why would anyone else.

So before I even really got started ‘Melmers Training Blog’ transmogrified into ‘The Angry Cyclist’. Now being angry – that is something I care about, and I am good at it. So I tried to write about stuff that happened while I was riding, but I am afraid that mostly I have just written about being angry.

It has been amusing. I make myself laugh sometimes. I think I made some other people laugh sometimes. I have written stuff down for everyone to see that I wouldn’t say out loud - which is a little disturbing.

Anyhow, something is sucking my will to blog. I don’t particularly know what it is, but I am thinking it may be Ronald Reagan. So the blogging has been sporadic. I think it will continue to be so. Until the fury that burns inside re-ignites, or I just quit. Just quitting is not my style though, so sporadic it is.

Cyclist Dysfunction Rule #1

I have come to find that ‘organized’ group rides are a lot like communism – it’s a good idea in theory, but gets all messed up in application.

So I came up with this idea a few weeks ago for the race team that I belong too. I called it ‘Riding Johnny Style’ but in all practicality it should be called the ‘No Rider Left Behind’ rule. You know, like ‘No Child Left Behind’, but with bikes – come to think of it 'No Child Left Behind' is a lot like communism too.

Anyhow, the idea was that our group would divide into subgroups, when a person in the subgroup had a problem the entire subgroup would stop to help while the rest of everyone would slow down a bit to let them catch up – that way everyone wouldn’t have to stand around watching someone try to change a flat.

In reality when someone flatted a bunch of people went to the front and started hammering along at 25 mph in a pace line.

I guess I should have known it would happen. It’s like Cyclist Dysfunction Rule #1 that when you have more than one person riding bikes at the same time in the same place that a race will break out. The only exception I have seen is in a Master’s B category race – where club rides occasionally break out.

I really like vanilla pudding. I was just thinking that.

The Club Ride

The club ride comes second only to spandex in bike culture. In case you are unfamiliar, a ‘club ride’ is when a bunch of like minded people get together in clothing of similar spandexivity, and ride their bicycles together.

Just like any other group of people it is mainly social. You roll along and chat about things you have in common – mostly bikes, the stupid things you have done on bikes, and the stupid things you plan to do on bikes, other peoples bikes, stupid things you saw other people do on bikes, and sometimes beer.

In addition to the social aspect there is also the safety aspect. You see, a redneck in a truck is a lot less likely to take on a whole pack of spandex clad cycling freaks (SCCF) than just one. I heard once that in a typical group of people in Boise that 1 of 4 had a concealed weapons permit, and of those usually about half were packing. So that’s one gun per 8 people. If you have a pack of say 30 SCCF that means there is an arsenal of 4 guns. Chew on that for a minute.

A variation of the club ride is called a ‘race team ride’. These rides are usually a little bit faster, and the participants get to act a little more arrogant and assholish. These are ‘training’ rides. Training is when you subject yourself to varying levels of discomfort in the hope of preparing yourself for the extreme discomfort of a race. This time of year they are usually ‘base training’ – that means you spend ridiculously long periods of time on your bike at a moderately uncomfortable pace in hopes that your butt will be molded to the shape of your bike seat so you will be more comfortable during race season (I just used butt and mold in the same sentence – ooooooghhh!). You subject yourself to discomfort because it is fun – ruminate on that one.

So the team I am on had its first race team ride a few weeks back. There were 32 people there (4 guns) – that is a lot. We had so many people (and by implication were so well armed) that we had few problems with traffic. Somehow I got assigned to ride at the front and try to keep everyone together. I know I was doing good, because I felt moderately uncomfortable the whole time.

I made sure to try and make it look like I was not uncomfortable, or only slightly uncomfortable – because that’s what bike racers do. Don’t want anyone to smell weakness. I also tried to talk like a bike racer – that is where you lie about how much you have been training, usually underestimating by about 40%. So if you rode say 100 miles you would say you only rode 60. You do this so if you get crushed during the training ride you have an excuse, or conversely, if you crush during the training ride everyone thinks you are beasty because you did it with so little prior training.

The ride went pretty well, 2 hours on our standard route around the golf course on the Emmett Highway. I think some people exceeded the moderately uncomfortable level, but so it goes. Some others extended their period of discomfort by continuing for a ‘long ride’. I’ll address that subject another day.

So I guess we were a group of armed(?) liars that like to hurt themselves for fun, out for a little bike ride. Think twice before you honk at that group of cyclists on Hill Rd.

The Triplewide

I used to have a job where I worked in a triple wide trailer. As an employee there I felt it was important to live up to the standards that working environment exemplified. Apparently so did everyone else that worked there – It was probably the only place I have ever been where everyone else approached my level of sarcasm, bad attitude, and general buttonpushingness (I made that one up).

So anyway we were a bunch of hooligans working in a trailer. One day one of my co-workers received a phone call from a fax machine. We have all been there, you pick up the phone to a whining, beeping, screaming, angry machine. Said co-worker slams down the phone with a curse – he is letting it all hang out as the boss is gone.

Co-workers phone rings again. Fax machine again. More anger this time with a double expletive and a phone super slam. Dude was wound a bit tight sometimes – he was a retired marine after all.

Smelling opportunity three of us start taking turns faxing the guys phone from the office fax machine – there was a perfect delay so that you could dial the fax and be back in a choice viewing location before his phone rang. Dude lost his marbles, turning red and screaming, pounding the phone – the rest of us were rolling on the floor laughing and crying.

Finally I make the suggestion he should try and speak fax to it. He tried it. At the top of his lungs – wirrrrrrrrr, beeeep, beeeep, beeeep, Ioouuuuggahhh, Ioooouuugggaahhh, screeeeaaacccchhhh. Everyone else in the triple wide had caught on and was dying laughing. We stopped calling. Dude thought he had actually talked to a fax machine.

The best part was that the boss had called someone in the office during his fax imitation and heard the whole thing.

His name was Joe. Joe died last week. He was riding his motorcycle and got hit by someone who crossed the centerline.

What I wouldn’t give to fax him one more time.

Hold your friends and family close. Do it now.