So this last week I finally did the deed. I bit the bullet and got a Utah State driver's license. It's something I was hoping I would never have to do, but in all reality I knew it had to happen eventually. It's kinda like when your at the park with a dog and it takes a poop right at the bottom of the slide. Sure there aren't any kids around at the moment, so you don't have to scoop it up right away, but somewhere in the back of your mind, you KNOW you can't leave that park until you do the deed and scoop the poop.
So that's what I did this week. I scooped the poop and got a Utah license. When I bought a truck this summer my insurance agent (How do you like that? I, Daniel Nelson have an insurance agent. He is very good at finding me cheap insurance. So whereas before I was paying an arm and a leg, he's managed to cut it back to just a little more than a forearm and an ankle.)
Anyway, my buddy Chris who happens to sell insurance, told me when I opened a policy here that I would need to get a Utah license sooner or later....I was hoping later....as in after I'd moved to Colorado, built a log cabin and grown a beard long enough to put the Honor Code office into shock, and make Brigham himself jealous. That was the plan. Little did I know I'd be getting out the scooper this soon.
So as I was sitting there (at the DMV), waiting for Vern (I am only assuming his name was Vern. He seemed to be able to talk about everything and anything like he was an expert on the subject matter. Really the type of guy I always mentally pictured would hang out with Ernest P. Worrell, so I just assumed his name was Vern) to get the camera ready to take my glamor shot picture for the license, I noticed a gorgeous red head.
Red heads, as many of you know, are polar. They are either extremely attractive, or extremely...not. No middle ground on this one. Anyway, this one was gorgeous. (If by some strange coincidence, you are that red head, now reading this, I must first admit I am extremely embarrassed to be writing all this about you. Please stop now, as the rest of this will only embarrass me more. Second I must admit I should very much like to have your phone number)
So there she sat. Red hair and all. As she moved to a counter, a beautiful blonde made her way over and started chatting with the red hed. Here is where the insecure thought process all starts up. (and no, I am not prejudice against dark haired girls. They are equally attractive. One just didn't happen to be at the DMV this particular morning)
For some reason, as soon as these two started chatting, my poor little insecure mind ran wildly along, creating what MUST have been their conversation:
Gorgeous Red Head: Hey, you're good looking, just like me! We should start chatting here in line
Beautiful Blonde: Totally. And look, we're both too good for that boy over there with the white socks and highwater slacks.
Gorgeous Red Head: Like, for sure. He looks like he got his hair cut at Petco. Must have been a buy one get one free dog grooming day.
Beautiful Blonde: He he! Totally. He keeps looking over at us. What, does he think he could ever even hope to posses the level of intelect necessary to converse with us? He probably just failed his Endocrinology test at BYU last Tuesday night.
Gorgeous Red Head: Like, for sure. My rear looks totally good in these jeans right now, doesn't it?
Beautiful Blonde: Totally.
Gorgeous Red Head: I'm so glad we're friends. BFF!!
Beautiful Blonde: Totally. Let's go be friends somewhere else, where that boy will stop staring at us.
And so it goes. I am sure they were actually having a conversation about something serious like the economy, politics, or Paris Hilton's newest shnanigans, but being the ultra self conscious boy that I am, I always just figure everyone is out to judge me for the worst.
I like to think I've come a long way in maturity since the 7th grade. Like how I used to pull girl's hair when I liked them. Now I've moved on to poking them on Facebook. I used to hide my insecurities and self consciousness behind a No Fear, Mossimo, or Gecko brand T-shirt. Now I just put on spandex, very dark sunglasses and ride around on a bike. Definitely made some strides in the maturity department :)
Either way, the point is, mentally, I am still in Jr. High. Maybe that's why I am not married. Maybe that's why I can't seem to pass Endocrinology tests. Maybe that's why I stare at my feet when I am, by some unnatural force, found actually making conversation with a female. Who knows. Maybe its just a phase I'll grow out of sometime in the next 25 year segment of my life. Maybe someday I'll learn "social skills". Maybe someday I'll start communicating with real people instead of writing on a blog....who knows....who knows...
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Tuesday, October 28, 2008
BYU
I have been in school for too long.
Now I understand that is a very subjective statement. I am in the middle of the first semester of my 6th year of college. A lot of guys go to college for longer. Yeah, they're called doctors. And they go for 4 years, then 4 more, then a bunch of stuff like internships and residencies where they get to call themselves doctors, don't make as much as real doctors, but probably still more than I will after almost as much school.
No, despite the apparent tone of this post, I am not bitter. And no, that last comment was not completely saturated with enough sarcasm to sink the Titanic along with Jack, Rose and the whole crew.
The point of this is that I have been her too long. I understand that many people have been here for longer. I am not trying in any way to say I've been here longer than anybody else. Just that I, for myself, have definitely worn my brain out.
Its like those stupid round rocks you used to get when you were a kid that when you smashed them together, they would spark and make funny smelling smoke. They were awesome. But like all good things, eventually they wore out. My brain is like an expired sparky ball. Worn out. It has lost its capacity to memorize enzymatic reactions, lost its ability to focus on the clinical applications of beta mercaptoethanol and why the inhibition of cAMP causes a myriad of disorders in young female rats with hypo-crap-face-ism.
I realized this today as I went up to take a test in the BYU testing center.
I used to be a chipper fellow every time I went in there. Usually quite well versed on whatever pointless material I had spent hours memorizing. I even used to get comment on my test results screen such as "Congratulations", or "Nice Work" which I am assuming now to mean "Congratulations, you are one hell of a bubble filler-inner" and "Nice work with that no. 2 pencil, good job completely erasing all your changed answers"
But now, I am just bitter. Tonight, I walked up to the counter, handed over my card and asked for my test.
"Which class would you like?" the attendant asked politely.
"PDBio 565" I answered, maybe just a tad less than politely.
"Wow, that's a really high number" the attendant commented excitedly
"Yeah, it means I've been here too long" I replied a tad less than excitedly
He then asked to see my student ID. I showed it to him.
"Wow, this thing is really old" He said grinning
"Yeah, your mom is really old" I said, now very much grinning.
Ok, so I didn't comment on the poor fellow's mother's age, but I was tempted. After getting my test I snuck back to my usual seat in the far back and began filling in bubbles. Sometimes I would read part of the question before filling in a bubble, just so I could get a feel for just what exactly I was being tested on, but most of the time I just went with what felt right.
After the test, I started my walk back to my office. I was feeling pretty angry for being so stupid. Don't get me wrong, I don't think all stupid people should walk around angry, just the ones who used to be smart, but now are stupid. The ones who have always been stupid have no right to be angry about it.
Anyway, I am done ranting now. I'll try to post something funny sometime. I am a lot better at being funny than describing enzymatic reactions in the posterior adrenal cortex in ACTH deficient patients. Or at least hope so. Cause, man, I suck at the latter.
Now I understand that is a very subjective statement. I am in the middle of the first semester of my 6th year of college. A lot of guys go to college for longer. Yeah, they're called doctors. And they go for 4 years, then 4 more, then a bunch of stuff like internships and residencies where they get to call themselves doctors, don't make as much as real doctors, but probably still more than I will after almost as much school.
No, despite the apparent tone of this post, I am not bitter. And no, that last comment was not completely saturated with enough sarcasm to sink the Titanic along with Jack, Rose and the whole crew.
The point of this is that I have been her too long. I understand that many people have been here for longer. I am not trying in any way to say I've been here longer than anybody else. Just that I, for myself, have definitely worn my brain out.
Its like those stupid round rocks you used to get when you were a kid that when you smashed them together, they would spark and make funny smelling smoke. They were awesome. But like all good things, eventually they wore out. My brain is like an expired sparky ball. Worn out. It has lost its capacity to memorize enzymatic reactions, lost its ability to focus on the clinical applications of beta mercaptoethanol and why the inhibition of cAMP causes a myriad of disorders in young female rats with hypo-crap-face-ism.
I realized this today as I went up to take a test in the BYU testing center.
I used to be a chipper fellow every time I went in there. Usually quite well versed on whatever pointless material I had spent hours memorizing. I even used to get comment on my test results screen such as "Congratulations", or "Nice Work" which I am assuming now to mean "Congratulations, you are one hell of a bubble filler-inner" and "Nice work with that no. 2 pencil, good job completely erasing all your changed answers"
But now, I am just bitter. Tonight, I walked up to the counter, handed over my card and asked for my test.
"Which class would you like?" the attendant asked politely.
"PDBio 565" I answered, maybe just a tad less than politely.
"Wow, that's a really high number" the attendant commented excitedly
"Yeah, it means I've been here too long" I replied a tad less than excitedly
He then asked to see my student ID. I showed it to him.
"Wow, this thing is really old" He said grinning
"Yeah, your mom is really old" I said, now very much grinning.
Ok, so I didn't comment on the poor fellow's mother's age, but I was tempted. After getting my test I snuck back to my usual seat in the far back and began filling in bubbles. Sometimes I would read part of the question before filling in a bubble, just so I could get a feel for just what exactly I was being tested on, but most of the time I just went with what felt right.
After the test, I started my walk back to my office. I was feeling pretty angry for being so stupid. Don't get me wrong, I don't think all stupid people should walk around angry, just the ones who used to be smart, but now are stupid. The ones who have always been stupid have no right to be angry about it.
Anyway, I am done ranting now. I'll try to post something funny sometime. I am a lot better at being funny than describing enzymatic reactions in the posterior adrenal cortex in ACTH deficient patients. Or at least hope so. Cause, man, I suck at the latter.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Nebo Thursday
So deciding to take full advantage of finals week once again, Thursday I went out for a rather epic ride: around Mt. Nebo.
The full loop, starting and finishing in Provo comes out to somewhere between 110 and 120 miles. Make 22 miles of that climbing up Payson canyon and you've got yourself a sweet/fun/long/awesome/beautiful day on a bike.
I planned on leaving around 8:00 am to avoid the summer heat, but yeah, like that ever happens. I managed to be out on the road around 9:30. Just early enough to be back in time for work later that afternoon.
Figuring the ride to take about 7 hours, I was right on pace.
As I left Provo the wind was blowing from the south, a good sign as to how the leg from Nephi back to Payson would be on the return. I have never ridden from Nephi to Payson without a stiff headwind. Oddly enough, the wind managed to change later that day and once again I was stuck making the dreaded stretch with a slight up hill and head wind...very ideal conditions (in case you are slightly confused, please google search "sarcasm")
The 22 mile ride up Payson canyon was beautiful. I wasn't in any kind of hurry to break any records, so I took my sweet time, stopping to take plenty of pictures. The ride down was nice, but like I said earlier, the ride back from Nephi to Payson was a bit monotonous.
Either way, the ride was incredible. Good enough to stop and take my ear phones out and just enjoy the scenery and natural surroundings. It was pretty great just being out there. A small reminder of just what a great planet God has given us to live.
Anyway, here are some more pictures of the ride:
Pictures coming later tonight, I have to go to class now....
The full loop, starting and finishing in Provo comes out to somewhere between 110 and 120 miles. Make 22 miles of that climbing up Payson canyon and you've got yourself a sweet/fun/long/awesome/beautiful day on a bike.
I planned on leaving around 8:00 am to avoid the summer heat, but yeah, like that ever happens. I managed to be out on the road around 9:30. Just early enough to be back in time for work later that afternoon.
Figuring the ride to take about 7 hours, I was right on pace.
As I left Provo the wind was blowing from the south, a good sign as to how the leg from Nephi back to Payson would be on the return. I have never ridden from Nephi to Payson without a stiff headwind. Oddly enough, the wind managed to change later that day and once again I was stuck making the dreaded stretch with a slight up hill and head wind...very ideal conditions (in case you are slightly confused, please google search "sarcasm")
The 22 mile ride up Payson canyon was beautiful. I wasn't in any kind of hurry to break any records, so I took my sweet time, stopping to take plenty of pictures. The ride down was nice, but like I said earlier, the ride back from Nephi to Payson was a bit monotonous.
Either way, the ride was incredible. Good enough to stop and take my ear phones out and just enjoy the scenery and natural surroundings. It was pretty great just being out there. A small reminder of just what a great planet God has given us to live.
Anyway, here are some more pictures of the ride:
Pictures coming later tonight, I have to go to class now....
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
I Beat Mark
The last week or two has brought some significant events in my life, the biggest of which is that I, Dan, beat Mark....twice.
(oh and my little brother got married)
Now I know what you are thinking. It must have been in some obscure contest like how many bananas we could eat in a minute or who had the longest toe nail, but no, really, I beat Mark on a bike, twice.
So yesterday we decide to head out for a nice ride after work. We took off up the canyon and had a pleasant ride up the trail, conversing the whole ride, catching up on everything new.
I hadn't seen Mark in more than a week so it was good to chat for a while filling each other in on new life events, swap a few recipes, and tell him about the new quilt bordering technique I picked up from my aunt while home this weekend. (He called me gay)
Anyway, on our way back we decided to hit up the Country Club Sprint. The Country Club Sprint, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a slightly uphill quarter mile section of road on University Avenue that starts at a residential turn off and ends at the intersection that goes into the Country Club.
Matt showed me the sprint years ago on a ride before I really knew who he was. Since then Kyle and I would duke it out almost every ride to be the first to the line. I used to beat him soundly, but by the end of our first season racing he was really sticking it to me. Kyle's fast. He can accelerate like a bat out of....a cave.
So yesterday, Mark and I go ahead and have it out on the CCS (Country Club Sprint, for those of you too dim to understand my abbreviation) and I am proud to say I beat him by about a second.
A second may not sound like much, but it's an eternity while in a full out sprint. We were going so fast that distance-wise, I was probably ahead by a good mile and a half...at least.
Needless to say, Mark was very graceful in his defeat. We are very competitive (Ok so I am very competitive, Mark just goes along with it) but we take joy in seeing the other succeed. For example, I was happy as I watched Mark succeed in creaming me in the next two sprints down University Ave and over the viaduct.
Those don't matter. Cause I won the first.
Now, for my second success.
Today, Mark and I decided to go do both our favorite ride ever, the Alpine Loop. (The ride is so official that it is capitalized, very formal)
I didn't know how hard he wanted to drill it, or how hard I would end up wanting to ride, but was more excited just to do my favorite ride with my good buddy.
As we left Provo, the weather quickly decided which way we would go. There was an ridiculously tremendous wind coming from the north, so we opted to ride up the Provo side so we could take advantage of the wind coming back from American Fork.
(I realize that our logic in making this descion was completely erroneous in the proven fact that the wind will ALWAYS change directions as soon as it is time for it to be a tail wind. Anyone doubting this statement will please do a google search on "Murphy's Law")
As we started the climb up to Sundance, we both charged it pretty hard. We stayed together the whole ride, but were both pushing it pretty dang hard. My average heart rate was somewhere around 190 for the 2.25 miles. Either way, we did it in 13 minutes, my fastest time ever.
We kept climbing at a pretty good pace all the way up to the summit. As we got closer, I realized we were right on pace to break 50 minutes for the whole climb.
For those of you unacquainted with the Alpine Loop, the Provo side is about 9 miles long and you gain a few thousand feet in climbing. My previous best time was somewhere around 55 minutes, so breaking 50 would have been a definite success.
As we got closer and closer to the top I really wasn't even paying much attention to Mark. Granted, a large portion of my manhood wanted desperately to beat him as badly as I could, I found myself consumed with a bigger goal: Breaking 50 minutes. We drilled the pace as we got closer and closer to the top. It was going to be close.
As we got to the mile 19 sign, I knew we had about a half mile to go, but less than 3 minutes to do it. I almost gave up when Mark started attacking (Mark knew little of my time goal, he just wanted to beat me) I jumped on his wheel and followed him as long as I could. He surged again and started to leave me.
In a last minute attempt to at least help him push his own pace all the way to the line, I yelled "don't you let up for a second, I'm right on your tail" knowing full well that my legs were spent and I was about to blow.
Well, before you go and get worried now, there is something about me you should know. No matter how long or how hard I have been riding or racing, as soon as I feel close to the finish, I get this crazy reserve kick that takes over my legs. I'm the only guy at the mountain bike races that sprints all out across the finish line completely alone, but its just how I am.
So anyway, just as we were coming around to the last bend in the road, my body's 11th sense picked up the finish line signal and I was off like a bat out of....a cave. I pushed with everything I had and shot past Mark as we crested the hill and rolled across the line. More importantly, however, the whole racing Mark thing pushed us hard enough that we ended up breaking 50 minutes.
Double wins for Dan the Man.
Anyway, we had a great time descending and riding home with the best tailwind ever pushing us all the way back.
Sometimes, somethings don't change.
(oh and my little brother got married)
Now I know what you are thinking. It must have been in some obscure contest like how many bananas we could eat in a minute or who had the longest toe nail, but no, really, I beat Mark on a bike, twice.
So yesterday we decide to head out for a nice ride after work. We took off up the canyon and had a pleasant ride up the trail, conversing the whole ride, catching up on everything new.
I hadn't seen Mark in more than a week so it was good to chat for a while filling each other in on new life events, swap a few recipes, and tell him about the new quilt bordering technique I picked up from my aunt while home this weekend. (He called me gay)
Anyway, on our way back we decided to hit up the Country Club Sprint. The Country Club Sprint, for those of you unfamiliar with it, is a slightly uphill quarter mile section of road on University Avenue that starts at a residential turn off and ends at the intersection that goes into the Country Club.
Matt showed me the sprint years ago on a ride before I really knew who he was. Since then Kyle and I would duke it out almost every ride to be the first to the line. I used to beat him soundly, but by the end of our first season racing he was really sticking it to me. Kyle's fast. He can accelerate like a bat out of....a cave.
So yesterday, Mark and I go ahead and have it out on the CCS (Country Club Sprint, for those of you too dim to understand my abbreviation) and I am proud to say I beat him by about a second.
A second may not sound like much, but it's an eternity while in a full out sprint. We were going so fast that distance-wise, I was probably ahead by a good mile and a half...at least.
Needless to say, Mark was very graceful in his defeat. We are very competitive (Ok so I am very competitive, Mark just goes along with it) but we take joy in seeing the other succeed. For example, I was happy as I watched Mark succeed in creaming me in the next two sprints down University Ave and over the viaduct.
Those don't matter. Cause I won the first.
Now, for my second success.
Today, Mark and I decided to go do both our favorite ride ever, the Alpine Loop. (The ride is so official that it is capitalized, very formal)
I didn't know how hard he wanted to drill it, or how hard I would end up wanting to ride, but was more excited just to do my favorite ride with my good buddy.
As we left Provo, the weather quickly decided which way we would go. There was an ridiculously tremendous wind coming from the north, so we opted to ride up the Provo side so we could take advantage of the wind coming back from American Fork.
(I realize that our logic in making this descion was completely erroneous in the proven fact that the wind will ALWAYS change directions as soon as it is time for it to be a tail wind. Anyone doubting this statement will please do a google search on "Murphy's Law")
As we started the climb up to Sundance, we both charged it pretty hard. We stayed together the whole ride, but were both pushing it pretty dang hard. My average heart rate was somewhere around 190 for the 2.25 miles. Either way, we did it in 13 minutes, my fastest time ever.
We kept climbing at a pretty good pace all the way up to the summit. As we got closer, I realized we were right on pace to break 50 minutes for the whole climb.
For those of you unacquainted with the Alpine Loop, the Provo side is about 9 miles long and you gain a few thousand feet in climbing. My previous best time was somewhere around 55 minutes, so breaking 50 would have been a definite success.
As we got closer and closer to the top I really wasn't even paying much attention to Mark. Granted, a large portion of my manhood wanted desperately to beat him as badly as I could, I found myself consumed with a bigger goal: Breaking 50 minutes. We drilled the pace as we got closer and closer to the top. It was going to be close.
As we got to the mile 19 sign, I knew we had about a half mile to go, but less than 3 minutes to do it. I almost gave up when Mark started attacking (Mark knew little of my time goal, he just wanted to beat me) I jumped on his wheel and followed him as long as I could. He surged again and started to leave me.
In a last minute attempt to at least help him push his own pace all the way to the line, I yelled "don't you let up for a second, I'm right on your tail" knowing full well that my legs were spent and I was about to blow.
Well, before you go and get worried now, there is something about me you should know. No matter how long or how hard I have been riding or racing, as soon as I feel close to the finish, I get this crazy reserve kick that takes over my legs. I'm the only guy at the mountain bike races that sprints all out across the finish line completely alone, but its just how I am.
So anyway, just as we were coming around to the last bend in the road, my body's 11th sense picked up the finish line signal and I was off like a bat out of....a cave. I pushed with everything I had and shot past Mark as we crested the hill and rolled across the line. More importantly, however, the whole racing Mark thing pushed us hard enough that we ended up breaking 50 minutes.
Double wins for Dan the Man.
Anyway, we had a great time descending and riding home with the best tailwind ever pushing us all the way back.
Sometimes, somethings don't change.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Mt. Bike Racing Update
It has been quite a while since I've posted (when hasn't it....)
So here is a general update of my racing season over the last few weeks, including profound personal realizations I have come to realize.
Since the RAWROD I have raced mountain every Saturday. The Intermountain Cup Series gets pretty intense in May with races every week, and the weekly Soldier Hollow Series also starts halfway through May.
After my first mountain bike race down in Hurricane, I was pretty impressed with my result. I got second place in the mens Expert 19-29 category. Visions of quickly upgrading to pro raced through my mind as I got all revved up for the rest of the season.
Then the second race happened.
That changed things. A lot.
I flatted and had some mechanical issues out at that race, leaving me semi-content with a 5th place finish. Not too bad, but just a fluke to finish that far back...I should have won...or so I thought.
The next race up in Logan confirmed my deepest fear: I stink at bike handling.
Uphill sections of the Logan race were ok. I could push myself hard and even pass many riders in the non technical uphill and flat sections. However, the downhill corners proved to be my Achilles Heel.
Just to illustrate my point, sometime halfway through lap 3 of 4 I could hear people starting to pile up behind me on the downhill windy section. A brief conversation occurred which went something like this:
ME: I'm really bad at this downhill stuff...just let me know when you want to pass, dude
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: You're doing fine, hang with it
ME: (realizing the voice behind me was in fact that of a woman...[yeah, an actual girl was about to pass me in a bike race]) I mean, just let me know when you wanna pass, ma'am
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: (slight chuckle) I'm ok, I'll let you know
ME: (In my mind) Oh shiz!
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: (after watching me unclip and put my foot down on a particularly hairy sharp corner) Use your body weight to turn, not your hands
(Yes, the woman biker behind me was actually giving me tips on bike handling in between small outbursts of laughter as she watched me struggle)
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: Look further up the trail, not directly in front of you
ME: Thanks
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: (More hysterical laughter at my plight)
ME: Sorry
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: Ok, good luck, I'm gonna pass you now.
Then, before I could even say anything, she passed me just after a corner and blew by me like I was standing still (which, knowing how poorly I take corners, my being at a complete stop isn't that unlikely)
Fortunately for me and my male ego, I mustered up the energy to gas it on the next straight away and catch the woman, but I swear I could hear her laughing the whole time.
I managed to come in around 7th or 8th. Taken into perspective that really isn't that bad when you consider how big the field was (7 or 8) Ok, so it was that bad
Just to ensure the destruction of any lingering thoughts of confidence in my mountain biking skills, Soldier Hollow confirmed it all with a cute little wreck on one of the downhills (my knee still has a fat owie) and a near to last place finish.
Oh well, its still very fun.
So here is a general update of my racing season over the last few weeks, including profound personal realizations I have come to realize.
Since the RAWROD I have raced mountain every Saturday. The Intermountain Cup Series gets pretty intense in May with races every week, and the weekly Soldier Hollow Series also starts halfway through May.
After my first mountain bike race down in Hurricane, I was pretty impressed with my result. I got second place in the mens Expert 19-29 category. Visions of quickly upgrading to pro raced through my mind as I got all revved up for the rest of the season.
Then the second race happened.
That changed things. A lot.
I flatted and had some mechanical issues out at that race, leaving me semi-content with a 5th place finish. Not too bad, but just a fluke to finish that far back...I should have won...or so I thought.
The next race up in Logan confirmed my deepest fear: I stink at bike handling.
Uphill sections of the Logan race were ok. I could push myself hard and even pass many riders in the non technical uphill and flat sections. However, the downhill corners proved to be my Achilles Heel.
Just to illustrate my point, sometime halfway through lap 3 of 4 I could hear people starting to pile up behind me on the downhill windy section. A brief conversation occurred which went something like this:
ME: I'm really bad at this downhill stuff...just let me know when you want to pass, dude
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: You're doing fine, hang with it
ME: (realizing the voice behind me was in fact that of a woman...[yeah, an actual girl was about to pass me in a bike race]) I mean, just let me know when you wanna pass, ma'am
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: (slight chuckle) I'm ok, I'll let you know
ME: (In my mind) Oh shiz!
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: (after watching me unclip and put my foot down on a particularly hairy sharp corner) Use your body weight to turn, not your hands
(Yes, the woman biker behind me was actually giving me tips on bike handling in between small outbursts of laughter as she watched me struggle)
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: Look further up the trail, not directly in front of you
ME: Thanks
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: (More hysterical laughter at my plight)
ME: Sorry
INDIVIDUAL BEHIND ME: Ok, good luck, I'm gonna pass you now.
Then, before I could even say anything, she passed me just after a corner and blew by me like I was standing still (which, knowing how poorly I take corners, my being at a complete stop isn't that unlikely)
Fortunately for me and my male ego, I mustered up the energy to gas it on the next straight away and catch the woman, but I swear I could hear her laughing the whole time.
I managed to come in around 7th or 8th. Taken into perspective that really isn't that bad when you consider how big the field was (7 or 8) Ok, so it was that bad
Just to ensure the destruction of any lingering thoughts of confidence in my mountain biking skills, Soldier Hollow confirmed it all with a cute little wreck on one of the downhills (my knee still has a fat owie) and a near to last place finish.
Oh well, its still very fun.
Friday, May 9, 2008
RAWROD Report 2008
A few weeks ago, I had the incredible chance to ride in the annual RAWROD. Here we all are. I stole this picture from www.fatcyclist.com If there is any kind of copyright issue here you can call my lawyer, Fish.
One of the reasons I've taken two weeks to write up this report on the ride is that for the longest time I could not decide on a witty/informative/catchy title for this post.
Basically, the RAWROD is the Ride Around White Rim in One Day. A 100 mile mountain bike ride down in Moab. A large group of friends, associates, and random guys who somehow get the emails show up to camp out and ride bikes for a weekend late in April. After hearing about it for the last two years, I finally decided I was Mt. Biker enough to join in on the fun.
As mentioned earlier, I couldn't decided on a title for this post, here are several of the potential candidates:
Option #1 Mountain Biking is Really, Really, Really Fun
Basically I had the time of my life out there. It wasn't about riding faster than anyone else, or being better than anyone else, it was about having fun, seeing what I could do, and all in all, just finishing. (The above statement regarding a "non-compete" attitude becomes completely void when considering my only other goal to finishing was to beat Mark Johansen, more on that below)
Lately I have been going through a transition from a roadie to a "dirty" mt biker (as Barrett refers to us) and really had my eyes opened as to how much just plain old fun it can be to ride a bike in a pretty place with no training agenda. A completely novel concept to me.
Option #2 Bike Seats Get Really, Really Hard after 100 miles on the Trail
Ever since I discovered the Selle Italia SLR, I have wondered if my rear could ever appreciate another saddle. After about the first 60 miles last Saturday, I would have gladly traded in my ultra light 135g SLR:
for one of the "Big Wide Comfort Seats" found HERE
Such as this one:
I would have gladly carried the extra 13 pounds up every foot of climbing those last 40 miles in exchange for a saddle that didn't feel like it was chaffing off layers of skin so deep I'd need a skin graft to my rear.
In all honesty, I was pretty dang sure I had discovered where the RAW in RAWROD came from.
Option #3 Beating Mark Is All That Matters
Lately I have gotten to be good friends with Mark...or so he thinks. Due to the fact that Mark doesn't even know how to open a "website", or what the internet even is, for that matter, I feel somewhat safe talking a little smack here.
Basically the only reason I am friends with Mark is to find out how to beat him. Beat him at what?
Everything.
I want to be faster on a bike, have a sweeter truck, get bigger muscles, and be cooler than him in general. Pretty much just beat him at the game of life.
Last Saturday was an interesting chapter in the game called "Beat Mark" Here is how the "ride/race" unfolded.
The first quarter (miles 1-25) I was able to hang ok with Mark and John as we left the parking lot, but soon the hammer was dropped, the two started plotting against me, and I got dropped, giving Mark the early Stage 1 "W".
Lucky for me, John's wife and Fish were kind enough to slow down and ride with me for a bit. At the gate to the park we regrouped and after the descent I lit Mark up and took the stage 2 victory. After lunch I rallied it up, feeling pretty dang good from mile 60 to 85.
Good enough to take the W for Stage 3.
Mark, however, was holding a little somthing back for the last 15. He blew me away on the last leg of the ride and up the final 900 foot climb up Horsethief, showing me exactly what he had in those iron limbs of his to take not only the Stage 4 victory, but the overall "W" for the day. (I can't wait till I can finally beat that dude)
Option #4 Friends are Pretty Dang Cool
One of the most important things that happened over the trip was that I realized how much fun it is to have friends (even if you are trying to beat them up every hill)
I had an awesome time driving down with Mark and Shae, riding with lots of people I knew, and even meeting some new friends. I even found myself wishing Kyle was there to share in the fun. The more and more I mountain bike, the more I realize its not about the bike, its about the ride.
Summary:
Here are some stats from the ride:
Total Miles: 99.7
Total Calories Burned: 8614 (A marathon only uses about 2700)
Total Cliff Bars/Blocks consumed: >10 (yuck, no wonder my tummy hurt)
Total Feet of Climbing: ??? (I'll get back on that)
Total Fun Points for the Day: Eleventy-Billion
Pieces of Pizza Mark ate after the ride: Like 20
Well, all I can say is I am excited for next year. I'm already making plans to buy a new seat from Wal-Mart, find some testosterone supplements for my drinks, and Ex-Lax for Mark's.
One of the reasons I've taken two weeks to write up this report on the ride is that for the longest time I could not decide on a witty/informative/catchy title for this post.
Basically, the RAWROD is the Ride Around White Rim in One Day. A 100 mile mountain bike ride down in Moab. A large group of friends, associates, and random guys who somehow get the emails show up to camp out and ride bikes for a weekend late in April. After hearing about it for the last two years, I finally decided I was Mt. Biker enough to join in on the fun.
As mentioned earlier, I couldn't decided on a title for this post, here are several of the potential candidates:
Option #1 Mountain Biking is Really, Really, Really Fun
Basically I had the time of my life out there. It wasn't about riding faster than anyone else, or being better than anyone else, it was about having fun, seeing what I could do, and all in all, just finishing. (The above statement regarding a "non-compete" attitude becomes completely void when considering my only other goal to finishing was to beat Mark Johansen, more on that below)
Lately I have been going through a transition from a roadie to a "dirty" mt biker (as Barrett refers to us) and really had my eyes opened as to how much just plain old fun it can be to ride a bike in a pretty place with no training agenda. A completely novel concept to me.
Option #2 Bike Seats Get Really, Really Hard after 100 miles on the Trail
Ever since I discovered the Selle Italia SLR, I have wondered if my rear could ever appreciate another saddle. After about the first 60 miles last Saturday, I would have gladly traded in my ultra light 135g SLR:
for one of the "Big Wide Comfort Seats" found HERESuch as this one:
I would have gladly carried the extra 13 pounds up every foot of climbing those last 40 miles in exchange for a saddle that didn't feel like it was chaffing off layers of skin so deep I'd need a skin graft to my rear.
In all honesty, I was pretty dang sure I had discovered where the RAW in RAWROD came from.
Option #3 Beating Mark Is All That Matters
Lately I have gotten to be good friends with Mark...or so he thinks. Due to the fact that Mark doesn't even know how to open a "website", or what the internet even is, for that matter, I feel somewhat safe talking a little smack here.
Basically the only reason I am friends with Mark is to find out how to beat him. Beat him at what?
Everything.
I want to be faster on a bike, have a sweeter truck, get bigger muscles, and be cooler than him in general. Pretty much just beat him at the game of life.
Last Saturday was an interesting chapter in the game called "Beat Mark" Here is how the "ride/race" unfolded.
The first quarter (miles 1-25) I was able to hang ok with Mark and John as we left the parking lot, but soon the hammer was dropped, the two started plotting against me, and I got dropped, giving Mark the early Stage 1 "W".
Lucky for me, John's wife and Fish were kind enough to slow down and ride with me for a bit. At the gate to the park we regrouped and after the descent I lit Mark up and took the stage 2 victory. After lunch I rallied it up, feeling pretty dang good from mile 60 to 85.
Good enough to take the W for Stage 3.
Mark, however, was holding a little somthing back for the last 15. He blew me away on the last leg of the ride and up the final 900 foot climb up Horsethief, showing me exactly what he had in those iron limbs of his to take not only the Stage 4 victory, but the overall "W" for the day. (I can't wait till I can finally beat that dude)
Option #4 Friends are Pretty Dang Cool
One of the most important things that happened over the trip was that I realized how much fun it is to have friends (even if you are trying to beat them up every hill)
I had an awesome time driving down with Mark and Shae, riding with lots of people I knew, and even meeting some new friends. I even found myself wishing Kyle was there to share in the fun. The more and more I mountain bike, the more I realize its not about the bike, its about the ride.
Summary:
Here are some stats from the ride:
Total Miles: 99.7
Total Calories Burned: 8614 (A marathon only uses about 2700)
Total Cliff Bars/Blocks consumed: >10 (yuck, no wonder my tummy hurt)
Total Feet of Climbing: ??? (I'll get back on that)
Total Fun Points for the Day: Eleventy-Billion
Pieces of Pizza Mark ate after the ride: Like 20
Well, all I can say is I am excited for next year. I'm already making plans to buy a new seat from Wal-Mart, find some testosterone supplements for my drinks, and Ex-Lax for Mark's.
Thursday, April 24, 2008
Sea Otter
Last week while thousands of BYU students were taking advantage of reading days and finals week, I drove to California.
What better way to prepare for the tests that would determine a large part of my semester grades than to go spend some time somewhere a lot warmer than Utah to race my bike. It makes more sense if you think about it while out riding bikes...
So Tuesday, right after my last class, I took off for California. It was nice drive, other than the sand storms in Utah.
I got up early each day to ride and enjoy the beautiful California scenery.
That wasn't the beautiful scenery, that's just me. Here's some pretty scenery.
My friend Kirsten was kind enough to let me stay with her for a week in Sacramento, about 3 hours away from Monterey.Thursday we headed down to Monterey for the race, which turned out to be probably the first sunny day of Sea Otter history.
After getting dropped like a sack of rocks at the road race last year, this year I decided to do the circuit race. Kyle tore it up in the circuit race last year, getting 3rd place. The Sea Otter circuit race takes place on the Laguna Seca race motorsport race track, home to several famous races including the famous 1996 race featuring "The Pass"It was really cool to race bikes on such a sweet course. Each lap was about 2.2 miles and invloved 200 feet of climbing. 200 feet of climbing might not sound like a lot, but it was a pretty dang steep hill. This is the altitude profile of the entire race:
So I lasted about 4 laps with the group before getting dropped right at the top of the hill. I figured I'd driven almost 1,000 miles to race the thing, so there was no way I was going to drop out. I ended up getting 24th of the 30 guys that finished. And that's out of the 55 that started. I didn't feel too bad.
At least I finally got some sweet pictures of me on the road (thanks to Kirsten)
I was going a lot faster in that last picture than you can tell...Anyway, it was a ton of fun. Getting dropped wasn't, but overall it was a sweet course, a great race, and awesome company.
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