Just a beautiful video, I aways wanted a theremin. I already watched it 4 times in a row, watch out, it's enchanting.
25 June 2007
24 June 2007
Coolest Bike shop in Montreal
Alright, I had to put this place in before I caught up a little bit. After searching around at about five other stores for a few essential bits, I came across this store, and what a relief. All I was looking for was a couple of small parts, a seat collar, and a oversize small road stem. Both of these were to replace a couple of broken bits on Ambers home bike, but she needed them to race, as they were quite essential. These I know we have at the service course, most shops in Holland, my bro's shop in Auckland, and any really good bike store, you think then it would be easy in a big city. Well not until I found this store, about six stires later. With in momemts of setting eyes on it, I was in love. What a very cool front of store, and all the bikes outside were from customers in the store, not for sale. Kinda cool bit poking out the front, and what character in the rest of the building.
One of the coolest looking bike stores from the outside, that's for sure.
Immediatly I liked the layout, kind of made me feel right at home. There seemed to be some sort of bar theme to the whole workshop/floor layout. What could have been a rather funky, bar or restaurant in the past, seems right at home with some dirty cyclist squatters covering the place in grease. I loved the bar stools, who doesn't want to watch a professional working on thier baby. And the workstands in prime view, as you lean on clear bartops with nice shiney bits under it. The rear of the workshop, who once housed some pretty tasty alcohol in the past, storing stuff that will put the same shit eating grin on your face when you have had enough.
And the prime positions on the bar, drinking coffee, drooling over fruit beneath the bartop, watching your baby get some tender loving care.
And I have an expresso, and a set of those nice chris king hubs, on the side please.
Within minutes of arriving, I had been served by someone older then the shorts I was wearing at the time. I had all the parts I required,a nd a pleasent conversation to boot, a comsumers dream. Unfortunately I had no time to stop and enjoy the coffee and the ambiance, but it was a nice to see what I was missing out on though. You saw it first here folks, but I am going to be the first to steal the idea, if I ever own a retail store.
One of the coolest looking bike stores from the outside, that's for sure.
Immediatly I liked the layout, kind of made me feel right at home. There seemed to be some sort of bar theme to the whole workshop/floor layout. What could have been a rather funky, bar or restaurant in the past, seems right at home with some dirty cyclist squatters covering the place in grease. I loved the bar stools, who doesn't want to watch a professional working on thier baby. And the workstands in prime view, as you lean on clear bartops with nice shiney bits under it. The rear of the workshop, who once housed some pretty tasty alcohol in the past, storing stuff that will put the same shit eating grin on your face when you have had enough.
And the prime positions on the bar, drinking coffee, drooling over fruit beneath the bartop, watching your baby get some tender loving care.
And I have an expresso, and a set of those nice chris king hubs, on the side please.
Within minutes of arriving, I had been served by someone older then the shorts I was wearing at the time. I had all the parts I required,a nd a pleasent conversation to boot, a comsumers dream. Unfortunately I had no time to stop and enjoy the coffee and the ambiance, but it was a nice to see what I was missing out on though. You saw it first here folks, but I am going to be the first to steal the idea, if I ever own a retail store.
20 June 2007
Montreal World Cup
Things got off to a bad start even before we left the airport, if this was enough of a indication of the way the week was to turn out, I don’t know what was. But we were already on the way and it was way too late to pull out, sometimes responsibilities come in the way of intuition, god damn it. For the first time in my life, in many hundreds of flights with bike in hand, five bikes really, a massage table and assorted equipment (a compact but essential set of tools, wheels and equipment, a TT bike for Amber, and a few clothes), my luck with not paying for excess baggage or any bikes had run out. Not technically bad luck on my behalf, but a few girls, with their bikes and bags soon adds up to a tidy weight. With a little discussion, I was getting nowhere with my negotiations, so I bit the bullet, paid the 35 euro, for each bike, 2 out of four we had, and we were checked in ready to fly. The small but efficient team consisted of myself, acting as team manager, mechanic, director, phycologist, driver, Yvonne as songuier, camp mother and assorted domestic chores, Suzanne Van Veen, Loes Makerink. Iris had left a few hours earlier as we could not get her on the same flight as us, she was to fly to London, Toronto then to Montreal. And also Amber, who had a few days at home in California, then a short flight up country, to meet up with us later on the next day.
Things were looking pretty sweet, we found the gate, got settled in for a bit of a wait. Now this I have done many times, see the gate, get your bearings, then go and wander around reading free magazines and window shopping. This would normally be no problem, but this time they decided to change the gate we were leaving from, without telling anyone (I may not have heard it?). So of course, everyone at the gate knew except me, and knowing my good luck, the plane that entered our original gate was going to the same place, London. So getting close to the time to leave, I wandered back to the gate, which was empty, they were on last call. Checking the gate was right, yep, and the destination was right, so I entered the plane, everyone looking at me thinking I was late. I proceeded to my seat which was taken, a quick check of tickets, yep both the same seat. Lucky I checked as there was a few spare seats, normally I would have just taken one. But no I was on the wrong plane, they opened the door, to let me out, makes you wonder with all their multitude of security checks and supposed efficiency how I could just wander on the wrong plane. So I went to the new gate, where the team had watched me enter the wrong plane, from the changed gate, just in time to see the bikes making their way up the ramp and into the belly of the plane, and we were off.
Two hours in Heathrow Airport you would think, would be enough to swap flights, baggage was going straight through, so no worries. Well that’s without idiots in the loop. If you have been through Heathrow (London) lately, you know what a mess it is, four terminals, major constructions, and a real mess as you all have to go through one security check, waited on by thousands of angry people, served by two x-ray machines, run by idiots. First we exit the plane and enter a bus to take us to the main terminal, this was another classic, as we went around in circles for about half an hour until the dickhead found an entrance for us to enter the terminal. I think it was his first day as I am sure we went past the same door at least four times. So off the bus and up the stairs, but the door was locked at the top, great. Now because of a few towel heads, we were not allowed out of the stairwell as we would create a security risk, so we waited for another 20mins waiting for the idiots to get the door open, so we could leave the stiff ling stairwell. Now though the thousand people waiting for a x-ray of everything on themselves, to hear the security say the same thing over again and again, ‘only one bag please’, how hard can it be, same shit every year, someone has to be a problem, just to hold you up some more. Now things were getting tight, less than an hour, but we were close to end of the line, through, then the run starts. Down onto another bus, round and round the terminals again to the right one, then a quick sprint to the waiting plane, but a few more security checks first of course, then we were off, a bit of stress as usual, but all together, just hope the bikes made the hurried journey as well.
In the mean time Iris, who had left a few hours earlier, had arrived in Toronto, what was to be a simple change of planes. But it is almost America, and a young girl travelling by herself is a serious security risk for the country, so she was called out of the waiting line for a full check, all the usual stuff, where are you going etc, and a full body check as well. This was enough for her to miss her connecting flight, so back in the line to sort out another ticket, lucky there was one every hour, as she would need a few more changes before now. And again in the line to board, and again pulled from the line. Now you would think there might be some checking between customs officers, as this not only happened once, but twice and then one more time for a total of three. Three times checked, questioned, and missed flights, what a bunch of idiots. But they let her finally on the plane. She was to arrive only an hour earlier than us, but now it was to be two hours later.
We landed, got organised, and then the eternal wait for bags and bikes. Now I thought I would get stung for excess baggage, and packed all my clothes and everything in a bike bag, thus only two pieces again. A great idea at the time, but mow it was not looking too cool. We waited, and waited, but having bikes it normally can take a while, we had time as Iris was going to be a while. But there was no bikes, they did not make it to the plane in time (what a surprise), they had no idea where they were, and as far as they were concerned, they did not exist anymore. With the race a day away, I had to seriously get sorted if we had no bikes to ride. So off to the car hire for the super quick pickup, the car was all paid for so there was to be a few minutes of paperwork for insurance purposes, and I would be gone. Now what a great idea, nearly an hour later I was on the road, the only saving grace, was the Chevy Malibu was huge, enough to fit all the girls in one trip. One trip to the school, which was to be our home for the week, not the usual moderate accommodation we are accustomed to. Cold, dirty, lifeless dorms, thank god it’s only for a few days. Then right back on the road to pick up Iris, who was only three hours late, at least we had similar stories to share on the way back to the school, and she had her bike, no wheels but it was a start.
Benny's late night, sweatshop. Workmanship almost gaureenteed
A whole morning on the phone seemed to get me nowhere, the bikes had just disappeared in Heathrow somewhere, which is not uncommon according to many of the teams who had now arrived. That’s all we needed to know, but I had some scrounging to do and some begging and borrowing to keep myself busy with. I managed to find enough wheels and bikes to get everyone to the start in the morning, so there was some small glimmer of hope that our trip was not wasted. I held off until I heard the bad or good news the airline had to give. So a few more phone calls managed to give me the information that they had found three of the five bike bags they lost in London, they were on the plane and would be arriving 8pm, the night before the race. Now this was sounding good, all my spare bikes and alternative arrangements were in place, so we were ready to race if needed, now lets hope the right bags arrive. We had a lucky dip with the bikes they had found, I was dreading the worst possible outcome, out of five bike bags, two had bikes (with wheels), and one was a TT bike (for Amber, not needed now, but for her nationals coming up), one was a massage table, and the last one had a few wheels (Amber and Iris were flying wheelless), my tools, work stand and a few clothes scattered around all the bags. So I was hoping the right ones arrived. I had another trip to the airport for Amber, so picking up what they had was enough for the moment.
Amber was delayed, so I had two hours to kill at the airport, so I thought I would use my powers of discussions to get some real answers on our missing bags. Finally after waiting for 3 bags to clear customs (a lot easier when you are with your bags), I got to talk with a person face to face. After his insistence, that they have no idea where the other two bags are, would go and check one more time. I sat there in shock as I looked at the bags and knew exactly which ones they were. The massage table, Amber’s TT bike and the bag of wheels, but some tools and some clothes at least. Just another half an hour later, the idiot from the airline arrived back wheeling a trolley, with the other two bikes on it. Seems five bike bags had arrived, but they were not connected to us (even though they were in the same Stevens bike bags. ‘Yeah, there’s been some mistake, we checked and we think these are yours as well, but it’s strange, the tags don’t match’. We had them the whole time, he said. I pulled my ticket stubs out and they matched every bag present. He was astounded, what an idiot I thought. So I left two of them there, and waited another hour for Amber. After dropping off the bikes and Amber off at the school, I headed back to the airport for the last bikes, it was midnight, it was going to be a long night, the race started at 10am.
What a great looking team for the week, Suz, Iris, Loes, Amber
There was a large bike room set out for all the teams during the day, so I mad do with the dorm room. As I dragged my sorry ass out the elevator with the last two bike bags, the bells started ringing like hell. It was 12.45, people were sticking their heads out the doors as I was walking past, with the last two bags. I went and checked what was up for the girls, seemed some student resident, feel asleep while cooking food, and it burnt. Back to bed for the whole building, and back to work for me. I felt a lot better that everyone was awake as well, as I started to assemble the bikes. A few hours later I was done, a few hours sleep, then a few tires to pump, and I was ready. We raced the race, it was good, a few laps, eleven, and a great climb every lap. All bikes went well, I was a bit burnt out, but it felt good. On the last two laps there was a decisive break of two riders, it was not caught, and Fabiana Liperini ended up winning, Amber was 10th. Check out the official report here, and also at Cycling News.
Some friendly sprints for warm up, Iris and Loes. Iris won.
Through the mirror back to a small group, a shot I don't normally get too often.
Next up the Tour of Montreal, Middag Humsterland, Durango-Durango, Tour of Bira, and tour of Zealand. And then I might catch up.
Here is a couple of new photo albums for you, the beautiful Castle of Carrcosonne, and some of the Montreal stuff.
Things were looking pretty sweet, we found the gate, got settled in for a bit of a wait. Now this I have done many times, see the gate, get your bearings, then go and wander around reading free magazines and window shopping. This would normally be no problem, but this time they decided to change the gate we were leaving from, without telling anyone (I may not have heard it?). So of course, everyone at the gate knew except me, and knowing my good luck, the plane that entered our original gate was going to the same place, London. So getting close to the time to leave, I wandered back to the gate, which was empty, they were on last call. Checking the gate was right, yep, and the destination was right, so I entered the plane, everyone looking at me thinking I was late. I proceeded to my seat which was taken, a quick check of tickets, yep both the same seat. Lucky I checked as there was a few spare seats, normally I would have just taken one. But no I was on the wrong plane, they opened the door, to let me out, makes you wonder with all their multitude of security checks and supposed efficiency how I could just wander on the wrong plane. So I went to the new gate, where the team had watched me enter the wrong plane, from the changed gate, just in time to see the bikes making their way up the ramp and into the belly of the plane, and we were off.
Two hours in Heathrow Airport you would think, would be enough to swap flights, baggage was going straight through, so no worries. Well that’s without idiots in the loop. If you have been through Heathrow (London) lately, you know what a mess it is, four terminals, major constructions, and a real mess as you all have to go through one security check, waited on by thousands of angry people, served by two x-ray machines, run by idiots. First we exit the plane and enter a bus to take us to the main terminal, this was another classic, as we went around in circles for about half an hour until the dickhead found an entrance for us to enter the terminal. I think it was his first day as I am sure we went past the same door at least four times. So off the bus and up the stairs, but the door was locked at the top, great. Now because of a few towel heads, we were not allowed out of the stairwell as we would create a security risk, so we waited for another 20mins waiting for the idiots to get the door open, so we could leave the stiff ling stairwell. Now though the thousand people waiting for a x-ray of everything on themselves, to hear the security say the same thing over again and again, ‘only one bag please’, how hard can it be, same shit every year, someone has to be a problem, just to hold you up some more. Now things were getting tight, less than an hour, but we were close to end of the line, through, then the run starts. Down onto another bus, round and round the terminals again to the right one, then a quick sprint to the waiting plane, but a few more security checks first of course, then we were off, a bit of stress as usual, but all together, just hope the bikes made the hurried journey as well.
In the mean time Iris, who had left a few hours earlier, had arrived in Toronto, what was to be a simple change of planes. But it is almost America, and a young girl travelling by herself is a serious security risk for the country, so she was called out of the waiting line for a full check, all the usual stuff, where are you going etc, and a full body check as well. This was enough for her to miss her connecting flight, so back in the line to sort out another ticket, lucky there was one every hour, as she would need a few more changes before now. And again in the line to board, and again pulled from the line. Now you would think there might be some checking between customs officers, as this not only happened once, but twice and then one more time for a total of three. Three times checked, questioned, and missed flights, what a bunch of idiots. But they let her finally on the plane. She was to arrive only an hour earlier than us, but now it was to be two hours later.
We landed, got organised, and then the eternal wait for bags and bikes. Now I thought I would get stung for excess baggage, and packed all my clothes and everything in a bike bag, thus only two pieces again. A great idea at the time, but mow it was not looking too cool. We waited, and waited, but having bikes it normally can take a while, we had time as Iris was going to be a while. But there was no bikes, they did not make it to the plane in time (what a surprise), they had no idea where they were, and as far as they were concerned, they did not exist anymore. With the race a day away, I had to seriously get sorted if we had no bikes to ride. So off to the car hire for the super quick pickup, the car was all paid for so there was to be a few minutes of paperwork for insurance purposes, and I would be gone. Now what a great idea, nearly an hour later I was on the road, the only saving grace, was the Chevy Malibu was huge, enough to fit all the girls in one trip. One trip to the school, which was to be our home for the week, not the usual moderate accommodation we are accustomed to. Cold, dirty, lifeless dorms, thank god it’s only for a few days. Then right back on the road to pick up Iris, who was only three hours late, at least we had similar stories to share on the way back to the school, and she had her bike, no wheels but it was a start.
Benny's late night, sweatshop. Workmanship almost gaureenteed
A whole morning on the phone seemed to get me nowhere, the bikes had just disappeared in Heathrow somewhere, which is not uncommon according to many of the teams who had now arrived. That’s all we needed to know, but I had some scrounging to do and some begging and borrowing to keep myself busy with. I managed to find enough wheels and bikes to get everyone to the start in the morning, so there was some small glimmer of hope that our trip was not wasted. I held off until I heard the bad or good news the airline had to give. So a few more phone calls managed to give me the information that they had found three of the five bike bags they lost in London, they were on the plane and would be arriving 8pm, the night before the race. Now this was sounding good, all my spare bikes and alternative arrangements were in place, so we were ready to race if needed, now lets hope the right bags arrive. We had a lucky dip with the bikes they had found, I was dreading the worst possible outcome, out of five bike bags, two had bikes (with wheels), and one was a TT bike (for Amber, not needed now, but for her nationals coming up), one was a massage table, and the last one had a few wheels (Amber and Iris were flying wheelless), my tools, work stand and a few clothes scattered around all the bags. So I was hoping the right ones arrived. I had another trip to the airport for Amber, so picking up what they had was enough for the moment.
Amber was delayed, so I had two hours to kill at the airport, so I thought I would use my powers of discussions to get some real answers on our missing bags. Finally after waiting for 3 bags to clear customs (a lot easier when you are with your bags), I got to talk with a person face to face. After his insistence, that they have no idea where the other two bags are, would go and check one more time. I sat there in shock as I looked at the bags and knew exactly which ones they were. The massage table, Amber’s TT bike and the bag of wheels, but some tools and some clothes at least. Just another half an hour later, the idiot from the airline arrived back wheeling a trolley, with the other two bikes on it. Seems five bike bags had arrived, but they were not connected to us (even though they were in the same Stevens bike bags. ‘Yeah, there’s been some mistake, we checked and we think these are yours as well, but it’s strange, the tags don’t match’. We had them the whole time, he said. I pulled my ticket stubs out and they matched every bag present. He was astounded, what an idiot I thought. So I left two of them there, and waited another hour for Amber. After dropping off the bikes and Amber off at the school, I headed back to the airport for the last bikes, it was midnight, it was going to be a long night, the race started at 10am.
What a great looking team for the week, Suz, Iris, Loes, Amber
There was a large bike room set out for all the teams during the day, so I mad do with the dorm room. As I dragged my sorry ass out the elevator with the last two bike bags, the bells started ringing like hell. It was 12.45, people were sticking their heads out the doors as I was walking past, with the last two bags. I went and checked what was up for the girls, seemed some student resident, feel asleep while cooking food, and it burnt. Back to bed for the whole building, and back to work for me. I felt a lot better that everyone was awake as well, as I started to assemble the bikes. A few hours later I was done, a few hours sleep, then a few tires to pump, and I was ready. We raced the race, it was good, a few laps, eleven, and a great climb every lap. All bikes went well, I was a bit burnt out, but it felt good. On the last two laps there was a decisive break of two riders, it was not caught, and Fabiana Liperini ended up winning, Amber was 10th. Check out the official report here, and also at Cycling News.
Some friendly sprints for warm up, Iris and Loes. Iris won.
Through the mirror back to a small group, a shot I don't normally get too often.
Next up the Tour of Montreal, Middag Humsterland, Durango-Durango, Tour of Bira, and tour of Zealand. And then I might catch up.
Here is a couple of new photo albums for you, the beautiful Castle of Carrcosonne, and some of the Montreal stuff.
9 June 2007
Last few days of the l'Aude
So a couple more stages in the beautiful, sunny l'Aude region, and then I had to leave. Bit of a shame not to see the last few stages, but I had another mission to attend to.
Amber and Madi getting ready for signing in, and then off to the start.
I love this shot, through the local vineyards, doesn't it look nice.
I had not really had any real time off for the last couple of months, so a few days off were ordered as it was the last chance for a while. I had been selected (by the loosing vote) to head off to Montreal, Canada for the 6th World Cup and the Tour of Montreal as Mechanic and director for the week.
I had a day off in the beautiful city of Carrcossane, checking out the wicked castle, a bit of photography, and a nice easy day. Then it was off to sunny Holland for a few days R&R, a bit of riding and then some organising for the trip to Montreal. The few days relaxing turned into three days on the couch, somewhere here I lost a day, waking up on the couch 24 hours later, man I must have needed it.
The team ended up winning the tour, all coming from the second to last stage. This is three in a row for us, Amber taking out the two years previous, and Susanne cleaning up this years race. Once again we show the rest of the world our fantastic tactics, awesome riding, clean bikes and some of the best wrenching around. Much to the disappointment of T-Mobile and Nurenberger, who were thinking they had the lead under control.
Check out the photo pages, thats if I get a chance tonight.
I will write up the Montreal trip tomorrow, as I have just arrived back a few hours ago. And what a trip, as usual, my movement into directorship is still very badly jinxed, if there is ever anything to go wrong with the team and the race. Whats the bet that I get to deal with it. No wonder Klas or JP were quite happy to stay home, think I will be doing that next year as well. Hey it's a great way to learn, but we don't have to deal with 85% of the troubles with 300% more staff, but more on this later.
We race first thing Saturday morning in the top of Holland, then leave for Spain on Sunday for Durango race and the tour of Bira. This is on top of jetlag, hammered body and sleep deprivation, but I still won't be able to sleep cause I am really excited about some good racing for a change.
Amber and Madi getting ready for signing in, and then off to the start.
I love this shot, through the local vineyards, doesn't it look nice.
I had not really had any real time off for the last couple of months, so a few days off were ordered as it was the last chance for a while. I had been selected (by the loosing vote) to head off to Montreal, Canada for the 6th World Cup and the Tour of Montreal as Mechanic and director for the week.
I had a day off in the beautiful city of Carrcossane, checking out the wicked castle, a bit of photography, and a nice easy day. Then it was off to sunny Holland for a few days R&R, a bit of riding and then some organising for the trip to Montreal. The few days relaxing turned into three days on the couch, somewhere here I lost a day, waking up on the couch 24 hours later, man I must have needed it.
The team ended up winning the tour, all coming from the second to last stage. This is three in a row for us, Amber taking out the two years previous, and Susanne cleaning up this years race. Once again we show the rest of the world our fantastic tactics, awesome riding, clean bikes and some of the best wrenching around. Much to the disappointment of T-Mobile and Nurenberger, who were thinking they had the lead under control.
Check out the photo pages, thats if I get a chance tonight.
I will write up the Montreal trip tomorrow, as I have just arrived back a few hours ago. And what a trip, as usual, my movement into directorship is still very badly jinxed, if there is ever anything to go wrong with the team and the race. Whats the bet that I get to deal with it. No wonder Klas or JP were quite happy to stay home, think I will be doing that next year as well. Hey it's a great way to learn, but we don't have to deal with 85% of the troubles with 300% more staff, but more on this later.
We race first thing Saturday morning in the top of Holland, then leave for Spain on Sunday for Durango race and the tour of Bira. This is on top of jetlag, hammered body and sleep deprivation, but I still won't be able to sleep cause I am really excited about some good racing for a change.
Update updated.
So getting back to the real update, before I got a little sidetracked. Things have got a lot further than I intended, so time to fix it all in one small posting. Back to the puncture analogy, instead of floundering along and getting further behind, I have one night home and If I don’t do it now, the month will be over.
Amber getting some last minute instructions from Jean-Paul.
So the team TTT went along fine, no problems, about 30 hours work for a 40km stint on the road. We did sweet on the very technical course, with a multitude of turns, and some very shitty roads we finished with no problems. In second place, only 6 seconds behind the leaders, but we also had the whole team on the finish line.
Looking great on the road.
Amber getting some last minute instructions from Jean-Paul.
So the team TTT went along fine, no problems, about 30 hours work for a 40km stint on the road. We did sweet on the very technical course, with a multitude of turns, and some very shitty roads we finished with no problems. In second place, only 6 seconds behind the leaders, but we also had the whole team on the finish line.
Looking great on the road.
l'Aude TTT
Just a couple of video shots of the Team Timetrail, to give me a bit of time to finish my updates.
This was crazy as we entered the highway and rode it for about 7km till we took the first off ramp. With the cars buzzing the riders, it was a real bad move of the promotor to put the girls in such a potentially dangerous position.
And further down the road we had some nice roads, but with about thirty roundabouts to navigate, things were difficult. We still came in second to T-Mobile, under 6 secs gap, but they were also caught out doing a couple of the bigger roundabouts the wrong way. Otherwise we think we would have come a lot closer to them. They were not intentionaly taking the wrong way we think, as it was very hard for the team to work out which way to go.
This was crazy as we entered the highway and rode it for about 7km till we took the first off ramp. With the cars buzzing the riders, it was a real bad move of the promotor to put the girls in such a potentially dangerous position.
And further down the road we had some nice roads, but with about thirty roundabouts to navigate, things were difficult. We still came in second to T-Mobile, under 6 secs gap, but they were also caught out doing a couple of the bigger roundabouts the wrong way. Otherwise we think we would have come a lot closer to them. They were not intentionaly taking the wrong way we think, as it was very hard for the team to work out which way to go.
An update, sort of.
By now you should be pretty familiar with the all too familiar, lack of updates. For those of you that have been around for a while it generally means two things, a relapse of CBF disease, or things have been pretty hectic in the work department. This time it’s a hard one to figure out, more like a combination of the both. I have been run a little raw around the edges. And on the other hand, I have had enough downtime to get the odd report out, but somehow things have just got in the way, ohh and the CBF is coming and going, so I am not sure what’s up.
Keeping up with current news on the blog, is kind of like the riding with a slow leak on your bike. You know it’s there, you can feel that tire getting a little bit wobbly. Part of you is still in denial about what is going on, so constant looking down and hoping it is not happening is not going to help, but you still do it. You know you have to stop and fix it eventually, but you spin it out as long as you can. You head directly towards home, as short as possible route as you can find thinking that you can make it without having to empty the jersey and make a rubber picnic on the side of the road (the analogy is coming). Things start getting a bit interesting at this stage, the bike takes on a mind of it’s own, weaving uncontrollably across the road, giving you a ride like you have a skin full of booze (I read it in a book somewhere, not form personal experience, of course). At this stage you have had enough, time to give it the quick pump to get you home. Yeah, like that’s going to work, but you have been doing the calculations, for the last 15 mins, if I pump it full now, it will take me all the way home, and I can fix it later. Such a great concept, so out with the mini pump, so small that that it looks very cool when you pull it out when looking for cash for that caffeine fix. Yeah, it looks real cool sticking out the back of your jersey, nice and small, carbon, and ohh so cute. But we have a mission, a slow leak and it’s time to shut it down, and get home.
Just taking your mind even further away. What a load, god damn inlaws.
Off the bike, and on with the pump, now some seriously fast pumps of the pumps. A pencil inserted into a drinking straw would probably be more efficient at pumping than what you have been carrying around for the last few months. So a thousand or so pumps later, you are back on the road, even though you are covered in sweat, and you can not even feel the handle bars because you hands are numb still, your feeling pretty good about making it home. So things are looking good, your house is getting closer, you have this thing beat, but hang on, perhaps your calculations were not so good. As your tire seems to be going down a bit faster than before, and yes, a few more checks, a few more wobbles, and the odd stop to use the old thumb-o-meter just to make sure. And your suspicions were correct, the higher pressure that you just sweated to push in, has increased the escape of valuable air, just slightly. So a few more quick calculations, out with the mini pump (that’s if you didn’t already throw it away), a few thousand more pumps, and your off.
By now you have been feeling every bump, crack and stone on the road, thoughts of what shit roads you have to train on, and the denial is still there. Denial in the fact that you count your lucky stars that you don’t get a puncture every day you ride, so you are kind of enjoying the experience (flats-r-fun fantasies). About now it’s time to start riding with some serious weight transfer off the said problem. If the problem is at the back, leaning as far off the front of the bike is ok. Out of the saddle, in the drops, head over the front wheel, this is great for getting another 3 or 4 km at least. For a front wheel, the old lean back trick works a treat, holding on to the bars with the fingertips just barely touching the bars. Any weight on the wheel now is asking for problems, as anyone can tell you. But it’s worth a crack, as there is only few km’s to go, and still no need to fix it. It’s about now that you are thinking of pumping up the tire for the third time. But you still have one trick up your sleeve, the old ride on the grass trick. Even with a almost flat tire, there is that two of three km’s you can gain at least without destroying the rim. But that driveway every few meters is almost the end of your options.
How the world sometimes sees us as cyclists.
The denial is over, the mini pump will not be coming out again, you know it’s flat, your still a few km’s to home, it’s decision time. Fix it or fuck it, the rim that is, a tough decision, but for a mechanic it’s an easy one, run the rim, take the risk, and rebuild it with a new rim if you have to. Just remember while running those red lights while riding the rim, that you won’t be stopping too quick if there is any cars coming at you. But at night, when that rim starts to wear down to the spoke nipples, it does give the most beautiful showers of sparks as you slowly skid to a stop, definitely worth it in the long run. Or of course you can fix it, but then a few more problems come to light. But now I need to get back to the root of the problem, this was a sly way to take your mind off the racing for a moment, but it’s not going to work. Small update soon.
Keeping up with current news on the blog, is kind of like the riding with a slow leak on your bike. You know it’s there, you can feel that tire getting a little bit wobbly. Part of you is still in denial about what is going on, so constant looking down and hoping it is not happening is not going to help, but you still do it. You know you have to stop and fix it eventually, but you spin it out as long as you can. You head directly towards home, as short as possible route as you can find thinking that you can make it without having to empty the jersey and make a rubber picnic on the side of the road (the analogy is coming). Things start getting a bit interesting at this stage, the bike takes on a mind of it’s own, weaving uncontrollably across the road, giving you a ride like you have a skin full of booze (I read it in a book somewhere, not form personal experience, of course). At this stage you have had enough, time to give it the quick pump to get you home. Yeah, like that’s going to work, but you have been doing the calculations, for the last 15 mins, if I pump it full now, it will take me all the way home, and I can fix it later. Such a great concept, so out with the mini pump, so small that that it looks very cool when you pull it out when looking for cash for that caffeine fix. Yeah, it looks real cool sticking out the back of your jersey, nice and small, carbon, and ohh so cute. But we have a mission, a slow leak and it’s time to shut it down, and get home.
Just taking your mind even further away. What a load, god damn inlaws.
Off the bike, and on with the pump, now some seriously fast pumps of the pumps. A pencil inserted into a drinking straw would probably be more efficient at pumping than what you have been carrying around for the last few months. So a thousand or so pumps later, you are back on the road, even though you are covered in sweat, and you can not even feel the handle bars because you hands are numb still, your feeling pretty good about making it home. So things are looking good, your house is getting closer, you have this thing beat, but hang on, perhaps your calculations were not so good. As your tire seems to be going down a bit faster than before, and yes, a few more checks, a few more wobbles, and the odd stop to use the old thumb-o-meter just to make sure. And your suspicions were correct, the higher pressure that you just sweated to push in, has increased the escape of valuable air, just slightly. So a few more quick calculations, out with the mini pump (that’s if you didn’t already throw it away), a few thousand more pumps, and your off.
By now you have been feeling every bump, crack and stone on the road, thoughts of what shit roads you have to train on, and the denial is still there. Denial in the fact that you count your lucky stars that you don’t get a puncture every day you ride, so you are kind of enjoying the experience (flats-r-fun fantasies). About now it’s time to start riding with some serious weight transfer off the said problem. If the problem is at the back, leaning as far off the front of the bike is ok. Out of the saddle, in the drops, head over the front wheel, this is great for getting another 3 or 4 km at least. For a front wheel, the old lean back trick works a treat, holding on to the bars with the fingertips just barely touching the bars. Any weight on the wheel now is asking for problems, as anyone can tell you. But it’s worth a crack, as there is only few km’s to go, and still no need to fix it. It’s about now that you are thinking of pumping up the tire for the third time. But you still have one trick up your sleeve, the old ride on the grass trick. Even with a almost flat tire, there is that two of three km’s you can gain at least without destroying the rim. But that driveway every few meters is almost the end of your options.
How the world sometimes sees us as cyclists.
The denial is over, the mini pump will not be coming out again, you know it’s flat, your still a few km’s to home, it’s decision time. Fix it or fuck it, the rim that is, a tough decision, but for a mechanic it’s an easy one, run the rim, take the risk, and rebuild it with a new rim if you have to. Just remember while running those red lights while riding the rim, that you won’t be stopping too quick if there is any cars coming at you. But at night, when that rim starts to wear down to the spoke nipples, it does give the most beautiful showers of sparks as you slowly skid to a stop, definitely worth it in the long run. Or of course you can fix it, but then a few more problems come to light. But now I need to get back to the root of the problem, this was a sly way to take your mind off the racing for a moment, but it’s not going to work. Small update soon.
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