Dave’s Good Stuff

You know what would be teh coolness? A bike database that would allow you to find a bike based on very specific criteria. Say, for example, I was looking for a new commuter, and I wanted it to be based around a roady frame, with drop handle bars, mechanical disc brakes (specifically, Avid BB-7 Roads), have a triple crank, and have braze ons for a rear rack with front rack points optional.

This database, perhaps hosted at something like bikedb.com (which currently resolves to an “under construction” page - seriously, uc pages are stupid), or bikedatabase.com, or meatyfetus.com, would have to be limited to stock bikes from major manufacturers, given the crazy variety of custom jobs available.

You could search for parts individually, or built out frames. You could limit to a price range if you wanted, or brands, or online retailers. It would be seriously cool, and be a fantastic tool in searching for that next bike.

Maybe it would be hosted at velodb.com. Maybe if it were, it wouldn’t currently be serving a “500 Servlet Exception” when queried.

I’ve been noticed, and the gauntlet thrown.

As I commented on his post, competition is the whetstone on which we hone ourselves. I have absolutely no doubt that we’ll both meet our goals. The motivation of friendly competition will only make it easier and more fun. In the end, he’s right. The competition is really with ourselves, but it helps to have someone out there striving just as hard, even if the root motivation is different.

Now there are at least three of us out there watching each other closely. Randy has left me behind on bikejournal.com, with a 150 mile spread. I may not be able to catch up with him, but I can certainly keep trying!

Anyone else?

The 2008 Lone Star Century route is out, and I’ve converted it over on MapMyRide.com. This route covers a lot of familiar ground, plus quite a few miles I’ve never set rubber to. If previous years are any indication, I have no doubt whatsoever that this route will be phenomenal, the SAGs fantastic, and the lunch incredible. There’s still time to sign up if you’re in the mood to spend 8 or so hours on your bike on Sunday.

Map behind the cut

She teased me this morning until I was almost there, and then finally, when there was just a little bit left to go, she let me have it.

I woke to damp pavement and the tiniest spritzing of rain, which actually stung on my arms and face due to a brutal headwind from the south. I made it all the way to College and Lamar before she finally sent the rain down with everything she had. I was soaked in less than a 10th of a mile.

What was intended to be a recovery ride after last nights hammerfest on the long way home, turned into a soggy fight just to keep going forward against the wind.

It was the same wind I had last night, but it was playing on my team then. It hindered me a bit as I rode east or west, but when I turned north, it was a boon I simply couldn’t ignore. Even going up the hills between 83rd and 67th on Lackman were uncharacteristically fast. Not that it was my phenomenal athleticism, or any other extraordinary trait on my part, but I easily overtook the biker on the sidewalk as she fought the same hill I was cruising. She was huffing and puffing in a high gear up the hill from 79th to Midland Dr., and in a much lower gear I passed her easily with enough breath to say “Good day!”

However, by the time I got to 67th I was hella winded. The leg buster between 79th and 67th never fails to deliver. I turned east, and the crosswind laughed mockingly at me as it tried to throw me sideways. It was a blessing in disguise, however, and was enough to blow the sweat off my forehead and out of my eyes. They’d been burning since 79th. I really need a bandanna or something.

Aside from the huffing and puffing girl on Lackman, I saw plenty of other people on bikes out. The vast majority of them were on sidewalks, so there wasn’t much opportunity for interaction. Except for one. Only the second time since I started commuting by bike, someone pulled out in front of me without looking. This time, however, it was a teenage boy on a Walmart Mountain bike. He was on the sidewalk, and without even looking, darted out right in front of me. I didn’t have to brake or anything, but I did say something along the lines of “Easy there, big guy, watch where you’re going… I could have been a car.” I wasn’t annoyed, but I wasn’t kidding either. What a mess of tangled spokes and cogs we would have made.

That was yesterday. This morning I was a lone two wheeler on the roads. And right now, as I write, the sun is blazing, burning off the damp with wisps of smoke-like steam off the pavement. Mother nature had her way with me, and is having her cigarette now.

Gotta love Midwest weather.

Last night we won 4 of 6 rounds. That’s pretty good, and far better than winning 2 of 6 rounds like last week. However, while I had a perfect night (5 out of 5 games - can I get a “Hell yeah!”), everyone else on the team got only 1 game out of five. That makes for 9 games out of 25, giving the other team 16 games, nearly twice what we got. However, we still won over half the rounds. Odd.

This can be explained by two things…

1. We got 4 points a round in handicap. Take the handicap out and we still won 3 of 6 games, so the handicap only accounts for one round by itself.
2. When my teammates did lose, they lost by a close margin, with 5, 6 and 7 points to the opponents 10. This accounts for some games, but there were some 10-1 and 10-2 games as well. On the other hand, when we won, we won well, keeping the opponents to 10-2 through 10-5.

Still, even understanding the math, it’s just weird. That makes for two weird nights in a row. Two nights that really felt like we were going to come up very short, and in fact, came out the winners.

Two things of note from my games last night…
I beat a guy named TJ with a difficult run-out. TJ is a good friend of mine. Don’t get me wrong. But he’s an arguably better player, and likes to talk a lot of (friendly good-natured) sh*t about it. My run-out was not a gimme, and it felt really good to stick it to him like that (in a friendly good-natured way, of course).

My last game was against TJ’s brother, Kyle. It turned into a battle of safeties towards the end. I was definitely in his head, as he had a tough time with impossibly (to me, at least) easy shots. Then he pulled out what is probably the luckiest shot I’ve seen in 10 years of playing. I’ll have a diagram coming, but for now…

I played a safe which left the cue ball and my last object ball at one end of the table, his last object ball at the other end of the table, and the 8 ball right in between. He attempted to hit his object ball by banking the cue ball off the side rail near the side pocket. Instead, he hit the far corner of the side pocket, which deflected the cue ball into the near corner of the same side pocket, then across the table to the near corner of the other side pocket, which deflected the cue ball straight at his object ball with just enough speed to send it to the rail, and leave me hooked behind the 8.

I didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or rage. Instead, I tried a massé, which failed, giving him ball in hand and an easy out. Fortunately, he choked the out and I went on to win… after a few more safeties, of course.

The rest of my team rested momentarily on islands of joy amidst a sea of frustration. They just couldn’t pull it together, unfortunately. I can only imagine the beat-down we would have delivered had they been even just a little bit more on top of their game. As it was, they did enough, and the night was a success.

And by “fantastic” I mean fast. I averaged 17.61mph by the time I rolled into the driveway. That’s pretty good for a 45-50lbs commuter with 2.1″ city slicks. Or rather, that’s pretty good for a 45-50lbs commuter with 2.1″ city slicks ridden by *me*. Especially when you factor in the average HR of 176bpm and a max of 192.

I was a little beat when I got home. I did hammer it nearly the whole way, after all, but I wasn’t too bad. A shower, some brats with chips and cottage cheese, and I was ready for pool.

First thing’s first, though. We stopped by the Trek store to pick up some new cleats. I was tiring of the constant squeaking and squawking my shoes were throwing at me every revolution, and I hoped that new cleats would fix it. Turns out, if this morning’s ride is any indication, that it worked like a champ. Most. Excellent.

However, while at the Trek store I got a gander at the ‘08 Portland. Um. Pretty. Too pretty. Maybe pretty enough to be post-Triple-Bypass-present-for-myself pretty. It’d need full cover fenders, and possibly a carbon seat post at some point, but aside from that, it’s just about perfect as it is.

… barely. Last night at the Clarette Club in Shawnee, my Tuesday night pool team Deep Pockets, through judicious application of luck, managed to score 4 rounds of 5. The round we didn’t take was… best left forgotten. Two 0-10 games, one of which was an 8 ball snap, made it a nearly impossible round to take. The whole night felt off, honestly, and when we got to the end, it was with some surprise that we realized the outcome.

Mike sat out, letting the GF step in and get on the books for the session. He’d jumped up to a 9, so it also allowed us to give up one less point in the handicap scheme. Turns out one point wouldn’t have made a difference, but it’s a nice option to have.

Chris had 2 wins with 26/40 points.
Linda had 2 wins 27/40 points.
GF had 3 wins 37/40 points.
I had 3 wins 37/40 points.

Chris should have had at least one more win, and I should have had one less. He’s been having a hard time adjusting to the tables. They’re a lot faster, and moving to a brand new environment can affect a player a lot more than most realize. He’ll find his stroke. Until then, he just needs to keep playing. I’m not immune, either. I see it in him b/c I see it in me. I really only won two of my games. The third game was given to me. Down to the 8, my opponent rattled an easy out. No one really likes to win like that, but he choked where I didn’t, so if you look at it that way, I guess I deserved it. I sucked less, in other words.

As a team, we’re not doing too badly. The first night was rough, apparently. I wasn’t there, but we were swept 0-5. No fun, that. Since then, we’ve pulled it back together, taking 4 rounds of 5 for the last three nights running.

It’s amazing how truly adaptable we are. You know, as animals.

55°F three months ago in the depths of February would have been a dream. It would have been cause for mass migrations of two-wheeled travelers to the open roads. There would have been rejoicing. Puppies and kitties everywhere would have gotten treats.

This morning, it was just chilly.

I hammered it all the way in so that I could get back where it’s warm as quickly as possible. Even so, with the headwind, I only broke a 16.2 average speed.

With no inspiration to write this morning, I set about my normal task of catching up on my daily blogs. There are the cycling blogs, the mockery blogs, the security blogs, and the comics. I came across this in my perusals, and remembered a near encounter I had (almost had?) this morning.

It was a very slow ride in, on account of having slightly too much fun yesterday for Memorial Day… at least up until the very last minute, but we’ll get to that later. As I was approaching 91st and Lowell, I noticed another commuter heading north on Lowell. He blew right through the stop sign, with cars entering the intersection from all 5 directions. He didn’t slow for the sign, and he made no signals that I could see. He just rode through as if neither the intersection nor the cars were there.

I briefly considered chasing him down, as Joe started to do, but came to the same conclusion. Going out of my way like that just wasn’t in the cards this morning.

So as he sped off heading north, surely to run more stop signs, and disregard more stop lights, scofflaw that he is, I turned south and made my way, slowly but surely, to work.

Part of the reason for the slow ride is because I’m sad. When the GF moved in, she brought her cat with her. A rag doll that looks like a little white tiger, he really is a great cat. I’ve really grown attached to him. He’s actually a dog in a cat body, which is why I like him. The best of both species, he is very affectionate and loves people, and has the agility and vocal chords of a cat. He sheds like no other animal I’ve ever known, but he’s gorgeous.

But… he pees. He uses his litter box, certainly, but he also uses the couch. And he used to use the bed before the bedroom door was kept closed. And who knows what else. The GF spent a great deal of money on a Cat Genie, hoping to make her life easier, and that a change in litter box might snap him out of it. She was also hoping the move would snap him out of it. “Stranger things,” yes? Not so much. I’m no help, b/c I’ve never had a cat before.

Last night, right before we turned in, the GF found more urine on her couch in the basement. She’d covered it in plastic, so the couch was very protected, but that was the last straw, and as surprisingly sad as it makes me, we have to find him another home. But I’ll miss the little guy, in spite of myself. He doesn’t pee a *lot* outside of the litter box, but it’s too much for us, and we don’t know how to make him stop.

… again. So it looks like I won’t be getting out for a long ride today. It’s rollers again in front of the television.