tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-153365072024-03-18T19:28:58.748-08:00Bicycles and IciclesA blog about riding bikes in AlaskaTimhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.comBlogger1179125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-15042057569272186642013-08-18T18:06:00.000-08:002013-08-18T18:07:24.873-08:00Beam Me Up<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Whenever I come across one of these relics, I think it should have a sticker that says, “My Other Bike is a DeLorean.” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /> Allsop dreamed up the suspension “beam” 20 years or so ago, in an era when the concept of suspension was so new that many people thought it would be cheaper and more efficient to “suspend the rider, not the bike.” Hell, I worked with an aerospace engineer in those days, and he knew I was a bike geek, so he once excitedly told me how he thought this was a brilliant concept, and he had ideas on how to do it. He thought it was the future of mountain biking.<br /><br />The problem was that such well-intentioned folks didn’t realize that suspension is about more than rider comfort. It’s also about control and performance at speed, and that means keeping the tires in contact with the ground. You can’t just have a bike bouncing all over the damned place, even if the rider is comfortably cushioned by a flexible carbon-fiber beam and a spring-loaded stem. <br /><br />But you have to respect Allsop’s commitment. I mean, look at that bike frame. It was as if someone said, “Seatposts? Bitch, please! Our idea is so damn good, you’ll never need one. We’re goin’ balls to the wall and building a bike that is 100 percent dependent on a $200 doo-dad that’ll float your ass in ‘Softride’ comfort, dude! Seatposts are SO ’80s. Fuck ’em!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This stuff was either going to be The Bomb, or it was simply going to bomb. We all know how that turned out. Allsop now manufacturers towing accessories, and bike racks for cars.</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-88607993388894994112013-08-06T14:34:00.000-08:002013-08-06T14:35:16.206-08:00Time to ride<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It has been all mountain bikes, all the time since I put away my road bike after the Fireweed, and anyone crazy enough to occasionally check this blog might recognize that my neglect is a sure sign of a good summer.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-size: x-small;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Heather just can't get enough of her bikes.</span></span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Who has time to blog when the weather's warm and the trails are dry? Hell, I haven't had much time to <i>think </i>of many blog topics, much less write them. Anchorage trails, Crescent Lake and Resurrection Pass have all been getting my attention, with Lost Lake and a couple more on my to-do list.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last weekend, friends and I were in Hope for the annual sufferfest known as the Soggy Bottom, which lured Moab's coolest fifth-grade teacher -- Pete Basinger -- back to Alaska for a visit. </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-small;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Pete goes hunting for some mayhem.</span></i></span></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I chatted with Pete after his sub-11-hour finish, when he looked relaxed and unmarred despite a hard crash. He chronicled the whole thing over on <i>his </i>blog, which is actually up to date. <a href="http://petebasinger.blogspot.com/2013/08/soggy-bottom-100-bike-race-in-alaska.html" target="_blank">Go check it out.</a></span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-59620871849115215362013-07-29T17:55:00.001-08:002013-07-30T15:39:23.608-08:00From Paris with love<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Just when this ol' blog was dying on the vine because we're having a killer summer and I've been too busy riding to screw around on my laptop, we have a new submission to the <a href="http://alaskabikeblog.blogspot.com/search?q=the+finger" target="_blank">Fabulous Finger Gallery</a>, and it comes from Oscar the Grouch, who was recently in "gay Pair-ee."<br /><br />Lest ye think this is another example of Americans misbehaving in a foreign country and giving the French one more reason to hate us, I remind you the photographer is a Spaniard. On the other hand, I think I know whose finger that is, and she could be stirring up trouble.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There's just something about vacations that bring this shit out of people. Hell, time in Paris even knocked some of the Grouch out of Oscar. He sent this photo with a note that said, "From Paris with love. Or something like that." </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I felt a little tear in my eye.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Right back atchya with a wink, Big Fella!</span><br />
<br />Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-3616118068482867082013-07-18T22:02:00.000-08:002013-07-19T08:53:40.769-08:0090 percent mental, half physical<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Now that a few days—and a couple of “recovery rides” have passed—the Fireweed 200 is starting to seem like a fuzzy, demented memory. My body feels normal again, and I’m riding my mountain bike on singletrack, which is why I got into this sport in the first place. Road riding? What’s that? </span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Heather and I re-enter the wind tunnel.</i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But I keep seeing this picture that my friend Julie shot during the race, and it brings things back.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /><a href="http://alaskabikeblog.blogspot.com/search?q=Heather" target="_blank">Heather</a> and I were rolling back onto the Richardson Highway after a break. We had about 150 miles behind us. The headwinds were beating us to a pulp. And there, in the mountains, was a huge blanket of fog draped over Thompson Pass (in the upper-right portion of this photo). That’s where we were going, and pretty much everything about that portion of ride was already a big bucket of suckage. That high, looming fog reminded us that things were going to get worse before they got better.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />Most of my epic rides have been in the mountains, where quitting isn’t an option. If you want the pain to end, you have to get your ass to the trailhead. But I’ve never really been sure what keeps a road rider going when the suffering gets bad and he could simply say, “This isn’t fun. This is stupid. Fuck it.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />People have told me that it’s all mental, and I guess it is. For months, I kept reminding myself that the Fireweed was going to hurt, and there would be times when I’d question the point of continuing. I knew that if I’d quit, the feeling of failure would have haunted me all winter. So I didn’t allow it to be an option. There was no doubt that we’d get to Valdez if we could just cowboy up and keep riding.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />It hurt, and we suffered in those headwinds. But in a weird way, sitting here in the comfort of this chair, it doesn’t seem like it was <i>that</i> bad.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br />But that could just be the wine talking because, as <a href="http://alaskabikeblog.blogspot.com/search?q=Leonard" target="_blank">Leonard</a> said this week, “That ride was a head-windy bitch.”</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-34425835700681372072013-07-15T20:55:00.000-08:002013-07-16T07:01:10.076-08:00Thanks<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-slSGY3m6rIQ/UeTQx0qb_AI/AAAAAAAAFcs/M0SN8mmwS1k/s1600/IMG_0269.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-slSGY3m6rIQ/UeTQx0qb_AI/AAAAAAAAFcs/M0SN8mmwS1k/s400/IMG_0269.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ken and Julie rock the SAG wagon.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Fireweed 200 ain't easy. Rough pavement and hard climbs beat up your body. Brutal headwinds punish your muscles <i>and</i> your morale. Huge, nasty, wheel-grabbing cracks in the asphalt never let you relax. But a good crew can keep you going with calories, electrolytes, painkillers and encouraging humor.<br /><br />This year's event is history, and I'm sure I'll have another blog post or two as I sort through the memories, but for now I'll just say thanks to the crew that helped Heather and I keep pedaling when the shit hit the fan. (And it was a big fan, that blew hard.)</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Ken is the guy who lives with the mixed blessing of being married to Heather. It's a mixed blessing because he's lucky to be married to her, but he also has to occasionally put up with her agreeing to do silly shit like this with me. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Julie is the kind person and tough athlete who happens to be one of our best friends. She didn't have to be there on Saturday. But she was, and I was very grateful.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Until a person has experienced endurance events from both the saddle of a bike and the seat of a support car, it's hard to fully appreciate the importance of a good crew, and how hard they work. They do selfless work, tolerate racers' mood swings, and put in long hours to help friends reach the finish line. They are indispensable.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Saturday was a damn hard day. These two are a big reason Heather and I got through the longest ride of our lives.</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-57719094371210537342013-07-11T23:02:00.001-08:002013-07-11T23:02:32.919-08:00On the road again<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_XW6LAIbp8/Ud-pH-MInHI/AAAAAAAAFcc/7PsgfGmHaSg/s1600/XZoaxIu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="248" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-o_XW6LAIbp8/Ud-pH-MInHI/AAAAAAAAFcc/7PsgfGmHaSg/s400/XZoaxIu.jpg" width="400" /></a></span></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Teamwork.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It's time to do this thing. Road bikes have been devouring the summer while my Fireweed partner Heather and I have prepared for the 200-mile event this Saturday. But the training rides are done and it's time to git down to bidness. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">One more long day in the saddle, which should be made easier with the great crew of her hubby Ken and our friend Julie, then it'll be all mountain bikes, all the time for the rest of the season. I might not see a 23c again until next April. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There are two things I expect in this ride: Good times, and bad times. And as my ultra-distance-freak friend <a href="http://alaskabikeblog.blogspot.com/search?q=Leonard" target="_blank">Leonard</a> has often pointed out, neither one will last. Good times come, and they go. Bad times come, and they go, too. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The best we can hope for is that Heather will be strong when I'm weak, I'll be strong when she's weak, and we'll both arrive in Valdez tired but safe. At the end of the day, it's all about the ride, and the cold beer after the finish. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">See you in Valdez, muthafuckas.
</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-55355977735160684092013-07-08T21:15:00.003-08:002013-07-09T12:27:17.800-08:00Chasing Trail<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Nothing I could write tonight would be more entertaining than this new video starring Anchorage's Kevin Murphy riding the shit out of the singletrack at Kincaid on a fat bike. Treat yourself to an awesome couple of minutes.</span><br />
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<center><object height="281" width="500"><param name='allowFullScreen' value='true' /><param name='allowScriptAccess' value='always' /><param name='movie' value='http://www.pinkbike.com/v/320877/l/' /><embed src='http://www.pinkbike.com/v/320877/l/' type='application/x-shockwave-flash' width='500' height='281' allowFullScreen='true' allowScriptAccess='always'></embed></object><br />
<a href="http://www.pinkbike.com/video/320877/">Chasing Trail | Alaska fat bike</a> on <a href="http://www.pinkbike.com/">Pinkbike</a></center>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-16212082952581779922013-07-01T20:12:00.000-08:002013-07-01T20:13:17.439-08:00Lessons from the road<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The final long training ride is done. Heather and I spent Saturday riding 162 miles to make sure we’re ready for the Fireweed 200. We’re there. H rode like a high-octane machine, and two days after a hard effort, I’m tired but feeling no pain.<br /><br />Now it’s time to taper. What better opportunity to share the lessons I’ve learned from this experience (so far)? </span><br />
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<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Long-distance riding is a great escape from reality. There’s a beautiful freedom in having nothing to do but ride and eat for hours at a time.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A person can get REALLY hungry two days after a really long ride.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">All bike shorts are not created equal.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There is such a thing as too much chamois cream.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Use a metric assload of chamois cream anyway.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Flats suck. (I already knew this. I just like repeating it.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The food in Hope, Alaska, is pretty good, but it tastes better when you ride there to get it.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It’s fun to drink gin and tonics in the bar car on the Alaska Railroad train from Seward to Anchorage. (I assumed this. I just liked confirming it.)</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Good riding partners are always important, but even more important after 100 miles. If you can end a marathon day with a friend who lapses into giddy laughter at the sheer insanity of it all, you’re doing it right.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’m doing it right.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It’s highly entertaining to watch the reaction of “normal” people when you meet them at a roadside rest area, a restaurant, etc., and they ask how far you’re riding ... and you tell them.</span></li>
<li><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I miss trail time, and plan to get dirty again very soon. I love bikes in all forms, but I’ll always be a mountain biker above all else.</span></li>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let's do this thing. See you in Valdez.</span><br />
Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-57497580948879952202013-06-28T14:42:00.002-08:002013-06-28T14:42:45.321-08:00Sunny summer fingers<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The Bike Monkee and Joe hang with da ladies at Devil's Pass cabin.</span></i></td></tr>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Tomorrow will be another long day on the bike for a pre-Fireweed training session, so I'm keeping today's blog update simple. Besides, we haven't had a new entry in the <a href="http://alaskabikeblog.blogspot.com/search?q=the+finger" target="_blank">FFG</a> in ... well, who knows how long it has been?</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Too freakin' long, that's how long. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you happen to be on the road between Anchorage and Hope on Saturday, and you see a couple of tired riders looking like they could really use some hamburgers, give us a wave. Whether you use your whole hand or just one finger is up to you.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Long live long rides.</span><br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Heather lets me know how she feels about this Fireweed 200 bullshit.</span></i></td></tr>
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<br />Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-2689788414671351252013-06-23T22:00:00.001-08:002013-06-23T22:55:33.435-08:00Miles to go before she sleeps<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">Flounder, you can't spend your whole life worrying about your mistakes! </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">You fucked up ... you trusted us!</span></span></i><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">—Otter, "Animal House" </span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork"><br /></span></span>
<br />
<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5TdnGdyYk5Y/UcfeB_OdJUI/AAAAAAAAFbI/GyMqemPHsT4/s1600/IMG_0228.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="293" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5TdnGdyYk5Y/UcfeB_OdJUI/AAAAAAAAFbI/GyMqemPHsT4/s400/IMG_0228.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>With 100 miles behind her, Heather finishes a climb outside Seward.</i></span></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">About a year and a half ago, my friend Heather fucked up. After drinking a lot of wine, she trusted me. When she woke up the next morning, I'm pretty sure she was filled with self-loathing.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">Because the previous night, she had agreed to ride the Fireweed 200 with me this year. <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fh2hYM9QQs4/UcffL60EaOI/AAAAAAAAFbY/Fq7Ogu8jHP0/s1600/heather.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Fh2hYM9QQs4/UcffL60EaOI/AAAAAAAAFbY/Fq7Ogu8jHP0/s200/heather.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>Heather realizes what she has done.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">In her entire life, she had never ridden 100 miles in a day. And I had spent years saying there is never a valid reason to ride more than 100 miles at a time. But in the dark recesses of my twisted mind, something wanted to ride 200.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">Correction: Something wanted to<i> have ridden</i> 200 miles in a day.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">Now we're three weeks out from this year's Fireweed. Heather has been following a structured training program since January. I've been following my usual "ride my ass off and see what happens" training program. Her husband, Ken, has surely been muttering unpleasant things about both of us under his breath, and regretting the fact he didn't step in and stop me as I talked her into this shit while he was stretched out on the floor six feet away. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">On Friday, Heather and I both took the day off and rode 122 miles to Seward. Now she tells me that we have to spend next Saturday riding 160 miles from Anchorage to Hope and back.</span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">Last night, after the wine was poured, a laptop was opened and we both became official entrants in the 200.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">And the weird part is, I think we're actually ready to do this thing.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span itemscope="" itemtype="http://schema.org/CreativeWork">Or at least I sure as shit hope we are. </span></span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-82775866500352355572013-06-18T14:00:00.000-08:002013-06-18T14:03:01.418-08:00Shaken, not stirred<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_1cpKBRmmrM/UcDXAFtv8zI/AAAAAAAAFao/sFCJi2rEVTQ/s1600/1010504_10151578382533472_1227987716_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="232" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-_1cpKBRmmrM/UcDXAFtv8zI/AAAAAAAAFao/sFCJi2rEVTQ/s400/1010504_10151578382533472_1227987716_n.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Saying goodbye with a foamy toast.</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">“The only way I’d drink beer up here is if it were dropped
from an airplane,” I told friends last Friday as we settled in for the
night at Devil’s Pass cabin on the Kenai Peninsula.<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: left; margin-right: 1em; text-align: left;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ta_MASNqnco/UcDXRJ1hc1I/AAAAAAAAFaw/t-d93SD_ghg/s1600/971634_10151578382438472_1822544885_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="137" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Ta_MASNqnco/UcDXRJ1hc1I/AAAAAAAAFaw/t-d93SD_ghg/s200/971634_10151578382438472_1822544885_n.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i>The first drop.<br />(This and top photo by Joe T.)</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The line got a laugh from people who had spent the
afternoon hiking and mountain biking about 10 miles up to the pass, but no one
took it seriously until a couple of hours later, when a small plane passed high overhead,
then banked and turned up the valley as it lost altitude. “Does anybody
want a cold beer?” I asked.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The only thing better than a bike trip in the backcountry is
a backcountry bike trip with an airdrop of food and beer. My friend Stacy had
arranged this one with a friend of hers who has a plane and welcomes excuses to
fly it. I had provided info on how to find the cabin, but was sworn to secrecy
until the plane arrived and Stacy began chucking bundles of foam and duct tape
out an open door.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VXYo5TcFPm0/UcDXnVWfuLI/AAAAAAAAFa4/N-ojJPAMwRM/s1600/1014796_292033947600300_785876709_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="174" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VXYo5TcFPm0/UcDXnVWfuLI/AAAAAAAAFa4/N-ojJPAMwRM/s320/1014796_292033947600300_785876709_o.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><i>The natives are thirsty. (Photo by Stacy S.)</i></span></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"></td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">They made drops on three passes, nailing perfect shots that
made it easy to retrieve the bundles – two six-packs of cold beer, and a box of
sandwiches and cookies.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">“Oh my god, this is awesome,” Emilie said as we laughed and
cut open the bundles. “Only in Alaska would you see something like this.”</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I suppose it could be done anywhere, but she had a point. Alaska
is full of private planes owned by the kind of people who think it's a cool idea to fly into the
mountains and chuck beer at thirsty mountain bikers.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">That's part of what makes this place great.</span></div>
Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-10329607609055522862013-06-12T06:36:00.000-08:002013-06-12T08:20:53.171-08:00Puttin’ down routes<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sw80-gK37oY/UbiG0yIBUwI/AAAAAAAAFaM/Ygsps5orZ4E/s1600/IMG_0098.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Sw80-gK37oY/UbiG0yIBUwI/AAAAAAAAFaM/Ygsps5orZ4E/s400/IMG_0098.jpg" width="400" /></a></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> </span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I like busy bike paths. I like them because I love to see
people getting exercise and using bikes as transportation. And I’ve written on
this blog about the fun of seeing other bike commuters on a regular basis,
wondering about their stories and missing them when they disappear, even if we’ve
never spoken a word to one another.</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gmo6zxp9qIk/UbiGjjfuCZI/AAAAAAAAFaI/c5UAhEktBHg/s1600/IMG_0106.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Gmo6zxp9qIk/UbiGjjfuCZI/AAAAAAAAFaI/c5UAhEktBHg/s200/IMG_0106.jpg" width="150" /></a></div>
<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But this year, I detoured from my usual route for a few
weeks during the spring thaw. I abandoned the popular Chester Creek trail,
which is heavily wooded and tends to stay icy longer than some other options. I
put together a series of paved paths and on-street bike lanes that makes for a
nice commute between my home in the university area and my office downtown. Few
other bike commuters seem to use any part of this route, but I've largely stuck with it.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Maybe it’s unpopular because it passes through Mountain
View, a part of town that some people call “the Hood.” One old co-worker used
to call it “Murder View.” That’s a bit harsh, but point taken: It’s not the
most desirable part of Anchorage. When I see someone else on a bicycle there,
it’s probably because it's his only option.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But for some reason, I like my funky new route. And I enjoy
having it to myself. No one in Mountain View has ever hassled me, and the Ship
Creek trail is a great path through woods, industrial zones, and over the
railroad tracks. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I’m more likely to see a moose or beaver than another bike
commuter, so I’m free to lose myself in a podcast without any responsibility
for smiling, waving or passing other riders. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A morning commute that’s devoid of social interaction. For a
guy who’s not a “morning person,” that’s a pretty sweet deal. </span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-76891441378662151132013-06-09T22:12:00.001-08:002013-06-09T22:26:12.438-08:00The kindness of strangers<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jjKmNOoM9dw/UbVt9byLBJI/AAAAAAAAFZ0/_br5OlPxF4I/s1600/IMG_0091.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jjKmNOoM9dw/UbVt9byLBJI/AAAAAAAAFZ0/_br5OlPxF4I/s400/IMG_0091.jpg" width="300" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">H exits the store while doing her best Blanche DuBois imitation.</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let's face it. After ibuprofen, Tums may be the most sought-after legal supplement among bicyclists. I've lost track of how many times friends have needed it to settle stomachs during races and long rides.<br /><br />My friend H needed some during Sunday's hot, 103-mile ride, so when we hit our turnaround point in the little seaside town of Hope, we stopped at a store on what passes for "Main Street." We figured the store would stock Tums, along with other commonly requested things like lip balm and Band-Aids.<br /><br />I still don't know if the store actually stocked the stuff for sale because, when H asked for them, the lady behind the counter simply dumped a few Tums tablets in a baggie and handed them over. No charge.<br /><br />Shit like that is why people love small towns. </span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-18040667991943814502013-06-03T21:57:00.000-08:002013-06-03T22:11:34.325-08:00Born Again<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AIAoqMowZYM/Ua2BYa9q20I/AAAAAAAAFZk/pAhPtYL87N4/s1600/IMG_1652.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="298" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AIAoqMowZYM/Ua2BYa9q20I/AAAAAAAAFZk/pAhPtYL87N4/s400/IMG_1652.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The resurrection.</span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">My old 2004 Specialized Epic served me well for thousands of miles. After I stripped it for parts to build my new 29er, it just didn’t look right to have the bare frame hanging from a hook in my garage. (This should come as no surprise to anyone who read my recent post about appreciating old gear.) <table cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="float: right; margin-left: 1em; text-align: right;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--jLPtbrVfuM/Ua2BMYRNUWI/AAAAAAAAFZc/Dt3EzaZIS3I/s1600/IMG_1647.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="165" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--jLPtbrVfuM/Ua2BMYRNUWI/AAAAAAAAFZc/Dt3EzaZIS3I/s200/IMG_1647.jpg" width="200" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i> A work in progress.</i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So when my son started talking about getting his first bike in years because he wants to ride with a co-worker and get in shape before leaving for the police academy this summer, ideas started brewing. After only a few weeks of rest, it was time for the Epic to come out of retirement. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The rear shock is in decent shape, and the Rock Shox fork is only two years old, so with a new set of pivots and bearings to put new life in the frame, there’s no reason this thing can’t put in a few more years on singletrack. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Old parts were brought out of boxes in the garage. New parts were purchased. Used stuff was bought from a friend. Finally, I started dinking around for a couple of evenings and managed to rebuild the rear suspension pivots. Next thing I knew, I’d go out to spend a few minutes bolting on a part or two, and a couple of hours would pass. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Before long, it started looking like a bicycle again. And then I was doing test rides on the street in front of my condo as I dialed in the shifting. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In a couple of days, my son will stop by to pick up his “new” bike, and I’ll say goodbye to my old one. I’ll sort of miss it when it’s gone. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But bikes exist to be ridden, not to collect dust in garages. Knowing this bike has a second life makes me feel good. And that’s Epic.</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-21272928999178715822013-05-28T14:17:00.001-08:002013-05-28T14:21:45.436-08:00Silver<!--[if gte mso 9]><xml>
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</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJXPbku8-4o/UaUs1M31gVI/AAAAAAAAFZQ/nb6e8UhuShA/s1600/invitation+SSC.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-VJXPbku8-4o/UaUs1M31gVI/AAAAAAAAFZQ/nb6e8UhuShA/s320/invitation+SSC.jpg" width="246" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A lot of people have worked hard in recent years to make
Anchorage a more bike-friendly city. And we may not be a great biking city just
yet but a lot of progress has been made, and the League of American Cyclists
has recognized that fact by presenting its silver level award to Anchorage.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">If you want to help celebrate the achievement, pedal on over
to Cuddy Family Midtown Park tomorrow afternoon at 5:30. The muni will serve
some snacks, some suits will speak, and you’ll probably have a chance to thank
some folks who have been working to make your daily commute a little easier. </span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Try to corner the mayor and tell him you want a gold award to be next, and that he should support pro-bicycle efforts. What's good for bikes is good for communities.</span></div>
Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-13344181376690633192013-05-23T14:12:00.000-08:002013-05-23T14:14:35.866-08:00Patina<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I think it was about the time my hair on my head fell out and my beard turned gray that I started appreciating things that are well-worn, but not worn out. Funny how that distinction suddenly became important. </span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qi4ABML_Cpg/UZ6UD5mLhbI/AAAAAAAAFY8/utNnjJKrq4s/s1600/photo(1).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-qi4ABML_Cpg/UZ6UD5mLhbI/AAAAAAAAFY8/utNnjJKrq4s/s200/photo(1).JPG" width="174" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">But I love old stuff that still works. I can be fiercely loyal to a good piece of gear, sometimes even using it past the point at which it should have been tossed in a trash bin. I’ve been accused of being cheap – and maybe I am – but I enjoy the patina of hard use. I also feel good about using stuff for a long time instead of being quick to dispose of it. Call me a greenie. I hate waste. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A couple of weeks ago, the zipper pulls finally snapped off the old neoprene shoe covers that I use in the fall and spring. I fixed one by attaching a zip-tie to pull the zipper up and down. The other zipper was so trashed that I resorted to operating it with pliers. I’ve been keeping a multi-tool at my office so I can take off my flippin’ shoe when I get to work. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">There’s something that’s just wrong about that. And something that’s just right.
</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-56381248560378458702013-05-16T10:33:00.003-08:002013-05-16T10:36:58.920-08:00Harden up and ride your chopper<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Here’s the thing about bike commuting, especially in Alaska:
Sometimes, the weather is far from perfect. And that’s OK. You can ride anyway.</span></div>
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</br></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Friday is Bike to Work Day, and the amazing people at
Bicycle Commuters of Anchorage are already giving pep talks and encouraging
riders not to give up just because the weather forecast looks cold and wet. We
should all do the same. If you know someone who is second-guessing his or her
plan to ride, give them The Speech. You know what it is.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Bike commuting looks cold when the weather sucks and you’re
looking out a window at someone else on a bicycle. Remind your friends and
co-workers that with good clothing and a healthy attitude, they’ll be plenty
warm enough to enjoy the fun of being part of the crowd in bike lanes and bike
paths, and stopping at Bike to Work Day stations for coffee and snacks.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Plus, as BCA already pointed out in its Facebook pep talk,
anyone who can toughen up a little and ride on wet days will find the perfect
days that much sweeter.</span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The revolution will not be motorized. Get on your bikes and
ride.</span></div>
Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-15734127803803015952013-05-13T09:42:00.000-08:002013-05-13T09:46:47.936-08:00Campy Keys<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Few names in the world of cycling have the history and cache
of Campagnolo. The company’s high-end bicycle components have been a
huge part of the sport for decades, and have been ridden by the likes of Coppi, Merckx, LeMond and Indurain.</span><br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">They haven't been ridden by the likes of me, however, because I’ve
never been able to afford fancy Italian bling.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wwuHxZ6ntPQ/UZEjxGYuqTI/AAAAAAAAFYs/1WIUKApPrqQ/s1600/photo%25284%2529.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="183" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wwuHxZ6ntPQ/UZEjxGYuqTI/AAAAAAAAFYs/1WIUKApPrqQ/s200/photo%25284%2529.JPG" width="200" /></a></div>
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The chance to own a Campy doodad was one of the reasons I was eager to get</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> my hands on one
of these <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/120087460/vintage-campagnolo-bicycle-toeclip" target="_blank">cool key rings</a> made from recycled toe clips by Maya Beck and her husband in
Colorado. Other reasons include the fact that I’m
old enough to to feel a little nostalgic for the days of metal toe clips, I like stuff made from
old bike parts and – this is the most important – these things just look really cool.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Maya told me the idea came from the remnant of a broken Campy clip that her husband carried on a keychain for years. Last year, they found a supply of old toe clips on eBay, so they snatched them up and started making these little babies by cutting them down and polishing the edges.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Maya said the keychains are made from vintage toe clips for small feet, so they're no longer a huge seller in the
cycling industry. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">"We buy them from someone that (I'm guessing) got them
on closeout," she wrote in an email. "So they are new in the package when we buy them, but we give
them a second life. If we didn't buy them, I'm sure they would be
sitting in a warehouse collecting dust for many years to come."</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">A cool new product that makes bike riders smile and makes use of obsolete parts. What's not to like about that? Scoot on over to Mara's <a href="http://www.etsy.com/listing/120087460/vintage-campagnolo-bicycle-toeclip" target="_blank">Etsy site</a> and snatch up a couple.</span></div>
Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-15144227117824442992013-05-08T07:13:00.002-08:002013-05-08T12:55:53.903-08:00Make mine extra spicy<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Every time I get near the end of a new bike build, I go through a period of feeling like I need to wrap up a dozen final details. Trim this, tighten that, attach the other thing. But this is how I know when the bike is really done: The bear spray goes on.</span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QRN1Z5pHltw/UYpriwAzwgI/AAAAAAAAFW8/9oUepoeuQzo/s1600/photo(3).jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QRN1Z5pHltw/UYpriwAzwgI/AAAAAAAAFW8/9oUepoeuQzo/s320/photo(3).jpg" width="239" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">This is Alaska. We have bears damn near everywhere, and they hate surprises. Mountain bikers move fast, and often surprise the hell out of bears. Big bears. Brown bears. Or, as they’re called in many places, grizzlies. Surprise one at close range, and you could find yourself in the house of pain.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For years, my strategy has been to carry pepper spray in a bottle cage on my bike frame. For one thing, it’s not attached to my body, and I like the</span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o2RT1R_A_hE/UYpszc9SwLI/AAAAAAAAFXI/seq0vH157w0/s1600/newsminerpoll.tiff" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-o2RT1R_A_hE/UYpszc9SwLI/AAAAAAAAFXI/seq0vH157w0/s320/newsminerpoll.tiff" width="190" /></a></span></div>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> thought of separating from it during a crash that could trigger an accidental release. I also like the idea of a non-lethal deterrent, because bears are cool and shouldn't have to die just because I like speeding through their living rooms.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Best of all, this system allows me to get to the pepper spray quickly, which is vital. When you need this shit, you need it in a freakin’ hurry and a bear isn’t going to wait while you take off your Camelbak and dig out your defense.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Unfortunately, not all of my fellow Alaskans feel this is important. This is gun country, and many folks think the best protection against bear attacks is a big firearm. As this (totally unscientific) poll in the <i>Fairbanks Daily News-Miner</i> indicates, about 50 percent of the newspaper’s online readers put their trust in guns, while less than 15 percent carry pepper spray.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The real statistics, however, tell a different story. In their paper “Efficacy of Firearms for Bear Deterrence in Alaska,” noted bear biologists Tom Smith and Stephen Herrero explained that in an exhaustive study of attacks, “firearm bearers suffered the same injury rates in close encounters with bears whether they used their firearms or not,” and that “bear spray [has] a better success rate under a variety of situations ... than firearms.”</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> You may think you’re a badass with a gun, but unless you are highly trained, have experience staying calm in high-stress emergency situations, and practice regularly to maintain shooting proficiency, you’re kidding yourself. When a bear is charging you at high speed and you’re about to shit a brick, you’re unlikely to stop it with a bullet.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Hitting it with a broad blast of nasty pepper spray from a can that resembles a small fire extinguisher is far easier. And it's more effective. The numbers don’t lie. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Another bear season is here. Be ready. Be safe.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><br /></span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-4568114139193208722013-05-06T11:45:00.000-08:002013-05-06T11:58:43.692-08:00Joining the Cult of 29<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m0pKrX5Ve1Q/UYgGHyf9ehI/AAAAAAAAFWo/k_pwLPSv4Vg/s1600/bike.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="300" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m0pKrX5Ve1Q/UYgGHyf9ehI/AAAAAAAAFWo/k_pwLPSv4Vg/s320/bike.jpg" width="320" /></a></div>
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The beast is unleashed. And damn, it's sweet. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Nothing else feels quite like riding a new bike and knowing there’s a summer of singletrack ahead.
So here is the unveiling: Pivot Mach 429 (2012 frame) with a Fox 32 Float CTD fork with 120 mm of travel. Salsa carbon handlebar; Race Face Deus crankset; Shimano XT derailleurs; GripShift shifters; Cane Creek headset; Thomson seapost (with a Thomson stem to come after I perfect the fit); WTB saddle; and Avid BB7 brakes. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The wheels are handbuilt -- with thanks to Leonardo -- using Stan’s Archer EX rims around Hadley hubs with DT Swiss spokes and anodized red nipples, and finished off with tubeless Schwalbe Rocket Ron tires. </span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"> It’s official, folks. I drank the Kool-Aid. Maybe even gulped it a little bit.
I ride a 29er. </span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-13602078480683085752013-04-29T09:06:00.001-08:002013-04-29T09:08:17.566-08:00Let the good times roll<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<![endif]--><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eVLnU7QBbQ/UX6oXLJOtMI/AAAAAAAAFWI/wnQKFkWKNEw/s1600/photo(3).JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-8eVLnU7QBbQ/UX6oXLJOtMI/AAAAAAAAFWI/wnQKFkWKNEw/s320/photo(3).JPG" width="239" /></a></div>
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<br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The infection that began in the desert this January is about
to peak with a high fever in May. The new 29er is coming together, and it’s
going to be the best mountain bike I’ve ever owned.</span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">The wheels were born on my dining-room table yesterday
afternoon after a two-hour ride with Leonard, who taught me how to lace them up
and showed me how to fine-tune them. One big, sloppy mess later, I had two
complete and wonderfully light wheels with tubeless tires mounted in the
garage.</span></div>
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</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Let the sun shine and let the dirt dry. It’s going to be a
summer of sweet rides.</span></div>
Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-39693798983457877522013-04-23T19:11:00.000-08:002013-04-23T19:11:12.865-08:00Stroke this<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Last week I cracked an old filling in one of my molars. The dentist was happy to confirm this on Friday, but he couldn't be bothered to fix it until this morning.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">It wasn't the four days of chewing on the left side of my mouth that I minded so much. It was more the pain of having 24-degree air flow over the damaged tooth whenever I rode a bike. While pedaling to work on Monday, I tried to breathe out of the left side of my mouth to divert air from the sensitive right side.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I think that at least once, someone in a passing car must have said, "Oh, honey. Look at that poor man on the bike. I think he's recovering from a stroke."</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Yeah. I ride with style. </span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-14038542703119639632013-04-21T17:46:00.003-08:002013-04-22T08:45:39.778-08:00Spring it<div style="text-align: center;">
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I was born one American spring<br />
When love didn't matter and the birds didn't sing<br />
Rolled from my cradle and picked up my drum<br />
Crawled to the highway and stuck out my thumb</span></i></div>
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<b><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">—Robert Hunter</span></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ar0a7goOa1U/UXSU3dDNJxI/AAAAAAAAFVo/JOnni2M9PIk/s1600/spring.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-ar0a7goOa1U/UXSU3dDNJxI/AAAAAAAAFVo/JOnni2M9PIk/s400/spring.jpg" width="300" /></a></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Fat-bikers are living on borrowed time in Alaska. Every week, more stumps appear beside the trail. Every day, more slush forms on the surface. Every ride on my Fatback feels like it might be the last for a while.<br /><br />Fortunately, the road bike is waiting. And there's a new frame that is sure to make me smile once it's built up and the singletrack dries out. I'm looking forward to summer and dirt-stained legs.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">For now, I'm just happy to have a bike that makes me mourn the loss of winter.</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-19418711164139438392013-04-15T22:47:00.001-08:002013-04-16T07:26:52.419-08:00Escape<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">We ride bicycles for a variety of reasons. And for those of us who own several bikes, many of those reasons are somewhat hedonistic and selfish. We ride because it's fun, relaxing, a rush, good exercise, or whatever.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On days like this, assigning a higher purpose to a bike ride can seem a little silly. But I don't care. Tonight's ride helped me keep it together. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">I have a sister, brother-in-law and niece who were near the finish line of the Boston Marathon when the bombs went off. If not for a minor injury that slowed her pace, my sister's time goal would have put her at the finish line at just the wrong time. After a few scary minutes, my family was fortunate enough to confirm that our loved ones were safe.<br /><br />Others weren't so lucky. I read the news stories all day. I saw the photos. At least one of them will stay with me for a very long time. I wanted to forget it, at least for a few hours.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">So tonight, I went into the woods with a close friend, and I rode a bike. I started to feel like I could breathe again. Then I drank some wine before the day's events started to creep back in. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">On a night like this, a ride in the woods is priceless. </span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-15336507.post-45975692823112540792013-04-11T09:14:00.000-08:002013-04-11T10:19:10.028-08:00Billy K's 2K<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Axlx7pY8_XE/UWbutq32gnI/AAAAAAAAFVU/3t_GWxQBdAE/s1600/905717_10151577275265406_555610334_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Axlx7pY8_XE/UWbutq32gnI/AAAAAAAAFVU/3t_GWxQBdAE/s400/905717_10151577275265406_555610334_o.jpg" width="400" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Billy K at the end of the line.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;">(Photos via Arctic Cycles' Facebook page)</span> </span></i></td></tr>
</tbody></table>
<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zR59TM0QeUs/UWbueN8MwuI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/6_-klklAAhQ/s1600/882606_10151567037315406_116490125_o.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="150" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-zR59TM0QeUs/UWbueN8MwuI/AAAAAAAAFVQ/6_-klklAAhQ/s200/882606_10151567037315406_116490125_o.jpg" width="200" /></a><span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">In an epic achievement that will likely go unnoticed outside the niche community of Alaska fat-bikers, Anchorage homeboy Billy Koitzsch has completed a 2,000 mile winter bike ride that has never been done before.<br /><br />First, Billy rode the Iditarod Trail to Nome. That alone would have put him in the tiny, elite group of riders who have completed that trip, but Billy then rode out of town and headed to Fairbanks, where he arrived about 40 days after his trip began.<br /><br />And just in case you're tempted to think he was on a leisurely winter vacation, it should also be noted that he arrived in Fairbanks 40 pounds lighter than when he left home.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial,Helvetica,sans-serif;">Billy, we are in awe. Eat a big hamburger, drink a big beer and enjoy a nice, warm bed for a couple of days.</span>Timhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13230350513417318151noreply@blogger.com4