Team Spin Mafia Cycling

Old Man Winter (not a post about Paul)

2012-01-14T11:10:00.000-08:00

Steve Martin's character from The Jerk, Navin R. Johnson, opens the film by saying, "I was born a poor, black child." Well, I think I was born a hungry, Mexican child, because after every single Spin Mafia ride, all I can think about is eating a giant burrito. Okay, so maybe I was born a skinny fat child...or something like that. Whichever works best for you.

It was in the 20's this morning at 7:15am when Chris Jones and I got on the bikes and started riding over to The Lot. Chris had done a threshold test on a Computrainer the day before, so I was looking forward to him being a little tired from that. He would eventually let me down on that count... again... and again... and again.

At first, I would say it was surprising to find around 15 people crazy enough to come out to the start of the ride, but then again, we ARE The Spin Mafia... we eat glass for breakfast, nails for lunch, and our young for dinner. The downside to that, of course, comes after our morning coffee, but hey, HTFU, right?

After the first 7 miles or so, my hands were almost completely numb. Our paceline was rotating nicely, but I was beginning to worry that if it got any worse, I'd have to retire to a solo ride. Riding in a pack with no dexterity in your hands is hazardous to everyone's health, and I didn't want to be responsible for causing a wreck and hurting Jimmay's pretty new Felt. Get a scratch on that thing already! Luckily, after I complained about the physical pain my hand was in to Joe, it miraculously started feeling better... turns out the purse I was carrying was the problem.

The ride continued pretty much as usual, and Chris and I wrapped it all up with around 66 miles and according to my newly acquired Garmin, around 3000 calories. I've never been one to really think about calories, but it's pretty awesome to know how many calories I should crush...err... replace over the next few hours.

Thanks for the ride everyone, now for a few quick notes:

1. A PSA... watch riding 2 abreast on roads where cars can't pass when doing so, and stop at the stop signs... especially the ones with cops sitting nearby

2. Katie... knee warmers? Really? I probably had a spare set of tights in that purse I mentioned that you could've used... just ask next time!

3. As long as I'm referencing The Jerk, here are the 5 funniest movies ever as a topic for debate: 1. The Jerk 2. What About Bob? 3. The Cable Guy 4. Wedding Crashers 5. The Hangover

I'll be your huckleberry

2012-01-01T17:02:00.000-08:00

Tom Petty once sang that, "the waiting is the hardest part." Most people might think he was singing about a girl or something lame like that, but actually, that song is about being a cyclist who comes down with an illness during New Year's weekend when the weather is unseasonably warm and all he can do is wait until he is well enough to ride.

That's a true story.

I woke up Christmas morning with a cold. No big deal, I'll just keep on doing what I do. A week later, I noticed that said cold had now moved south into my chest. I finished up a 2.5 hour ride on Friday out by the battlefields and upon cooling down, launched into a coughing fit reminiscent of Val Kilmer in his portrayal of Doc Holliday in the magnificent work of cinematic prowess, Tombstone. I limped home, and for the rest of the day, I looked like Ratso Rizzo from Midnight Cowboy, wasting away in the loving arms of Jon Voigt while this song played in the background:

I'm not here to feel sorry for myself though, or to try and make you feel sorry for me. I just know that you've all been in this position before, so you can all relate, and perhaps you can also relate to how I spent my days off the bike while you were all out riding and enjoying the weather.

We all practice some form of neglect so that we can spend hours on our bikes. Whether it's household maintenance, your day job, or basic hygiene (you thought I was going to make a Chris Harvie joke there, right? Well, I've matured), we all put certain things off for "just one more week." Well, when I can't get on my bike, a funny thing happens... I remember all these things, and I have to DO THEM. This, of course, drives my wife crazy. And while I know I should be resting, I look at it like I AM resting because I'm not on my bike. She does not agree. The thing is, if I don't stay busy, I will sit around and sulk about what I COULD be doing (riding). I'll experience massive nervous breakdowns, complete with sobbing uncontrollably, eating chocolates while watching Lifetime movies, and shadow boxing in the mirror wearing just my tighty-whities until I REALLY lose it and start watching Danny Glover movies as if they were actually any good. LUDICROUS!!!

My point is this: If you are sick and you want to get back on your bike ASAP, you HAVE TO CHILL!!! This means no more painting the trim, no more trimming the shrubs, no more unclogging the drain, and no more fixing the back door.

That's what SHE said.

I miss you guys, and clearly I've been watching too much TV and movies.

Return Of The Son of Christmas Eve Eve

2011-12-23T16:38:00.000-08:00

Christmas Eve Eve always sounds like some kind of sequel to a horror movie called Christmas Eve, so I took it a step or two further with that title. It means nothing, but it might be a cool name for a band or something, or at least the sequel to a B movie starring Corey Feldman.

Anyway, this Christmas Eve Eve ("You better not pout, you better not...DIE!!!"... Man, this movie is practically writing itself!) I headed over to Joe's to meet him and Oliver for a 70 mile ride on a mutated version of the Saturday ride course. We headed out and picked up Pete on our way to The Lot, and after meeting up with Tony there, we would eventually collect John Payne, Ed Baumgartner, and Rob Cook along the way. My training plan called for a 3-4 hour endurance ride today. I knew riding with these guys would probably be a little harder than what was prescribed, but how could I resist Joe's sultry Barry White voice in my head saying, "Go hard or go home?" You have to go into riding with Joe, as well as the rest of this crew, like you would go into a night of drinking heavily: Just try to have fun, try not to vomit, and don't go to sleep with Bo Derek, but wake up with Bo Diddley. Okay, that last one is not really a concern for this ride, but on the Sunday ride with Paul where the MILFs are aplenty... well... just be careful out there, that's all.

If there was ever a strong, steady group ride, this was it. We had a smooth rotation going in the paceline as we stormed through the rain dampened and earthworm infested roads of Moseley on an unseasonably warm (mid-50's at the start) December morning. Oliver's calves glistened like the drumsticks of a rotisserie chicken as he helped keep the pace high, Joe and Tony tried to remember the lyrics to Dominick The Italian Christmas Donkey as they pulled through, and I tried to avoid blowing snot all over the shoulders of my jersey while attempting the always challenging snot rocket (fail).

Sidenote: I have never known anyone as proficient at the snot rocket as Jon Martinez. For one, the guy must have a runny nose year round, because even on the hottest day of the year, he's out there shooting snot from his nose like a sniper. He never misses, he never hits the guy behind him, and he could dot the "i" on a speed limit sign from 50 paces, easily.

As we rolled along, Rob, Pete, John, and Ed would each peel off at one point or another, leaving Oliver, Joe, Tony, and me taking short pulls at the front to finish the ride. A 4-man paceline when you have fifty or so hard miles in your legs does not provide the very thing you need: recovery. We didn't pay attention to that though. We were tired, we were sore, we wanted to stop, but we were cooking, and when you're cooking, you don't stop. As Joe put it, [our] legs were toast, but they weren't quite burnt toast. All I could think was, "mmmmm....toast"

We cruised along, past Mark Connoly doing one-legged drills on Duval Rd., and looking like a dog cocking his leg to pee from a bike as we rolled on and through Brandermill. Tony broke off at The Lot and as Oliver, Joe, and I cooled down towards the end of the ride, we were in full agreement that this was a GREAT ride. It was hard, it was fast, it was a beautiful day with some bad ass mofos on bikes, and most importantly, it was over.

Thanks to everyone for an awesome ride.

Lots of earthworms were harmed in the making of this blog. I'll write that part into the script of Christmas Eve Eve. The part of Joe will be played by Lou Ferrigno. I smell an Oscar!!!

Gym People Redux

2011-12-20T05:33:00.001-08:00

I had absolutely no intention of revisiting the subject of gym people, but after the last two visits to the gym, I could no longer contain myself. I have witnessed all of these species within the last 2 trips to the gym, so in other words, I am only working with a small sample size, and I still manage to pull out the cream of the crop.

You're So Vain. You probably think this blog is about you.

There is a small group of guys at my gym. When I say, "small" I am not only referring to the overall group size, or to their individual statures, but to their characters as human beings. They come into the yoga studio where I go to stretch after working out, and they do this because it has gigantic mirrors. They wear wife beaters and they gel their hair up into rock solid ski slopes on top of their heads. Then they proceed to do a few sets of sit ups broken up by pulling their shirts up and admiring their abs in the mirror. Right out there in public. Have you no shame? At least do this in the privacy of your own bathroom like me, where you can have the freedom to do a full on pose-off in your underwear like you are competing for Mr. Universe. Err...uhh... I mean, like a guy I know... wait, that sounds even worse. Anyway, the worst part about these guys is not the Ab-a-palooza (not to be confused with the ABBA-palooza, which is actually quite fabulous), but it's the fact that they talk the entire time they are in there and they giggle like school girls. And what's worse is that they aren't speaking English, so I can't even tell what they are saying. And as we all know, when you're in a group of people who are not speaking your language, they are definitely making fun of YOU. Screw those guys.

The Throwback

We all love a little nostalgia. Whether it's the 70's Saturday on your local radio station, or the 80's movie marathon on VH1, we enjoy looking back at the stuff we used to think was cool and remembering when we used to think we were cool. We weren't cool. Ever. Why do you think we're cyclists? It's one of the only sports where scrawny nerds excel. There are some, however, that take nostalgia just a little too far. Like the guy at the gym this morning. Although I left him out of my previous post, he is actually a regular and you know him well. When he enters the gym, his long, flowing, jheri curled locks immediately trigger a giant fan which blows them back, as well as a smoke machine and Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again." He walks in slow motion by the counter and instead of scanning his membership card, he just gives the scanner a swift elbow like the Fonz hitting the jukebox... and it beeps! The girl at the counter sighs and faints. His leather jacket is aged to perfection. His stone washed jeans with elastic cuffs are radiant. His bright white high tops seem to glide across the floor as he heads for the weight room. Then he goes ahead and knocks out his entire workout without changing clothes. When he's done, he swings his leg over a Harley parked under the power rack and Tawny Kitaen hops on the back, wraps her arms around his waist, and they ride right out the front door while Meatloaf plays over the PA system.

B-Rad

If anyone has ever seen Malibu's Most Wanted, then you know who I'm talking about. If not, here's a clip:

In other words, he's Vanilla Ice.

This dude enters the weight room this morning followed by his sidekick. His sidekick is the Marcie to his Peppermint Patty. He always walks behind B-Rad (which is Brad's stage name), and he never speaks unless spoken to. B-Rad wears all black. Black sweats, black wife beater (which screams "classy"), black gloves, and even a black stocking hat...because it's a chilly 68 degrees up in here, yo! His arms and neck are covered in prison tats, which oddly enough look to be very professionally done. He stands still for a minute and scans the gym to impose his superiority over all the losers there who clearly are not as hard as he is. Then he does a set of shoulder presses, a set on the bench, and a set of assisted pullups. Marcie doesn't do a single set, he just spots. Then B-Rad wraps it up with a quick dip in the pool while Marcie gets dressed and pulls the Caddy around. B-Rad doesn't swim laps though, he does MMA kicks and punches underwater for the resistance it provides.

That wraps up my series on gym people. Regardless of how I made it sound, I actually do work out when I am at the gym and don't just sit around and observe. These people are just too hard to miss, and too good not to write about.

No Coffee, but some Cobbles

2011-12-18T12:28:00.001-08:00

Met up with Jimmy, Tony, Mike G., and The Don this morning for a great Coffee & Cobbles ride and here's how it went down:

It was super freaking hot outside when I left the house at 7am.

Paul rode with his elbows tucked in close.

Tony didn't gun it up any hills.

I didn't try to keep up with Tony gunning it up any hills (see previous entry).

My food didn't freeze in my jersey pocket... you know, because it was so HOT out.

Jimmy didn't buy hot chocolate at 7-11 and mix it with his gatorade in his moldy bottle.

Joe came out and adamantly insisted that we stop for at least 30 minutes for coffee.

Mike and I jumped on the opportunity to climb Libby Hill when Tony offered.

I didn't eat a pile of pancakes with a side of bacon when I got home.

My 16 month old daughter took a nap immediately when I returned home from lunch so that I could do the same.

So yeah, that's how it went down today.

Except the opposite.

Happy Hours

2011-12-16T04:18:00.001-08:00

Is it weird that I felt just slightly uncomfortable being around all of you without any of us wearing spandex?

Yeah, I thought so too.

Nevertheless, it was great to get together with everyone for the Spin Mafia Holiday Happy Hour at Capital Ale House last night. I have to admit that I think we all clean up pretty well for a bunch of miscreants, and it's always entertaining to get together with people you see on a regular basis, yet you have a hard time identifying when they aren't on bikes or wearing helmets. I'm still trying to figure out who the short guy with the dark hair and thick eyebrows was who carried on a conversation with the cadence of an auctioneer. Something with a "J" maybe? Oh well, whoever you were, it was good to meet you.

I didn't get to talk to everyone, because daddy was hungry for some fish tacos, so he had to get a table. So to those I missed, I'll catch you next time. In any case, here are a few things I learned last night:

1. Even when there are literally hundreds of beers to choose from, a true Irishman still chooses Guinness. Keep fighting the good fight, Des.
2. Chris Harvie has 2 poodles that he didn't want me to tell anyone about.
3. Capital Ale has the 2nd best fish tacos around (Tarrant's is #1).
4. If you block the path in front of the bar, a portly gentleman will kindly tell you that "This is your last warning to stay clear" Don Vito totally should've replied with, "Do you KNOW who I am?"
5. We were NOT supposed to wear full kits to the bar. That was a close call.
6. 7 men sharing a table at a restaurant can only mean one thing... apparently.
7. The Mayan Curse of 2012 is not something that happens after eating fish tacos.
8. I must really like you guys if I'm willing to drive down 288 at rush hour without my bike to see you.
9. Spin Mafia comes out strong whether it's on the road, or on the town.
10. A good list always has 10 entries.

We need to do it again sometime. Thanks to Don Vito for putting it together.

See you on the road!

You guys are gonna be so jealous

2011-12-03T16:43:00.000-08:00

Did a 4 hour ride with Chris Jones this morning. We're riding down Monument at 7:00am and as we get to Belmont the road is closed and some people are milling about. We ride past the "Road Closed" signs anyway and turn onto Belmont and as we turn, Chris says, "Dude, that was Steven Spielberg! They're filming the Lincoln movie!"

The guy DID look exactly like Spielberg.

We keep riding though, and did a loop out to Varina and back, and then headed over to Riverside. The whole time, we're talking about how Stevie would be honored to have his picture taken with us and how Tommy Lee Jones would be so appreciative to have Chris introduce himself because as Chris put it, "There aren't too many of us Joneses out there... we gotta stick together." We call them Stevie and T.L. because we prefer to call people what that like to be called. We do it with all the big guns: Stevie Spielberg, Marty Scorsese, Eddie Jimmy Olmos...

As we approach the Huguenot Bridge, I offer Chris an option, "We can either continue on as planned to Old Gun, or we can head back over the river and try to get a picture with Stevie and T.L."

Chris says, "I'll be honest with you, I feel we would be letting our friends and relatives down by not going to see Stevie."

To which I reply, "I'm 99% guaranteed a starring role in this film once Stevie sees this mustache. Let's do this."

What did you guys do today?

Oh nothing much, just starred in a biopic about our 16th president. No big deal.

Detour.

We head back over and as we approach Belmont again, the barricades are still there with 2 people directing traffic to the left and right. They tell us, "Oh you guys can go on through."

"YES!!!"

I ask one of these fine folks what the chances are of us getting our picture taken with Stevie Spielberg.

"Oh this isn't Spielberg, it's a commercial for the Monument Ave 10K," he says.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

Seeing the guy in the banana costume should have tipped us off as we approached, but I thought maybe that was just the best way they could think of to disguise Daniel Day-Lewis' Honest Abe... you know, because he could fit the stove-pipe hat under the banana suit.

Still trying to figure out what Stevie was doing directing a commercial for the 10K, but people do weird things I guess. I mean, you guys remember Coverdale/Page, right?

See you on the road.

Wish List

2011-12-01T18:30:00.000-08:00

So I had been meaning to write another blog for the past few weeks to go along with the general theme of Thanksgiving. You know, the usual listing of things I am thankful for, like Plaza Azteca Mexican Restaurant, radiant heating (that’s heated floors people!), and this blog , but as is the case with the holiday season, time and energy are at a premium and sometimes we don’t get to do everything we intended to do. So since it is now past Thanksgiving, it wouldn’t be right to do a Thanksgiving post about what I am thankful for. Instead, we’ll pull the old switcheroo on this entry and we will make this a post about things I WILL be thankful for… after you get them for me… for Christmas. That’s right friends, this is my wish list. Please do not be modest with your generosity, I won’t judge you for spending too much. I’m very understanding like that. I realize that this entry doesn’t have a whole lot to do with cycling, but as cyclists, you’ll probably find some of this information very valuable. I am fully aware that all the items are food. To quote my attorney, Steve Benjamin, “[This is] What cyclists talk about on training rides AFTER they have exhausted the subject of women [or men, if you’re into that], sports, and bikes. Except Ryan Clarke. All he talks about is food.”

This is true, so let’s DO THIS!

Peanut Butter & Co Peanut Butter (1 of every flavor) – Cyclists are professional eaters…FACT. We need calories, and we need them YESTERDAY. If you’re like me (handsome, charming, bitchin’ mustache), then you appreciate the nutritious value of a good peanut butter. The Spin Mafia ain’t your mama’s cycling team, and therefore we should not lower ourselves to eating some June Cleaver, white bread, jive turkey peanut butter. Creamy or crunchy?... that’s child’s play. How about Dark Chocolate Dreams or Cinnamon Raisin Swirl? Now we’re on to something. I mean, spicy peanut butter?!?!? Maple flavored peanut butter?!?!? WHO is the genius that came up with this stuff and WHY is there not a statue erected in his or her honor? You can find some of the flavors at your local grocery store, but not all of them. I’ve done the research (you're welcome) and the only way to get some of them around here is to order them directly from the website. So, contact me off list for my address and you can just have them ship directly to my house. Make sure you get a tracking number and possibly shipping insurance. This stuff is like gold.

Edy’s Slow Churned Ice Cream – You guys are going to have to trust me on this one. I’m an expert. I eat ice cream Every. Single. Night. This is not an exaggeration, I actually do this. I was a Cat 4 ice cream eater for a few years, and I went straight to pro with this discovery. I have journeyed far and wide (throughout the frozen dessert section), and I have sampled ice creams from the most exotic locales. From Turkey Hill to Breyers, from Ben & Jerry’s to Haagen Dazs. Based on strict judging criteria, Edy’s Slow Churned has emerged the victor. While Ben & Jerry’s does offer the best assortment of flavors, they also have quite a bit of calories. Edy’s Slow Churned boasts half the calories or less, and still delivers on flavor. We may be serious eaters, but we are sensible as well, no? Here’s the trick though… While you can go any day of the year and pickup such standards as Cookies and Cream, Mint Chocolate Chip, or Strawberry, it takes some serious cunning (luck) to find the “Limited Edition” flavors. These pop up sporadically throughout the year, and you’d better buy a few, because there’s no telling when they’ll return. I’m talking about Samoa Ice Cream (you know, like the Girl Scout Cookies), Mud Pie Ice Cream (from the heavens), and last but certainly not least, Smores Ice Cream. If there is one absolute truth in life, it is that everything, EVERYTHING is better with a graham cracker swirl. Real quick, here is the Ice Cream Decision Hierarchy. This is how you will buy:

1. Graham Cracker Swirl – if no options are available, proceed to #2 (and so on)…

2. Some sort of cookie crunch

3. Peanut butter

4. Brownie bits

The exception to the rule here is if there is something that you’ve never before heard of. For example, they had Pumpkin flavor recently… as in pumpkin pie. Using the hierarchy, I was forced to buy it, and I was rewarded with ice cream that tasted like a ginger bread man and only had 90 calories per serving (Ben & Jerry’s has over 200 usually).

Target Brand Zen Party Mix –Target is a great little place. It’s not quite as classy as Wal-Mart, but then again, what is? In their snack section they have a bunch of trail mix type concoctions, but only one that takes you to THE Party. I used to go to the Zen Party on the reg. Those were my wild-child days. Hittin’ the Zen Party left and right. Sometimes I’d just eat the dried wasabi peas. Sometimes I’d have a cocktail of sesame sticks, spicy rice crackers, and cashews. Hell, sometimes I would just eat whatever I could get my hands on. I became desperate, pawning my parents’ valuables for Zen Party money, breaking into neighbors’ cars to fuel my Zen Party fix. Hard times man, hard times. I’ve been off that stuff for a good bit, but I’m lookin’ to score. Hook a brother up with a VIP pass to the Zen Party. Just this one time, I swear.

Nutella (hazelnut, cocoa, and skim milk, mixed into a delicious spread) - You’ve seen the commercial. If you haven’t, then clearly you don’t watch nearly enough television… It’s a wholesome breakfast for your kids. That’s what the commercial says. It shows a mom giving her kids Nutella on toast, and everyone is smiling. The sun is shining, there’s a bluebird on my shoulder, etc., etc. Look, I’m not going to bullshit you on this one… that’s probably a stretch. If it’s like the house I grew up in, it’s more like this:

Mom is not smiling as she hands over the Nutellafied toast, she’s frowning. Junior just dumped his orange juice in his sister’s oatmeal because she ratted him out for smoking a joint out in the driveway while he warmed up the ’88 Bonneville for the ride to school, and daughter dearest retaliated with Nutella toast to the dome. That’s what I’ve heard goes down at least. Not me, just a guy a know.

Nutella intake must be kept under control. You can’t go around spooning out Nutella all willy-nilly and expect to remain svelte. I prefer 2 pieces of toast daily with a healthy dose of Nutella on each. I kid you not, I go to sleep each night excited about waking up for this one. Every day is Christmas.

Also, I have yet to try this, but via the Nutella internet forum that I am a founding member of, I heard you can take your empty jar, fill it with milk, mix it up, and voila: chocolate milk.

Scoreboard, y’all.

This size will do for your gift to me:

Protein Shakes – And you thought this was all about indulgence. I feel I should at least include something you folks recognize as healthy (although all of the above items can be used wisely in that regard if done properly). I make one of two shakes immediately after hard or long workouts to get my recovery off on the right foot, and here they are. Nothing exotic or unheard of, just good for you (and good FOR you).

1. Strawberry/Banana Shake (put this stuff in your blender and do it up)

a. 2 scoops chocolate whey protein powder

b. 1 cup milk (depending on how thick you want it)

c. 1 frozen banana broken into ice cube size pieces

d. 5-8 frozen strawberries

e. 1 big scoop of peanut butter

2. Coffee Shake (blenderize homies)

a. 2 scoops chocolate whey protein powder

b. 1 cup milk

c. Handful of almonds

d. Spoonful of instant coffee grounds

e. Handful of ice cubes

These should be consumed directly from the blender. The recovery effect will be ten-fold if you do this in front of your in-laws. Trust me, I know.

Alright, we’re going to wrap it up on that note. I could go all day on this topic, but I feel I’ve given you a nice buffet to choose from. In regards to cycling, I’ve managed a handful of rides lately (mostly solo). I did my first Coffee & Cobbles (partial) this past weekend, and while it was a great ride, from what I’m told, the full experience can only be had when Jimmy Burns is present. I’ll just have to wait for that. I’ll catch up with everyone soon though on one ride or another. I broke in my new Spin Mafia bibs and jacket recently, and I will say, with an unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality, they’re fabulous.

Now gets the shopping people. These gifts aren’t going to buy/make themselves.

These are the people in your neighborhood...gym

2011-11-06T08:15:00.000-08:00

Ah yes, cold weather is upon us, and today with the end of daylight savings time, many of us will be forced to find some other modes of entertainment besides those of the two-wheeled variety. Clearly none of us will simply hang our bikes up to collect dust over the winter, but for the working man, there will be much time to fill and energy to expend between blinkie light rides at West Creek and weekend rides with the Mafia. I am talking, of course, about cross-training. Cross-training comes in many varieties. For some, it means dabbling in the multi-sport lifestyle of running and swimming. For some, it means something of the Nordic variety like cross-country skiing, snow-shoeing, or in Chris Harvie’s case: ice dancing. For some, it means taking up the sport of competitive eating. And for some, it means taking a trip to your friendly neighborhood gymnasium for some titillating exposure to the mass of humanity that frequents such a place. While I am mixing it up a bit this off season with some running, swimming, competitive cheerleading, and jousting; I am also hitting the gym a bit more, and I am here to introduce you to my gym… one miserable nimrod at a time. So come on in, it’s warm inside, and there’s fresh beef jerky for all!

There are many different types of people who frequent the gym, but let’s start with the main infrastructure: management. Most modern gyms offer all sorts of classes and personal training “experiences” via their friendly and knowledgeable staff. Here we will examine the rare species known as Spin Class Instructor. Spin class, for those of you who don’t know, is essentially an hour or so spent in a dark room with no windows or ventilation with about 30 other sweat-drenched people listening to techno music. So kind of like those discotheques Joe used to go to before he settled down. As I said before, the class is built around the music. The instructor tells you things like, “You should be pedaling with the beat!” which is ironic considering the instructor usually has all the rhythm of a baseboard heater.

Also, “You should not be bouncing in your seat. If you are, you need more resistance!” Meanwhile, Spin Class Instructor’s head just poked a hole in the drop ceiling as a direct result of all the bouncing in the saddle that’s going on.

Moving on from the spin class room to the weight room, let’s take a look at Weight Room Guy. Weight Room Guy is ALWAYS at the gym, no matter what time or what day you go. He can be identified by his gallon jug-o-water that he totes around. Weight Room Guy doesn’t have time for your sissified 32 oz. water bottles, he’s here on business. Weight Room Guy does not travel alone. He brings his friend with him for support. They yell at each other, things like, “If the bar ain’t bendin’, you’re just pretendin’!” or “If you can’t hack it, rack it.” Or this…

Weight Room Guy doesn’t waste time doing sets of 10 or more… Weight Room Guy warms up with 6 sets of 4 and then bangs out 4 sets of 1.

Weight Room Guy doesn’t own shirts with sleeves, but he DOES own bedazzled jeans for leisure wear. Sometimes Weight Room Guy gets on a treadmill, albeit with a weighted vest or backpack on. If you see this happen, approach slowly and point him in the right direction… he’s lost.

Let’s steer this ship now towards the yoga studio where we will find Yoga Guy. To the naked eye and nose, Yoga Guy might seem like a homeless person, but this is merely a defense mechanism to keep Weight Room Guy from asking him for a spot. Some key traits to look for in Yoga Guy are a neck beard, cut off sweat pants with mustard stains on them, and a t-shirt from when the Dead played at RFK Stadium in ’95. Don’t make the mistake of asking Yoga Guy about his shirt, or you will be hypnotized by his droning voice telling the story of how “these 3 dudes got struck by lightning… It was sooo trippppy!” This is another defense mechanism… avoid at all costs. Yoga guy is not above farting in front of people while deep in the throes of a downward dog. He is releasing toxins before he goes back home to his mom’s basement to drink a liter of Pepsi and eat a bag of Cheetos while playing video games for the rest of the day. Yoga Guy is unemployed.

Now we’ll step outside for some fresh air only to find… the opposite. This can mean only one thing: It’s Smokes After Working Out Guy. Smokes After Working Out Guy doesn’t chase that superset with a protein shake, he gets his recovery from his cigs. He can’t even wait to get to his car to light up, he has to do it right in front of the gym. Smokes After Working Out Guy is dedicated to his craft. He works hard, he plays hard, and he has a hard time making it up a flight of stairs without weezing. Let’s go back inside.

A last lap around the gym reveals one more species: Cross Training Cyclist Guy. He warms up in spin class where he makes angry faces while sprinting, gives people “The Look” during climbing and attack portions, complains about the bike not being the proper fit, rolls his eyes at things Spin Class Instructor says, and then writes about class in a blog for all his cycling friends. Then, Cross Training Cyclist Guy makes his way past Yoga Guy to the weight room. Since the bones in his arms have the density of a chocolate covered malt ball, and the muscles surrounding them aren’t much better, he heads first to the bench press to shore up his weakness. After loading up the bar with the smallest amount of weight possible, he struggles through a few sets while Weight Room Guy decides whether he should feast on this sickly creature, or just leave him be. Cyclist Guy then moves about the weight room like a lost child, pondering the strange equipment and creatures that fill it. After several minutes of poking and prodding machines then jumping back like the monkeys at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey, he retreats home to his gels, his lycra, and his computer where he can blog all about it to his cycling friends.

See you guys on the road.

Sincerely,

Cross Training Cyclist Guy

The American Dream (Made in Mexico)

2011-10-24T05:28:00.000-07:00

October 22, 2011

I woke up at 5:00am like I do on most mornings. After hitting the snooze button, I placed two fingers on my neck to find my pulse and I waited for the clock to say 5:01, at which point I would start counting the beats. I would later record this statistic along with several others in my training log. My neck had the softening prickliness of a week of not shaving. This haphazard beard would soon be upgraded to a Magnum P.I. mustache from which I would draw virility and strength for the Richmond Marathon. A man cannot fully understand what kind of man he is until he grows a mustache. It is the benchmark for everything that came before it, and all that shall come after it.

After performing my other various morning rituals, and dropping my daughter off at my parents’ house in the southside, I threw my leg over my bike around 7:00am and headed for the Spin Mafia ride. It was not cold enough for tights, but it was cold enough to cause my Power Bar to harden in my jersey pocket after only a few miles. I love riding in this weather, especially as the sun is just beginning to reflect off the sky above me before it has even surfaced over the horizon. I relish this moment of solitude that I get from being outside riding while most of the city is still asleep as I chase some sort of American Dream. There are many ways to define the American Dream. In this case, it is the illusion of total freedom; just me, my bike, and an infinite combination of roads, turns, climbs, and descents. It is, as I stated, merely an illusion though; a fleeting glimpse of a world without responsibilities, where consequences are limited to “what goes up, must come down,” and the like. It is a world that will be both a memory and a future destination simultaneously in a matter of hours.

I climbed up Robious Road to Salisbury and swung by Paul’s house, but with only one vehicle in the driveway and no lights on, it seemed as if he was off chasing his own American Dream for the day, so I continued on alone. Thirty minutes later, I pulled into the Spin Mafia parking lot to find Chris Harvie and Chris Hong gearing up. Eventually Fritz, Joe, Tony, and Pete would arrive and we would roll out. We collected Steve Benjamin and John Payne along the route. My legs felt tired from previous days’ workouts, but I felt that I had enough to hang on for the ride and even offer a little help. Steve had schooled me earlier in the week in the finer points of excuse making though, so I was prepared:

Ryan: “I’m going to be slow today. I’m still kind of sore from running 11 miles a couple days ago.”

Steve: “Yeah, me too. I broke my hip a week ago.”

Then towards the end of our ride…

Me: “That was a tough ride. That century I did this morning didn’t help either.”

Steve: “I wish I had stopped at a century.”

Back to the Spin Mafia ride… Our paceline buzzed down the streets at a respectable pace, or at least, that is what I am told. I did not have any of your spaceman technology on my bike in the form of a computer because, to paraphrase Unfrozen Caveman Lawyer as portrayed by Phil Hartman, “I’m a caveman, and I’m frightened by your strange flying machines.” At times, it seemed as if there was a head wind coming from every direction, but this might have just FELT that way to me because I buried myself deep in another American dream the night before. While many cultures have made instant masterpieces by wrapping various forms of red meat or seafood in bacon, they have fallen just short by only including just two of the major proteins. There is but one culture who has accomplished the triple threat without degrading a single ingredient. Only the Mexicans have figured out how to combine red meat, poultry, and seafood into one magical embodiment of Americana known as “The Texas Fajita.” As cyclists, we should all be able to relate to the concept of gluttony, and this night was no exception for me. If you give me free chips and salsa in endless supply, I will, inevitably, eat free chips and salsa in endless supply. Like any red-blooded American, when the waiter brought my fajitas and asked if we wanted more chips, I replied, “Why yes, good sir. Gracious thanks.” After finishing our meal, I asked my wife’s opinion, but I had already made up my mind, “Do you think it’s cool for people to take the chips and salsa home in their doggy bag?” As we departed Plaza Azteca, bellies full, Styrofoam-boxed chips in hand, we were not only leaving a great restaurant, we were leaving the embodiment of The American Dream, nestled away in a Mexican restaurant.

So with the three components of the fabled “Air, Land, and Sea Diet” fueling my ride, I powered on. As we crossed the railroad tracks heading into the sprint zone, I was sitting fifth wheel behind Chris Harvie, with Steve in front of him, and Joe and John leading everyone out. I watched with amusement as Chris and Steve checked over their shoulders for the impending attack over and over again. Finally, Chris rose from the saddle and took off. I stuck to his wheel and when we were clear, I jumped for the sprint right as Steve was coming around my left. Steve took the sprint, even after staying out partying all night and doing a total of 200 one-legged squats that morning as a warm up! I could not help but wonder how I would have sprinted if I had done 200 total instead of 200 per leg.

As the ride went on, I had an astounding revelation. After having done this ride about five or six times, I had finally learned where to turn. The problem came as we made the final climb up to the left turn onto Otterdale where the climb continues for another handful of meters. I found myself getting gapped after that turn and turned myself inside out to get back to the group. Chris Harvie told me he had purchased an “altitude chamber” that he sleeps with to help him climb hills easier. I had no idea what he was talking about, but imagined something that resembled the transporter room from Star Trek. He explained that it was more like a humidifier, but I like the way I pictured it much better, so I’m sticking with that. Either way, after nearly dropping off the back on a climb that I usually have no problem with, I either need to get an altitude chamber, or consider cutting back on the Texas fajitas prior to doing this ride.

We finished the ride ahead of schedule according to Joe and as we reached the parking lot, some went to their cars, and some continued on their bikes toward their families and homes. I was part of the latter group, so I headed to my parents’, alone once again. I felt abused by the road, but I kept going. Like Cool Hand Luke boxing Dragline, I kept throwing punches that seemed to have little to no effect, one pedal stroke at a time. I descended Winterfield Road and a mile or two later I reached my destination- hungry, tired, and ready to start searching for my next glimpse of the dream.

It is the silver lining in the gray cloud, the rainbow after the storm, the reward for suffering and hard work, the American Dream. It might be made in a family trip to the pumpkin patch. It might be made growing a mustache just because you can. It might be made putting in overtime at work. It might be made muscling through another Spin Mafia ride. And the American Dream, might… just might be made in… well… Mexico.

Been Riding Much?

2010-01-03T09:35:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year Y'All!

Time to get busy shedding the winter weight and begin browsing the online deals for discounted cycling gear. If you are like most mafia, you have been in a very dysfunctional relationship with your bike over the past few weeks. But this on-again/off-again thing you have going is about to change. Now is the time to rediscover the passion and dedication that has been on a slight vacation to the island of ale. Just get motivated!

See you on the road...

can you tell the season is upon us

2009-05-21T21:25:00.000-07:00

No blogging..? But we've been out riding. We'll blog soon. Promise.

Big Rings and Couches

2009-02-16T07:37:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Tony and I clipped in at noon and proceeded to ride from the Lucks Lane parking area near the hospital to the SM clubhouse for another coffee and cobbles ride. To our surprise, we were greeted by the Don, coffee in hand, but no SM kit. I turn to Tony, "looks like were going this one alone." Where'd everybody go today...?

But that's the beauty of the SM. I was not alone and neither was Tony. We were clipped in and pointed to the river. And wouldn't you know, along the way we picked up more black, white, red, and green jerseys. By the time we crossed the bridge and began to climb up Cary Street, what started as 2 guys was now 5 strong.

Hills and cobbles, cobbles and hills and 5 committed guys on a sunny Sunday afternoon.

I love the look of those black jerseys around city streets (that climb up Broad was a bitch of a climb today -- maybe the climb of the day!) and in the big ring whenever we could muster the power. By the time we hit 23rd, my thighs were toast and the cobbles were shaking my body to the marrow (did I say we climbed that in the big ring?) and there was Tony passing me by like I was standing still. What the hell?

So the 5 of us met up at the coffee shop... and whoa! what the? It's always satisfying to see familiar bikes leaning poetically in the sun along a red brick exterior. After a coffee and 5 minutes on a nice, soft couch (a tease, really), we were on our way.

Some miles later, along the river, I was beginning to feel the weight of all those hills on my legs. Thinking that what began as a two man ride, swelled to 5 then 7, was now back down to 3 after a couple quick good-byes and nods of the helmet.

Pedal pedal pedal...
There's a lot of weight to carry on the legs in a small group
Pedal pedal pedal...
Flip your switch and get home.
Pedal pedal pedal...
Soreness starts settling in midway up Old Gun.
Pedal pedal pedal...
Almost home.

Tony and I keep trading turns in that all too familiar quietness that often blankets the last few miles of a good, hard ride. I really enjoy digging deep into that challenging time. This is when the muscles take over and the brain begins to play silly games and you begin thinking about food, a warm shower, the couch... ahhh, the couch!

February 1 -- It's Officially Time to Get Back

2009-02-01T05:41:00.000-08:00

So, on the one hand, we have continued to ride throughout the winter. Although, here in Richmond that has not been terribly difficult to do considering that we have had virtually no winter precipitation this year. On the other hand, several of us have gained some weight, lost our speed, and let ours bikes get pretty dirty in between cleanings. Hey, it haaaaaaaaaaaaapens. Just don't pinch the butt.

Today is February 1, and it is officially time to reaffirm the training focus and begin to look forward to the next, immediate goal -- make it to daylight savings time. Yes, that is the most anticipated moment of the year for many cyclists since that is when we can begin to put those weekday trainer riders behind us and start hitting the road for real -- even after regular weekday work hours when most of us are at the computer working. I cannot express the happiness that brings. I think it even puts a shine on some faces. Have you ever see Oliver's face on a Tuesday night ride? Happy Happy...

Along with February first, comes my first annual shave (some might say it's about time), and now my first annual contribution to the SM blog -- it's been too long.

Later today I'll be riding downtown with the group for coffee and cobbles in what is forecasted to be 60 degrees. Who would believe that February would be so balmy? I might even ride without a jacket... Maybe that is a good sign for us cyclists -- kinda like a cycling ground hog day. Oh, I can already hear the parkway calling us now...

Man, I've missed the blog...

Show Of Hands .... Who Has Ever Been Locked In A Cemetary?

2008-10-02T18:30:00.000-07:00

After a great Matt Marchal cyclocross clinic Tuesday night a few of us (Joe, Rob, Curtis and new Matt) headed off down by the river for some challenging trails. Note to self, do it on a mountain bike next time. After a great time we decided due to the increasing darkness we had best find a road home. We pop up out of the trail to find ourselves smack in the middle of the famed Hollywood Cemetary. Pretty cool tooling around past some graves of Civil War soldiers and the like. Hey it's getting dark, let's head for the gate. Uh oh, big chain and really high fence! Getting a little nervous until we get towards the back and see a regular chain link fence. After some limboing underneath and bike hoisting over the top we were on our way tearing down Cary Street back to Byrd Park.

Reality Bites

2008-09-25T17:59:00.001-07:00

We all joke around and have a good time, then reality whacks you upside the head and we are forced to put life into perspective. Our hearts go out to Steve, Nang and all the wonderful people of Tara Thai in this time of tragedy. You are family.

Good Eats

2008-09-04T11:57:00.000-07:00

Nothing better post ride then some great eats. Last night was the best, need to make it a regular event.

Perfect ........

2008-09-01T17:33:00.001-07:00

A textbook ride today. Couldn't ask for anything more.

Off the Back

2008-08-15T10:16:00.000-07:00

So the other night I'm driving across town, weaving my way through traffic to get myself to the regular Wednesday night ride, when I realize I'm running pretty close to being late (we depart at 6PM). I reach into my gear bag on the seat next to me and start pulling on my jersey, gloves, socks, and helmet to speed things up so no one has to wait for me once I get there. About now I'm really glad that I already have my shorts on. By the way, it's already 6:02.

As I turn right onto the road leading to the parking lot where we start (did I mention we depart at 6PM), I see the train of jerseys heading up the road towards me. I'm late.

"Oh, shit! Better hustle."

I park... jump out of the car... get my shoes on... grab the bike out of the trunk... throw on the water bottles and wheels and start chasing. No time to zip the jersey, just go!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I'm no stranger to time trials having just done my 8th one this season just three days earlier, so I throw it into TT mode. At one point seeing a solid 28mph, I start thinking, "I hope my teammates get caught at the light right after the first hill climb because I'm going to be cooked if I have to keep this up." Wasn't last night supposed be be the hard ride?

I get to the first stop light with the HR in the 170s, but they're not there, so I keep on truckin' up the next hill when I suddenly get a glimpse of a long train of riders pulling around a corner and out of sight.

Back into TT mode -- head down, spin the legs, breath and try to relax, this is after all a 35 mile ride!

About another mile or so down the road, I realize that I'm getting slowed in the traffic that's built up behind the pace line that's now looming closer, maybe 500 yards, up the road. This was the first time I had to apply the breaks as the cars were clearly in my way and slowing me down. I quickly flashed in my mind to the pro peloton thinking this must be what it's like for riders who have to maneuver through their team cars to get back on after flatting or some other mishap. This sucks. Cars are dangerous and I am not in the mood for hostile rush hour traffic.

Thank the lord for red lights.

I finally catch on when the group gets caught by one. No time for words to anyone as the light turns green and then we're off. My time trial over, I really appreciate the next few minutes being able to sit in with the group and ride along easily at 23 mph behind a dozen or so friends who are towing me along.

It really sucks to be off the back!

Time Trial, Great Friends and Good Food

2008-08-10T14:12:00.000-07:00

Another wonderful day of time trial racing at the PLT where the Spin Mafia represented admirably. Major bummer for our diva Pave Maria who got not one but two flats! Some times you're the windshield, some times you're the bug. Great post race bubbly tasting happy hour. Kudos to Mr. Burns for the suggestion of lunch at an awesome BBQ place with Homer Simpson sized sangwiches.

The Drunk West End MILF

2008-07-23T18:41:00.000-07:00

We cyclists experience quite a few crazy sights in our travels, but at tonight's shop ride there may have been a new standard set. OK, mid 40's lady in her Range Rover pulls up to where we are congregating and says we look hot. Well, that isn't the first time someone has said that so we let it slide. She starts chatting aimlessly about biking and her million dollar house on River Road. Then she cuts off her car and pulls out a beer (one of many) the whole time complaining that her son at Collegiate drinks too much. Hmm, apple not falling too far from the tree and all. After an eternity of getting far too much of her life story, and Don Vito being given her name, number and address along with an offer to "stop by sometime for a drink" we gladly embark on our ride. A bit up River Road we see her drive by and thank our lucky stars she is out of our life. Not. As we round a bend we see her vehicle pulled over, door open and she is sitting in the road with the remains of her six pack cheering us on. As we buzz by she tumbles backwards in a drunken stupor. They say it's always 5 o'clock somewhere.

They Brought Game!

2008-06-29T05:35:00.000-07:00

Well Ham on Wheels, like all worthy competitors, accepted the challenge and came out for the infamous Spin Mafia Classic ride. With a group of nearly 30 riders it was bound to be a history making day of pedal pushing. Despite a flat or two and some seriously thick, muggy air, it was a fabulous day in the sadle. New friendships were established, camerderie was high, meat was exchanged and the Spin Mafia has expanded it's influence yet again.

Tee Tee

2008-06-23T17:48:00.000-07:00

The Spin Mafia represented very well at the State Time Trial. Pave, Pedro, Joey, Fast Eddie, Paulie Walnuts, Robster and Lizbeth all brough home BAR points and contributed to to the team's meat supply. Kudos to Godfather Ben for bringing out the best in us and to Julie for the great post-race champagne. Karen and Co, always put on a great race. Best of all it was Mexican-free ride home!

Summertime Groove

2008-06-20T09:36:00.000-07:00

June 20th -- officially, the longest day of the year. Somehow we got here pretty fast in 2008. I figure today, the official first day of summer, is as good a day as any to post an entry into the "family" blog. So here goes...

I noticed recently that attendance is up at the Saturday 8AM ride. I like that. Now, don't get me wrong. There's something special about the SM wintertime training rides and intimate conversation that the Saturday ride inevitably becomes in January and February when temperatures force most reasonable cyclists onto the trainer and out of the wind. But summertime is good stuff for cyclists. We live for this time of year... a bluebird sky, the sun above, the smell of pine in the air. It's poetry -- youknowwhatI'm saying?

Anyway, after the usual parking lot meet and greet to share stories and get gear together, we roll out casually falling into line (usually 2X2) to work out the legs and get the HR going -- some appear to shake the cobwebs out more easily than others, but we all ride together up our first series of hills and past the lake. That is when things start to get interesting and the SM ride begins to take on a shape and texture that is always unique to that day and determined by the mixture of cyclists who chose to forgo a leisurely breakfast with the paper and to haul ass to the start before (or just at) 8 that day. So when we we hit Duval the pace starts to pick up, and you cannot ride Duval without generating a paceline. That road just screams paceline. It's not negotiable.

Well, so now I could go into to a play-by-play of the ride for those of you who have never experienced it, but words will neither accurately convey the experience nor, as they say, do it justice. So with that, I will digress for a moment to muse about an aspect of the ride that is worth taking a few minutes to describe...

Somewhere along the course of the ride (you never know where exactly), something gels and that is when SM regulars and guests alike get rolling into one of those sections of road when all the legs seem to be spinning in a harmonious orchestration of feet to pedals, wheels to pavement -- making for a smooth, spontaneous groove. Take the new hills we've incorporated into the route ever since a recent detour led to that discovery.

This road is prime cyclist blacktop with a high groove potential.

I love "the groove." "The groove" is different than "the zone" in that "the zone" is a fairly solitary and personal experience that is often discussed in athletic terms about an individual who is performing in a well-balanced peak of mind/body excellence. You hear people say, "he's in 'the zone'." A very solitary experience. Whereas, "the groove" is more akin to a group or communal experience. It mystical almost and much more powerful by definition (due to the basic math).

In fact, there are actually times when one must be in and then pass through "the zone" in order to reach "the groove." If you are able to get enough people into "the zone" at the right time -- and under the right conditions -- an amazing transformation occurs that can elevate the entire group into "the groove" -- it's a beautiful thing to witness.

If the groove were a color it would look like an aurea borealis.

This is what I get out of bed for each Saturday to ride with the SM. But, hey, there's a whole lot of us groovers out there. Of that I'm pretty sure.

The New Hill

2008-05-24T11:01:00.001-07:00

Totally rockin'. Beautiful assault with a perfect paceline. Yes, it IS easier when everything comes together. Old guys rule. That's how we roll .........

How to get rid of your bike

2008-05-16T18:01:00.000-07:00

"After looking at the chain that Mr. Millar broke today, the mechanics are plain dumbfounded. It didn’t break on the pin, but right in the middle of the link."
- Jonathan Vaughters, Team Slipstream

A broken chain with 800m to go dashed all hopes for a possible stage 5 win for David Millar in the Giro d'Italia. Critical point, critical equipment misbehavior. What are the odds?!Ever feel like this when your bike malfunctions?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xqTKaDmUr1w

Cap To Cap Century

2008-05-10T14:34:00.000-07:00

Always a great time, best pals, nice and smooth ride. Y'all are the best.

Sometimes You Have To Take A Stand

2008-05-09T16:53:00.000-07:00

Family first and always.

Romeo was restless, he was ready to kill.
He jumped out the window cause he couldn't sit still.
Juliet was waiting with a safety net.
He said "Don't bury me cause I'm not dead yet".

"Mystery Dance" Elvis Costello - 1977

Ciao.

Bicycling Magazine

2008-04-28T10:22:00.000-07:00

Check out the June issue.

Speaking Powhatanese

2008-04-25T16:40:00.000-07:00

So Giusseppe called and wanted me to ride today. I said to him that I had to take a long but easy ride, you know keeping the HR below 166 or so. So he tells me that he too needs a nice long easy ride. Now we are talking two different class of riders here. Let's put it this way, after the first couple of miles we hit a slight hill. Giusseppe asks what my HR is and I say 139 and he proceeds to tell me his is 109. At this point I know the next 50 miles will be nothing easy. I learned the secret- just be a wheelsucker for most of the ride. Once in the beautiful countryside of Powhatan we pause to wonder what it would be like to live in such an area with all that space, white fencing, and rolling hills. Somebody rolls by and yells something that I don't understand. I tell him that the first thing you have to do is learn to speak Powhatanese if you want to live out here. Italian and Powhatanese must be closely related because Joe tells me that the guy said "Go Lance". I really don't think that's what he said. Oh yeah, the HR.....way above 166.

Giving Back to the Community

2008-04-19T16:02:00.000-07:00

Everyone talks about, yet few actually do the deed. Today members of the Spin Mafia had the opportunity to volunteer their time and expertise to tune up 45 mountain bikes for the James River High School physical education department. Despite finishing another classic spanking Spin Mafia ride less than 60 minutes prior, Joe, Paul and Cherie were out there wrenching the afternoon away with their new friend Tony from NY. A great time was had by all and we left knowing a good deed had been done for the students.

Crit your teeth

2008-04-13T12:32:00.000-07:00

Went down to Langley Speedway to cut my teeth with the crit race. My first one of the year. I had a good time just seeing all the familiar faces from last summer. The race was pretty smooth until the last few laps when some guy got wobbly trying to fight for his position of 30th place going into the last lap. I know this because at this point in the race I decided it was time to make sure all was safe at the back of the race, I was fighting it out for 40th. Thankfully we all survived and the best part is that there was a podium girl waiting for the guy who finished in 40th place.

We're Bad, We're Nationwide .....

2008-03-28T16:57:00.000-07:00

Not only has the notorious Spin Mafia started a San Francisco chapter (no homo), but we will be profiled in an article complete with photographs in the June issue of Bicycling magazine. Man, this thing is getting big.

Old School

2008-03-28T16:55:00.000-07:00

Ah a week of intense training in Southwest Floriduh riding a rusty Panasonic 10 speed around the trailer park. Bet y'all are jealous .......

There Is No Wind Coming Back

2008-03-17T07:36:00.000-07:00

Yeah, right! Despite early reports from the cat5 crew, there was a ton of friggin' wind on the return leg. But, that is par for the course for the Dismal Dash Time Trial. Da Mafia was well represented by Pave Maria (1st 40plus), Mr. Burns, Sniper Joe (2nd cat4, 13th overall, sub 1 hour), Pedro, Enzo, Benito, Paolo, Randy Andy, Grambo, New York Eddie and Johnny Law. Everyone looked cool with their skinsuits, astronut helmets and snazzy disc wheels. Sangwiches were pro caliber.

Plus, a special double shout out to Pave who the day before won the 40plus VBW smackdown criterium. C'mon, you were just toying with those other gals!

Does anyone else agree that Jeff Branden is super human?

2008-03-11T17:46:00.001-07:00

Triple Oh, Joey The Rifleman and Jack B. Nimble spanked my butt on the Old Gun hills tonight. Thanks guys! Seriously, great ride and nice to have the extra hour of daylight with my mates.

ASO don't need no stinkin' badges!

2008-03-09T12:52:00.000-07:00

Check out Levi's site

2008-03-09T12:29:00.001-07:00

Man, talk about some wind today!!!! What I wouldn't give to have had a big guy at the front to hide behind. Great ride, phenomenal company. Good practice for the Dismal Dash.

2 Many Choices

2008-03-07T19:09:00.000-08:00

Drive or Ride from the house?
Vest or Jacket?
Road Bike or TT?
Alloy or Carbon?
Shimano or Campy?
RR or Crit?
Pull or Draft?
English or Metric Century?
Accelerade or Heed?
Sprint or Climb?
Bibs or Shorts?
Tempo or Recovery?
Apple or Banana
HR or Power?
Eddie or Lance?
Q10 or EPO?
Rollers or Trainer?
Group Ride or Solo Spin?
Shave or Wax?
Sidi or DMT
Full Zip or 3/4?
Gel or Bar?
Post Ride Brew or Protein Shake?
Shower or Tub?
Burger or Fish?
Grill or Bake?
Movie or Tunes?
Bed or Couch

Something Unusual...

2008-03-06T03:45:00.000-08:00

When it comes to biking, I'm in it for life, or so I joke. Years of biking both on the road (24 since my very first junior crit) and in the fat tire world have led to some amazing journeys across dozens of states and led to many many friendships and a profoundly extended family. Some of my best days have been spent in the saddle followed, of course, with some manner of celebration afterwards. As well, biking has led to lots of pain and suffering with the many bumps and bruises, cuts, scrapes, a fair amount of road rash, a bruised rib, a broken metacarpal bone, a broken scapula, and two broken clavicles, one of which led to two surgeries and a bone graft with a plate and 8 screws. I'm not bitter about anything -- just noting the delicate balance between the good and the bad.

Recently, however, I discovered something unusual in the area of the body that we rarely want to talk about in public, and I was sent by my doctor to the hospital for an ultrasound and then to a surgeon for a consult. Needless to say, I found myself looking all over the house for my copy of Lance's book "It's Not about the Bike" to refresh myself on the potential horror of testicular cancer and trying to recall whether the color white on a radiological film was bad. I spent several evenings at home with the wife and kids fearing the worst while waiting for my results to come back. By the way, I really love Legos...

Guys - at the risk of getting too personal or sounding like I'm on my soapbox, I have something to say and I hope you are listening. It is really important -- dare I say CRITICALLY important - that you check yourself out in the nether region (i.e, the gonads) on a regular basis. Yes, I'm talking about a testicular self-exam.

I happened to notice something was not right because by chance I was playing with my saddle position and found myself feeling a bit sore. That led to the ache and, well, I just had to see if the family jewels were doing okay. I was completely shocked and in disbelief to feel a bump, or lump, or mass that shouldn't be there. So after a day of denial, and the pea-size lump not going away, I called my doctor.

Long story short, it appears that for me I am doing alright, no immediate threat to life, but I have been fairly stressed over the past few days in learning all the implications of the presence of an extra testicular calcification. Heck, a couple weeks ago I had not even heard of such a thing. You might be there too.

My doctor will be monitoring my situation on an ongoing basis and I am naturally very anxious for my follow up ultrasound. But all appears to be well and prognosis is excellent. My doctor tells me to keep riding which, to a cycling addict such as myself, is very welcome news. Plus, I have been reminded of the important aspects of life that are easy to neglect 5 of 7 days a week: family, friends, our time here on Earth and, of course, our health.

So, in the interest of passing on a little knowledge to my cycling friends, I think you might find these two articles linked below interesting. The first is a bit broader in scope and the second, even though it focuses on mountain bikers, may be of special interest to anyone who spends 5, 10 or more hours in the saddle each week as many of us do.

http://bjr.birjournals.org/cgi/content/full/75/891/283 (scroll down in the article to the section on Extra testicular calcification)

http://radiology.rsnajnls.org/cgi/content/full/219/2/427 (for you statistics fans, check out the P value in the study)

Now go check!

Spin Mafia Represents at The NASCAR Oval

2008-03-05T05:45:00.001-08:00

Oliver or Oscar ......... call him anything just don't call him late for Slurpees. The thrilla from manila, pound for pound the strongest rider around, represented in the Sonny Hutchins Speedway criterium this past Sunday with an awesome 4th place finish in the cat3/4 race against a very strong field of mostly cat3 racers.

Kudos also go out to Rob Cook who despite 2 strains of the flu and enough antibiotics in his system to trigger a major doping scandal, hung in there during the cat4/5 race even attacking several times. Man, imagine what he'll be doing when he's racing healthy!!!

And didn't Maria and Rat just look too sexy in their spiffy new Spin Mafia kits??!!!

Joey Set His Sights On A Higher Goal

2008-02-27T13:37:00.000-08:00

Squirrel eradication that is. The critter population in Midlothian has been steadily dropping ever since he got his Red Ryder BB gun. Like a kid the day of Christmas, Joe has been terminating these pests with extreme prejudice. He's our own version of Stephen "The Rifleman" Flemmi.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Stephen_Flemmi
Just don't shoot your eye out and keep the BB gun at home during the group rides.

Welcome!

2008-02-27T09:46:00.000-08:00

A wise man once said you haven't achieved anything unless you have a blog. Well, he probably is full of crap, but here goes anyway.

The Spin Mafia ........ aahh the name conjures up fear amongst all those in the Richmond, Virginia cycling community. Until now they were just a rumour, a mythical quasi-secret organization oft talked about but rarely spotted ..... kinda like Bigfoot on Bikes. Well, look out cyber world we have arrived in full force. Our goals are simply put; to ride the heck out of our bikes, eat sangwiches and have a damn good time!

It's not unusual ............