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Tuesday, March 26

Happy, Doc, Grumpy, Dopey, Bashful, Sleepy, and Sneezy

I've been all them dwarves and then some over the past two weeks.  Also Coughy, Bloaty, and Smelly.  Also also Whiney, Bitchy, and Moany.

Things were going right as rain following the Watts Fappening a couple weeks ago.  I followed up a solid garvel ride Sunday with two post work Backyard Trail excursions, a big monster loop in the mountains, and a decent romp at the Whitewater Center on a day that I really shoulda been recovering from those previous days.  The weather was just too nice to not get at it and give 'er.  I've only got so many days left on the planet, so I try to use them up like Chuckie Cheese tokens when my parents tell me that we're leaving in fifteen minutes.

Idiot.

I knew the pollens were higher than Snoop at Lollapalooza '09, but the conditions were too primo to ignore.  I'd suspected that running would fall to the wayside once Daylight Savings kicked in and trail riding would be too tempting in whatever spare time I had available.  Sunshine and 70° is my crack cocaine with slightly fewer downsides.  That was the most saddle time I'd seen in a given span of time without there being some stupid race tossed into the mix.

Backyard do take a bite, don't she?

Early last week, I was having the usual Monday morning elevator conversation.  I mentioned that I could feel my allergies kicking in.

"You start taking your meds yet?"

My what?

So much new-to-me trail up in Old Fort these days.  I shoulda YOLO'ed but didn't tho.

I'm a bit more reactionary than proactive when it comes to my health.  I'd never considered pre-medicating for an expected issue.  Regret.

The was enough leftover pizza from work to share with frands on our big day in the mountain woodsen.

I let it sneak up on me.  Slight sinus pressure.  Some sneezing.  Sore joints?  What sorcery is this?

Home is where you hang you tiny hat.

I could really see the pollen in the glow of my Niterider on the way home from trivia Tuesday night.  It looked like snow, but yellow, angry snow.  Putting two and two together and getting five, I realized I've been choking this down into my lungs pretty hard for perhaps too long.

I was also celebrating bare knees after six months of regular knee pad use post-Horny Cat 69 incident.  My old man tissues are as good as they're gonna get, and riding in pads up a climb sucks all the balls.

Despite the fact that my allergies were creeping in, AND that I'd been watching the high pollen count pretty closely in Charlotte, AND against the wise advice of The Pie RN, I still went out for a post-work ride last Thursday.

If you ride in the Pisgah without a water filter, either your rides are pretty short or you carry too much water on your back all day... or you rely on your friends who carry filters.

So Thursday was definitely the tipping point.  I've been self-banished to the couch for the pleasure of enjoying short bursts of sleep interspersed with sitting straight up to cough my lung butter out and occasional fumbling around in the kitchen looking for some good drubs to take.

Dammit.

Certain house guests were not amused with all my night time activity in the next room, coughing, stumbling around in the dark, putting random movies on at 3:30AM hoping to bore/distract myself back to sleep, sighing and moaning in a loud manner...

Over this past weekend, I thought mebbe I'd be good enough to get out for a Sad Dad™ greenway ride on Saturday after the rain cleared out.  Nope.  Mebbe a Sunday trip to DuPont?  Not even.  Perhaps settle for the saddest of daddests just to pedal a bike in some sort of manner?  Not close.

Unless pushing my electric mower around wearing an N95 mask counts as a wheeled recreational activity?

I spent most of the entire weekend working on packing my mom's stuff for her move and knocking out whatever low hanging odd jobs needed done around the house.  Ten minute light fixture replacement I've been postponing for months.  Five outta six dirty bikes now clean.  Lost ball in my front tarck bike hub replaced.  Three attic dwelling tubs of holiday decorations sorted and mostly pitched.  Stationary trainer tossed back into the closet (although indoor riding coulda been back on the menu but nah).

All the while, happy people on bikes and feets riding and running past my domicile towards the greenway and trails, mocking me as I stare out the front window from my hermit-like but marginally productive seclusion.

Here's hoping I can get this ship turned around in time for the Triple Dip-v20.24 this weekend.  I don't think I'll be showing up with my A game, but I at least want to be able to enjoy a day of woods play on bikes with frands if I can.

Wednesday, March 13

Watts Fappening '24

I admittedly do a piss poor job of photo documenting the Fappening.  Not like it needs to be recorded for historical purposes or anything  It's bad behavior and nothing to aspire to in ones life, but we do it anyways. 

Most of these images are not mine.  After a couple beers, I prefer to keep my valuables in my pocket when possible.  I'm capable of making (some) good decisions.

3:07 PM and two bikes out front of Lower Left for a 3:00 PM start.  This checks out.

We started under similarly inauspicious conditions as we did last year.  Drizzle.  Zero sun.  Wet outdoor seating.  Poorly quaffed hair stuffs.

Beer one.  Yeth, I do cut my own and have zero professional training.

Eventually, our some of our fellow travelers showed up and the Fappening truly began.

I would say we kept things more "in control" this year.  A sign of our advanced age or increasing wisdom associated with life experience.  Those things can not be associated with each other, because I know a lot of ignorant old people do in fact exist.  I've seen them on TV, dodged them in the streets, and probably work alongside my fair share.

Through the heart of the city, AKA The Big Buildings.  Essentially, it's like going to work on my day off.  So.  Many.  People.  About.  Yuck.

North to greener pastures.

I'd forgotten how much I like OG NoDa Brewing.  It's like it doesn't exist... which was a nice change of pace from stop #3 that probably had two hundred people crowding it all up at 5:00PM.

The evening was almost incident free, aside from Christian hitting one of those strange white dome traffic control things, which as far as I know only serve the purpose of injuring cyclists.

OG Common Market and a stroll down member berry lane.  Pretty much the invention of the "a convenience store but you can drink in it" in Charlotte.  Now we live in a world where if a place of business has a checkout register, it more than likely also had a bar... in Charlotte.

It was probably a great accidental idea to have the Fa--- on the night we turned the clocks ahead in order to keep the night well in check.  We were in bed at what I'll call a reasonable hour, enough so that we once again kept our promise to do this the next day:

It may have not been the most spirited garvel ride ever, but we never considered bailing on the entire 56 mile route, so win?

There was some brief discussion about a '25 Fappening and whether or not it should happen or mebbe emphasize the day-after ride with a later start of the consumption portion of the weekend... which makes sense, because we used to start at noon and keep bumping it back in scope and magnitude almost every year.

Now on to serious business from here on out.

Wednesday, March 6

Reasons are just well supported excuses

Details about Watts Fappening '24 this Saturday at the very bottom.

Details about other stuff and things right chere. 

I had to buy a new Wahoo data acquisition device.  It does things I'm not used to.  I'm old.  I don't like new.  When the Summit Climb Feature (whatever it's called) kicks in, it makes the sound from Colors by Ice-T.  I do like that.  It does actually work compared to my old one which was failing, and thus it will serve me in the continuation of killing the spirit of single speeding with screens and screens full of useless data.  

Who knew one would need to maintain an EDC tool? Mine was getting sticky a few weeks ago, being all reluctant and whatnot to come out of its hidey hole in my steer pipe. Thought the problem was solved.  Nope.  That nice blood blister is all about trying harder and not smarter.  Meh.  This issue has now been addressed.  DM me for recipes.

I'm still not back up to riding this eroded chute on Cove Creek.  It was in my whale house.  Now it is not.  It has gotten significantly worse since the last time I nailed it almost a year ago.  It's a race to the bottom between my skills/bravery and the power of flowing water shifting rocks the size of loaves of bread.

I hate that I love QT for my "needs."  Garbage food with plenty of calories that never tastes (that) bad.  It's easier than thinking ahead, buying a frozen pizza, heating an oven, keeping my hands off freshly'ish baked pizza outta said oven...

Got into a serious conversation with a hiker at the top of the Butter Gap descent.  I feel bad that I left her with some incorrect information, as I'd forgotten exactly what the whole Butter/Cat reroute was gonna look like.

But as she stood there and basically blamed all the mountain bikers for the damage done to the trails in Pisgah, I had a chance to inform her... a little bit.  With the fine example of how a sustainable trail can be built by looking right there past the fence blocking "new" Butter, I explained how a lot of trails in Pisgah were built without an understanding of how to make a trail that can stand up to the amount of rain that falls in a temperate rain forest.  Old school "water bars" VS grade reversals were both right there on display to contrast and compare.  I pointed out the huge hillside that has to do something with all the water, and that H20 will take the path of least resistance, the fall line trail right in front of it... thus, ditch.  That and about a billionty other things to include all the volunteer work, grants, and fundraising that mountain bikers do to benefit the area (and obvs themselves), and she seemed to take it all very well. 

Dare I say it was a cordial interaction?  Nary a once was I swattened with her hiking poles in my face.

Did I mention I really do love my Vassago Radimus?  I'm in a great place where every bike I own serves a purpose, but this is probably the most smiles per mile machine I have.  Granted, I'm normally "racing" on my now ten year old Vertigo, which means my smile is displayed as "pain face" in moments of heated battlings.

Sure, if I could do this frame in a custom manner, I'd make a few tweaks, but geometry-wise, I wouldn't change a thing.  I have an unparalleled confidence on this bike, and although the first technical trail slapped me in the face this Saturday, we hit it again for shits and giggle at the end of the ride, and we were all peas and carrots again.

Enough of that.  Here's this:

Join us for the billionth sorta-annual Watts Fappening '24. On this journey, we will celebrate Watts's slide into his mid-life/existential crisis, Bill Nye's approximate 50th birth-a-versary, and the exact six month anniversary of me introducing my knee cap to the world (I'll bring my photo album). 

We'll start at Lower Left at 3:00PM and then... 
Triple C 
Monday Night (or if the vibe is bad, nearby Hi Wire) 
Common Market Southend (for beers and grubbage) 
Urban Market District (or OG NoDa is that's a bust) Birdsong (for beer and nuttage) 
Spoke Easy... 
From there... well, then we shall see. If you're trying to catch up to us, expect 45-60 minutes between stops allowing for travel time.

It might be moist.  I doubt that will change things.  Mebbe an update on the FB page if we delay.  Mebbe.

Tuesday, February 27

The Noodlebar Necromancer?

First and foremost, this is Fappening.

More details to come, but probably starting around 3:00PM at Lower Left Brewing (mebbe 4:00?), and then heading north and then south because I want to end up at home before I fall asleep.  Stops will be determined sooner rather than later.  Just expect this to be no fun, and you won't be disappoint if you join us.

Second.

I had a productive weekend.  I put wrenches and attentions to four of the six bikes in my house.  My number one priority was getting this one out of Shart Tarck mode and back into (essentially) PMBAR ready status.

Squishy boi, shorter that Shart Tarck stem, way lower gear, and I'm giving the Rekon Race 2.4 a shot in the front.  A little higher rated than the Aspen 2.4 for cornering and braking traction, and easily swappable to an OG Forekaster 2.6 if things get sloppy... and I still have enough of those squirreled away for the foreseeable future.

That said:

After this year's Shart Tarck'in, I'm down to one NOS OG Forekaster 2.35.  This saddens me, but whatcha gonna do?  Eventually I'll find an emotionally equivalent tire.  Not time to mourn yet tho.

Going back to the topic of Watts but non-Fappening related, he'd been asking me to join him for some Uwharrie gravel for quite some time.  I've ignored his requests for what I call "reasons."

Generally speaking, I don't ride a garvel bike if I could be mountain biking instead.  That and there are literally trails... right... there... in the same woods.  The very trails we ride when everything in Charlotte is pretty much a swamp and the mountains are also too moisted. 

I'm only familiar with some of the gravel to be had there.  I know the gravel race that's in Uwharrie has plenty of out n' backs, which is not something I want to get into the car for three hours roundtrip to do.

Also.  Unnghhh.  Gravel.

But I miss my little (but bigger than me) frand, so I decided to give him the gift of my company.  I did not invite any fellow Charlotteans to join me, as the ride description was not much more than "gravel bikes, between 30-60 miles."  Turd found himself in need of a ride option, so regardless of the lack of particulars, he joined me on the drive from the Queen City.

I must say, Watts has left me impressed with his creativity and free-flowing interpretation of "gravel."  He used to refer to himself in a most ironic and face-slappingly bombastic manner as the Gravel Assassin. I would personally say he's quietly become the Underbiking Undertaker.

If you ride URE gravel and that makes no sense to you, that makes total sense because this is the opposite of a no nonsense route.  It's pure, unadulterated nonsense. 

I, figuring Watts was basing our route and conservatively short estimate of 30 miles based on my lack of enthusiasm for gravel, only brought a small handful of TJ's Sour Swimmers and two bottles of water.  I mean, it's only gravel right?

Mandatory time-killing futzing with things.  All part of the non-plan.

Up what one might loosely call a "trail" to a scenic overlook to see what we could see before turning right around and going back down said "trail."

Said "trail."
We were all over in familiar places where we used to tromp around on our "freeride bikes" in the early 2000's on the shitty ATV trails because better options weren't available for mountain bikers back then.  So many member berries.

Although, we were navigating with WPMS, Watts Paper Map System.

There are two riders in this photo.  There is supposedly also a trail in this photo.  Neither rider appears to be near this particular said "trail."

We were treated to non-trails that exist on no map known to man.  Steep rutted and rocky ATV paths.  We might have tickled the taint of some private property and borrowed a little time on some barely used hiking trails... if it meant getting from whence we came to whither we were going.  Some of the steep ups were such that I had a hard time keeping my front wheel planted on the ground.  We were on neglected trails that had been mostly destroyed by horses after decades of clop-clopping through mud bogs.  I feel no shame in our misgivings as once you see what unmitigated damage from years of horse use can do to some serious fall line trail, it's hard to imagine any harm we might have done to the oldest mountain range in North America (true story).  We barely saw anyone else out there for the six hours we spent in the woods, and with little more than a consensual "g'day" being exchanged.

We did stop to help a man pick up a bunch of garbage in the road that had already been bagged once but then ran over by some (pardon my stereotyping) piece of shit redneck.  I had a mental and emotional struggle when we just rode past him at first.  At my advanced age, I live out of guilt quite a bit, and that tends to make me wanna do more good and less bad as I hurtle towards the grave.  I'm glad my frands were willing to go back, and they were glad that they both had a spare pair of gloves (bastards).  Word to the wise, iffin you ever think this is a good activity.  Broken glass is sharp enough to easily rip through the side of a contractor garbage bag, so hold them away from your body when carrying, specifically far away from the only exposed skin on your calf.

Funny not funny would be the "trail" that we took at around mile 41.8 that I'm sure is "horse easy," but has to be considered at least "moderately difficult" on a mountain bike, and "basically stupid" on a garvel bike.

That was the best day I've had in some time.  Hard to be distracted by silly real life problems when you're bombing gravel descents at 35MPH+, riding down steep, horseshoe-pocked ditches, and maneuvering over loose loaf of bread to biscuit sized rocks.

After getting lost (a bit) on the way home, this was the best thing I could think of to stick inside me:

I will definitely join Watts in the future, and I will most definitely bring three times more food than I think I need so I can avoid sad roller dogs and whole chocolate milk on the way home to avoid a Titanic exploration sub-style stomach cavitation.  

And as a footnote, this is as of Monday morning:

The garvel bike is now in a commanding lead for 2024, but single speed miles are at least beating shifty bitted*... but sadly my running shoes will sneak into third place by the end of the week.

Who am I?

* No, tarck bike and bar bike miles are not tracked so whatevs.

Wednesday, February 21

Winter Shart Tarck '24: Race Five

Points-wise, last week kinda locked the top five in place for the GC in the single speed category.  Based on the less than full parking lot when I pulled in, I'm guessing many had been dissuaded by the colder temps and lack of potential to improve themselves in the standings.  It definitely had the "time to make the donuts" feels.


Had to embed the video for the yutes that don't get the reference.

Park, pee, warmup... donuts.

Ride around in circles in the parking lot with Keith, hardly doing what the kid athletes now call "openers."  Not really a proper warmup, but low motivation levels are definitely high.  Line up to the front left... don't see still in third place after missing race #4 Robert and wonder if he still crushed me enough in the first three races to still beat me in the GC... because this is the biggest issue in my life right now?

I don't even come close to the hole shot after not clipping in on my first two spins on the crank.  Unnghh.  By the time we start single filing into the chute, I'm ten riders back... a far cry from third wheel last week.

dammit

I mean, barring disaster, I'm fifth (or fourth) as long as I pedal my bike around the Bullwinkle-with-a-dong shaped course five times. I could take a handup if offered.  I could attempt to get some crowd-pleasing, somewhat pathetic air time off the one sorta-jump.  I could try to have "fun."

And this may sound dumb, but despite what feels like a pretty intense effort, my heart rate does not reflect it, nor my position in the field.  It takes me a few moments to realize that:

1. I can feel the pounding in my head that indicates maximum effort.
2. Usually my heart rate monitor strap dies slowly... usually when its cold... often times during the Winter Shart Tarck Series.

I swap the data acquisition device screen to the second page of rando stuff that doesn't matter in a thirty five minute race.  This was a good and a bad thing, as I didn't see the data that told me I was slowly dying (I don't even see 51BPM when I'm sleeping)... but then ended up acting fine for the last two thirds of the race.

Other than that, what else is there to say?

Someone made a pass on my that made me question why I bother racing, being that my circle of trust doesn't extend very far past the end of my nose.  I did manage to move up a few places after my shitshow start, but I ended up in a heated battle with Charles for a semi-irrelevant 6/7th place with 8/9/10th right there behind us waiting to feast on either of us if we blew up.  I kept passing Charles where it made no strategic sense whatsoever, only for him to just come around me at will.  Without my tachometer working (but it actually was, but how would I know because I turned it off?), my hard efforts were too much so, leaving me no high idle when I let off the beans pedal. 

I didn't mention that The Pie and Boppit came down to watch the final race.  I wanted a strong showing, although I know full well that her love for me is not dependent on how I perform on this day in my umpteenth Winter Shart Tarck race.  She's seen me win some things.  She's seen my lose some things.  She's also seen me quit some times and well as injure myself, so she's seen all the things.  Despite all that, hers was the loudest "Go Dicky" I heard all day. 

Yeth, I've been busting out the fresh yellow because YELO (You Enjoy Living Once)

Charles ended up besting my after my final poorly planned attack, but after all was done and dusted, I had this to show for my five weeks of Sunday distractions.

The Pie suggested I bring Boppit to the podium, but although he's a very good boy, he can't be trusted.

I love my stupid dog, and although he isn't my only reason for living, he is one of them.

Bless his feeble runt-to-success story heart.

Tuesday, February 20

Winter Shart Tarck '24: Race Five Predumble - What's Eating Dickbert Grape?

Obvs I ain't been totally "with it" lately.  My mind elsewhere.  Apology.

Long story short... *

* and now edited because it felt good to share for a bit, but now I've put most of the post in the bin.

So a lack of sleep, strong set of poor coping skills, a passionate desire to solve all the problems immediately, and a tendency to catastrophize everything while doing the ass-opposite of stress eating (not eating) has left me with an empty gas tank.  I had two very terrible runs at the end of last week, lots of staring off into space, and lack of desire to plan more than twenty four hours into the future.

Saturday, not wanting the "same old same old," I talked Dr Mike into going to Mountain Island Lake Park.  I'd only been there once, it was closed for a good bit, and now there's a bunch of new trails and features.  It sounded stimulating.

Not an action photo because I wanted Dr Mike to stand there for scale.  I'd seen pictures of this feature on FaceBook that made it look smol, but it is definitely STIL and BTIL.

From FaceBook... it looked miniature.

Anyhoo, we only rode about ten miles.  With the more interesting parts of the trail super-loaded with steep climbs, and my body revolting and my brain not necessarily focused on the task at hand, that was enough.  I couldn't really get my heart rate up (that will make more sense after the next post), so I was fine with calling it a day, satisfied that I got to see all the new stuff and say, "yes, that was very much new-to-me stuff."

*sigh*

This too shall pass... or everything is going to be okay...

I've heard it enough recently. 

Everything will be okay until it's not okay and just put that on repeat until you realize it always ends with not okay but still mebbe okay.

Wednesday, February 14

Winter Shart Tarck '24: Race Four

Somehow I'm parked next to Bruce.  We always park in the same general vicinity.  We're basically the same age.  We finish the race about the same time.  Chalk it up to a "birds of a feather" situation.

"Robert Marion isn't coming today."

"Huh..."

I'd mentioned last week that I wasn't moving up in the GC unless someone in the top five missed a race.  Now that's happening, so I guess back to caring.

I make the decision to kit up sans single knee pad protecting my lower left bendy part.  I mean, I skipped it for the previous day's under-biking adventure, so whatever.  Ride over to watch the Sport Men come through the swoopy section to see how muddy things are getting on the course.  Everyone looks clean for the most part... until the leader's jersey comes by way back in the field, covered with mud up top and blood down low.  Guess it's slick out there... back to the car for the knee pad.

Run into Charles while checking on the beer tent status (the beer is NOT there yet).  

"Robert's not here.  Guess we're moving up."

"I'm not really here either.  Got sick last week, so I'm not racing today."

Well, guess I'm moving up.

Warm up and chat with Keith who's right ahead of me on points about stupid things like single speeds, sprint finishes, and meaningless points.  Head over to the start and unabashedly line up towards the left side of the start with Rob who has been crushing it lately.

Oddly enough, I get clipped in immediately and get the hole shot on the first two turns... only to have GC leader Justin and Rob get around me going into the woods.  Rob, Justin, and then me.  A whole lot better than what I've done in the past three races. 

photo cred: Pisgah Paparazzi
We're not even done with the first lap before we start running into the back of the twenty rider strong 50+ field, so tactics are going to come into play sooner rather than later.  Justin gets away, but I keep Rob in sight.  I'm feeling like an Almond Joy for all of a hot second before Keith gets around me and everything goes all Mounds on me.  It's now that I start doing maths.

Dammit.

Although Robert isn't here, he put enough riders between us for the first three races (one being the double points race with a stacked field) that the math might work out that I still can't move up in the GC just because he isn't there.  Now with Keith in front of me, I'm losing even more points.  I close it back down towards the end of the third lap, and decide it's either time to go full beans or none.

Full beans it is.  I manage to get a gap on Keith and also catch up to Rob's wheel.  I know there's two logical options on the last lap with Rob.

1. Stick on his wheel, let him pull on the gravel flats, put in one effort on the last climb to avoid the sprint finish which I had told Keith while we were warming up is my biggest nightmare.

2. Pass Rob on the first gravel flat, take the wind head-on allowing him to sit in, go faster than him on the last bit of single track, hope it's enough to discourage him from chasing me back down in the last minute and a half of the last lap.

Number one is the smart play, so obviously, I go with option two.

It pans out as one would expect.  Rob manages his biscuits better than I do, comes around me on the last steep pitch, and takes second to Justin.

In the end,  Robert did have enough points to skip a race and only drop back one place to third behind Rob.  Charles skipping the race due to illness means Keith moves up to fourth and I fall ass backwards into fifth.  

While I was talking to Charles (at a distance), I told him that Winter Shart Tarck is like a stage race that takes five weeks and only has three hours of actual racing... but it's what happens those 167.5 hours the rest of the week that can toss it all in the bin.  Illness, injury, family situations, unexpected commitments, etc.  Do Shart Tarck for enough years, you'll get around to at least one or two unfortunate incidents that make the work you put in all for naught... aside from having fun with friends in the woods and hanging out on a winter's day... which is usually enough for me to call it a "win" regardless.

One week to go.