Kingdoms Rise, Kingdoms Fall

Well, well, well... it seems we were wrong about the riding season being over. Some last-minute attacks on previously secure territory seems to have reignited some fire in a few riders over the last couple of weeks.

Let's start with Troy, whom I will now give the nom de guerre of "Attila the Young". Not my best work, but let's face it, sometimes graphics are unintentionally funny because they are so unprofessionally completed. See? That's me being ironic there. Layers and layers of funny, like a funny onion.

Back to the point... Attila the Young has been conquering most of the civilized world for almost a month... one segment at a time. He's encroached on all borders, making himself a hard neighbor indeed. Ultimately the reaction was as inevitable as it was violent.

James was never going to take losing segments in his backyard lightly. Word on the street is he communicated his planned counter-attack to a certain well-known minister of a Mitchell church. Vague hints of retribution leaked over social media, and next thing you know, BOOM! Yeah, that just happened! Whut? WHUT?!

AtY has fallen into a predictable pattern though... he forages mostly during the noon hour. This limits the range of his reach, and though he is soaking up surrounding segments, he left his broadside open to a concerted attack this evening.

Concerted might be the wrong word, since it wasn't exactly coordinated per se. Scott mentioned a couple of days ago today may be a good day to go for the Super 2. I agreed, and made a mental note to arrange for it if possible. Things worked out with practice that I could do it, and so I went.

Scott apparently like the idea so much he did the same thing. When I got to Allen's church, I saw Scott's truck parked. Yup, he was taking his shot. He couldn't be too far ahead, given he works during the day as I do. If I hit it quickly, I might get someone to ride with.

The wind was out of the northeast, but steady. I wondered how it would help, or even if. It seemed as if it was beginning to shift east more and more, but I was out there, and I was going to take the shot regardless.

I rolled out onto the straight and hit it. I'd tried for segments in town last night and felt awful - how would this go? Had I left it in town? Soon I had my answer. Before long I was cruising well over 30 mph. Though the effort was hard, it was sustainable. All I needed now was a bit of luck. Please, smooth downhill with no traffic at the S-turn. Please, no cars at the intersection!

I cranked as hard as I could take it, and only encountered mild interference at the intersection. I finished hard and hoped it would do - I was spent! I felt it had to be close. I'd glanced at my Garmin right before the start and a bit after the finish. It had me at about 8:20-8:30 before I subtracted time for the corners... this was going to be close.

About halfway up the hill I saw Scott. He turned with me and we finished a very pleasant 21-mile ride. Yes, he had just completed his attempt at the record, and turned in an impressive split.

Later I was in the gym, and in walked AtY. We lifted and talked for a bit, and then he revealed to me he'd taken two segments today... Industrial Again and Again and Mt. Unpleasant. Of the two, Mt. Unpleasant hurt the most because it was a very difficult segment. However, his impressive speed on it forces me to bow down. I cannot conceive of a way I could ever top his 18+ mph climb up that hill. That ride was big-time, AtY.

Industrial? It was only a matter of time until someone like Jimmy or Miller or John T. took that one.

I hadn't been home yet, so I couldn't be sure I had the Super 2. I sure hoped so though... There were so many unknowns...

7:54. Under 8 minutes is tough. First time in my life I held 30 mph for that distance. Wind aided? You bet! I. Don't. Care. I may not have "earned" that time, but I did ride hard. Whatever it takes to get me out to do that is good.

Now here comes the funny part... while talking to AtY in the gym, he commented he wanted to be able to hold 30 mph for a mile. I assured him HE might be able to do it, because he's primarily a rider, and strong. I would never be able to do it, or so I told him. But I already had. Wind-aided, true enough, but it was already history.

There I am being ironic again...

Lord of the Segments Pt. 5

Even Normdalph’s patience was tried by this turn of events, but he merely scowled and moved on. Inwardly he did admire Randwise’s steadfast adherence to the right, even if both of his own hands smarted from his stubbornness. His thoughts soon returned to more important issues, concerns which had brought Normdalph to Bedfordton earlier and in more hurried a fashion than ordinary. There was nothing specific, that is to say there was nothing concrete in the many subtle signs Normdalph was beginning to uncover, but pieced together in composition the varied parts began to forebode trouble in the winds, and perhaps worse, a dark evil. This thought was only a vague fear, intuition perhaps, or maybe the vestiges of hard sleep and bad dreams lingering subconsciously into waking hours. But for now, it was time to greet Jimmy. There would be time to sort this trouble out tomorrow – today was for celebrating.

Jimmy was in his kitchen finishing up his latest loaf of bread. He was a person without many vices, but unquestionably Jimmy possessed a particular fondness for bread. Amongst his circle of friends, indeed far and wide it was understood, when dining with Jimmy, if one wished to sample the bread, one must do so early. Left unattended, any scrap of bread would be soon sopping up gravy or egg yolk on Jimmy’s plate.

The smell of bread was somewhat a reprieve for Normdalph, having been thwarted from tasting roast mutton. Anxiously he banged his saber on the door, eager to grab even a small mouthful of delicious home-baked bread. Alas, Jimmy answered even as he shoved the final morsel into his mouth, and Normdalph’s expression melted into the briefest expression of despair. It soon passed; More important matters awaited.

Okay, we all knew it would happen...

I ran with the girls today, and it was a great workout. We ran down the railroad bed, and we had some quality running in there. The weather was cooler and it was a much more pleasant event as a result.

Leisa wanted to grab a bit after I got home, but after supper there was still time to get out and ride, if I stayed in town and took what I could get. With that in mind I went first to Williams Blvd. to see if I could make a go of Mash the Gas. I tried twice, but it was no use and I knew it. I'm totally out of shape, and never had a chance to regain my lost KOM. Curse you, Troy! ;)

After that I dropped down to Hillcrest Circle and Industrial Park to, you guessed it, take a stab at the KOM on Industrial. I tried twice, but it was no use and I knew it. I'm totally out of shape, and never had a chance to capture my lost KOM. Curse you, Scott! ;)

I still had some daylight left, I still needed a few miles to get to 15 (my target), and it hit me - Stupid Segment, I mean, Climb to Park, or whatever you guys called it. Daylight was fading, there was a large crowd of Pop Warner football parents pulling in and out of the area, and I had no business trying to round that corner fast as I was - which of course didn't stop me from trying not once, not twice, but three times. I was on rails on this one, hitting the same time all three times - and capturing the KOM.

I cannot help but believe there was some pool out there betting on how long it would take me to try, or perhaps whether or not Troy or I would try it first.

I think I will try to ride again tomorrow after practice. I'm hoping to have a bit more time to do it, because I am way short on miles this week.

Lord of the Segments, Pt. 4

Randwise was getting an early start on the roast mutton, a job for which he possessed a particular genius. Generations of Gamgee men perfected and held secret the art of roasting mutton to mouth-watering precision. The delicate spicing, the exquisite crusting outside which sealed the juices inside… it was a delicacy often known to bring tears to the eyes in what was akin to a religious experience. Already the smells were drifting far and wide, forcing those downwind to begin anxiously checking and rechecking their watches, impatiently waiting for the festivities to begin.

Normdalph was no more immune to the intoxicating smell of roast mutton as the next person, and decided to maintain his stealth a bit longer in hopes of stealing a small precursor to the feast to come. It was no use – Randwise was always on the alert while roasting mutton. A sharp rap on his outstretched arm, delivered by a gnarled walking stick held for just such a purpose, forcefully reminded Normdalph he would have to wait just as everyone else would.

Randwise’s reaction had been more instinctual than cognitive, and when he finally looked into the face of the would-be food thief he was instantly mortified. “Forgive me, Master Normdalph! I had no idea it was you!” cried Randwise, head bowed in fear and respect. “Now, now, think nothing of it,” replied Normdalph, “…no harm done. Though my pain would be sooner healed with just a smidgeon of this fine meat…”

Rap! Randwise’s stick came down hard against Normdalph’s outstretched hand. As sorry and fearful as he was to do it, Randwise could allow no one to sample his food until it was perfect. The Gamgee family reputation rested upon his skills, and even the threat of annihilation could not have prevented him defending his honor. 

Will it ever end?

Three days of excessive abnormal heat. Three days of above-100 degree heat indexes. And I had to run a space heater under my desk this morning because the A/C ran amok last night and my room was a nippy 61 degrees this morning. Yikes! No wonder I can't get healthy.

In spit of this, I've actually run pretty well. Perhaps it's the motivation of the runners who are preparing for their respective races (Persimmon, Columbus, Indy), or maybe it's because we've dropped the dead weight (Jimmy), but we've run some pretty fast 5's the last few times I've been out. Today we even capped the 38-minute run with a Scott acceleration, which I'm afraid I foolishly encouraged by noting it hadn't yet happened. As they say, it's perfectly okay to have an unspoken thought.

I hate that we missed the ride last night. I believe it's fate, because riding time is going to get diminished anyway, but dangit, I hate thinking I'm going to get something I want and then not getting it. Better to believe I never had a shot. Like my Nicole Kidman deal. (Just kidding!) No, really, I don't have a shot.

I may try to slip in tomorrow for a ride after practice. It will likely be an around-town deal. I need to try out my new aerobar pads anyway - I'm sure there'll be an adjustment necessary.

Lord of the Segments Pt. 3

Inasmuch as it was mid-summer, the day dawned with a heavy dew across green fields, and the early morning mist hung heavily in the valley, obscuring most of the small dwellings from view. The windows were all clasped tight to keep out the unhealthy dampness, so Normdalph’s approach was neither seen nor heard as he wound his way through the empty streets to Jimmy’s home.

The home was a sight to behold. It was hollowed out of the hillside in proper Bedfordtonian fashion – in fact, the house itself was the pride of the village, and had been handed down, along with the surrounding property, from Baggins to Baggins for countless decades. Around the exterior there were two external structures to house equipment necessary to maintain the spacious property, and though not large were in fairly good repair. Next there was a small pond, with clear blue water that invited Bedfordtonians to cool themselves on warm days (such as this day promised to be). Finally there was the tall pole, and affixed to its top was a slab of flat wood and a ring, about the size of a peach basket, set perpendicular to the board. It was the central piece of equipment to the one sporting event all Bedfordtonians prized…”hoops”.

The inside of the home was warm, cozy, and filled with the many treasures such a home would collect as it passed from family member to family member. The furniture reflected the varying tastes of previous owners, and the fact they were all still in residence is a testament to the frugality of Bedfordtonian nature. Area rugs covered hard cherry floors, and the walls were of fine mahogany, though they were difficult to see through picture frames scattered over their entire length and breadth. The smell was of wood, smoke, and summer tea sunning on the back porch.

The ride that wasn't, and "Lord of the Segments" Pt. 2

Man, I put Scott through a lot of trouble for nothing.

This morning I got an email from Steve at Bicycle Doctor stating my parts were in for my aerobars. I was trying to figure a way to pick them up as expeditiously as possible when it struck me that perhaps someone in the club was heading up there today. So I put out the desperate text asking the question. No after no came in, until Scott texted he was "10 minutes away".

Perfect! Since he was already almost there and was going anyway, I asked him to pick up my kit. He agreed, and I was feeling pretty good about it. It wasn't until later I sorted out he wasn't headed to Bicycle Doctor, he works 10 minutes away. So yes, I had my friend run an errand for me on his lunch time. I am so selfish. Sorry about that, Scott!

I was happy to have the parts though. The aerobar kit Rand loaned me might have worked, but I was really shaky on them. The stance was far too narrow for my shoulder width, and I found myself extremely twitchy in the controls. I was afraid any sort of sudden motion on my part would likely result in a crash. This wasn't going to keep me from doing it, but I would be in full-on "pucker mode" the whole time.

It was all for nothing. Even heading down to Mitchell, it was obvious the ride was doomed. Storms were popping up all over Lawrence and surrounding counties. They weren't moving, they were just getting bigger, spreading out. No chance to wait out the storms - daylight is shorter every day. The only choice was to go ahead and have some Wendy's. So John T., Rand, Scott, and I did just that.

Rand made a new friend. The old lady clearly wanted the seat in which Rand was sitting, and her constant banging her walker against the chair did nothing to dislodge him. She tried standing there looking pitiful, lost, and helpless, but heartless Rand just turned his back. Actually, he wasn't trying to be mean. I was getting a kick out of the whole thing when the first whiff of her perfume wafted its way to me. It was enough to make my eyes water. I really don't know how he kept that seat. At the range he was getting it that force field was set to "stun".

We finished the evening with a walk on the track for the Cancer whatever it was. I don't know precisely what it was all about as I only found out about it today. That said, Rand and I walked almost 2 miles with Jimmy and Scott, and were later joined by Leisa. John T. hung around long enough to collect his choice Colts tickets which were pried from the lovely hands of Jimmy's daughter Haley. If you thought Rand was heartless...

Lord of the Segments, Pt. 2
Normdalph the Grey was a beloved frequent visitor whose time stretched far beyond the memory of the eldest Bedfordtonian, who often lived more than 150 years. In truth, Normdalph was far more ancient than was realized. He was from another time, the first age of the world, a time of great conflict. Normdalph the Grey possessed the knowledge and wisdom collected over an eon of serving all living things and preserving the old ways. He'd been a general, a politician, a doctor, many other pursuits far too numerous to recount, but to the simple Bedfortonians he was now only a wizard.

Normdalph could often be seen approaching Bedfordton on the narrow, dusty dirt roads that spiraled mindlessly out of town. His gait was peculiar, not quite a run, not quite a walk, and his head lolled to one side. It was often said Normdalph's eyes were rolled up in his head, and he would be uttering gibberish words from some lost language. Anyone else behaving in such a fashion would have been renounced, but the youth of Bedfordton flocked to Normdalph on sight, marveling at his uniform, his wisdom, but most of all his humor. He was everything respectable folk should avoid, yet he was utterly irresistible.

The uniform... it was slate-grey, wide in the shoulders, which carried braided chords of gold. Around the shoulders was a short cape of similar grey, large enough to almost wrap around his chest, but only long enough to reach his waist. Its high collar sported brass buttons of intricate design. The coat opened down the front and had two rows of similar brass buttons, as did the sleeves. Numerous medalions littered his breast, the meaning of which had long ago been lost. The coat was split in the back, and partially covered the pants, which were also slate-grey and cut in a straight-leg fashion. Polished black leather riding boots completed the clothing, but the uniform was not complete without the long, elven-hewn saber clasped in the sheath ever at his side. It was said the blade of the saber would glow an unearthly blue when Dorcs were about. 

Lord of the Segments

Bedfordton was a small, backwater village on the edge of the wild wood, surrounded by old-growth timber and clear streams quietly bubbling through crooks and narrows and shady corners of thick wood. The community itself was small, quiet, conservative, and composed mostly of farmers who passed their time in the respectable pursuit of social restraint and stoic work. Idle talk and wild tales of adventure were not to be heard, and were considered to be a sure mark of an uncultured citizen of Bedfordton.

Jimmy Baggins had never quite fit in with the finer folk around town. He was a bit taller than was considered appropriate (for a Bedfordtonian), and his natural exuberance and energy rubbed bare the patience of his neighbors. What use were smiles, laughter, and good humor? Better to bend one's back to work, grinding out a respectable existence in the quiet of one's proper place in life.

Not all Bedfordtonians found Jimmy Baggins so distasteful. Rand Gamgee was a loyal friend and handyman, and Jimmy's friendship was one of the greatest treasures in all his possessions. Likewise the irrepressible Denny Took and Jon Brandybuck, who themselves were always mired in their own mischief.

It was into this world our adventure begins, and the time was a celebration. The Baggins had long opened their home to a wonderful annual celebration, with plenty of food and games that were sure to entice the locals to forgive their excesses for at least the length of time it would take to fill their bellies and take their pleasure. The eve of the celebration drew near, and the excitement, subdued as it was in the most respectable manner possible, was building in the village. Rumor had it the wizard would participate in the entertainment this year, and that was sure to mean all forms of magic and fireworks so grand as to leave indelible memories to haunt the villagers sleep for weeks to come.

More tomorrow!

Various Items

First, a public service announcement.

*ahem*

Please, in the name of all that which does not suck, do NOT go see "This is the End". I do not have words to describe how bad it is - all I can do is describe my reaction. Leisa and I walked out after 45 minutes. I throw nothing away. I was raised to never waste food, clothing, anything I've spent money on. We couldn't stay any longer. I realized it was flat out cruelty to force her to watch any more. Terrible movie.

I feel like a need a shower to wash off the suck.

On to other things...

Ran and rode this morning, and there were many interesting ideas kicked around. Here's a list of the highlights, in no particular order:

• Kill stickers for our bike helmets. Maybe for KOM, maybe for other deeds, but it should be a doable idea. 
• Natchez Trace Ride to become a fund raiser? 
• Possible new starting place for Tuesday night rides (for me).
• Possible ride options for Natchez Trace.
• New segment created for Strava (37 from Orleans to Mitchell).

We weren't able to hook up with Jimmy this morning. Apparently his time was inflexible. Too bad, we would have enjoyed having him. In spite of that, the Burriis and I rode Lighthouse at noon. I forgot my bike computer and was forced to use my iPhone app instead, which by some miracle maintained tower connection the entire ride. I went for the uphill segment again, tying my previous best despite not knowing how fast I was going. 

Man, sorry my writing is disconnected, but I cannot wring the awful out of my head. That was a horrible movie. I would rather go to a Taylor Swift concert featuring a Miley Cyrus dance solo. Seriously, there should have been warning labels on the theater doors.

Run at 8 AM tomorrow. I will likely ride shortly thereafter.

Close Call

Once upon a time there was a coach who owned a magical carriage.  It was his favoritist ride EVER! It could do so many tricks, carry so much stuff, and could be transformed in so many configurations, well, what wasn't there to love?

Then one day the battery went dead - quite suddenly, as it happened. This was an unnerving event, because the age of the car meant there could  be any number of serious problems happening. The coach took a chance and swapped out the battery for a new one, and for a time it seemed to work.

A couple of months down the road coach began to notice a slight lag in the starter every time he started the engine. Coach's ear, finely tuned from years of shade tree mechanicking, felt the unmistakable fingernails of dread pulling down his back. His beloved chariot was breaking down. No use denying it.

Coach lifted the hood, meekly testing the battery cables for a sturdy connection. The positive cable was indeed loose, so after some trouble coach was able to firm up the connection. Good friends helped jump start the vehicle, and coach began to feel as if all would be well.

It was a long trip back from Mitchell, and it was by then dark. Coach began to notice it was harder and harder to see the road. Before long warning lights began blinking all over the dash. If coach had an ejector seat he might have pulled the chord at this point, because everything was going haywire on the dash. Coach guided the crippled vehicle into the nearest open lot and called home to his mommy.

Okay, not his mommy, but his daughter. Fortunately coach's daughter also happened to be a princess, and the beautiful maiden arrived on her unicorn, which had traveled over a magical rainbow. The princess had with her a secret handbag, and from it she pulled out long wires. On one end of the wires she connected coach's battery. On the other end she lifted the unicorn's tail, and...

Whoa.

Okay, so it wasn't a unicorn, it was her convertible. The battery is in the trunk, so she popped the trunk and hooked up the other end of the jumper cables. The car was started, and coach's car limped home - barely!

So look for coach to be riding to practice on a unicorn across a magical rainbow tomorrow. Or something like that.