The More Things Change...

Government class. There I was sitting my life away for an hour every day. I had better things to do with my time during my senior year in high school: play practice, art club, flute lessons, shooting hoops.... We'd just started up another school year, and a controversy flared.

The Tour de France was rocked by news that Astana's battered team leader, Alexandre Vinokourov, tested positive for a homologous blood transfusion after Saturday's time trial in Albi...the Kazakh's blood had shown evidence of a transfusion from another person with a compatible blood type.... Upon receiving the news, the Astana team suspended Vinokourov and quit the Tour de France.... http://www.cyclingnews.com/road/2007/tour07/news/?id=/news/2007/jul07/jul25news

Tess: I just feel so bad for them. She was a cheerleader, don't remember in which sport, but she was cute and blond and she felt bad.

Me: They signed the paper. Their parents signed the paper. They knew what they were doing. The entire first string football team had gotten caught at a party on homecoming night. That year, getting caught drinking, smoking, drugging, or even getting caught in the presence of any of the above meant an athlete was done for the season.

Every rider that is participating in this Tour de France has signed the UCI's antidoping charter in which they promised to give up a year's wages if caught doping. That means that Vinokourov, Moreni and possibly even Rasmussen may be giving up their salaries as punishment, but that's no consolation for their teams, the sponsors, the mechanics and other people involved with the team. http://www.cyclingnews.com/news.php?id=news/2007/jul07/jul27news2

Mr. Hausenkopf sat back and listened during the spontaneous debate in government class.

Tess: But still, they shouldn't have been kicked off!

Bert: It wasn't fair. Bert was an enigma. He was somehow one of the beautiful people, in the popular crowd without being involved in anything...no sports, no art, no music and no personality from what I could tell. He spent no time on anybody who wasn't somebody, and I was barely a blip on the outer edge of the Somebody Radar screen.

The news Tuesday...raised a number of concerns with Floyd Landis. One of them was the question about fairness, which the California resident said was not adequately considered in the months leading up to the Floyd Landis trial.... http://www.cyclingnews.com/news.php?id=news/2007/jul07/jul25news4

Me: Not fair?! School officials had gone to great lengths to outline for us the new training rules that fall. We got it loud and clear. When I signed, I understood what I was signing. If I was ever caught I was out of whatever I was in. To me, nothing was worth that.

Bert: They shouldn't be kicked off the team for being at a party! Bert was trying to sound as eloquent as his 17-year-old countenance would allow. That's just stupid!

...the Danish federation claims Rasmussen missed an out-of-competition test on May 6, 2007, afterwards correcting that date to April 6 and adding another missed test on June 21, 2007. Finally in June 2007 Rasmussen was again careless with sending his whereabouts schedule to the UCI, according to the claims." http://www.cyclingnews.com/road/2007/tour07/?id=/features/2007/tour_rasmussen_media072

Me: We don't decide what's stupid. We decide whether or not to follow the rules, and if we want to play we don't have much choice. We all signed it -- they signed it. They all knew what would happen! Of course there was a chance of not getting caught, but everyone knew the consequences if they did get nailed. Their decision lay with assuming the risk. The new rules were harsh, but were clear. There were no second chances.

Team manager Theo DeRooy has withdrawn the maillot jaune from the Tour de France. The team fired Rasmussen, who lied to them as to his true whereabouts when he missed his out of competition tests in June. "Wrongly reporting whereabouts is a flagrant violation of UCI rules and is unacceptable," read a statement by the Rabobank team. http://www.cyclingnews.com/road/2007/tour07/news/?id=/news/2007/jul07/jul26news

Bert was stuck. He looked at me and sneered. Well, just because you're a jock.... It was the best insult he could come up with on the spot. It made no sense given the conversation we were having. I was a jock. It pissed me off just the same. He didn't understand the sacrifices nor the honor of just being part of the field.

"This is a bitter pill to swallow," said Nick Nuyens, whose Cofidis team removed itself from the Tour de France. "It hasn't all sunk in yet." Nuyens was forced to leave following the news that his Italian team-mate Cristian Moreni had tested positive for testosterone. "Of course I was surprised [by Moreni's positive test], he told the Gazet van Antwerpen. "I am disillusioned. I don't know what they will do with us. All I know is that we have to leave the Tour. "When you take part in the Tour for the first time, you hope to at least reach Paris, not this," he said bitterly. "And I was so happy to have survived the last mountain stage." http://www.cyclingnews.com/news.php?id=news/2007/jul07/jul27news2

I decided to follow suit and called a spade a spade. Just because you're a waste....

I didn't understand then that while adults are expected to grasp the consequences of actions, arguments can be made for the adolescent brain and what it understands, how it responds and whether it can reason. Can the same argument can be made for elite cyclists? They're aware of the consequences, but do they really understand? They're young. They've been so immersed in racing for so long that it's all they know. Is it an arrested development? Is it desperation at having put it all on the line for so many years and finding their results and their dollars won't carry them past their 30s?

Former pro cyclist Jan Koerts announced live on Dutch television Wednesday night that he used doping products during this career. "You come to a given point in your career where you have to decide," he said on the show De Avondetappe. "Either you consider your career has failed or you participate in doping," he said. "I have participated. It was that or put an end to my career. http://www.cyclingnews.com/news.php?id=news/2007/jul07/jul26news4

- TOB

Recognition

the nod
from a passing cyclist

dude.
hey.
seen you out here before.
do I maybe know you?

usually
lycra begets lycra
messenger bags peg kits
backpacks hey panniers
early morning riders see other early morning riders

the helmetless
in tennies
look down the trail

~

while
out on an errand run
down the trail on the 'cross ride
library, post office, bank
auto parts store
in plain clothes
tank and baggy capris
backpack-purse

the hairy-faced man
in the jeans on the Schwinn
finally
gave me the nod


- Baggie nodworthy

Heading out with the Dog

redefined



- TOB last Sunday along Minnehaha Avenue

The OBJoeS*

EDIT: changed the ending on this one 7/3

From nearly the beginning of my blog, I've referred to the guys as Joes. It's made writing easier. I couldn't just make up a name for someone I know, nor could I illustrate the back and forth nature of conversation by writing: this guy said... the other guy fired back with... later that one guy hollered from the back room.... Neither a made-up name nor the term guy captured the person behind the story.

It just made sense to make them Joes. Joe said... JOE fired back with... I heard Joe holler from the back room.... It made them real without divulging identities.

However, and he probably doesn't know it, Shannon over at erratica was the one who inadvertently started the OBJoeS* by calling himself Joe #4 in response to a post I wrote about our meeting at the LBS in March.

Joe was working on his new build, while Joe was installing a new cassette/chain combo...from the other room Joe hollers: see-ya Jeanne.

I hear a different JOE: the Old Bag?!

In his reply Shannon, then TGD, signed-off: Joe #4. Which made me laugh, but which also planted the question: who, really then, are Joes #1, #2 and #3? It takes something larger to have a numerical designation. And while there are many significant Joes in my life who will never be classified, this is a bicycle blog: the numerical Joes must have something to do with cycling.

So, the OBJoeS* evolved -- with five Joes so far.

But, a nagging question arose. There are other cycling Joes: Shawn is the second blogger I met, who drove an hour across Phoenix to ride with my crowd while I was there visiting, who lamented with me the changes in the desert landscape. But from the beginning he's always been Shawn. He definitely deserves Joe status, yet a number never stuck. Why not?

It made me realize the Joes, rather than being actual people which they are, mind you, moreso stand for an experience: Joe #4 is the in-the-flesh blogger while TGD will always be Joe #4, Shawn is too. #1 is the rider so smooth he allows me to forget my trappings this one is pretty died-in-the-wool for now. #2 will always be the romantic interest this obviously changes. Joe #3 is the connection beyond the ride we're all potential threes. #5 is the one I'll probably never meet in person, but is a writer I visit regularly and is the one who dared ask to be a Joe or maybe he didn't ask, but he hinted and I offered and it became...ok, so I had a weak moment!

Cycling life wouldn't be the same without the Joes -- or without the Bettys for that matter -- in the same way life wouldn't be as rich without the characters who surround me. Cycling, in whatever form, may be part of my lifestyle but the people make it part of my life.

- OB

* Old Bag's Joe System

The Bettys

EDIT: changed the ending on this one 6/11


I first came across the term Betty while reading MTBR's Women's Lounge: someone referred to a fellow biker's new baby as a beautiful new Betty. I started seeing the term bandied about when women talked about their female cycling buddies. Betty has connotations as strong as those that are attached to Fred don't be such a Fred! except Betty lies on the other side of the spectrum. Being a Betty is all good.

Betty is strong and intelligent. She's willing to try about anything and she learns quickly. Betty doesn't know it all, and she realizes that. She's fiercely loyal. She listens and supports. Betty knows when to talk, when to joke and when to be quiet.

Betty is a smart cyclist who understands the bond.

So, when life tossed-up some road apples while we were away for a cycling weekend in the woods, two women kept close, kept me sane and kept me clear of the splatter. When the manure spread into the week, they were close to the phone and to the computer.

I've been fortunate throughout my life to have developed close friendships with smart, confident women...some of those relationships span 39 years of my 45 year old life. But, I've found I'm also blessed with new friendships growing from respected acquaintances who rally 'round when life tosses out something unexpected.

They're Bettys.

- OB

Congratulations Jen!

Heading home to the plains. Graduation festivities are beginning!

- TOB

About Your Ad....

I'm here about the Joe #2 position.

But I didn't advertise for a new Joe #2.

You didn't? But I'm pretty sure....

No, no, that position filled a couple of months ago.

Really? I could swear I saw the signs still up.

...I don't think so...you did???

Oh, I'm sure of it. Maybe you didn't realize they were still out there....

Hm. That's odd. They are?

They're there.

Oh.

Are you happy with your current Joe #2?

Um...yeeesssss.

... . .. .

Sure...for the most part.

Totally?

Well....

Because if not, I'd sure be interested in sitting down with you and discussing my qualifications.

Oh. Well.

You DO want to be sure you've got the best Joe you can get for this type of position, don't you?

Of course!

. ... ..

I guess it wouldn't hurt to chat and just see.....

...

..
.

- TOB ended up interviewing

So, Well, Bicycling....

is what i'm supposed to be writing about but i'm just a tad distracted these days so haven't had time to sit down and think much less write much less compose some sort of thoughtful essay on living life from the top of a bicycle but have spent my spare time instead interviewing a replacement Joe #2 which can be all-consuming in the midst of a crazy work schedule because these things take careful consideration of all the angles and the job description wasn't really quite finished yet because i didn't realize the position was actually open so when the applicant arrived i had to scramble to figure-out if he had all the correct qualifications and it appears he does have them all and more but

a full evaluation might
take a bit more




time

- theoldbag

Joe #3

This time of year is tough for me. At work it's crunch time. Kids are all hanging from the ceiling now that weather has turned. I LIVE for the end of the day so I can just git, but when the end of the day comes I realize tomorrow's meeting hasn't yet been organized and the report on that kid hasn't yet been finished and the parent phone call hasn't been made. Oh, and I've also got to structure some learning....

It's like nailing Jell-o to the wall.

So when I finally git from all that Jell-o-nailing I'm exhausted. But on the weekends I'm up at the crack of dawn ready to roll the two wheels.

I think I am. But in reality, I'm not thinkin' straight.

I played too hard at the beginning of Saturday's ride. We were out for 74 hilly, windy Wisconsin miles...18% grade was the worst, winds in the high teens with gusts hitting 30. But it wasn't the hills or the wind that had me toasted. I can do hills. I like hills. I can even tolerate wind in a group.

I was riding with a group that surged. Slowed. Surged. I didn't have the presence of mind to think. I just rode. I followed a wheel. When the wheel sped, I did too. When it slowed, I did. Just when I was ready to ease out my legs from the hill, the tandem would feel a burst of energy and go for it. A Joe would follow and I would go along, not wanting to face the wind on my own. My legs were toasted.

What am I doing? I could tell Joe #1 wasn't in the group where is he?! When the first rest stop came I had a chance to make it right, but didn't. I let the surging group leave without me, but I didn't have enough brain to hang out for a few more minutes and wait on Joe #1 who'd just arrived. A couple of us thought we'd take a short spin and either join the group ahead or slow to join the one coming from behind.

We found ourselves in no-man's land. Two of us. The group ahead lengthened the gap. The group behind was nowhere to be seen.

I stopped.

Enough.

My legs had had enough of the wind.

There was a southern loop and we were turning into the wind, again. I looked at the map.

Joe, you don't have to go with me, but I'm looking for a short cut. I've had it with the wind. I'm tired. I'm crabby. My legs are shot. You can go ahead.

I'm fine with you drafting me, I'm happy to pull. You rest up. I'll pull. Whatever direction you want to head is fine with me. I'd rather have the company -- I hate riding alone this year. Last year I wanted to ride alone, but this year I don't want to ride on my own. I need the conversation.

Joe's wife had been terminally ill for several years. She died in January.

I looked at the map. We had nine miles until a tail wind.

.

Joe #3 grew up north of the Cities in a small town that's now a suburb. He's got a house close by, one that's built from the bricks of the same amusement park that once was the area's attraction...he actually met the guy who built the house -- was out doing yard work when an old gent drove up and got out to talk...ran the half-mile in high school and still holds a record since the year later the race changed to the 800 meters...two kids, 13 and 17, good kids...has been able to be home with them for years...deciding what direction to take next with his life...good days and not so good days......

- TOB sometimes it's not just a ride

Joe #2

I look for Joe on every organized ride I join. I begin as the crowd gathers in the parking lot. I know his truck. I know he tends to arrive late. If I can't make my way his direction during the pre-ride briefing, I'll mark him on the roll-out. We end up riding together. Just about always. Often.

Joe isn't married, but is in a recently out of a long-term relationship. Doesn't matter. We don't talk about it.

I'm not interested in Joe that way.

I want his wheel.

In the fervor of recreational cyclists burnin' their way down the road, Joe is the wheel one of the wheels I'll follow into the fire because I know he'll bring me to the other side unscathed it punches a good-sized hole. He knows how to pick a line, knows how to finesse around pitfalls and people, knows how to gently alter his speed, knows how to stand without affecting his tempo and therefore the riders behind him. Joe knows there are such things as slow days, and that they make a cyclist stronger but doesn't necessarily use them to his advantage like he could. And he knows when he's got a smooth rider on his tail.

Synergy.

Baby, oh.

I trust him with my life rolling by at 20 mph but on the screaming downhills I look for Joe #2.

- OB knows there are so many Joes

Joe #1

I look for Joe on every organized ride I join. I begin as the crowd gathers in the parking lot. I know his truck. I know he tends to arrive late. If I can't make my way his direction during the pre-ride briefing, I'll mark him on the roll-out. We end up riding together. Just about always.

Joe isn't married, but is in a long-term relationship. Doesn't matter. We don't talk about it.

I'm not interested in Joe that way.

I want his wheel.

In the fervor of recreational cyclists burnin' their way down the road, Joe is the wheel I'll follow into the fire because I know he'll bring me to the other side unscathed. He knows how to pick a line, knows how to finesse around pitfalls and people, knows how to gently alter his speed, knows how to stand without affecting his tempo and therefore the riders behind him. Joe knows there are such things as slow days, and that they make a cyclist stronger. And he knows when he's got a smooth rider on his tail.

Synergy.

Baby, oh.

I trust him with my life rolling by at 20 mph but on the screaming downhills I look for Joe #2.

- OB knows how to pick'em

Jim, there’s been a Disturbance

It’s the LBS with two big, round papasan chairs just inside the front door even though its inventory is busting out the walls. It’s the only one in its chain of stores. Buzzing in-n-out for a quick spare tube or brake pad just doesn’t happen: there’s always someone and something to be talked to and about. There’s BS to fling in the midst of business to conduct. There are frames to debate, suppositions to be supposed, and -- on Fridays at closing time -- beer to be had.

It’s a guy-thing, the Friday beer. But, since I tend to happen by now and again at the end of the week AND, since I need to await the reversal of metro traffic patterns, I’ll tip one or at least BS for a bit before hitting the road.

Sometimes the group is just hanging, but last Friday the new service-area addition was in full-swing: Joe was working on his new build, while Joe was installing a new cassette/chain combo and is that wheel outta true??

I’d walked toward the door several times only to get caught up in the latest bicycle rag or in the end-of-day customer who’s getting a new carbon TT rig in lieu of an engagement ring this woman rocks! So, I eventually grab my bag and wave my final goodbyes. From the other room, Joe hollers: see-ya Jeanne.

I hear a different JOE: the Old Bag?!

WHOA. Rift in the space-time continuum.

For an instant, the real me and the online me stood side-by-side. While in the comfort of my own home I know I’m both, but in the real-time space of 3D existence, the two haven’t ever met much less been called-out by someone I don’t know. Like many others, when I started blogging my online persona was an anonymous one. But after enough entries and comments, intersections are established and it’s only a matter of time before direction arrows are posted. People eventually travel the roadway between the stories they read and the person behind them.

JOE came through the doorway: I’m JOE -- I'm TGD!

I KNOW THIS GUY! We’ve never met! Until that moment, I wouldn't have been able to point him out to anyone. He's a fairly new blogger whose entries pack a punch -- what a writer. We chatted about education, women in sport, blogging, racing, babies.

I was once asked by an older-than-me :-] co-worker about blogging and whether or not I consider the bloggers I know to be friends. I wasn’t sure how to answer. We know a bit about each other’s families and work, we share some humor, we have common threads. We’ve had similar experiences. We worry, we encourage, we share advice. We know each other well enough that when we finally meet we smile and say oh man, how are you?! like buddies who haven’t seen each other since last cycling season. If we could, we’d all hang-out after a ride and tell some war stories over a beer.

Isn’t that how it all starts?

- TOB

The Demise of the LBS

or
The Plight of the Goofball
is that redundant??

So, how do you like yer bike?

Greatest Betty I’ve ever had.

Yeah, my good bike is an unobtanium Speedoflite.

MmmHmmmmm.

Yeah, this old Ralphie is my winter ride.

UmmHmmm.

Yeah, I stopped over at *LBS* and they wanted $UntoldMillions$ for for my unobtanium Speedoflite AND it was one that had been test ridden all summer like I want to BUY a test-ridden bike so I got on the internet and found one at *MASSIVE CATALOG OUTLET* for $SlightlyLess$ and THEN I went to E-Bay and found one for $SoCheap$.

...and there goes the Local Bike Shop...

Well, what do they expect when they’ve got 100% markup, come on.

Bicycles have a mark-up of 30-35%.

... . . .. .

So, where do you plan to get yours serviced

!?

- this guy didn't know TOB does some work for *LBS*

So He Says to Me, He Says...

is

that

a

hint

?

- OB's Einstein link from Tim.

25 Miles to Go

Jill's Outta Flat Horn Lake

A friend of mine, Paula, once running her first marathon, said there are three things well-meaning spectators tend to holler out to a runner -- and if any one of said phrases is hollered, the runner has every right to pound said spectator into the ground.

The one phrase I won't send to Jill via mental telepathy is ALMOST DONE!

She made it past mile 75 and left Flat Horn Lake during the wee-hours. One more checkpoint left at mile 87 -- 13 miles from there to the finish. It's easy to look at distance alone and see that only a fourth remains; and it's easy to assume that distance only gets smaller. Those who have never set the challenge in front of themselves won't realize that while 3/4 of the physical distance has been covered, the majority of the ride still is still out there to conquer.

Now an endurance athlete needs to pull from her mental training. Leaving a checkpoint with 3/4 behind is exhilarating...until the reality of 25 miles remaining hits home. The body is tired, muscles have been strained, rest has been fitful, and 25 more miles to go means hours more in the saddle pushing that tired body forward. Mentally, that finish line isn't getting closer.

According to Paula, NOONE is allowed to say to an endurance athlete that she's almost done...unless the finish line is literally within sight. With cycling, perhaps one can say almost done once the miles left reach single digits.

So Jill, we're all still with you cheering from the sidelines even harder now. Thank goodness you've got people from all time zones watching your progress -- whether or not you knew it someone was sending positive thoughts your way all through your night.

- OB

We Do it for Those Who Can't

Pete, you're good. Laptop, easy chair. I only hope I can one day match your perserverance.

Tim, your dedication is awe-inspiring. Le Grand Noir? Man, you've done this before.

Supporting Jill and others out on the Alaskan tundra is serious business, and I almost cracked. I know I need to sleep for those who can't. I know it's my reponsibility to have a hearty home-cooked meal in support of those who are sucking down frozen PowerBars. I won't feel right if I can't hunker-down on the sofa just for those who are sitting on a frozen saddle.

My training methods have shown-up in a bit of inconsistency today -- I nearly cleaned the basement...and at the last fraction-of-a-second as my hand was going toward the running shoes my mental game snapped back at me: what are you doing? get your head in the game now, or you'll lose it all! Concentration has always been my downfall. I shook it off and grabbed the walking shoes and car keys instead as I headed out for an hour of grocery shopping. Thank goodness I took that two-hour nap underneath the down comforter. I had the energy needed to try all the samples pushed by the hawkers in the the aisles. Now, all I have left is to finish off my day by crawling underneath the electric blanket. It's late...I hope I'm not shirking my responsibility.

- The Old Bag still has alot to learn

• Jill's through the second checkpoint!
  

Does it Hurt Yet?

Thanks to Tim over at Bicycles and Icycles for starting the movement. I'm on board as well, sacrificing for the cause...givin' my all for those who are givin' it their all...keeping an eye on the progress.

Dear reader, can you find it within YOU?

- The giving Old Bag

P.S. Good on ya Jill! Thanks for taking us places we can't, don't or won't go!

• Through the first checkpoint at 12:50 AKST (3:50 CST)

To the Teenaged Among Us

Happy Birthdays!





- Old Bag Wishes She were There

The First to Know

Well, I'm no longer anony-blogging. To my niece and nephew (the HLBDM)...the most talented and wonderful kids I know -- can't wait to see you at Christmas!

...snagged these pics off my niece's xanga....

The kids and their old man, my bro.



Niece with TOB HOB...family resemblance??


- The Old Bag's just too far away sometimes!

Breathe Grateful

A true Minnesotan, she said, "Could be worse.” She’s happy to be alive and is glad to be able to join us for the weekend, even if she’s not on the bike. These days she's marathoning…at least that's what her body thinks each day by 2:00.

Her lung capacity is down to 30% due to scarring from Scleroderma…at its most basic, sclero=hard and derma=skin. It's a chronic connective tissue disease that falls under the same category of autoimmune diseases as lupus and rheumatoid arthritis. Due to the scarring on her lungs, oxygen just doesn't get transferred from her lungs to her red blood cells.

I was amazed by her cheerful weekend attitude. She laughs heartily and has dancing eyes. She misses riding terribly, but with her husband's support is able to do other things to still enjoy life. She works at the Courage Center helping others find ways to live with their abilities.

- The Old Bag