BTW

I was going to name yesterday's post Urine-Nation but thought better of it, wasn't Apoopriate; just thought you'd like to know.

Issues

With a lot of recent posts going on at the WSBA message board about racers peeing in any convenient spot that may be available - not necessarily public but still not private either; I've got to wonder what - as humans - our hangup is?

What the hell is wrong with some guy standing behind a tree or gal squatting behind a bush?

Dogs being walked pee on the fire hydrants and folks pickup after their droppings (who's the real boss?) and we see horses going on trails and at the track (he pees like a race horse) and cows in the fields. All my kids wear diapers, as as most parents will attest, it's not that big a deal. We all know what it looks like, smells like; it's not the most pleasant sights to view and folks doing it seem a bit shy & vulnerable.

But peeing & pooping are a life-long natural bodily function for every living creature - a direct result of drinking and eating. You want to stop one, you've got to stop doing the other.

So as with Mother's breast-feeding their kids in public which is a very natural occurrence (nobody is shouting at the zoo to restrict viewing of the monkey's or other apes from doing the same) - this seems to create an awkwardness or outright furor among some people. Where did we all get so prude?

We've got manners! We've evolved!! We're more intelligent!!! Well apparently we're not.

A Superior race

OK maybe it was only adequate, but it did start in Superior, AZ, 60 miles east of Phoenix off HWY 60 (with most categories doing 60+ miles). Now only if I entered the Masters 60+ race, the stars would've been aligned.

However being the longest ride of the year, in the hottest weather I've faced this year (with the overnight low being hotter than the warmest day in SEA so far), with the most hills I've seen this year - the stars were not aligned for a superior race; especially on my relatively heavy and not-too-stiff Pocket Rocket.

Course was an out-and-back with lots of ups and downs. The road sign said 10% grade going out (and downhill) - which I knew was going to spell trouble for me on the return (which it did). We raced with the 60+ group (which include Seattle area hometown fav. Franz Hammer who is 72). The group shed a few on the way out though most regrouped until approx. 15 miles to the finish where the dreaded 10%-er loomed. This went on (not all of it 10%) for about 8 miles. At top-of-climb I put the hammer down on Franz and did a solo run for home (dropping my 2 suffer-fest companions). The one thiing I am very sure of on this bike is that it does go downhill fast. Not sure where I finished but will reluctantly post when they show up.

update (3/24): results

On a Roll...

...with Bobke that is.

Last night at Magnuson Park Bobke had the house laughing up a storm with his observations, antidotes, and musings. The thing I thought most interesting was his observations on Astana and how Johann will have his hands full keeping all the Chiefs satisfied (Leipheimer, Contandor, and Armstrong) - especially when it comes to the TdF in July.

His prediction - Lance wins #8. I'd be hard to bet against him - he's predicted all his previous 7.

As any parent knows...

...repetition breeds insanity.

As David Byrne once sang,"say something once, why say it again?" I think my 3 Kiddo's may be Psycho Killers!

Bum on a bike

The cop who pulled up next to me on this evenings commute home as I rode westbound on 6th through Tacoma - rolled down the passenger side window and said,"hey you don't look like the typical bum on a bike that I usually see around these parts."

I'm not sure whether to take that as a compliment or what? I guess there is a difference between being a bike bum and a bum on a bike.

I think he was impressed by the fact that I was lit up like a Christmas tree with all my LED's blinking away - rather than being all lit on something a little more toxic and riding around without so much as a reflector.

Irony?

I'm not sure that's the word I want to use here...

Commuting home through Federal Way this evening a red pickup threw a full plastic water bottle at me as it sped south of the Commons (now with all lights turned off so I couldn't pick out his license number - really bright move) weaving through a few other cars before disappearing ahead. The bottle landed adjacent to me and bounced into the side of my front wheel (harmlessly thank goodness) - but the outcome could've been much different had it hit my torso or head (or got tangled in my wheel) causing me to lose my balance or otherwise crash with perhaps dire consequences. Only 30 seconds after I lost track of the p/u ahead a Federal Way cop cruises by and gives me a nice wave.

Without so much as a good description, license plate number or look at the actual characters who demonstrated their juvenile behaviour I didn't have cause to flag him over to make any sort of report.

And that's basically the world we cyclists live in day in & day out; relying on the majority of good citizens to look out after us (sometimes begrudgingly) with a heavy amount of trust as we share the road with them. The physics don't act in our favor if their 2+ ton plastic, metal, and glass surroundings encounter us on our bike with a 9 oz helmet. We live with a huge target on our backs for a tiny, but dangerous, minority who derive some sort of misguided pleasure in harassing those (seemingly) more vulnerable. And we never know which one of those bullies determined to endanger us is actually going to score on us one day; perhaps never having a clue what short or long term damage they might inflict.

The irony here is that my first such encounter of this type of idiotic behavior occurred in Dallas in the early 80's - where I had just gone for a nice (though blustery) 3+ hour ride earlier in the day. But I can still see in my minds eye, more than 25 years earlier, that brown beer bottle floating by at eye level in slow motion from left to right as the pickup sped off up the road. That quite literally opened my eyes up to the world of them verses us. Be very wary of them.

My ride in the Big D was actually quite pleasant today except for the jerk running his mutt around White Rock Lake. Having his little yapper on one of those expandable 30 foot leashes taking up the entire shared pathway - and he couldn't hear me coming because of his headphones blasting and the wind rustling. So when I inch up to him and finally got around I give him a bit of a look with a little shake of the head and he unloads the F bomb on me. Now sticks & stones and being clotheslined by a leash may break my bones but... I resisted the urge to lower myself to his level and just continued on my way.

I wonder if leash boy owns a pickup?