- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
28 November 2009
27 November 2009
Sighting - 11/27
Went into the city today. Most bikes were spray painted or covered with electrical tape.
The only SS I saw today was in the Levi store on Lexington.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
The only SS I saw today was in the Levi store on Lexington.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
26 November 2009
Happy T Day!!
From the 23rd floor in Forest Hills
Setting the table
Cooking yummiez
And here's the bird
AFK eating!
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone
22 November 2009
Sweat Sesh: Pushup Poker
The rules of Pushup Poker are simple.
1. Each player starts with 100 in chips.
2. You do pushups for each chip you lose at the end of each hand.
3. If you win the hand, you don't do any pushups.
4. You can do 50 pushups to buy back in for another 100 chips.
Biff, Eric, Douglas, Dan, Phil and I played this at the Cornelius household for about two hours. The game began on a whim. None of us had any money. We weren't drinking. And we didn't have anything else to do on a Saturday night.
With fresh arms everyone played pretty sloppy. I lost a few big hands and ended up doing a few sets of 30 and 40+ pushups. Things started to move along after the first hour. Biff took the chip lead early and used his power to buy out a few big hands, eventually knocking Eric and Dan out of the game. Later, Eric would buy back in, Douglas made a small comeback and I was on the brink of destruction.
We raised the blinds to increase the pace of the game and pressure everyone into making big moves. I started to come back, winning a few decent hands and watching as my opponents paid for it. Part of being the winner of the hand is standing over all the losers, counting their pushups and critiquing their form.
"Keep your back straight!"
"Lock out those arms!"
"Break the plane!!"
Next was an epic showdown between Biff and I, where he went all in for 87 pushups. I called. We flipped our cards. I had pocket aces and Biff had a Queen, Nine off-suited. On the flop, Biff drew a pair of nines and the option for a straight. But the last card fell and I won!
The evening ended with Biff struggling through 90 consecutive pushups, without rest. We had to quit at this point because we were all smoked. I think I probably did around 400 pushups total. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.
The next step is to add shots of beer in with each hand!
1. Each player starts with 100 in chips.
2. You do pushups for each chip you lose at the end of each hand.
3. If you win the hand, you don't do any pushups.
4. You can do 50 pushups to buy back in for another 100 chips.
Biff, Eric, Douglas, Dan, Phil and I played this at the Cornelius household for about two hours. The game began on a whim. None of us had any money. We weren't drinking. And we didn't have anything else to do on a Saturday night.
With fresh arms everyone played pretty sloppy. I lost a few big hands and ended up doing a few sets of 30 and 40+ pushups. Things started to move along after the first hour. Biff took the chip lead early and used his power to buy out a few big hands, eventually knocking Eric and Dan out of the game. Later, Eric would buy back in, Douglas made a small comeback and I was on the brink of destruction.
We raised the blinds to increase the pace of the game and pressure everyone into making big moves. I started to come back, winning a few decent hands and watching as my opponents paid for it. Part of being the winner of the hand is standing over all the losers, counting their pushups and critiquing their form.
"Keep your back straight!"
"Lock out those arms!"
"Break the plane!!"
Next was an epic showdown between Biff and I, where he went all in for 87 pushups. I called. We flipped our cards. I had pocket aces and Biff had a Queen, Nine off-suited. On the flop, Biff drew a pair of nines and the option for a straight. But the last card fell and I won!
The evening ended with Biff struggling through 90 consecutive pushups, without rest. We had to quit at this point because we were all smoked. I think I probably did around 400 pushups total. I'm going to be sore tomorrow.
The next step is to add shots of beer in with each hand!
21 November 2009
Sighting - 11/21 - Bike polo @ Ithaca Skate Park
Ithaca is a hot spot for bike polo. According to Main Street Bikes in Burdett, there is bike polo here every Monday at 6pm. I've seen some students playing bike polo on campus before, but it didn't look as elegant or organized as this group. I might like to try this sometime. Looks fun.
All You Haters (Suck My Balls)
I've been reading enough blogs about fixed-gear/urban/hipster cycling culture to find this video funny. It's really funny. And kind of awesome. I give it about 9 hours 'till Bike Snob NYC picks it apart with snarky commentary.
Note the Chrome messenger bag, neon sunglasses, alternative haircuts and, of course, the PBR!
All You Haters (Suck My Balls) from nixbros on Vimeo.
Note the Chrome messenger bag, neon sunglasses, alternative haircuts and, of course, the PBR!
20 November 2009
17 November 2009
Booze Tues. - Wells Banana Bread Beer, Ergon GX1 grips
Tough day at the office. I was on the phone almost all afternoon with hostmysite.com trying to figure out how they f-ed up something trivial in my CF administrator account. Then, I arrive home to see that the postal carrier dropped a load of my mail in the mud puddle by the driveway. Furthermore, I realize that I forgot to start the dishwasher before I left this morning so I had to manually wash some dishes before dinner. Drag.
To relax this evening, I poured myself a tall glass of Wells Banana Bread Beer.
This disgusting "malt beverage" is allegedly an ale brewed with bananas and banana flavor added. The fact that Wells & Young's Brewing Co. has to call this beverage a "premium flavored ale" makes me wonder if it is actually a beer. Even 40's can be called "premium". I did my best to choke it down while I did some maintenance on the Air9.
Besides the normal cleaning and obsessive polishing routine (I even broke out the Goo-Gone pen to get at some sticky stuff), I put on my new Ergon GX1 grips. But first, I had to take off these sons-of-bitches:
Removing these old rubbery Bonty grips is no easy task. I've done it thrice before and after each time I swear to myself that I will never go through it again, but I still haven't been able to throw them away. The very last pair that I took off my Bonty Crowbar, I got so frustrated that I grabbed my razor knife and cut them into shreds, gouging long streaks into the aluminum in a Wolverine frenzy. I didn't want to do that to my new handlebars, so I did it the hard way and almost snapped my medial deltoid in the process.
These grips are a comfy change from my T.H.E. XC grips. They are soft, rubbery and have a small platform for the edge of my hand. They're nice enough to use without gloves. I don't know that I can say anything substantial about these grips that you can't read elsewhere. So I'll just sum it up by saying that the GX1 grips rock the shit. End of story.
To relax this evening, I poured myself a tall glass of Wells Banana Bread Beer.
This disgusting "malt beverage" is allegedly an ale brewed with bananas and banana flavor added. The fact that Wells & Young's Brewing Co. has to call this beverage a "premium flavored ale" makes me wonder if it is actually a beer. Even 40's can be called "premium". I did my best to choke it down while I did some maintenance on the Air9.
Besides the normal cleaning and obsessive polishing routine (I even broke out the Goo-Gone pen to get at some sticky stuff), I put on my new Ergon GX1 grips. But first, I had to take off these sons-of-bitches:
Removing these old rubbery Bonty grips is no easy task. I've done it thrice before and after each time I swear to myself that I will never go through it again, but I still haven't been able to throw them away. The very last pair that I took off my Bonty Crowbar, I got so frustrated that I grabbed my razor knife and cut them into shreds, gouging long streaks into the aluminum in a Wolverine frenzy. I didn't want to do that to my new handlebars, so I did it the hard way and almost snapped my medial deltoid in the process.
These grips are a comfy change from my T.H.E. XC grips. They are soft, rubbery and have a small platform for the edge of my hand. They're nice enough to use without gloves. I don't know that I can say anything substantial about these grips that you can't read elsewhere. So I'll just sum it up by saying that the GX1 grips rock the shit. End of story.
11 November 2009
Happy V day!
Veteran's Day is an important holiday for me. It is a time to sit around and morosely pore over the history of my life, the meaning of becoming a man in the midst of a war, and the value of federal service to the people of America. Then I get on Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 (Xbox) and blow shit up with UAV strikes.
Most people in the Northeast seem generally ignorant of the holiday, except that some of them get a day off work. Lance Armstrong was the first to personally thank me for my service:
That was obviously directed to me. My mom, Jake's mom and my dear girlfriend also mentioned something to me, which speaks largely to the motherific nature of remembrance.
Despite the continual cry for attention on my blog and the occasional braggadocio about my own awesomeness, I don't want a personal "thank you" for my service. I also do not expect people to be lining the streets, cheering my name and waving tiny American flags as I roll into the parking garage at work - though complementary valet service once a year would be nice.
There is something like 25 million living veterans in the United States right now. That's one eighth of the population that has served or is serving in the military. Veterans are all over the place! There are many ways to thank them. Look at pictures of the Korean War Memorial. Eat hot dogs and drink light beer. Sip whiskey and watch Band of Brothers. Mow your lawn. Hammer vodka and bench press while you're listening to Metallica. For some reason veterans usually appreciate anything that has to do with drinking.
Ithaca is not the best place for being a veteran. After my first deployment in Iraq I returned to Ithaca in my dress uniform only to be spit on by "hippies" in the Ithaca Commons. Fortunately the loogie beaded on my super futuristic polyester dress coat and dripped off like rain does when it hits a giant jungle leaf. This would be the first of many incidents concerning my uniform in the Ithaca area, and it wasn't long before I started changing out of my uniform before I drove through town.
I don't often speak of my time in the Army, and rarely do I consider myself a veteran. My service was in the Military Intelligence corps, so most of my stories were secret to begin with. Either way it is something I don't advertise. But on Veteran's Day I'm proud to call myself a high-speed, low drag, airborne member of team green, repping the 82nd all the way! I call and email all of my buddies still in the war. Not because I want to thank them, but because they need to know that I'm still around, that I support them and that they are not forgotten.
Most people in the Northeast seem generally ignorant of the holiday, except that some of them get a day off work. Lance Armstrong was the first to personally thank me for my service:
That was obviously directed to me. My mom, Jake's mom and my dear girlfriend also mentioned something to me, which speaks largely to the motherific nature of remembrance.
Despite the continual cry for attention on my blog and the occasional braggadocio about my own awesomeness, I don't want a personal "thank you" for my service. I also do not expect people to be lining the streets, cheering my name and waving tiny American flags as I roll into the parking garage at work - though complementary valet service once a year would be nice.
There is something like 25 million living veterans in the United States right now. That's one eighth of the population that has served or is serving in the military. Veterans are all over the place! There are many ways to thank them. Look at pictures of the Korean War Memorial. Eat hot dogs and drink light beer. Sip whiskey and watch Band of Brothers. Mow your lawn. Hammer vodka and bench press while you're listening to Metallica. For some reason veterans usually appreciate anything that has to do with drinking.
Ithaca is not the best place for being a veteran. After my first deployment in Iraq I returned to Ithaca in my dress uniform only to be spit on by "hippies" in the Ithaca Commons. Fortunately the loogie beaded on my super futuristic polyester dress coat and dripped off like rain does when it hits a giant jungle leaf. This would be the first of many incidents concerning my uniform in the Ithaca area, and it wasn't long before I started changing out of my uniform before I drove through town.
I don't often speak of my time in the Army, and rarely do I consider myself a veteran. My service was in the Military Intelligence corps, so most of my stories were secret to begin with. Either way it is something I don't advertise. But on Veteran's Day I'm proud to call myself a high-speed, low drag, airborne member of team green, repping the 82nd all the way! I call and email all of my buddies still in the war. Not because I want to thank them, but because they need to know that I'm still around, that I support them and that they are not forgotten.
09 November 2009
City Bike by jruiter
It has that whole awkwardly cool design, though I'm sure it isn't big enough for a real full grown man. Would you ride this?
http://www.jruiter.com/jruiter/conceptsLatest.php
07 November 2009
40k Saturday
I left the Slaterville 100 feeling fat and defeated so today my dad and I decided to attempt the second half that I never rode. We slightly modified the route so we could leave right from home without riding on Rt. 79 which has a lot of traffic. I think the route we took was even harder than the planned path because we added another huge climb right from the get-go.
Early this morning I went to the store and picked up some Under Armour Cold Gear bottoms. They're basically warm spandex pants. When I first put them on, I had the sudden realization that my thunder thighs look amazing in tights. I donned my snazzy head band, my fleece and wool socks and we hit the road around 2pm.
I felt good going into the ride. In the past few weeks I've been focusing on my pedaling technique and riding position. Instead of furiously attacking the giant climbs, I've been downshifting and getting into a high but manageable pedaling cadence that doesn't burn out my legs too quickly. Controlling my breathing and keeping a steady pace kept me fresh up the hills and left my dad in the dust.
The new fork and stem have put my handlebars out and down about an inch, so I find myself leaning down farther toward the wheel. The aggressive riding position seemed to pull more muscles into my pedal stroke, gathering power from my gluts, hips and hamstrings more effectively.
I was surprised to see so many unfamiliar trails through Shindagin and Potato Hill. I love pre-formatted rides like this because they get me off the usual paths and places I ride so often. Today's ride was mostly dirt roads.
Everything was going fine until mile 16, when my stupid Bontrager grips started digging painfully into my palms, my socks started bunching and my toes went cold and numb. We got to a big climb on Level Green Rd. and we began to feel run down. We ate all the Ritz-Bitz, gummy Lifesavers and polished off all the water with still about 13 miles to go. Whoops. Around mile 18, while oozing slowly up the hills through Potato Hill State Forest, I grew more weary and uncomfortable. My Under Armour fancy pants were not helping.
Since these pants were not really designed for cycling, the waist band and seams were all totally terrible. The ass-chapping center seam felt less like a line of cloth and more like the San Andreas fault grinding its way up into my ball sack. Even worse, the seismic waves then reverberated up into my colon, heavily agitating the pot roast I ate on Friday night. Do you know how hard it is to fart while you're pedaling?
And so we soldiered on into the setting sun, truculently bearing the weight of our spare tires up the next few hills. At 5:30pm and mile 25 we were completely in the dark. It got cold, real cold. Neither of us had reflectors or lights so we decided to call in a medivac. I picked up the iPhone to call mom and of course "Call Failed", then "No Service" flashed across the screen. It was pitch-black, ice-cold and there was not a house in sight. Great.
I rode ahead of the old man for a bit until I found a house with a light on. The owner let me use the phone and mom luckily picked up her cell. Twenty minutes later we were warm in the van en route to the homestead. Home made chili and a spinach salad were waiting on the table when we got there. Great to ride, but even greater to be home.
I felt good going into the ride. In the past few weeks I've been focusing on my pedaling technique and riding position. Instead of furiously attacking the giant climbs, I've been downshifting and getting into a high but manageable pedaling cadence that doesn't burn out my legs too quickly. Controlling my breathing and keeping a steady pace kept me fresh up the hills and left my dad in the dust.
The new fork and stem have put my handlebars out and down about an inch, so I find myself leaning down farther toward the wheel. The aggressive riding position seemed to pull more muscles into my pedal stroke, gathering power from my gluts, hips and hamstrings more effectively.
I was surprised to see so many unfamiliar trails through Shindagin and Potato Hill. I love pre-formatted rides like this because they get me off the usual paths and places I ride so often. Today's ride was mostly dirt roads.
Everything was going fine until mile 16, when my stupid Bontrager grips started digging painfully into my palms, my socks started bunching and my toes went cold and numb. We got to a big climb on Level Green Rd. and we began to feel run down. We ate all the Ritz-Bitz, gummy Lifesavers and polished off all the water with still about 13 miles to go. Whoops. Around mile 18, while oozing slowly up the hills through Potato Hill State Forest, I grew more weary and uncomfortable. My Under Armour fancy pants were not helping.
Since these pants were not really designed for cycling, the waist band and seams were all totally terrible. The ass-chapping center seam felt less like a line of cloth and more like the San Andreas fault grinding its way up into my ball sack. Even worse, the seismic waves then reverberated up into my colon, heavily agitating the pot roast I ate on Friday night. Do you know how hard it is to fart while you're pedaling?
And so we soldiered on into the setting sun, truculently bearing the weight of our spare tires up the next few hills. At 5:30pm and mile 25 we were completely in the dark. It got cold, real cold. Neither of us had reflectors or lights so we decided to call in a medivac. I picked up the iPhone to call mom and of course "Call Failed", then "No Service" flashed across the screen. It was pitch-black, ice-cold and there was not a house in sight. Great.
I rode ahead of the old man for a bit until I found a house with a light on. The owner let me use the phone and mom luckily picked up her cell. Twenty minutes later we were warm in the van en route to the homestead. Home made chili and a spinach salad were waiting on the table when we got there. Great to ride, but even greater to be home.
Specialized Trail Crew Blog Site
It's been some time since I was rejected from the Specialized Trail Crew. Apparently my writing, silly antics and shameless self-promotion skills were not good enough to advertise the new 2010 S-Works Stumpjumper FSR Carbon.
http://www.specialized.com/zz/en/bc/SBCBkModel.jsp?sid=10SJFSR&eid=4950&menuItemId=9248
I have been reluctantly reading the Trail Crew blog. Seeing pictures of these lucky motherf-ers with their smug smiles unwrapping their $7000 dream bikes makes me want to vomit. I'm more than a little bitter. It's okay though, I don't know that I would even know how to ride a seven-thousand dollar bike.
Admittedly, I really like reading their blog. Right now I think the Trail Crew riders still have honeymoon syndrome. They're opening the boxes, donning fresh, rubber-smelling gear, and breaking in their suspensions for the first time. Most of them look like they're about to jizz in their pants.
These guys haven't shown that they're worthy of the privilege they've been granted. Right now the blog is kind of boring. Blah blah, I love to bike, S-works Stumpy rocks, blah blah (this must be what I sound like). But where are the serious critiques? Where are the detailed chronicles of their epic journeys? When can I expect well-developed, thoughtful and riveting commentaries that encourage me to think differently about mountain biking and the quality of the bike I'm riding? When will they convince me to buy an S-Works?
Maybe they don't want to blow their wad just yet. They're generating steady content with pictorials and opinions of the bike, but I have yet to see any really interesting stories. Maybe my expectations are just too high, but I'm not yet convinced that these are the best guys for the job they've been given. With great power comes great responsibility. Better step it up, fellas.
http://trailcrew.specialized.com/
http://trailcrew.specialized.com/matthew-h/2009/11/the-first-date/
http://www.specialized.com/zz/en/bc/SBCBkModel.jsp?sid=10SJFSR&eid=4950&menuItemId=9248
I have been reluctantly reading the Trail Crew blog. Seeing pictures of these lucky motherf-ers with their smug smiles unwrapping their $7000 dream bikes makes me want to vomit. I'm more than a little bitter. It's okay though, I don't know that I would even know how to ride a seven-thousand dollar bike.
Admittedly, I really like reading their blog. Right now I think the Trail Crew riders still have honeymoon syndrome. They're opening the boxes, donning fresh, rubber-smelling gear, and breaking in their suspensions for the first time. Most of them look like they're about to jizz in their pants.
These guys haven't shown that they're worthy of the privilege they've been granted. Right now the blog is kind of boring. Blah blah, I love to bike, S-works Stumpy rocks, blah blah (this must be what I sound like). But where are the serious critiques? Where are the detailed chronicles of their epic journeys? When can I expect well-developed, thoughtful and riveting commentaries that encourage me to think differently about mountain biking and the quality of the bike I'm riding? When will they convince me to buy an S-Works?
Maybe they don't want to blow their wad just yet. They're generating steady content with pictorials and opinions of the bike, but I have yet to see any really interesting stories. Maybe my expectations are just too high, but I'm not yet convinced that these are the best guys for the job they've been given. With great power comes great responsibility. Better step it up, fellas.http://trailcrew.specialized.com/
http://trailcrew.specialized.com/matthew-h/2009/11/the-first-date/
05 November 2009
MonaVie super juice
My co-worker Hal is an independent distributor of MonaVie, an açaí berry based juice marketed toward endurance athletes. I've been treating my body pretty poorly so I asked him to get a case of it for me, hoping that this antioxidant and phytonutrient super-fruit cocktail would improve my energy levels and overall health.
There are several flavors of MonaVie. I chose the 'Active' blend. I pulled this blurb off the website:
Offering peak levels of antioxidants and phytonutrients, MonaVie Active features a synergistic blend that supports joint health.
Açai, white grape, apple, acerola, aronia, purple grape, cranberry, passion fruit, prune, kiwi, blueberry, bilberry, wolfberry, pomegranate, lychee fruit, camu camu, pear, banana, and cupuaçu.Each bottle is about 25 oz. and Hal said I should be taking two 2 oz. shots per day. I'm okay with that for the first case, but this thing could get pricey real quick. At 4 oz. a day I'm going through a bottle a week, which is almost thirty bucks. Until my race winnings can pay for a monthly installment, I think I'll just be drinking this for fun. Do you think a month's worth of MonaVie will really improve any aspect of my health? The studies listed online cite the results of 12-week studies, so 4-weeks might be a tight time-line. I'm a little worried that I forked out thirty bucks a bottle for snake oil and placebo effect, but it's too early to tell. Then again...anything is possible if you believe!
MonaVie Active in the glass is thick, pulpy and kind of looks like curdling day-old blood. The taste is intense, and is reminiscent of Jolly Ranchers, Gobstoppers and other sweet candies - except ten times stronger. The juice is unfortunately growing on me. I hope it isn't addictive.
Drinking anything in the category of "superfood" feels a little bit crazy and makes me think of our old friend, Goji-berry guy (watch entire video for full effect):
Perhaps MonaVie will make me feel incredible. Unbelievable.
04 November 2009
Sweat Sesh: Courage Corner 10/4
Yesterday Eric and I quickly donned our gear and hit the chilly neighborhood loop before dark. It was a cold and windy ride up Hanshaw Rd. to Freese Rd. then back behind the horse track, through North campus across Triphammer and back on The Parkway. We whipped it pretty hard, and riding the Niner is amazing, but I didn't get that much of a workout before we rode home.
So tonight I made a visit to Courage Corner. It is a place where boys become men and men become even manlier men. It is a place that reeks of punishment, smelling like a decade of fermenting muscle toxins, tortuously purged from the body through every orifice.
In Courage Corner we have the following equipment:
In Courage Corner, no gloves or shoes are allowed. Your tender, rust-colored callouses will fester a cesspool of blood plasma on every piece of equipment, but it's okay because there everyone is harder than steel, and thus immune to diseases. Instead of bandages there is tape, and instead of water there is vodka. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights mask the grotesque and sometimes nauseating imagery that covers the walls, together acting as exercise for your senses. The scale measures your weight in stones and next to that is a fifty-gallon spittoon for your phlegm and vomit. It is usually half-full. There is only one way to survive a workout session in Courage Corner. You have to dig deep.
Today's solo session was a grueling circuit of jump-rope, various calisthenics, and an array of dumbbell supersets. I did pushups, dips, crunches, squats, hammer curls, planks, thrusters and more. Halfway in my sister brought me a mustard based tuna melt on pumpernickel, which I almost threw up after the second bite. With my arms shaking, I finished the workout in about sixty minutes, and just in time to watch Charlie Sheen in Two and a Half Men (very funny) while I stretched and cooled down.
At some point this winter I intend to get some rollers for my bike so I can bring Silverado to Courage Corner for warm-ups, cool downs and endurance sessions. I was thinking something like this.
Tomorrow, I'm going to head back to the Courage Corner Extension Center (aka the barn man-cave) for an even more hard-core workout.
So tonight I made a visit to Courage Corner. It is a place where boys become men and men become even manlier men. It is a place that reeks of punishment, smelling like a decade of fermenting muscle toxins, tortuously purged from the body through every orifice.
In Courage Corner we have the following equipment:
- pullup and dip tower
- full sized bench, bar with ~300lb of plates
- dumb bells 5,10,15,20,45,30,35,40 lbs
- curling bar
- 45 lb kettlebell
- multi-use bench
- 3 jump ropes
- punching bag, hand wraps, gloves(in the extension center)
- exercise mats
In Courage Corner, no gloves or shoes are allowed. Your tender, rust-colored callouses will fester a cesspool of blood plasma on every piece of equipment, but it's okay because there everyone is harder than steel, and thus immune to diseases. Instead of bandages there is tape, and instead of water there is vodka. The dim, flickering fluorescent lights mask the grotesque and sometimes nauseating imagery that covers the walls, together acting as exercise for your senses. The scale measures your weight in stones and next to that is a fifty-gallon spittoon for your phlegm and vomit. It is usually half-full. There is only one way to survive a workout session in Courage Corner. You have to dig deep.Today's solo session was a grueling circuit of jump-rope, various calisthenics, and an array of dumbbell supersets. I did pushups, dips, crunches, squats, hammer curls, planks, thrusters and more. Halfway in my sister brought me a mustard based tuna melt on pumpernickel, which I almost threw up after the second bite. With my arms shaking, I finished the workout in about sixty minutes, and just in time to watch Charlie Sheen in Two and a Half Men (very funny) while I stretched and cooled down.
At some point this winter I intend to get some rollers for my bike so I can bring Silverado to Courage Corner for warm-ups, cool downs and endurance sessions. I was thinking something like this.
Tomorrow, I'm going to head back to the Courage Corner Extension Center (aka the barn man-cave) for an even more hard-core workout.
03 November 2009
Booze Tues. - IBC Eleven
This fine beverage from the Ithaca Beer Company is from the limited, elite series of specialty beers called "Excelsior!" It was $12.99 at Wegmans in the Northeast U.S. microbrewery section.
The label reads "Malt Beverage with Coffee Added" and on the back in small print "Beverage contains lactose." Before I opened it I imagined the absolute worst, something along the lines of coffee flavored MD 20/20.
Despite the terrible description on the label, the Eleven is very much a beer. The Eleven is brewed with a medley of European malts, strong American hops and milk sugar (the lactose). Instead of adding coffee extract, the beer is aged in a giant vat full of Sumatran coffee beans roasted locally at the Gimme! Coffee roastery.
The taste was reminiscent of black coffee, medium roast. It wasn't thick and while it was smooth it wasn't exactly creamy. It was dark, thin, acidic and had a light aroma and flavor of hoppiness, so I'd say that this beer falls into the category of American porter. The rich and creamy caramel flavor left a filmy and meaty after taste making this brew seem perfectly seasonal for the cold weather and coming holidays.
Planning for the worst has its benefits. If you are right, you can take solace in the fact that you are a brilliant, predictive genius. If you are wrong then you are always pleasantly surprised. This is the pessimists creed and I abide by it carefully. For this beer I was indeed pleasantly surprised. The flavor was solid without being overpowering, though I did get a little messed up after just 750ml. I don't know that I will buy this again, but for a first taste I am more than satisfied with my investment.
02 November 2009
Afternoon Delight - Niner Carbon Fork test ride
I came home this afternoon to a giant manila envelope postmarked from North Hollywood, CA. As promised, the guys over at Niner send me a replacement bolt for my compression adjustment plug. They also sent me an load of stickers, further solidifying their status as having the rockinest customer service ever.
After re-installing the fork, I put on my winter head-band and hit the road. I left at 4:45pm and having only an hour before dark (daylight savings, my ass), I decided to take the short gravel road from Hanshaw over to the horse barn behind the golf course. I made an extra effort to hit the really gnarly parts of the road. Compared to the last time I hit this road, the Niner Carbon Fork feels different. Really different. And I've had a hard time identifying how or why.
First off, I had to acknowledge the differences between this fork and the last fork, a six-pound Rockshox Tora 318 29er. The Niner Carbon Fork is 1/5th the weight, and falls into the category of high-performance parts, whereas the Tora 318 was of mid-grade quality.
The rigidity of the Niner fork was new and refreshing. I've never felt so solidly connected to the ground. On large bumps, the amount of travel felt in my arms and hands was obviously greater than on the Tora. What surprised me, though, was that on small bumps the Niner fork felt way better than the Tora . Rolling over rocks, branches, berms of dirt and clumps of weeds was faster and smoother than ever before. I'll go ahead and drop a buzz-word here and just say "small bump compliance." It was super compliant! I shot down the gravel road like a rocket.
The stiffness and sensitivity of the Niner fork was overwhelmingly excellent. Because it is lighter, stiffer and just a single piece, there was absolutely no play in the fork. So every tap on my handlebars translated instantly into direction change on the ground. Up a short steep hill behind the golf course, I jumped out of the saddle and instantly took off. Again, because the Niner fork is a strong piece of bonded carbon, there is no play and every minute bit of energy transfers directly into forward motion. In fact, the front end of my bike is so light now, that I almost popped a wheelie on the first pedal. Gotta be careful with this fork...my bike wants to take off.
I have yet to give the fork a more thorough trail test, but for now I am very impressed with it's performance. The geometry feels comfortable and appropriate for my proportions and style of riding. Furthermore, the incredible quality of this fork means that it sucks up small bumps like a short travel suspension fork, but at the same time the stiffness and rigidity of the carbon make sure that all your energy is moving you forward. The Niner Carbon fork is a piece of art and rides smooth as butter. Simply amazing.
01 November 2009
T.H.E. Flight System exposed
I'm waiting on a small part for the new fork, so while the Air9 is up on blocks, I thought I'd do an in-depth exposé on another new part, the T.H.E. Flight System carbon handlebar/stem combo.
I got this piece from Cambria Bike for a cool hundred bucks. From what I saw online, this unit was originally priced at $399.95 which is astronomically high, but was in the same ballpark as many of the other carbon stem/bar combos. I've been pricing carbon bars for a while now and for 100 bucks this seemed like a reasonable investment considering the built-in stem. Here are the raw stats:
Weight: 314.9 grams (compare to Easton Monkeylite SL at 135g and EA90 stem at 135g for a total of 270g @ ~$180)
Width: 26 inches
Upsweep: 9 degree
Backsweep: 6 degree
Stem Rise: 1.5 inches
Stem Length: 130mm
Performance: TBD
The handlebar has a sexy wing-like front end. This aerodynamic shape must be some sort of reverse spoiler - instead of reducing axle lift, it increases it! This will hopefully negate some of my weight. And if I get going fast enough, there is a real chance that I could take off like any other bikeplane.
I was hoping to find some information on just how well the Flight System was supposed to perform. The unit arrived in a pretty standard box. It was well packed in bubble wrap but I thought it odd that the handlebar came with no tags, stickers, user manual, product guide, warning label or any propaganda whatsoever. Within minutes of opening the box, I was online searching for the manufacturers website, or anyplace that had information on the handlebar. I found nothing. T.H.E. as part of any search query yields very few related results. I tried about fifty different permutations of the search, I even tried searching for the part numbers as listed on the box "TMSR-05". Still nothing.
I decided that T.H.E.was a front company for an international crime organization. Thinking that the handlebar might be used as a smuggling tool, I snaked a giant pipe cleaner through the bars and stem. Nothing hidden. I then roped the family drug dogs into a smell test, but no flags were thrown. Even under a magnifying glass there were no traces of any heroin and no fingerprints but my own.
I am left to believe that T.H.E. is a secret part of a government organization, most likely Darpa trying to recoup some cash from its wilder research expenditures. The LMPB (Lizard Man Plasma Beam) concept failed so they decided to cut their losses and make high-tech bike parts.
I realized later that "T.H.E." is not treated as an acronym in most search engines so really I was just searching for "the bike parts", "the flight system", "the carbon handle bars" etc. Not the best way to find what I was looking for. Whoops. The real company name is T.H.E. Industries which is a brand of VSI Products out of California. Mystery solved! I have still not found any documentation for the Flight System.
Who cares what the manufacturer says, the real test is on the trail and I expect to be doing that shortly.
I got this piece from Cambria Bike for a cool hundred bucks. From what I saw online, this unit was originally priced at $399.95 which is astronomically high, but was in the same ballpark as many of the other carbon stem/bar combos. I've been pricing carbon bars for a while now and for 100 bucks this seemed like a reasonable investment considering the built-in stem. Here are the raw stats:
Weight: 314.9 grams (compare to Easton Monkeylite SL at 135g and EA90 stem at 135g for a total of 270g @ ~$180)
Width: 26 inches
Upsweep: 9 degree
Backsweep: 6 degree
Stem Rise: 1.5 inches
Stem Length: 130mm
Performance: TBD
Steel inserts to reinforce the tube ends for grip clamps
You can see that the carbon weaved handlebar is wrapped around the stem that fades back to aluminum at the end. The yellowish nubs are from the excess carbon-epoxy resin that acts as a glue between the handlebar and stem.
Machined aluminum stem clamp
Very cool design where the stem meets the handlebar, bottom side
The handlebar has a sexy wing-like front end. This aerodynamic shape must be some sort of reverse spoiler - instead of reducing axle lift, it increases it! This will hopefully negate some of my weight. And if I get going fast enough, there is a real chance that I could take off like any other bikeplane.
This cannot end well.
No, no, the Flight System is probably going to be like any other carbon part. Carbon fibers have an incredible amount of natural flexibility. In fact, single carbon fibers, which can be as small as 5 microns in diameter, can bend nearly ninety degrees millions of times without showing any fatigue. Weaves of carbon fibers have incredible strength to weight ratios, so products with carbon weaves typically demonstrate high strength, low weight and a great ability to absorb impact. In a carbon handlebar or fork this is often called "vibration dampening".
I decided that T.H.E.was a front company for an international crime organization. Thinking that the handlebar might be used as a smuggling tool, I snaked a giant pipe cleaner through the bars and stem. Nothing hidden. I then roped the family drug dogs into a smell test, but no flags were thrown. Even under a magnifying glass there were no traces of any heroin and no fingerprints but my own.
I am left to believe that T.H.E. is a secret part of a government organization, most likely Darpa trying to recoup some cash from its wilder research expenditures. The LMPB (Lizard Man Plasma Beam) concept failed so they decided to cut their losses and make high-tech bike parts.
I realized later that "T.H.E." is not treated as an acronym in most search engines so really I was just searching for "the bike parts", "the flight system", "the carbon handle bars" etc. Not the best way to find what I was looking for. Whoops. The real company name is T.H.E. Industries which is a brand of VSI Products out of California. Mystery solved! I have still not found any documentation for the Flight System.
Who cares what the manufacturer says, the real test is on the trail and I expect to be doing that shortly.
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