Random Update

I thought I should at least say hello and waste a few minutes of both our time...

And yes, I have been riding. Mountain bike rides mostly, with a concentration on the Dale Ball Trails. You have to love a 30-mile trail network that is (mostly) within the city limits. And now that we have had some rain, they might not be so dry.

Mellow Velo continues to grow and improve, but our slacker webmaster is more interested in the height of his handlebars than finishing the new website, so you will just have to believe me.

In other news, I cut off all of my hair, and haven't had a cigarette in 30 months (today)!

A Poetic Interlude

In another of my blogs I am attempting to keep up with a poem-a-day as put forth by Poetic Asides. Of course, a couple of the poems ended up being bicycle related, and rather than force you to wade through a half-months verbosity, I thought I'd just drop them here, and give myself an excuse to update.
Now, these poems are based on "prompts;" subject tidbits. This one was a result of the prompt "hobby"...
the view is endless
the air thin
ravens circle doing tricks
as deer watch through
thick rows of trees
tracks cross the trail
several sets
all moving toward
the stream I crossed
sunlight fills me
after dappled canyons
of aspen and pine
and I breathe
deeply of the mountain air
before dropping off the
other side
to dance my bicycle
through the trees

This one was from the prompt "clean"...
tight line, steep approach
loose rock, a root, shift
weight
don't touch the gears
jerk left, slip, recover
mad scramble, more roots
shale drift, not as steep
low branch
switchback
cactus reaches, hungry
pull up
push down
burst through the claws
momentum
before the wall, the lip
pedal, timing, approach
yank, pedal, weight, lunge
crest, hold, grin
cleaned it

So there you have it. Save your flames, I am certainly my own worst critic.

5 does not equal 168

I've done some rides since I quit smoking, but I've done them solo, with no one to pace, to judge, to "set an example." Tonight I realized how painful keeping up can be. Everyone said, "no problem, there's a slow guy with us. We'll be rolling mellow."
Yeah, right, bite me. Mellow is a shop, not a style of riding. At least not where my lungs are concerned.
So I was off the back, pushing climbs that made me feel like I was sucking a cigarette as I went. But I kept going. It wasn't a long ride, it certainly wasn't anything major for the boys. Hell, it was the second ride of the day for some. But they reeled me in, waited at the junctions, and gave me the option of the return. I took the "one more climb because it's more fun going down" route, and enjoyed it to no end. Pain can be fun when it's shared. Even when it's shared with others who aren't feeling, but know, your pain
No, five months of non-smoking doesn't equal fourteen years of chemical addiction, but it helps. It's a start. And if I go out and try to follow my friends again, it will be another pedal-stroke in the right direction. And another layer of crap shredded from the inside of my lungs.

Memorable Day

The joy of three-day national holidaze; I can have a great weekend and still have a day to write about it and have more fun.
Yesterday I rolled off my porch (literally) and headed into downtown. First thing was a quick visit to an outdoor shop, and a new reservoir for my pack. From there I rolled down to the Santa Fe River (which was churning along nicely for a change)and what I lovingly refer to as the Ho Chi Minh Trail. This is a cut in the vegetation on the flood-plain of the river, mostly used by old, homeless vets (hence the name). It parallels one of the more expensive shopping streets and is basically in the heart of downtown, making it doubly fun.
When the river trail ended I was back up on the Alameda and on around to Upper Canyon Road. This is a warm climb surrounded by centuries-old adobe's, many being refurbished. At the end of this road are a couple of trailheads; some for hikers only, some fair game for all. I went left on Cerro Gordo and picked up the Dale Ball Trails on it's eastern edge. This is the biggest little trail network around, weaving in and out of the city limits, rushing beside and around private homes. And it's about as much fun as is legal here.
One of the highlights of the system is the fact that every junction is marked with a number and a mini-map. Most of the junctions are merely two ways to get to the same place, but those two routes vary greatly. You can form odd loops, figure-8's, or "try to get them all in" rides. Sometimes you'll go down one fork only to turn around and do it again just to see what the other fork was like. The terrain is a typical "high sierra" mix of sandy soil and rock, slipping into near-alpine forest at times. It can be brutally hot on the open cuts, and chillingly cool in the shade.
The vegetation is almost entirely coniferous, so you don't get much color change through the year, but the shade stays the same. It also turns into a quagmire in the rain, so be warned.
I ended up doing a big sweeping loop, meeting back up with Cerro Gordo at a different trailhead. It was a mostly downhill ride into town, giving me a few moments to cool down before turning onto Delgado and dropping back into the river to finish the ride on the same track as I started. Locals and tourists alike were enjoying the river, and they all smiled as I flew past, my own smile glued to my face.
I finished the afternoon at NMAHA getting a deep-tissue massage. $25 dollars for an hour of muscular ecstasy can't be beat.

Oh, and I dare not forget to mention... five months without a cigarette today!

MellowVelo Update

Things are flowing well in the new space, with the only "open manhole" being David's birthday party... that left some dents in a few skulls. Especially Chris'.

I shot a few new pics, with stuff in place, and people perusing. Of course, it would be better if all of you would come visit in person.

The glorious new parking/footbag zone...


The main workbench, where you might find me on a Saturday...


Bike Mike is very excited to be in the new space...


The clothing room looking festive in Spring colors...


The bike room filled with mountain love...


And some road love...


And some fixed-gear love...


And, as I wagered earlier, Brian is still on the couch...


The beginnings of another alleycat race are bubbling in the cauldron of my skull; something historical, but hysterical, too. I can't do serious. At least, not completely serious. There is too much fun to be had. I'm thinking "shrines" as the theme; big ones, little ones, old ones and new ones. You Fé riders keep track of some of your favorites, so I have a long list to work with.

Alright; the snow's gone (again), the sky is clear, and the sun is shining. Go forth and pedal!

107 days without a ciggie!

back in the... shop?

Finally, a bit of time on a bike. Several bikes, actually.
I started out on my old, dependable, ti VooDoo, cruising the potholes and spots of dirt and cobble that litter Santa Fe. A breakfast burrito to go and a lazy loop around downtown to the shop, which it turns out was wonderfully busy, and it seems I have a new part-time job... Next thing I know, I have the "purple people-eater" in the stand; a Masi Gran Criterium with SRAM kit that's being fussy. SRAM? Road kit? How long have I been gone? Ah, brand new, I don't feel so old anymore. It's demons exorcised, or at least contained, I "tested it out." Interesting concept; there is only one shift paddle (no brake lever movement), and it only goes one way... it took a few tries, but it works. I'm not sure how long it would take to get over pushing through a click to get the click you want. But it was a gas to ride a light, fast road bike, pushing gears.
After several laps on that, I pulled La Gazza Ladra down. A reconsideration of lever placement, some grips to satisfy till my tape comes in, and a lap was in order. A lap that ended up being a continuing cycle of mellow spins and crazy attacks, a pit-stop back at the shop to tweak something, then the cycle began anew. Finally I put my clipless pedals on and took off on a longer route, pounding as hard as I dared, skating tourists and traffic, suddenly loving to climb. How is it climbing feels so damned good on a fixed-gear bike? So smooth, so nice, so perfect...
Back to the shop, and some tube changes, some quick-fixes, a hardcase box-job headed to Hawai'i for an Iron Woman, a bunch of rentals flowing in and out, a tour returning, pedal set-ups for a first-time clipless... after 3 years away, it was almost overwhelming. My mind was like a dusty hard drive, desperately seeking RAM, answers I knew I should have. But I think I liked it. I think I want to do it again next Saturday...
Finished out the day back on the VooDoo, bouncing off anything taller than the street, making the constant upward progress that is always the end of my rides.
It's good to be back. Thanks, David. Thanks, Mike. And Al, and Art, and even Brian.

A bow to Britain in the World's; 9 golds so far. Sweet Mother of Pearl.

94 days... I have almost forgotten that I smoked.

Phil (the fuzzy one)

I would just like to say that Phil, or more to the point, the tuxedoed rodephiles that fondle his junk every year and claim to know his wisdom, can kiss my fuzzy, pale butt. I am in the middle of breaking this year's ice (physical, metaphorical, and metaphysical), and do not need the buzz-kill of "six more weeks" of Winter. I'm well aware that the Vernal Equinox is nearly seven weeks away; that does not mean I want to dwell on the weather sucking any more than it already has. As far as I am concerned, it is going to be a perfectly ridiculous February, with March acting as the hare named for it.
In other words, kids, I'm going to have fun, ride places not meant for two-wheels to tread (both on- and off-road), and shortly, oh-so-shortly, begin to build La Gazza Ladra. Yes, the last of the parts trickle in, being picked and snatched as if by the namesake itself. So much is done, so much left to do...

Now, as to the rodent mentioned previously, I personally prefer the explanation rendered in the legend of Cailleach. It is said that this is the day she gathers firewood for the rest of Winter. If it's a bright and sunny day ("shadow"), then she'll collect a great pile of wood, ensuring she'll need it. If it's a gloomy day ("no shadow"), she'll only gather a bit, and the weather will follow accordingly.

great, but what does this have to do with bikes, dude?

Nothing. But I'm sick of feeling trapped by the weather, and I wanted to rant about it. I have the technology. Noodling on a wheel, learning to beat a drum in the same cadence as my head against the wall, and attempting to grow fungus with an IQ higher than the average convenience store worker are all minor distractions that are losing their luster. If I don't inflict some eye-opening reminders upon unsuspecting, mentally dead Hummer drivers soon, I'm going to "shoot six holes in my freezer."

And for anyone keeping track; 38 days.

Dirt

Today was the first off-road ride I have done in over a year. And my body is reminding me, very pointedly, of that truism. I was hoping for some of the previously described snow, but no luck; it stayed warm and we got rain. Which meant that everything was a complete mud-bog. Climbs with traction were still a no-traction situation due to the build-up on the tires. At one point I couldn't even get the bike to move there was so much gunk and gravel packed into the brakes. But it was fun. "Oh-yeah-this-is-why-I-did-this-for-years" kind of fun. It definitely won't be another year before I do it again.
It was an odd adjustment getting on old faithful after riding a cross bike for the last few months. Such a different feel. It wasn't noticeable on the trail, since that's what the bike is set up for, but riding the road to the trailhead and back felt like I was on a kid's BMX bike. Then there were all those gears...
My legs have definitely strengthened, and some skills are still sharp, but many of my skills are vacationing in Tortuga, and my black lungs have expatriated to Tuscany, with little chance of returning. I've got to get off the smokes if I ever hope to be able to breathe properly again.
Hell, I'm so beat that I think I'll join the Tuesday Night Frolic this week.

Snow

Let's get this straight; I really don't enjoy snow. I have never found, or understood, the fascination of spending hours and dollars for no other reason than snow. This is a prejudice based almost entirely on environment. Snow was never a large part of my upbringing, being a desert rat. It came sometimes. If you woke up early and looked out the window, it was beautiful. By the time you went to school, or at least by recess, it was slush. In all other matters it was an inconvenience. As an adult, I managed to avoid snow for nearly a decade.
However comma
There is an insane fascination for riding a mountain bike in the snow. The patchy sections that have a particular crunch when your tire breaks the crust for the first time. The crazed descents when your only brakes are the nearest drift; burying your tires until you can steer back onto the ice-pack again. Big, fat flakes coming out of nowhere on a sunny Winter ride, splatting wetly on your glasses. Riding from the warmth of the parking lot to a full-blown blizzard, and back again. Finding out that smooth, flat section of snow actually hides a 5-foot hole.
Again, I can blame environment. Northern New Mexico is a haven for "interesting" weather. Only here could I have experienced certain weather phenomena, ridiculous climactic changes. An adaptable climate, for me, because it's still desert. High desert, yes, but in many aspects it's the same zone as my childhood. With elevation.
So, as always, I welcome the snow in the mountains. But I'd really rather not find it on my doorstep.