September 17, 2012 § 6 Comments
Let’s start with the big stuff…
Mighty Mouse: Brought her NPR-honed dick stomping skills to the Nautica Malibu Tri and left a trail of shattered members all up and down PCH. CalTrans garbage truck overheated and broke down on Zuma Hill due to overloading with broken dicks. Wore her Big O tee on the podium’s second step.
Wankomodo: Got a public tongue lashing, laughed it off in the spirit it was intended, gave thanks for his new nickname, and refused to take the Wankmeister seriously. You are now officially part of the gang!
Italian Stallion: Came out for the Donut, rode off into the sunset in a marvelous pink outfit after telling G3 to shut-the-fuck-up about the crazy old lady trying to kill us in Portuguese Bend. Tony almost fell off his bike laughing, just as some wanker touched a wheel and flopped down in the middle of the road. Italian Stallion gives us a great write-up of his national championship road race here.
Crown Jules: Stomped everyone except Stathis the Wily Greek and the Italian Stallion on the Switchbacks, outsprinted John “Dillinger” Hall, who kicked me out the back like a pro roadie’s under-the-armpit snotblow.
Rico Suave: Got badly shredded on the Switchbacks, roared back on Wheatgrass to smash everyone up to the Domes, busted up the field on the Glass Church, towed WM to the line, beat him with a bike throw. I hope Rico never discovers drugs.
Erik the Red: Dropped all but a handful on Better Homes, took the sprunt at Hawthorne by a country mile after bridging with JLR. Formally announced his engagement to SPY Elite Team for 2013…yee-haw!
Tink: Returned to the mix, but was under coach’s orders not to engage in any nonsense for a couple more weeks. The sun shone in happiness at her return!
New Girl: Ignored flu symptoms, West Nile virus, superbug, and early onset pneumonia to lace up and ride to the Rock and then Wheatgrass before coming undone at the seams. Dr. Wanky has ordered bed rest until further notice.
Crit Champ: Showed up on the Donut after bringing home a silver medal from nationals, attacked the field on Paseo del Mar, followed all the moves until gravity took over. Also, wrote a fantastic piece about his season vs. the national championships. Read it here.
Surfer Dan: Displayed fine form that comes with his recent 899-mile weeks in preparation for the Everest Challenge, where he and a few other hardy souls will climb the highest mountains in California on a dog sled. Did three repeats up Crenshaw prior to showing up on Wheatgrass and smacking the snot out of us.
Ms. Abs: Was spied sunning herself on the strand in RB this morning, so we got to chat about life and Pen CX; she also updated me on Steve B.’s 198-mile, 11k of climbing ride that he did immediately prior to the Life Flight and coma resuscitation team.
Suze: Pushed several struggling wankers up through Portuguese Bend, and got a nice push on the tush by the Italian Stallion just past Terranea. Like the eye of Mordor, Wankmeister sees it all!
G3: Out for an easy noodle ride, set the fifth best overall time on the short Donut Loop. Ouch. Glad he wasn’t riding in earnest. Toured with WM along the Esplanade on his boss cruiser, with world’s cutest Ava in tow. When you see a kid that cute riding with G3, it makes you sure of this much: She takes after her mother.
Pilot: Noticed my general bonkishness and loaded me up with a full tankard of iced coffee atop the Hill. I owe you one; actually, I owe you several.
Lake(r): New inter-galactic rep for Lake Cycling showed up to taste the Donut despite being HQ’d in San Diego. Give him a welcome the next time he comes around. If there is a next time, as he sat with Wankmeister out at CotKU and learned that the South Bay is essentially an insane asylum without proper walls.
Iron Mike: Treated another passel of ingrates to $400 worth of nasty, foul-smelling, barely potable wheat grass, which made my front two teeth fall out and turned the others deep green. So at least they all match.
Junkyard: Spent Saturday in the 200-degree heat climbing Latigo, Piuma, Crownview, Anchovy, Deer Creek, Decker, and Questhaven, then couldn’t figure out why his legs were flat on the Wheatgrass Ride. I promised to draw him a diagram to explain it, as he’s a visual person.
Sparkles and VV: Rode the Wheatgrass in halter tops due to predictions of high heat, causing several neck strains in the field and aggressive fighting in the wankoton to ride next to them.
Casey Stengel: While he was noodling up to the Domes and I was chasing Rico Suave with all my might, he hopped out of the saddle and gave me a massive tow to within spitting distance of my quarry. The spit didn’t carry, though, and I never closed the gap.
Dude in Antique Sidis: I don’t know if you remember the Sidi Revolution, the first cycling shoe to use velcro, but Dude was wearing a pair and it looked like he hadn’t taken them off since 1986, including his hike across the Himalayas and the year he spent marching across a field of cow manure. We made him sit downwind at the Jamba Juice, where he killed a small flock of starlings with the smell.
July 31, 2012 § 4 Comments
Huge props to BJ Hale and the whole SoCal cycling family for bringing everyone together last Thursday night to Surf City Cyclery in Costa Mesa, where CyclingIllustrated.com lifted off, officially, into outer space.
Like any good family party it had the usual cast of characters: Crazy Uncle Hank who sits out on the porch all day drinking warm beer and shooting BB’s at stray cats; Cousin Slinky whose clothes are two sizes too small and whose [censored] keep almost bursting to freedom; Grandpa Dinkums who’ll pull you over and talk for an hour about how in his day they raced on square bicycle wheels; Brother Slick who makes a mysterious living selling a mysterious product that always keeps him in Porsches and Armanis; Brother Goat who can’t do anything right and who could [censored] up a [censored]; and most of all Daddy Warbucks, the hard-driving head of the family who makes it all happen.
We had all come together to celebrate the launch of CyclingIllustrated.com, but before we celebrated we got to eat free Mexican food, drink free tequila, and scoop up awesome gift bags loaded with quality swag.
So what the [censored] IS CyclingIllustrated.com?
In a word, it’s “the passion of cycling.” Okay, make that four words. Unlike the antiseptic voices of CyclingNews and Velonews and Bicycling, deadly dull publications written by fatass wannabe fanboys with typewriters, CyclingIllustrated is a new, vibrant, exciting voice written by fatass wannabe fanboys with typewriters who actually race, along with the voices of men and women who make up the very top of the cycling elite.
CyclingIllustrated.com’s goal is to let top racers in all age groups and cycling disciplines share their insights with us, in their own words. In fact, after a quick analysis of the last 4,982 first-person accounts of elite cyclists, a recent study concluded that every successful cyclist has the same ten insights, which I’ve reproduced for you below.
- “Hard race.”
- “Attacked and got away.”
- “Sketchy sprint.”
- “No legs.”
- “Not my course.”
- “Good legs.”
- “Great teammates.”
- “That’s bike racing.”
- “Bah.” (Plus shrug.)
In fact, the video interviews and columns that CyclingIllustrated.com features on its web site offer a new and interesting take on the sport, because we get to hear the strategies, plans, successes, and failures from the very people we see every weekend. Their words help break down the intricacies of a race that might have seemed like one fluid blur. Their approach to a race shows the constantly shifting nature of fortune within each race, and how the slightest vagaries of wind, distance, speed, elevation, and composition of a break can completely alter the outcome of a race. Unless Richard Meeker’s in it, in which case there’s no [censored] way you have a [censored] chance in [censored] [censored] of winning.
The power of synergy
BJ Hale’s dream of a new cycling publication that draws on the very best writing and photography is an awesome one, not least of all because one of the key movers is Danny Munson. The cycling world is filled with photographers. It has a smaller but distinguished number of fine photographers. Danny is neither. He’s an artist, and he gives color, expression, depth, and resolution to the incredible moments in each race he shoots, whether it’s a CBR crit or the pandemonium of Tulsa Tough.
What was most incredible about the launch party, though, was that it showcased how many people and entities have come together to make this project a success. Success has many parents, but failure is an orphan. The success of CyclingIllustrated, though, is more like a group [censored] where everyone keeps diving in for more.
So, without more fanfare, here are the people and entities that made it happen. Props to you all, in no particular order. If I’ve left out a name, let me know. This ain’t my day job.
Shimano: Galaxy’s most awesome creator of bike chain shifter thingies so that we don’t have to shift on the down tube anymore or pedal our [censored] bikes up Alpe d’Huez on a fixed gear.
Spy Optic: Galaxy’s most awesome supporter of grass roots cycling and maker of the best eyewear anywhere. From highest quality performance wear to Rx glasses that will get you [censored] in any club on earth, SPY is the best.
IRT: Googled “IRT” and came up with “Indiana Repertory Theatre,” “International Raquetball Tour,” and “IRT Deadliest Roads Video.” Nope, none of those. It’s Inertia Racing Technology, which is a fancy [censored] way of saying “badass cyclocross wheels that can take anything you got and more.”
Mercury Wheels: Look, I don’t know squat about wheels. I still ride 32-hole aluminum rim clinchers, for Dog’s sake. But these things look freaking awesome. Slap a couple of these onto your ride and you might finish in Jamie or Charon’s zip code. Slap them on Charon’s ride and his wheels will cross the line before he does.
SDG Saddles: Some people say the most important part of the bike is where the rubber meets the road. I say it’s where your [censored] meets the saddle. SDG saddles make sure you go your fastest without rubbing your parts into a gooey mess.
Now Energy Bars: You know how sometimes you’ll be out there hammering and suddenly you just crater? It’s usually because you’re weak and undertrained, and so you’re hosed. But occasionally you’re bonking, and the Now Energy bar, made from healthy stuff, will bring you right back to the razor’s edge.
PROLAB: This arsenal of products “delays muscle fatigue” for both weightlifters and endurance athletes. I sure could have used a case of that [censored] at the San Marcos circuit race yesterday.
H2O: Now someone’s gotta help me out with this one. Water is our sponsor? That’s rad, don’t get me wrong…
Cytomax: “Ctyo” comes from the Greek root for “wanker.” “Max” means “the most.” Cytomax will help you get the most out of your wankerish attempts on the bike, with a balanced blend of electrolytes and other stuff your body need when you feel like your [censored] lungs are about to explode out your ears.
Jenson USA: If you want to buy bike stuff and are too lazy to go to the bike shop, or you live in LA and you don’t have ten hours to spend in traffic, or you’re too pooped from your epic 5-hour training ride, you can pretty much buy it here. Online. From the comfort of your own Big Mac and large fries. It’s okay. We won’t tell.
GU Energy: This stuff isn’t, thankfully, anything like it sounds. Rather, it’s the choice of champions. Squirt a little goo down your craw and you’ll come pounding back like a jackhammer.
Axiss Sports: I Googled this baby to a fare thee well. Crickets.
CalBikeLaw.com: When you get mowed down by some [censored] idiot who’s too busy texting or drinking or snorting coke, who you gonna call? CalBikelaw.com, that’s who! Headed up by two of the best personal injury attorneys in California, Gerry Agnew and Bruce Brusavich have been representing seriously injured Californians for over 38 years.
Skull Candy: Sometimes you need the right sound to crank out that extra ten watts. Skull Candy can deliver the tunes right where you want ‘em, when you want ‘em.
Caliente Southwest Grill: These folks MADE the launch party a party, because without great food it’s just a bunch of people in a bad mood looking at each other and ready to brawl at the drop of a hat. Their food is delicious! Wankmeister certified guaranteed!
Kenda: Awesome bike tires. Slap a pair of these on and motor down the road! If you’re looking for something to go cheap on, don’t pinch pennies on your chamois or your tires. And please don’t whine to me about the high cost of race tires. If you were on a motorcycle you’d spend $600 per pair per race. Feel better, wanker?
Bahati Foundation: Supports inner city youth by providing educational, musical, and athletic equipment. Motivational outreach and giving back is the hallmark of the foundation. Oh, and it also happens to be run by one of the best road sprinters this country has ever seen!
Europa Sports Products: All kinds of rad supplements to help you bike faster, pedal longer, [censored] harder, and achieve the athletic results to which you’ve set your mind!
Surf City Cyclery: This is like the giant granddaddy of all Specialized bike stores anywhere. If you can’t find it here, you’re probably looking for goat cheese or for a rebuilt alternator. This shop is [censored] awesome, with helpful staff, bottomless inventory, and customers who include some of the best racers in SoCal.
It was a wonderful evening of fun, food, bike tire changing contests, and trying to figure out why everyone acts so different in mufti from when they’re cloaked in their superman get-up, helmet, and black reflective glasses. Like, that dude who you’re scared to even say hi to on the bike is just meekly standing over in the corner looking like he’s gonna cry because no one’s talking to him. That bruiser sprinter dude who can crack your scapula with one shoulder bump is as quiet as a toad in a hole. Of course I did leave before they drained the tequila keg…
In keeping with CyclingIllustrated.com’s tradition, they did an interview of one of the greats: Kenny Fuller, world champion. And in keeping with the Crazy Uncle thing, one dude came up and started badgering BJ, “So what is this, anyway? And why are you doing it? And what makes you think anyone is interested?”
We dragged him out into the alley and poured [censored] down his throat, but not before we explained that we think people are interested because of the 200 guests, the outpouring of support for the project, and the forty billion web visits that BJ gets every ten seconds.
Next time there’s a party…hope to see you there!
July 17, 2012 § 5 Comments
Notes from the Bay
Will he bring it home?
Last year’s 45+ state road champ and this year’s runner up, Jeff Konsmo, is gunning for national glory in Bend this year. Spotted atop Via del Monte this morning at 6:00 AM, he’s in climbing mode and looking for a stars-and-stripes jersey to join his Vlees Huis butcher knife on the mantel. We’ve got our fingers crossed!
Will HE bring it home?
Charon Smith celebrated his 12th win on Sunday, handily smacking the shit out of a stacked field of contenders. Is there anyone in the country who can beat him? We’ll find out at nationals, when Charon heads north to put together all the moving parts of what has so far been a fantastic 2012 campaign.
Emissary from the Clan of the Swamis
Stephen Lavery got up in San Marcos at 4:00 AM, left at 4:30, and joined us for this morning’s NPR at 6:40 sharp. He promised to take word back south confirming that our little morning beatdown is in fact a beatdown. He made an honorable showing on behalf of the smurfs–noted! He also extended an invitation for a cultural exchange program, whereby emissaries from the South Bay travel to North County to partake of their Tues/Thurs rites. The offer has been accepted. Details to follow.
The pros are different from you and me
Jelly Belly pro Sergio Hernandez has been in town this week, and in addition to stomping dicks at the P/1/2/3 race in Carson on Sunday, he showed up on the NPR and blistered everyone’s balls, even the girls’. Then, because he is a cool dude, he hung out on the bricks, drank coffee, and signed autographs. Wish you’d come back to the South Bay, Sergio!
Heal up, guys!
Local tough guy Mike Davis, Sr., down in a crit when a wanker who wasn’t even supposed to be in the race smashed into him from the rear (head down sprint style), leaving Mike with road rash and a busted frame. Heal up! Rahsaan Bahati, recovering from a procedure that sounded gnarly in the extreme. Heal up! Heal up! Dave W., recovering from tough neck surgery that’s going to have him back at 100% and Going to the Front!
Super tough gal of the week
Suze Sonye throws down with the P/1/2 race in Carson on Sunday, all 80 minutes of it. How impressive is that? She never missed a beat, except for the couple of times she drifted back to the rear to encourage me. Same props to the other couple of chicks in that race. Guys were frying and popping off the back right and left…not Suze! Oh, and to the douchebag who told her to “get out of the way”: you are a douchebag. Just sayin’.
Rich Meeker won another state title on Sunday, another crit, and put on another clinic of “how to ride against 100 wankers and win.” I need to FB him and find out how many races he’s won this year. He’s a lock for nationals, crit, or the road. You heard here first what everyone already knows. Oh, and Rich was very cool when I mixed up him and Malcolm Hill in a photo caption, but hey, it’s not my fault. I’ve never actually seen either of those guys, or anyone from Amgen, from the front.
Hero in our midst
Chilling at the back of the 45+ wankoton I got to work on my taxes and chat with Keith Ketterer. If you’re in SoCal you probably know that he recently set the hour record for his age category. The hour record…incredible. But he’s still modest and nice enough to chat with a wanker who mistakenly called him “Roger.” Story coming soon on this amazing athlete and all-round good guy.
July 5, 2012 § 19 Comments
De Telegraaf dropped an evening bombshell, just as we were all wrapping up a long day of July Fourthing and holiday ride badassing, in which USADA named the five heretofore unnamed witnesses to the Lance Drugstrong doping case. The five are Jonathan Vaughters “We Fired Rasmussen Today for Doping Violations,” Levi Leipheimer “Been Busted Before, Will be Busted Again,” George Hincapie “Could 17 Tours Be Wrong?” Dave Zabriskie “The Vegan Doper,” and Christian Vande Velde “Needles.”
Drugstrong fired back immediately. The combined press release from his attorney Bulldog Jones, his press agent Smarmy Goodfellow, and Timmy Dinkins, Cancer Survivor, is printed in full below.
Lance Drugstrong is the most tested athlete in the history of sport. With the exception of the drug tests that he has failed in the past, he has never failed a drug test. Drugstrong has built his career on creating awareness of, and hope for, cancer victims.
It is with profound regret that Vaughters, Leipheimer, Hincapie, Vande Velde, and Zabriskie have chosen to sell lies under threats from USADA in exchange for sweetheart deal doping bans. Drugstrong has raced with each of these athletes, put them on the map so to speak, and made them profoundly aware of cancer. Due to the despicable witch hunt propagated by USADA, these former friends have chosen to become cancer lovers and tell fibs about Drugstrong.
Drugstrong has been tested more than anyone ever, and as a cancer survivor himself and cancer awareness benefactor promoter, it is absurd to think that he would ever subject himself to the risks of illegal doping just to win seven straight Tours and become a millionaire and global celebrity who boinked one of the Bobbsey twins and Sheryl Crowe, whose ass, by the way, was so flat that when they had sex his one good ball kept hitting against the sheets.
Lance Drugstrong intends to clear his name and to vindicate his reputation among the fans who don’t care whether he doped, and to aggressively defend himself on Twitter.
- Power Tweet #1: I refuse to be distracted by
@usantidoping‘s antics. It’s 2012, I’m gonna continue to lead @LIVESTRONG, raise my 5 kids, and stay fit!
- Power Tweet #2: I’m gonna keep saving lives!
- Power Tweet #3: Thanks to all my cancer supporters! I’m there for you 24/7!
- Power Tweet #4: Have any of my followers out there ever been to prison, and do you know if they generally have a pool?
May 5, 2012 § 4 Comments
When you throw your line out into the Internets, hook baited with cycling commentary, you’re sure to land a few strange fish. You know, the one-eyed, glow-in-the-dark, cadmium-soaked bottom feeders who subsist on post-consumer waste, manganese nodules, and the decay of higher life forms that have died, decomposed, and drifted to the deepest, darkest, depths.
And then there are the really weird ones.
Mr. Stone, who seems to go by “William,” “Billy,” and “Reverend,” is something of an enigma. People who know him well have described him as “crazy,” “has to be the belle of the ball,” and “one of those people who has convinced himself, after reading a couple of books, that he is really, really smart.”
William Billy Reverend, then, without further ado, in his own unedited words…misspellings, malapropisms and all…
“If you middle name is discretion then is your first name two words, Fuck Bag or just one jumble BagFuck?”
Will.I.Am(not) engaging in some clever verbal jousting.
“Well just go screw yourself. Your only achievements were realized by stepping on the mental bodies of ner do wells proving yet again that the best way to get over a wall is to step on the dead, to tread with disdain on the carcasses of those valiant men, and women, who went before and dared to die gloriously so you could pretend to be whoever you wanted to be, less talent and courage. Take that you miserable 120 lbs of spit up.”
Rev. Stone complaining about Wankmeister’s lack of cycling prowess. Please check http://www.USAcycling.org race results for “William Stone” in order to appreciate the richness of this humor.
“At least I did not have to sell my soul-a generous concession based on the type of faith that drives Republicans to believe Jonah Goldberg does not walk around with his pants full of mommy-for a ten percent discount on a pair of decidedly non Tour De Francis Winning pieces of plastic recycled from Dick Cheney’s diet sprite bottles from various bunkers at the Four Seasons.”
Billy Jock, angry again that Wankmeister loves SPY products, uses them, and happily endorses them. Billy Jock despises such endorsements, unless they appear on his pet cycling web site, http://www.truesport.com.
“If you cannot drink their liquor and screw their women without selling out then you are what? Drinking moonshine and having sex with dolls. I prefer to call it compromise.”
Stonehead misquoting Jesse Unruh’s famous line about politicians and lobbyists to make the “point” that when other people support someone they have sold out, but when he does it, it’s compromise. I bet those morning conversations with the guy in the mirror are pretty fun to watch, Billy.
“But, in the words of your favorite Presidential Nobody: “I may be fat and ugly, but I did manage to finally to kiss a pretty girl, albeit, only by moving to the side some babbles from Tiffany’s. And before you become all David Barton historian par non, Tiffany’s is so way last middle of last century.”
The Right Reverend mixing his metaphors, struggling (and failing) to remember the word “nonpareil,” mis-capitalizing his nouns, and confusing “babbles” with “baubles.” We’re not sure what any of it means, except that perhaps he once heard Joyce and Proust were considered great writers because of their non-linear style, and figured that by stringing together some random words he’d be a deep writer, too.
“Kid goes to circus. Gets teased by clown. Spends next year going to comedy school. Gets high marks. Becomes feared commentator in High School Tweety Club. Goes back to circus. Clown sees him and calls his the mass of insecurity, same as last year. Kid Comedy rises up and musters all his well learned lessons and sputters out: ‘Well, fuck you clown. Just Fuck You.'”
Nilly Willy reminiscing about what are obviously painful childhood memories.
“And what I’m pissed about is that you Jack D thinks you are funny. And clever. And I resent that. Much.”
Hands of Stone explaining why he dislikes Wankmeister, even though the two have never met. However, Wankmeister graduated from junior high school many years ago, and is no longer interested in the petty intrigue required to hang out with the cool kids, most of whom are divorced, broke, or in jail now.
“yes I meant ‘calls him. And no I meant BABBLES”
Noah Stone, finding a new and innovative use for the word “babbles” and showing how passé it has become to capitalize the first word in a sentence. Once he finishes reading his third book, he will improvify and betterize the English language even morerer.
So there you have it! The latest and greatest addition to the world of online commentary. Wankmeister looks forward to bringing you more cleverness and fun from this unique and colorful
April 6, 2012 § Leave a comment
The tarck is a place where you go ’round and ’round, but nothing ever changes except for you, who gets tarder and tarder until you quit, most usually dejected at not having reached whatever hopeless goals you began with. It is, like life, a metaphor for life.
I’m locked into the weekly Friday tarck session of your worst nightmare at the newly re-branded Velo Sports Center in Carson. Fridays were once a happy time when I would meet up at Malaga Cove with Howard Hughes, and with Jack from Illinois (not his real name) when he was in town. We’d pedal over to Hermosa and watch Chief get dressed, which was its own form of entertainment, and often lasted well into the morning. Then Chief would make the monster 250-yard pedal down to CotKU, we’d quaff a cup of coffee, sometimes delaying the inevitable with a ride around the hill, but usually going straight into the office, and Chief would, if he’d been in trial, engage in some long-distance “punitive riding” up the coast.
That’s all a distant memory. Now on Fridays I am bound to the Habitrail from Hell, where, by virtue of having rented a locker, I am now forced to use it once a week or feel the gentle yet steely reproofs of my lockermate who, by the way, has terrible designs on me. Although he’s only been cycling for a few years, and is older than an igneous rock deposit, he is fierce, fast, canny, disciplined, and focused beyond belief.
The opposite of me, in other words, who is smiley, slow, clod-like, lazy, and scattered to the four winds.
Each Friday we do a 40 or 50 or 100-lap warm-up on the blue line, alternating every two laps. With ten to go I take the front, we drop down to the pole lane, and I try to fend him off in the final 500 or 250 meters. He’s never come around me except for the time he miscounted and passed me after the final lap, but he’s, like 287 years older than me and comes close to beating me every time. Each time he’s just a little bit closer.
So now I go to bed every Thursday with worry on my head that’s the size of a block of granite, and I wake up at 5:00 AM each Friday wondering only one thing: “How’m I going to keep that bastard at bay again today?” This is, by the way, why Eddy retired from cycling. He couldn’t take the incessant pressure to win. [No snide comments, please, about how beating an octogenarian in a warm-up isn’t “winning.” My coach, @captaintbag1, has already advised me that since I totally suck and can’t win anything of significance I should choose events that I really can win, even if they’re just totally faux races. This is one. Rather, this is the only one. So shut the fuck up now.]
Anyway, we weren’t the only ones at the tarck this morning. Here’s who was there and what was done by them, a nice little passive voice construction that will hopefully piss at least someone off who works in the Language Arts field, which, when I was a kid, had the really weird name of “English.”
Oldasdirt: After 99 laps, with one to go I jumped hard, opened up a few bike lengths, and just managed to stave him off. It didn’t feel like a victory so much as a reprieve from the inevitable execution.
CM & W: How often do you see an older brother doing what older brothers are supposed to do, i.e. helping a sibling instead of pounding the living snot out of them? CM took his little sister out on the tarck and they had a fantastic workout. She is a little motor and we will be seeing her in a stars-and-stripes jersey soon. Of course I acted like a dick when I yelled at CM not to cross the tarck with his cleats on, even though it turned out that he had been wearing the proper rubber clogs. You see, I crossed the tarck once in my cleats and Johnny saw me from, like, three miles away and read me the riot act. So for the past year I’ve been looking for someone I could read the riot act to, but just ended up accusing the innocent. CM was cool about it, though, as I immediately apologized.
Kurt S.: Have you ever watched a rocket lift off? Kurt was doing starts. Whoever’s going to beat him at nationals this year better bring an engine in their down tube, because Kurt is absolutely flying.
Katherine: Parent of CM & W, she was out there getting in a solid workout with the guys.
Jack K.: Most people think Jack lives at the tarck, but he doesn’t, or at least he’s not paying rent. Jack is the most consistent early morning tarck rider and jaw flapper in SoCal. If he can’t talk about it, that’s because the words to do so haven’t yet been invented.
Niva: Joined me and Oldasdirt midway through our warm-up, then dropped us without so much as an effort with four to go. I don’t know what she’s training for, but I’m putting my money on her to win it.
Bigdude in blue: Dude just pedaled around the tarck and looked happy as a clam doing it.
Since I only did the 100-lap warmup with Oldasdirt I got into the office early. Which is a bad thing. Right?
March 9, 2012 § 5 Comments
Yesterday’s New Pier Ride:
“Yo, Wankmeister…could you just once post something with less than 10,000 words?”
Bull Seivert, raging nonstop at the front.
NPR by the numbers: 70% never get within 50 yards of the front; 80% never take a pull; 90% of the work is done by five people…or less.
Chicks galore. WM loves bootylicious bike rides filled with women out trading punches with the guys. Girls: no ride is so fast that you can’t park behind some fat dude and draft like the Selective Service. Join us!
Major Bob OUT OF THE BIG RING the whole way down the bike path!!
StageOne takes a series of hard pulls, blows out left knee, right elbow, and chin joint. Splattered blood and joint tissue stimulate idea for new kit design.
G3 calls Wankmeister a pandering douchebag on his new blog (http://flailingandhopeless.wordpress.com), and calls out Wankmeister for calling out G3. Thanks for the props! (Gussy notes that two lame bloggers are now blogging about each others’ lame blogs).
Chief sighting!!! Former master of all he surveyed, now confined to the Saturday kiddy soccer reservation, the legend nonetheless lives on.
You shoulda been here Tuesday. It was so much faster than today.
When I get a flat I just go down to Helen’s and we fix it together.
I’m not making your NPR wanker list, am I?
Am I going to need this? (Holds up tire tool).
I really don’t know how this works. (Holds up CO2 canister).
Is BWR as hard as you’re making it out to be on the blog?
BWR isn’t really 9,200 feet of vertical…is it?
Will anybody really finish BWR?
I was going to do BWR, but it just doesn’t look like much fun.
Okay. Under 10,000 words. Done!