Literal and figurative traverses of basin and range

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Multiples of 10

I just hit the 1,000-mile mark in my bike commuting for this year. A thousand miles is no big deal to any of the serious road-riding hardmen (and women) around here, and it doesn't include rides other than back and forth to work, but its a small milestone for me nonetheless. At 8.8 miles per round trip, give or take, it took a bit over 100 rides to get there. The century mark came back in late September.

A thousand miles, a hundred rides, and yet my life presently revolves around the number 10.

Ten years is the age that I very much would like to see my dog, Kona, reach. Its an arbitrary point, but at least it has a name: a decade. Hoping that she'll make it that far somewhat helps me get over the feeling that she's been cheated out of the long and healthy life she deserved.

February 14, 2007, is Kona's 10th birthday, and its over 100 days from today. That's a long, long way away given the nature of what presently afflicts her, but with our love, the best care that her team of veterinarians can provide, and her general Pit Bull Terrier-tenacity, Kona just might make it.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

We are all lame

Veelz, my 24 Hours in the Old Pueblo team captain, is going to be well bent pretty soon. Why? Because on this day, Saturday, October 14th, 2006, just two days before registration for the 2007 event opens and about a month after one teammate already withdrew, BeanSS and I have decided that we're also going to sit it out.

The decision came yesterday afternoon. A brief call from the office to tell BeanSS that I was about to leave for the bike ride home turned into an impromptu heart-to-heart talk about the whole thing. Reasons, excuses, whatever they are, are many and varied.

Our little cancer survivor dog, Kona the Wondermutt, is presently in the midst of a veterinary vision quest seeking to restore the use of her lame foreleg. February, the month of the event, also happens to be one-year from when she achieved remission and ceased chemotherapy, and it might well be time to begin a second round, aka a "rescue". And besides the pup, we've got our own issues.

I've been riding, lifting, and hiking my damned fool head off for many months but wonder if I can equal last year's performance, much less improve upon it. BeanSS, being Kona's mother, caregiver, and personal veterinary technician, has had much less time to ride and prepare. I'd been thinking about bailing but didn't want to take away BeanSS's opportunity to ride the event a second time. BeanSS had been stressing over wanting to withdraw but feared I'd think she was copping out. Its a good thing we talked about it.

The rest of our justifications - the fairly steep entry fees, the hassles of camping in the cold and trying to run a pit area from a table under an EZ-Up, the meteorlogists' indications that this will be a wet winter, the massive project at work under which I'll be buried at that time - aren't really insurmountable barriers to racing, but the fact that we're focused on living for our furry little quadrupedal child means are heads aren't in it now, and probably won't be come Presidents' Day weekend, either. And as for Veelz, I'm sorry that after backing out of the "Piss and Moan" duo concept, I ended up being part of jeopardizing the continued existence of the 4-person GnomeBrew squad.

So yeah, that's that, and despite the fact that BeanSS and I have become the very same kind of flake-outs that nearly derailed everyone's participation last year, it still feels like a big relief. And who knows, we may go out there for a day just to spectate and root for the people who did make a go of it. I hope Veelz is among them, because I've got some serious heckling to do.

In other random bike-related rants, I don’t have my copy of Dirt Rag 124, and yet I saw one in a bike shop in New Mexico last Thursday. I know Silver City is a bit closer to Pittsburgh than Tucson is, but not by that much. Where the hell is this thing? If I'm not committed enough to race, I'd like at least to be able to read about riding. Of course, now that I’ve bitched about it, it’ll show up in today’s mail, which was really my intent all along.

Sunday, October 08, 2006

Ouch.

I'm sitting here in shorts and flip-flops, nursing a cup of coffee, looking like I just went a few rounds in a cage fight with a rabid bobcat.

Long story short - the trails traversing the southwest portion of Tucson Mountain Park are fairly overgrown with all manner of cactus and thorny, leguminous trees. Moreover, monsoon-season runoff left many sections rutted to the point that the only rideable line is up one side of the trail or the other, further promoting adverse human-plant interaction. My arms and legs now look like red-on-pink roadmaps - a fitting punishment for having spent most of the last 8 months riding pavement on my skinny-tired bike.

The ride was wonderful otherwise - the morning air was cool and crisp, I felt strong in the saddle, BeanSS spotted a desert tortoise (Gopherus agassizii Cooper), and it waited until after we got home to rain. The ride was so enjoyable, in fact, that I have more or less already forgotten about how yet another thorn defeated my Mr. Tuffys and I'm not even all that bummed that BeanSS's sussy fork blew a seal and splooged oil all over the place.

Coffee's empty, gotta' go.