La carrera al angel

Some of you asked:

http://www.wellsnevada.com/racetoangel/Results06.pdf

In other news: I am legend. The annual Calvin drinking performance occurred last Friday, though its toxic repercussions lasted well into Sunday evening. I've heard I dance like Usher.

thwarted

Do you know what a dongle is? Wikipedia quotes "a dongle is a small hardware device that connects to a computer to validate some piece of software". In my case, the dongle is a thumb drive that I am required to use on my laptop to run SolidWorks 2006, our chosen 3D CAD software. However, seeing as it's stupid-early and I came all the way down to this damn coffee shop to do some CAD work and left my dongle at home... well, I define dongle as "an unnecessary piece of shit".

Hostility? Yessir. I could be sleeping still. OK, probably not sleeping, but at least sitting on my own futon watching the morning news or pouring caffeine down Lauren's throat in an attempt to roust her this early. Asi es la vida, and instead of heading into the lab I'm going to kill an hour and a half here at the caffeine-dealer's crack-house. Holly and I are planning to meet at this very location at 7:15am; I need the visit and am anxious to hear of her trip to Norway.

There are some really amazing pictures on the walls around me, mostly of stalagmites (n' tites) from Horsethief Cave in Wyoming. The photos and their titles remind me of Cormac McCarthy's novel "Child of God". I won't go into detail, as the book is quite disturbing, but it is a worthwhile read and if you have 3 days to kill you should read it (to kill not being an intended pun, which you'll understand if you read the book). Anyway...

Something really on my mind, chewing at my innards like an invisible tape worm, is my team situation for next year (or lack thereof). I have thrown my resume all over the US, to every division three pro team and to a handful of the top amateur teams. I have not, however, heard anything substantial from a single team. If you know me, which you must if you are reading this silly morning rant, you know I prefer to plan out everything. If I have to fly solo next year and prove my worth at a few early-season events before being grabbed by a substantial team, so be it; I just want to know NOW so I can plan accordingly. Simply going with the flow, as they say, brings a metallic taste to my mouth and a rash to my hands (not really). A character flaw, I suppose? I have always believed in some sort of upper-tier plan for my life, a belief which spawns undulating sensations of confident serenity and apathy. It will be interesting to discover what is "supposed" to happen for next year. Annuit Coeptis, right? Hah!

MOUNTAINS and mole hills

I've tried to stop working today, really. I came home, shut off the lights and holed up in my cool little cave of a bedroom at 4 pm this afternoon. My conscience had me back at the computer, phone in hand, by 4:15; so much going on. so much.

Or is there? Before this past month I'd never logged a forty-hour work week in my life. Now here I go with another fifty hour semana and I'm whining like the world is imploding. I just don't feel like I am excelling at anything I'm involved with in my job: I'm too busy to be a good boss, too inexperienced to be a good project manager, and too distracted to sit down and design the files I need to. Good timing with the season being over, as bittersweet as that is to accept.

The trip down to Elko over the weekend was a success. We rolled in to town Friday around six pm, and Lauren had found one of Lydia's puppies by approx. 6:00.54 pm. She came tearing around the house with a six-week old springer puppy in her arms, which my mother had already sold but not yet delivered. Lydia birthed nine of those critters, but by the time we went to Elko all were gone... save one. Thank goodness it was sold or we would have returned to Boise with a new pet. I don't need a creature depending on me for sustenance... but it was tempting.

The hill climb was Saturday; two hill climbs actually. Justin Mayfield won the Bogus Basin Hill Climb here in Boise in an impressive feat of strength and tactics. A serious pat on the back to Justin for finally bagging that event - he has valued that raced above all others since he started riding five years ago. As you know I opted to race in Wells, Nevada, at my own little world championship event. The event was super-validating for me, as I managed to pop off a great ride and smash my former record by nearly two minutes. Dig it. In 2004 I tried to beat the record but was cramping too badly. Hooray for bulimia! This year was pure velocity and determination and it proved I really am in the shape of my life.

Oh yeah, the aforementioned trip to Midvale, Idaho, was also rad. We got to check out Rodenator's varmint-destroying gun... in case you missed it on cnn.com, this device pumps a couple minutes' worth of oxygen-propane mixture into a ground-squirrel hole and ignites it; effectively liquefying everything within the tunnel system via a fire ball/energy concussion. I don't know if we tested 'dry' holes or inhabited ones, but I didn't see any survivors scampering out after our shots. Gruesome, but cool. In a good ol' boy sense.

back to work.

Early

It's early, yessir. Work has been insane, insane I tell you. I was so apprehensive to start that forty-hour-per-week routine, and here I am well into a 50-hour week. Smooth transition I think not. I got up at five this morning, cranked out a couple proposals/quotes for clients, and now I'm taking a brief respite before heading to the office. McKinley and I are curled up on the couch... she seems annoyed at the sound of my keystrokes. I'm annoyed at her inability to keep her hair attached to her body instead of floating all over my house... I'll let her slide. I just looked at her and instigated the 100-decibel tail-thump that she emmanates in the early morning silence. Shhh.... Lauren's sleeping.

Anyway, the days are progressing well and I am finding reward in most aspects of my job. The bike season is winding down, down, down, which takes the edge off these long weeks. Just one more hill climb this weekend and I get to hang it up for a while. I had debated hitting a few more big-caliber events, but between logistical set-backs and financial drawbacks it became obvious I should call it a season. Call it a season of accomplishment, a season well-done.

But first, that hill climb. I'm opting to skip the local hill climb this weekend, AKA the Bogus Basin World Championship; instead I will be travelling down to Elko tomorrow evening then over to Wells, Nevada early Saturday a.m. The "race to the angel" climbs up to Angel Lake some 13 miles southwest of Wells, and is actually the first "road race" I ever did. Back in the day, 1995 riding a l992 Carbon Trek. Epic climb and a perfect way to end the season: family and friends present (both in cars and in competition), a nostalgic climb, and a brewery-sponsored barbecue. Although the barbecue typically consists of cold chicken wings, store-bought chocolate-chip cookies and wilted iceberg lettuce, the beer and epic climb overshadow all shortcomings. Best thing about the event? The promoters and locals could care less who you are! Last time I went down there I received zero acclaim for winning the overall! Awesome.

I get to travel to Midvale this afternoon, which I've been told is somewhere North of here. You know it's a small town when it's referenced to another unknown Idaho town. "Yeah you know, Midvale, it's about forty miles north of Weiser". What? I'm heade up there for a project, so apparently someone lives there - or at least works there.

G'bye.

calvino

random idea

We've all seen rally car driving in Europe, yes? Likely originating from a few good ol' (Euro) country boys betting a case of beer, these events are usually point-to-point and involve not only spry, sporty 4wd subarus, but everything from Semi trucks to motorhomes towing speedboats. Dig it. The objective is to set the fastest, blistering time while adhering to established rules.

So I'm warming up for a crit last weekend (more to come on that), and the idea of rally criteriums hits me. Freaking brilliant. Racing a crit, alone, is harrowing and challenging. But imagine the turn out and thrills if we started adding cargo and passengers to our two-wheeled transporters. Here's a few ideas for a sixty-minute crit:

Girlie-on-the-bars Class (GOT-B): Chosen girlfriend must be planted firmly atop the handlebars, at least one glute in contact with bars at all times. There could be different GOT-B classes, depending on girlfriend mass and geometry (i.e. weight and proportion). Style points are given depending on girlfriend's attire and facial expression. Girl is allowed to assist the rider by shifting weight, gears, and attitude at will.

Tot in Tote Class (TIT): Not necessarily your own tot, but someone's child (age six or less) in tow in one of those BOB child carriers. This again could be modified using a Trail-A-Bike apparatus for larger/older/more coordinated children. Style points are available, this time rewarded in direct correlation to your child's scream decibel.

Any other ideas? Let's turn this into an open forum and get the masses involved.

That's all for now. Stew on that idea for a while.

Oh, I won the crit, which is nice; but it would've meant more with Lauren on the handlebars, or with a five-year-old in tow.

Calvin