Saturday, March 22, 2008

Monday, March 17, 2008

it's a small world after all

I am a firm believer that people only change when forced to change. The "super-size me" mentality compelled to "miniaturize me". We traded our gas hogging four runner for a roller skate and golf cart last week...but I don't golf.
Skating into the muddy lot where Glenn and I were to meet the crew for yesterday's beat-down, (I mean ride) - my golf cart was dwarfed by Jeff and Matt's construction vehicles, yeah I felt a little dumb looking back at my car-t, but hey it is fun to drive.

the prius doesn't look like much from the outside, but the instruction lesson to learn to operate the hybrid went over an hour.
Gus did not agree with our choice of hatchback.

...and of course I had to rip right into the wiring harness of my finely engineered Honda to install some needed gadgetry.

There is however a limit to Miniaturize me...Ride a bike.

Wednesday, March 12, 2008

yup, they're out there

simply ginormous. biggest week since November. legs are alive. Mojo is with in sight.
Some great rides lately, I'm feeling like myself again. Gettin fired up to get back down to fighting weight.
Otis Last week. Dog town Sunday with the crew. Monday, Geenwood w JW. Commuted, to & fro work Tues. I do believe I'm coming out of hibernation!
I was so fired up on my commute I didn't get worked up about receiving the middle fing'a from a guy in an F250. Par for the course.

Below is a letter to the editor of my local paper, please read some of it...
The article is about my neighbor, an avid cyclist, runner and swimmer.
I thought it was a joke at first, but turns out this guy is serious.
-A serious moron.
His name is attached. Wonder if he drives an F250?
hey when typing F250...if you leave the shift down it spells F@%)

Hamilton - To the Editor:

This will be my last attempt to express my concerns regarding jogging,
biking and walking on our small roads, especially under adverse winter

conditions. Once again I happened upon the Walnut Jogger, only this
time it was on Linden Street, another fairly heavily traveled side
road in Hamilton.
It appeared as though she was coming off of Bay Road and heading down
Linden. It was Saturday morning during a snow/rain/ice storm. The
conditions were slippery and once again the white safety line was gone. I was driving up Linden and recognized Mrs. Robinson.
She was running toward me, hopping over ice patches and puddles with
great agility I must admit. As we got closer I wondered what she would
do as she was at minimum two feet on the road side of the line. I only
had two choices, either stay my course in which case she would have
been hit or swerve at least two feet over the double yellow line into
the oncoming lane. I naturally chose the latter and fortunately there
was not a vehicle approaching or a serious accident would have
occurred. (Humm, uh...what about applying some brake??)
I think you may feel like I am singling you out, Mrs. Robinson, but I
assure you this is directed at all joggers, bikers, etc. who would
indulge in similar carelessness. You obviously missed the point of my
last article with your references to my lack of respect for dreamers
like Sir Edmund Hillary, Amelia Erhardt, the woman who swam the
English Channel and others.
I admire them as well and doubt that their goals posed a safety threat
to others. I point you out because it was clear to me that your tunnel
vision quest to stand on an Olympic podium has blinded your concern
for drivers who have no other alternative regarding transportation.
You also made reference to your contribution to the cause of global
warming. You can run across America with Al Gore as far as I'm
concerned, just don't choose the Mass Pike as your route.
"So here's to you Mrs. Robinson, the podium holds a place for you I
pray." I'm simply trying to make a point. You may be right in being
allowed to run on public roads, but I'd truly hate to see you end up
dead right or cause a serious accident involving drivers who may not
be capable of maneuvering their way around you. I too am a dreamer and
I have a dream. "I've been to the mountain top and have seen a land of
promise. Unfortunately it has a long way to go regarding common
I end my appeal with three promises. The first is that this will be my
last letter regarding this subject. Hopefully others will speak out,
especially joggers or others who share similar or opposing opinions.
As someone close to me often says, "everyone is entitled to their own
stupid opinion," including myself. The second promise is that I will
always make an effort to avoid hitting a jogger, walker, biker, etc.
Finally, although we do not agree on this issue, Mrs. Robinson, I
really do wish you well in reaching your commendable goal, just be

Lou DiSanto

Monday, March 10, 2008

Monday, March 03, 2008

Otis, my new friend

Christpher opened the door and climbed into the shotgun position of my Subaru wagon. Looking at me a little bewildered he mutters "I can't believe we're going to drive 85 miles to ride our bikes." Hind sight is twenty twenty because I would have driven farther. I still have a smile on my face after yesterday's re-acquaintance with dirt. The sole reason for the trip to Otis, and the subject line of a string of emails all last week was simply "dirt". For Dirt isn't taken for granted in early March, not this year. We purposely drove south for two hours, to the dirt, and yes it was worth the trip.
We picked up Kerry next with her new shiny custom built IF 29'er. A feeling of great responsibility as I am given the task of securing her new ride to my creaky old roof rack, thinking, god I hope this thing doesn't fly off my roof.
Chris relinquishes the shotgun position, and we were on our way, southbound, soon piercing the beautiful 14.8 billion dollar big dig tunnel, our passage to the magic rain/snow line of Massachusetts. Somewhere around Stoughton the landscape turned from frozen tundra to an unfamiliar bare brown and wilted yellow. We were elated.
Glen met us in the Parking lot, he was gearing up along side Reenie and MTB Tom and their friends Michele, Kieth and JRA Brian. The crew was already assembled, and ready to go as we pulled up. Kerry, Chris and myself now scurrying to gear-up, we were delayed from a dunkin doughnuts stop.
5 minutes later we roll from the lot and my first reaction to Otis was "who put the highway in the middle of the action?" Waiting to cross five lanes of busy traffic immediately after disembarking the hardware store parking lot. I was a little bewildered. But what lay on the other side of the steaming expressway of route 24 was a consistent ribbon of unfamiliar flowing singletrack that simply rocked for twenty one miles.
MTB Tom was en fuego. Tearing up hills and laying into the corners with reckless abandon. Clearly, Otis was familiar haven for Tom as he used the wheels of his IF singlespeed to carom his way threw rock gardens and around blind corners.
In an airborne moment, hot on Tom's tail, flying on the dirt ribbon, we launch over a double track as if were four cross racing on a dual slalom course. I hear Glen's wheels bearing down for the catch. Then I think he loses it, Glen is off trail barreling down the fall line of the hill, I follow the switchback and I am suddenly heading straight for him and somehow we don't collide but instead laugh at the near miss.
Three of us, out ahead, rail off chamber switchbacks, the chase was on for two hours until the twinge of early season legs have their say and I am forced to slow on an extended climb. Tom's pistons continue to pump and he is out of sight.
JRA Brian, whom I did not previously know what a hoot. Aboard a demo jamis 29'er, his attitude was right-on. Pulling an old trick at just the right time; we stop for a break, our posse assembles, silence as we all pant like dogs. At the right moment he sings aloud, "turn around bright eyes" from the bubbly romantic 80's tune Total eclipse of the heart. I don't think much of it but minutes later the tune is stuck deep in my head and I find myself involuntarily singing "every now and then I fall apart". Bastard.
The ride, a four and a half hour success for all. I am now aware that I have lost a shit ton of fitness. This trip has only strengthen my will to find my misplaced mo-jo. But first to IHOP to eat our weight in eggs, bacon and pancakes.
Maybe one of us took some better pictures than me?
Igleheart's out numbered IF's by four to two!
two Jamis, and Michelle's '95 Merlin Ti
back to reality today
a road/recovery
one day closer to finding mo-jo