..and then we rode.

Nick, from way over in Ames Iowa, almost 200 miles from here had been contacting me via Email about coming to my town and riding a century together on dusty roads. Nick runs the Cup O Dirt Web site where a coffee mug is given out for every 12 gravel centuries the contestants do in a given year. Plus Nick also wanted to deliver my mugs from previous rides. Now I had only met Nick once, briefly, right before a  race we were both in a couple of years ago. He had been visiting this blog and introduced himself to me while I was doing the nervous fidgeting with my bike most go through shortly before the start gun fires. Then he was gone, well ahead of me, being a veteran and finisher of many prestigious snow races. Me just an old guy that does a lot of riding drifted backwards from the front runners.

Nick arrives at my front door Sunday, early afternoon, along with his sweetheart and lady Caitlin with the goods.

Here I am accepting my awards, asking the crowd to keep the applause down to after my acceptance speech. Creepy Baby had ring side seat.

We all changed into the riding garb that any serious cyclist would only consider wearing and most the world rolls theirs eyes when a man almost 60 is in spandex and tight jersey. All I can say is try to  ride 100 miles on a hot summer day over gravel roads wearing anything else.

So we all saddle up, ride out of town together and feel so at home on our bikes. Caitlin rode with us to the first small town and bid us farewell and let us go.

Nick and I, we rode on, we talked, we laughed, we enjoyed. For the most part strangers an hour ago we are now chattering like we've been best friends for life. Such is cycling, we are all birds of a feather. Averaging around 16 mph on trail, fast enough to enjoy the workout, slow enough to be able to talk, we rode on, getting lost in the very small town of Dyersville looking for a mart for fluid replacement.

This picture shows Nick trying to pass me after resting in my draft. Well he doesn't know about my Cavendish afterburners that I had ready to kick in.

Returning home, it was a good ride and I have a bunch of neat coffee mugs. Nick and Caitlin headed to Swiss Valley Campgrounds for beers, food, and campfire, a perfect way to end a day spent in the saddle.


THANKSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS SIR NICK AND MS CAITLIN.

The "Cups" are in a good home. Well actually the "Cups" became a good home for some of these wayward creatures.

Cheers
Thanks for the visit.
Dave

Oh I have the day off tomorrow, my FatBike is in the dining room waiting and we are headed down dusty roads all day........tomorrow...

Pitty and the Creeps new Blog.

Pitty and Creepy Baby reporting in.

We are not giving him his blog back, we changed the Pass Word!!!! He left this morning on his FatBike to go riding in the rain. Seems he doesn't mind the rain, oddly enough, I think he likes it.

We hope he returns but we have no control over what he does. As you may recall if you read the previous post Dave was missing for some time and we found him living in the woods and we coaxed him into coming back home

We found some more pictures when he was living out in the woods, apparently he had been living on a diet of worms, deer ribs, decaptivated deer and giant fungus balls.

A man gone crazy......we'd say.
Oh oh, he's home, he was out riding all day. Now he's yelling at us, and he want's his blog back,,,,,,,,

OUCH!!!!!! Put me down!!!!

Dave here. Ok I got my Blog back. I will be reporting on what really happened out there now that those two nincompoops don't know my changed pass word. Stay tuned.

Cheers and thanks for stopping in. MrDaveyGie.

We've been wondering........

We don't know where he's been. We found his camera and it was full of riding pictures so he's been out there riding. So being Mr. Davey Gie hasn't been posting anything lately we took over his blog and posted some pictures from his camera....

POST POST NOTE.

OMG WE FOUND HIM !!!

Living in small tree that is shaped like a Tee Pee. He was disoriented and mumbling to himself. We coaxed him into coming out.

....and then we coaxed him into coming home.

We are so very grateful he is home. The mumbling and dribbling on his chin is becoming less and less everyday.
We suspect there will soon be a post about his  experiences and spiritual growth while spending this time with himself. Perhaps even some of the mysteries of the universe that he solved in his hiatus from Blogdom. We can only wait and see.




CHEERS AND THANKS FOR STOPPING BY,
YOURS TRULY
CREEPY BABY AND PITTY.

To everything there is a season.......

I wake up Saturday morning thinking the same thing I did when I went to bed last night. I need to spend the day riding my FatTire bike.

So Saturday morning arrives and I gathered up, and packed up what I would need to do so. The paradox, the conflict is this, as I age, mentally I get stronger, the more I can endure, the more I mentally want to push myself, but physically I regress. I'm 59, it becomes harder to ride longer, to go further physically. Knees, shoulders, fatigue and other body parts, want to shorten my ride. Recovery is harder, overtraining happens more often, my mind would prefer to ride a bike all day everyday, but the body won't follow a schedule like that.

"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;"

-- Ecclesiastes 3:1-2

But I will ride. A dear friend of mine, Jules Hansel, the bike rider of bike riders, flopped over on his bike at the age of 89, he was bicycling his last conscious moment. I rode centuries with this man when he was 80 some, he always wanted to get 10,000 miles in every year, and that became a battle, mentally he could ride 30,000 miles a year, but physically he could no longer get the 10,000 in. That was the battle. But that did not stop him from riding, he was always out there, saddling up, and riding away.

Sitting on Jule's bench.

I rode past what used to be a home built over 132 years ago. A home of many, built in the flats for blue collar meat packing workers when that was this  towns booming trade. This home has now been tore down to make way for a water drainage ditch. I sat in the basement there for a few minutes. I can't imagine the millions of conversations that occurred here. The supper table talk. So many people people that came and left, and all the children that grew up here and moved on.

After my ride around town, and through a closed river camp grounds just for the sake of a change of scenery I headed to the countryside, where I find the most peaceful of rides.

A dirty pile of snow soon to be gone.

I didn't take anymore pictures, nothing caught my eye, I just rode an additional 40 miles more on Iowa gravel roads, looking at country side starting to wake up from winter, and begin to grow.  


Tomorrow is Sunday, my day off work, I will get out there and ride somewhere.....

Cheers and  thanks for stopping by...
Dave

Big Wheels keep on Rolling...

The ice can fool you, it starts to soften as the temperature rises, letting the tires bite in. I lose focus and gain speed and trust. Then suddenly the surface changes and you hit a section that is still frozen hard, slick, and bone breaking hard. I hold my breath, rolling 12 mph, not flinching, hoping to roll to that section of thawed trail with gravel I can see 50 feet ahead of me. The front tire starts to slide very slightly to the right. You know it’s over, and there is nothing you can do to change the fact you are going to be slamming down hard on the ice in just a part of a second.



It does seem that time slows down in moments like this. I was thinking on the way down, I hope nothing breaks, and takes me off the bike. Hip, shoulder and wrist all took a hard hit. I laid there and moaned and yelled at myself, and hobbled back up and walked around trying to loosen up.


Back on the bike, shoulder hurting like somebody took a ball-peen hammer to it. I'm thinking to myself glad I didn’t go down on my recently surgically repaired shoulder. I decided next time I see ice like this approaching I am walking the bike.


The day continued to warm up, and FatTires roll like your brakes are dragging when gravel, and muck thaw out. I drop gears and speed, and figured it was better than breaking bones on frozen ice.

I ride past  mushrooms as big around as kitchen plates. I first noticed them last summer growing on the side of the cliff that sun never touches, now wondering will they continue to grow again this year, do they live from year to year and through Iowa winters?

Continuing to plow forward I feel like a mule, but I’m on my bike, out in the country, the smell of spring in the air, thinking it just doesn’t get any better than this.

I don't know who left these pipes here a long long time ago, or why.

I circle back home, arriving tired, 50 miles felt like 100. This weekend promises more of the same.

Cheers and thanks for stopping,
Dave

SATURDAY
Seems the best way for me to relax is to ride a bike in offroad places that are challenging in several ways. Is that good or bad I don't know. I have been working on my bike on and off this past week, trying to make 100mm rims work with fork spacing and with 2X9 gears. I was amazed how much difference that made, with the fatter tires and where I can now ride. With 40% more "foot print" on my tires, I can now ride off trail and bushwhack all over Iowa country side. So I have been.

 8 hours of this today, and only saw one other human being out here, I wonder what everyone else was doing.
I got to thinking about winter camping and packing overnight gear. Riding all day and then camping off trail somewhere. Making a campfire, sipping from a flask of Blackberry brandy and listening to the coyotes as I fall off to sleep and riding again when the sun comes up. I suppose that puts me in a minority, and that's ok.  I can't wait.
SUNDAY
Find out where this path goes, I saw today.

Some pictures of Sunday's ride below.

Cheers, thanks for stopping by, and hope you get a chance to play too.

Dave

Keep Dancing!!!

I was scrambling around the house this morning getting everything ready for today's ride. The detail that is needed that just goes with every long ride across snow covered trails on a bicycle where cell phone service and anybody else isn't always available. 

 The TV was on in the background providing music as VH1 was playing their Top 20 videos. One of the videos caught my ear then my eye somewhere near the middle of the video. There was a young man, a Marine, standing next to his military uniform. He had his leg blown off, his hand, and there were other serious body scars. It became obvious the song was chronicling an actual real life situation. A man blown apart while serving his military duty in a country far far away from his home and family. A terrible tragedy. It's sad but often we become calloused to tragedies in people's life's such as this, we see them way too often in every newspaper. But there was something else that grabbed my heart, caught my soul as I watched.

There was a scene near the end of this video where this solider and his wife were dancing, together. Instead of wallowing in despair he chose to dance. There he was with his wife, while missing hand and part of an arm blown off, a leg gone, and yet dancing. I will never, ever be able to comprehend the depths of despair, the pain, the suffering the hopelessness that must have been part of the cycle of recovery. The waking up in the middle of the night and being in dream and forgetting what happened, and then the reality comes back and stays with the pain. But he chooses to dance.

 I have somehow slipped into mediocrity. It crept in unawares and made itself a major player in my day to day activities. I did have shoulder surgery, and I did have to stay off the bike for a time. But I didn’t have to change healthy habits for bad ones. Staying up late, overeating, drinking too much beer, sleeping in late, not stretching, gaining weight, not doing what I should be doing that comes with every lazy and negative attitude. Forcing myself to ride and indoor exercise bike took an extreme effort and was put off later and later each day, sandwiched between couch time. I've chose to get lazy, and it was hanging on.

Oh woe is me, was my theme, I hurt, this shouldn’t be happening to me, if I can’t ride my bike, I will just become self destructive, I’ll show em.


We have in us the ability to dance in spite of our circumstances. It is our choice.  I should have chosen to dance instead, and kept dancing.


My ride today was beautiful, fantastic, and challenging all rolled into one. The conditions were such that is made for a great ride. There was enough snow cover, and was packed down to make a good ride through the country trails. As the day warmed up the snow melted and the mud came out, but I was on my bike, and that was what I needed. I put my largest snow tires on the bike, it rode slow, and hard, but wonderfully. About 40 miles on snow mobile trails, my legs are tired and well spent and that makes me feel good about myself.

I am starting back, to the lifestyle I need, for me, to be me. I want to dance, and stay dancing.
 
 

Cheers, and thanks for stopping, I gotta go, I need to put this beer down and get to bed, I have a long long bike ride planned for tomorrow.

Oh and stop and say hi in the comment section if you don't mind, I get a lot of visitors and never hear from most. I would like to hear from you. Thanks.

Bikeoholics.....

Overheard at a bikecoholic’s meeting once, “Hi my name is Dave, and I am a bikeoholic.”

I guess that must be me, it seems I spend a lot of my time, thoughts, and plans riding or thinking about riding a bicycle. My day job supports my habit. When my doctor told me I needed shoulder surgery and that I would be off the bike for at least 4 weeks, probably more, my immediate fears were not about the risk, the pain, or what would it cost me. My first thoughts were how do I survive not bicycling for all that time. What the heck was I going to do with myself for all that time.


But 4 weeks did come and go. I did survive. The time did pass, in spite of my fears of not knowing what I was going to do and thinking I would be going terminally insane.


So after 4 weeks I went and visited with my surgeon. I asked for a release to go back to work, because I knew I needed that so I could get back out and ride. He agreed, and told me to expect pain, and to be careful, that I would still be healing for several months.


That was Thursday, Friday morning I rolled my bicycle out the front door, down the front steps, into the street, threw my leg over the cross bar, clipped my feet into the pedals and headed down the street to the trails and gravel roads, like I've done over 1000 times before.

Much like a pilot's initial checks of the cock pit, we cyclists often make multiple physical and mental checks the first minutes on the bike especially when the bike and rider haven’t been ridden for some time. My feet felt right in the clips, seat is adjusted just right, tires pressure feels good, and there are no unusual noises. I take note of what clothing I am wearing and how it feels with the outdoor temps, and wind speed. I go through my mental check list, food, fluids, multi tool, spare tube, patch kit, air pump, lights, and so on and so forth are all on board.


That’s enough of that, as I settle into the ride. My cadence becomes rhythmic, hypnotic, it feels just like how I remembered it did, as I head down the road, over the bicycle paved path, onto the single path trail, and out past the city limits and I’m loving it.

Ice kept me on my toes, eyes watching for every detail in front of me. Sometimes holding my breath afraid my heart beat alone would be enough to start my tire sliding sideways and me slamming down on the frozen hard ground. Then I would find patch of gravel, and then snow and the riding tenseness would let up. Then another patch of ice and all senses alerted, on guard again. For reasons most wouldn’t understand I enjoyed that challenge, I felt alive again, I pedaled on.

Saturday, more of the same, and planning Sunday for the same.

Seems like life as I know it has settled quickly back to ‘normal’ and those 4 weeks of not riding already seem like a long long time ago.

 
 
 
 
 
 

CHEERS........Dave......

"....you ride a bike too much...."

It is a little before 6:00 p.m on Jan 15th 2012. I have been riding my FatBack bicycle for almost 8 hours now on a mixture of snow, dirt, grass, and gravel, across farm fields. gravel roads, and trails. It is dark out, and I'm following a blinking red light of another cyclist that is ahead of me. That rear blinkie light has been playing hide and seek with me around every bend as I and that other unnamed bicyclist weave our way over Heritage Trail headed to the finish of the Triple D winter bicycle race. My legs are cooked. I did my best to hold my ground all day, and my body was reduced to only one desire at that time, and that was to get off this bike. My soul was weary too, and wanted off the bike also. But my soul, my inner self wanted two things more then to stop pedaling. The first one was to pass that bicyclist in front of me, and 2nd, was to arrive at the Grand Harbor hotel and call Triple D completed, for the first time in 3 attempts. This battle between body and soul had been going on for an hour now. Such a paradox, for the last month I couldn’t wait to get on the bike and get this show started, and now I want off the bike, I want this ride finished. I remembered thinking as I hammered on the pedals closing in on the finish line, and at about 5 miles out, I made the decision even if this bike blows up on me I will drag this Fat Cycle to the finish. I had to. I can’t fail, I need to finish.

At around 6:50 p.m. after over 8 and half hours of snow cycling 2 of those 3 desires were accomplished. I was off the bike, and I had finished Triple D. Arriving at the Grand Harbor Hotel, and that blinking red light, whoever that was, finished in front of me.


That was more than 4 weeks ago; I have not been back out there on a bike since then. My spirit, soul, and body want to feel that ‘ride’ again. The surgical scars and the pain in my shoulder reminds me of what my doctor told me, “stay off the bike, do not reinjure that shoulder” He also did 2 of the 4 knee surgeries I’ve had and told me once, “you ride a bike too much” I think to myself, if you don’t know, I can’t tell you why I do this. Thinking about it, I guess I don’t know either.

So to keep my bicycle legs up, or I believe I do, by riding 1.5 hours every day on an indoor stationary bicycle trainer. That is a very long 1.5 hours. I watch my heart rate monitor, I watch my pedal cadence, I watch total calorie burn, and I plan. Plan I do, goals I want to accomplish on the bike, places I want to go on the bike, while I wait for my 1.5 hours to be completed and I can get off this bike.

Someday this will all be just a memory, and someday even the memory will be gone. But that doesn’t matter, I am like a junkie, I just want that feeling right now. That same feeling I had past the 8th hour of Triple D, when I finished and got off my bike.

Thanks for stopping in.
Dave

It doesn't get any better then this...

It's different now, then what I've been forever used to as more then a full time blue collar worker since 1971. I'm not getting up and going to work every morning, being off work recovering from shoulder surgery. Week days and weekends don't differentiate much from each other, days just seem to run together now. I find myself falling into the same pattern that repeats itself every 24 hours.


Waking up when the sun comes up I suspect was once Neanderthal's natural pattern before alarm clocks existed and seems I am now following this pattern when my alarm clock isn't necessary.


After coffee, letting the dog out and back in again, some computer nothingness I soon find myself warming up in my dungeon basement on my indoor bicycle trainer.


If cycling only existed on indoor trainers, all cycling would soon come to an end for me. Guarantees of a longer, healthier life would not offer enough rewards to be pedaling in my basement going nowhere. I do this only because I suspect by the end of next week my doctor will release me to go back to work, and when I walk out of his office my legs will be more then ready to take me places rotating pedals on a FatTire bike on a snow covered trail in North East Iowa.


My heart rate monitor hits 130 beats per minute, telling me I am adequately warmed up and ready to begin my daily 90 minute self inflicted hurt. 90 minutes is all I can tolerate, it is my self agreement I made with myself that I need to accomplish daily.

10 minutes, 20 minutes,30 minutes, and a million thoughts now become one hour. 30 minutes left and I push harder to keep my heart rate up to the required commitment.

I am finishing now, 90 minutes is up, I am crossing the 'finish line' I beat everybody, every compromise, every excuse not to do this.

The rest of the day is spent watching Judge Judy, the local news, and other TV shows. Reading some body’s else’s thoughts on their blog and my mediocrity. I also daydream a lot and am thinking it won't be long and I will be spending the day riding snow mobile trails on a FatTire bicycle.

Dave CHEERS!!!!