Sunday, October 31, 2010

1...2...3... GO!!!

Motivation is a fickle monster. The reasons we do things and the impetus is takes to actually set and attain a goal can come from a million different places. The motivation to simply get out of bed in the morning can be a moving target (as it was for me today). Many times yesterday I found myself asking why the hell I decided to do this. I searched around deep inside myself, desperate for a reason to keep going when my mind and body were screaming at me to quit and end all the pain.

Then I'd see something like this:

Jerry from Team Awesome w/ my training partner, Jake

Master Tedd put little signs up like this all over the course

Team Neon was everywhere

I covered 26.2 miles on my feet yesterday, not all of it running, but I did it, and I got a big monkey off my back in the process. I've made it pretty public on twitter and facebook that my training was going well, and I felt pretty confident that I could check this challenge off my bucket list. I might have even looked a little past this race, thinking of newer challenges, or at least a relaxing month of November.

I should have known...

The first 10 miles of this race went according to plan. I felt great. The weather was perfect, and I was running with a good group of people. Then it all fell apart. I felt a bonk coming on, and, despite my best efforts, I couldn't keep it at bay. No matter what I tried, my body kept rebelling on me, with the added fun of the dreaded upset stomach that you can get when you mix nerves, water, gatorade, electrolytes, and energy gels. Long story short, the fun part of my race was done well before the halfway point. I hit the wall, hard, and my legs lost their power. From that point on, it was a matter of survival.

Which brings me back to motivation. This race was personal for me, for a lot of reasons that I won't belabor here. I did almost all of my training alone, with the exception of a few runs with friends and short/medium training runs with my dog Jake. I took a plan that Jeni made for me, and I did my best to get ready, trying to rely only on myself . I figured if I could bang out the training on my own, then the race would be a relative breeze, and the training went well. REALLY well. I had some points where I suffered, but I managed through it, and I felt confident. The last three weeks were kind of weird, but I chalked it up to nerves and a little bit of fatigue. I settled into my taper, and felt like I was going to have a fast race. When that all came crashing down, I needed something else to keep me going.

Those people up above are what did it. I cannot express, in words or in pictures, the level of love and support I received out on that course yesterday. Not 2 miles ever passed without me seeing various members of the Team Neon phalanx out on the course with signs, cowbells, chants, and encouragement. At one point, Legz Hernando, who had snuck up from Miami, pushed me up a tough hill. Unbelievable. At several points along the way, when the ignominy of quitting seemed the better option, there they would be, like a beacon (literally... see how bright those shirts are?) pushing me on, no matter how awful I must have looked. It's because of them that I found each new reason to keep going and push through to the end.

Speaking of the end...

The final mile of the course was a sadistic climb to the baseball stadium, and, by that point, the most I could do was shuffle, and I was having trouble breathing (I now know what it's like to have an asthma attack. It is not awesome). As I rounded the corner, they were all there, bringing me home:
There were about 20 more up ahead
If I had not been so tapped out, I would have been crying. I've always considered myself to be blessed, but it's not often that the shear magnitude of those blessings are revealed in such stark relief. About five hours afterward, I finally figured out how to describe it to Nikki: it was like having the experience of the Ride to Austin boiled down and mainlined into my heart in the span of four hours instead of four days. I was, and still am, overwhelmed...

I am now a marathoner. I trained alone, and I ran for very personal reasons and some friends who know who they are, but I finished because of an army of people lifted me up and collectively willed bib #123 to the line.

Done... with Dots...
Thanks to: Nikki, Mom and Pop, Jeni, Ron, Jen, RJ, Master Tedd, Anne, Mason, Kate, Scott, Robin, Jess, Officer Josh, JD, Rob, Jerry, Linda, Legz (who, again, showed up from Miami), Donna,Matt, Carolyn and everybody else who I might have forgotten or who sent well wishes at any point along the way.

I'm a lucky fool to have you all.

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Trace Elements

One of the centerpieces of last year's and this year's Ride to Austin is the Natchez Trace Parkway. This long, smooth-as-glass road marks two important points in the route on the way to Austin.

First, it's the place where the ride makes it's turn south (or in this year's case, loops north towards Nashville first before turning south, causing mass confusion to certain info junkies following the route tracker).

Second, it's the point where the miles really start to melt away, all the teams hit their stride, and serious chunks of distance start getting chewed up.

Some of the best stories and experiences from last year's ride come from the shifts spent on the Trace. From people nearly getting run over by deer, to full moons being sited, to run-ins with the law, everybody has a yarn to spin from the Trace. It's one of the many elements of the actual riding-the-bike portion of the Ride to Austin so special. Already, I'm seeing pictures posted of sunny skies, smooth roads, changing leaves and smiling faces, and I know the P3C3 family is in a very good place.

For me, the Trace will always be at night, pitch dark except for some stars above, with mile markers ticking down one-by-one, the only sounds the hum of our tires, the hiss of our breathing, and the occasional critter scuffling around in the woods, barreling toward the Mighty Mississippi and knocking off my first ever century ride withe my wife and some of my best friends.

Nikki on the Trace right as the sun went down

Team Awesome in Vidalia, LA having just banged out 101 miles

The Trace will always feel a little like home...I'm sure everybody's having a blast.

Follow the team at

Monday, October 18, 2010


I'm a junkie. My life has been reduced to very basic things. Sitting. Watching. Refreshing Checking Facebook and Twitter to see what my P3C3 Family is doing. I have no power over this, either to help them or myself. All I can do is watch, pray, wait for my next fix, and hope that the road stays smooth, the weather clear, and the ride trouble free.

As challenging as the 2009 Challenge to Conquer Cancer was for me, I find this infinitely more difficult. Instead of being a part of this amazing adventure, sharing in the experience with some of my closest friends, doing what I can to help, and joining with the millions who have stood up to spread the word that cancer can, and will, be beaten, I am on the sidelines.I'm a spectator. A voyeur. A peeping tom.

When I did this ride last year, I called my father after we had arrived in Austin. He told me that he reckoned I was coming back a completely different person. He was right. The Ride to Austin changes you. Makes you better. Sharper. It also gets you hooked on emotional highs. That's the only way you get through a four day 1500 mile journey when your either pedaling a bike, crammed in a minivan, or trying to get some sleep in a hotel along the road. You come back from Austin with a growing sense of desperation, to do more, to at the very least be with the people who did it with you.

That feeling is coming back to me. I long to be with them. My heart and mind are, but I want to be stuffed in the back corner of the team van, telling jokes, passing bacon/cheddar scones around and being one with my team. I want to be fighting a headwind, taking a pull and pushing to the next transition. I want to be dancing in a gas station parking lot in the early hours of the morning, blaring Black Eyed Peas and not giving a rip who hears or sees me. I want to be rolling with my Warrior friends, staring in awe at their toughness and their pride.

I feel sorry for my co-workers, and not only because they have to deal with a very distracted version of me this week. I feel sorry that they can't have this experience like I did, that they don't know the most passionate, dedicated and loving group of people I've ever known.

And, yes, I feel sorry for myself. Which is about as much of a junkie characteristic that I can have. So, I'll be sitting here, all week, watching my friend thumb their noses at this most insidious of diseases, stare it down, and beat it back. If that means something to you, check out the blog at While you're there, make a donation. We're all in this together.

Thursday, July 15, 2010

Bon Voyage

For the 4 or 5 of  you that actually read these feeble ramblings, this is old news, but the wifey and I are goin' on a little trip starting tomorrow. You may not have heard, but there's this bike race going on over in the lovely little backwater known as France. Being two-wheeled enthusiasts, the wifey and I have long dreamed of watching the best in the world throw the hammer down in the biggest race in the world. The opportunity presented itself to not only go, but do so we some good friends, and, well, we had to take the plunge.

Why should you care? Well, maybe you shouldn't, but in case you do, here are some instructions. The wifey and I are planning on chronicling the odyssey to the Pyrenees, taking pictures, videos, and generally making fools of ourselves with the locals. We hope that will lead to some interesting stories, and we'd like to share them with you. We want to do it all in the same place, so, for the next couple of weeks, make a point to swing by the wifey's blog, where we'll be posting various sundry experiences that will include, but will not be limited
  • Wine (duh)
  • NOMs (double duh)
  • Various climbs in the Pyrenees (like the iconic Tourmalet)
  • Attempts by yours truly to beg beer off of campers from various countries at the top of several mountains while waiting on the arrival of the peloton
  • French hydration and nutrition strategies (I'm pretty sure this mostly involves espresso, baguette, and brie)
  • Attempts by your truly not to be too much of a groupie as I stalk the likes of Jens Voigt, Fabian Cancellara, and George Hincapie
  • Attempts by the wifey to prevent me from (fill in the blank)
Anyway, you get the idea. Like John Denver said "All my bags are packed, and I'm ready to go." Well, the bags are mostly packed, but I'm definitely ready to go, so, for now, we will be saying bon voyage to you, dearest readers, from this space. Get thee over to the Wandering Cyclist early and often, we promise to provide first rate time wasting material for the difficult work day.

Until then, stay hungry friends, and I bid you adieu...

PS: If you happen to be watching the Tour next week, and, as the riders crest the Tourmalet, you see a dashing young bloke who looks astonishingly like me sprinting alongside with the "Big Red" version of the South Carolina state flag tied around his neck, Superman style, making a complete ass out of himself, that's not me. That's my evil French twin.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

Through the Bonking Glass: Looking Back at 3 State 3 Mountain 2010

I’m not going to lie: I’ve never actually read Lewis Carroll’s masterpiece Alice in Wonderland or its sequel Through the Looking Glass (but I’ve seen the movie for Alice, so that counts for something, right? Right?! Bueller??!!). That being said, I’ve always admired the sheer imaginative muscle that it must have taken to create the world behind both books. I also love the notion that journeys do not always occur merely in the physical space, but also in your mind.

By this juncture, the three of you left that are still reading this are saying, “um, ok, so what, pray tell, is your point?”

My point is this: your head can really take you places, but it can also hold you back if you’re not paying attention, and I learned a little something about that this weekend. At one point, Alice looks in the mirror and wonders what the world is like on the other side of that looking glass. 

When I woke up Saturday morning, I felt good. I had a good breakfast, and suited up in my Fat Cyclist kit (complete with some new LiveStrong gloves courtesy of Legz Hernando) in plenty of time to make it to the start line for what would, by all accounts, be an awesome ride.  

 It was all uphill from here.

What I didn’t account for was the humidity and my propensity to sweat like a pig. At no point did I set out to bonk, but I did, and I learned something about myself in the journey on the other side of that bonk.

If you came here for a typical ride report, you’re in the wrong place. I had a wonderful, beautiful ride this past Saturday with my wife and some of my closest friends, but I won’t be talking about that type of journey very much right here. 

I came to this same event last year and did not complete it because of inclement (seriously, it was Biblical, where’s-the-Ark rain and lightning) weather and was severely disappointed and borderline depressed that I did not finish. At the time, I was dealing with an illness that had already forced me to abandon training for an attempt to complete my first marathon a month earlier, so to lose a second goal in a row so quickly hit me very, very hard. I came back this year to slay that dragon as my first big goal of the year, and I found an even larger lesson. This ride humbled me. Laid me low. Very low. I bonked hard. I suffered. I hit the wall at about the 50-mile portion of the ride, barely managed to survive the second half, and sustained a big blow to my ego.

But, I finished.

Last year, had I gotten to the point that I did this past Saturday, I have no doubt at all that I would have quit.

This year, I did not quit.

Earlier this year I was taken to task by my coach and friend (Jeni Schumacher) because I was complaining that, although I was hitting some intermediate goals I had set, I hadn’t hit them with the strength or panache that I, in my own addled psyche, figured I should. That may sound stupid, but I’ve always been a self-deprecating person, very much to a fault. With me, it’s always “yes, but…”  I typically joke and just say that I’m a realist, but in fact, it’s just a defense mechanism to try and keep myself from being disappointed. Jeni has had me focusing on positive thinking, visualization, and self-belief. I’m not all the way there yet, but I think I’m improving. 

I have no doubt that I would have been just as much of a brat as I had been earlier in the year at the finish line in Chattanooga had Jeni not already corrected my outlook.

This past Saturday, I wasn’t a brat.

Well, I don’t think I was. At least no more than usual... Let’s just move on…

The lesson: goals aren’t matters of degrees. You either hit them or you don’t. There are no style points, no “yes, but’s”, no “kindof’s”.

I hit my goal. It felt good. More than overcoming a distance, I overcame myself, and, in so doing , realized that the true goal was inside me.

Now, I can’t wait to go back next year and beat the crap out of my goal.
 At the end, looking better than I felt. Those who follow me on Twitter or Facebook know who this ride was with and for...

Awards accolades and inside jokes
What follows will only make sense to my ride mates who went the whole 100 miles with me, but whatever. I submit to you, dear reader, the first annual Yummy NOMs 3 State 3 Mountain “We Very Much Let the Dogs Out” Awards:

Winner of the Mighty Mouse “Here I Come to Save the DAAAAAAAAY” Award
Taylor Lyles, for always swooping back to pull everybody who needed it back to the group, and then oh-so-smugly, blowing past the group on the climbs like we were standing still even after having to chase back on. This kid’s got so much natural talent on the bike that it makes me sick. The fact that he is also such a good man and willing to help alone keeps me from self-combusting in jealousy at his abilities.

Winner of the Billy Goat “I have no business climbing like this but I’m going to anyway” Award
My cousin-in-law, Jason Brandt. Schmuck. He’s from Florida, has NEVER ridden up anything more than a highway overpass in his life, and he comes up to the mountains and makes US look like flatlanders. Stupid 150 lb Floridians make it look sooooo easy. I’ll say it again, with utmost admiration, SCHMUCK!!!

Winner of the Disappearing Man “wait, where did the rest of you go?” Award
John Siddens, for training so hard in the run-up to Mount Mitchell, that he must have dropped at least  a quarter, if not a third, of his body weight. John’s one of my favorite riding buddies, and these long epics are always made better when he’s around, especially when you can grab his wheel on the big descents and really get up some speed.

Winner of the Energizer Bunny “I’m a bike shop owner, this is my first vacation since I got married, I’m here with my two young kids, and I haven’t slept, but I keep going, and going, and going” Award
Rich Dybdahl, for not only having more energy that I could ever hope to have in a similar situation, but for somehow, getting STRONGER as the ride wore on. Seriously. He was better on Lookout than he was on Suck Creek. Oh, and he also can quote Space Balls, so we have to give him some kind of an award. If you're ever in the Mt. Dora, FL area, pay Rich a visit at Mount Dora Cycles.

Winner of the White Rabbit “Thanks for getting me up that last climb and we have to keep the Alice in Wonderland theme somehow” Award
Beth Rusch, for rocking the climbs, while rocking her white Cyclists Against Cancer kit, and keeping this completely trashed rider from giving up on the wall at the end of Lookout Mountain. You kept me pedaling, and I was really happy and proud to finish that last climb with you.

Winner of the Little Engine that Could “I think I can, I think I can, I think I can” Award
Paula Whitley, for struggling mightily, working hard, and making it all the way through the ride with a huge smile on your face, all the while rocking the pink compression socks. Paula’s the easiest person to find in the group (see above regarding the big smile and pink socks), and always one of the most fun to talk to.

Winner of the Enrique Iglesias “I Can Be Your Hero, Baby” Award
The wifey, for blowing my mind for the umpteenth time with the strength and determination you displayed out there. Nikki owned this ride. I can honestly say that I never cease to be amazed by my bride and that I am a lucky fool to have somehow tricked her into spending her life with me.

A Yummy NOMs First
We here at Yummy NOMs headquarters are not prone to hyperbole or to doling out awards lightly, so we are proud to bestow our first double award on the organizers, staff, volunteers and sponsors of the 3 State 3 Mountain Challenge. It’s rare that an event matches challenge, beauty, fun, and incredible support and organization in equal parts and all in one, tasty package, but these people have done it.  They’ve got great terrain, but they match it with many well-placed SAG stops, police presence at pretty much every intersection (yes over all 100 miles), a well-marked route, and the most helpful, friendliest, and kindest support staff on this Earth. There’s even free recovery NOMs in the form of Krystal burgers and chix at the end! (side note: we here at Yummy NOMs don’t eat fast food that often, but we submit to you that there are fewer sites in this world more welcome than that of a person handing you a free Krystal bag with two mini-hamburgers, a mini chicken sandwich, and fries after you’ve burned almost 9,000 calories.) There’s no way that this ride could be done better.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: if you are a cyclist in the southeastern US, you owe it to yourself to come to this event at least once. Mitchell may be more glamorous, but I guarantee you that you will not have more fun anywhere than 3 State 3 Mountain. Chattanooga is a wonderful town, and this ride is about as close to perfect as I can imagine. 

It is for these reasons that we double up our awards for 3 Mountain 3 State Challenge with both the Yummy NOMs Seal of Approval, and the Yummy NOMs Tedd Garner Seal of Epic-ness:

Congratulations, and I will see you next year.

Until next time, stay hungry, friends…


Thursday, March 18, 2010

Tony Kornheiser vs. Cyclists

Following Lance Armstrong's Twitter feed, I was appalled to see this.

Scroll down to Tony Kornheiser's March 11, Part 1 segment and fast forward to the 30 minute mark.

If you are as enraged as I am, I encourage you to go here and make your voice heard.

This is what I said:

Mr. Kornheiser,

Your insensitive and inflammatory remarks regarding cyclists in the DC area have caused you to lose a listener of your podcast and viewer of PTI. I understand that your comments were meant in jest, but you neglect to take into account the consequences of the subject. Yes, cyclists, can be territorial and aggressive on the road. I understand that, and I work in my community to try to remind cyclists that courtesy must flow both ways between us and motorists.

That being said, you must understand, that, as a cyclist, stupid hat and shorts and all, when I encounter an aggressive motorist, the potential consequences of an accident range from serious injury at the least to my death in the worst case scenario, whereas you might only be delayed and extra minute or two in your oh-so-hurried efforts to get to where you're going. Hence you might be able to begin to understand why we are so sensitive to this subject.  We like to ride our bikes, and we understand that there are risks involved, but we do not want our lives to be on the line because of impatient motorists when we are merely exercising our rights to the road just like you.

I have been a long time viewer of PTI and have enjoyed your radio show via podcast many times over the years, but you will never get my time again, nor will you ever hear from me again. You are an insensitive, bombastic blowhard, infatuated with the sound of your own voice and enslaved to the pursuit of shocks and ratings. You were relevant at some point, but now I join the growing population of people who wish you'd simply shut up and retire.


Bo Zimmerman

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

Perry's Wheel

I feel cold, angry, confused and empty. 12 hours ago, I was told that my friend, Perry Lyles, had passed away. One never knows how they're going to deal with situations like this, and I guess I still don't. I've heard of people describing it as "the new normal," and I guess that's a fitting analogy. Life must go on, even if it is a little bit dimmer and slightly more pale. Perry Lyles was a devoted husband and father, a fierce friend, and a great man. I am honored to have known him for the short time that I did. My life, and many others, was made significantly better because of him.

I first met Perry right at about a year ago, as we were gearing up the training sessions in preparation for the Ride to Austin. He was not the most demonstrative of men, so it took some time to get to know him, on and off the bike. Time, thankfully, was something that we did have. Over the course of many, many miles, I got to know a caring, passionate person that always had an ear to listen, a joke to crack, or a story to tell.

Cyclists are a tight knit bunch as it is. To the outside observer, it seems to be such an individual sport. Granted, we are all only as fast as our legs will take us, but we work together to push through pain, both physical and mental, to get around that next bend, up that next hill, or though those last few miles on a hot, hard ride.  As P3C3 riders, we are even more like family. Through the bike, we get to know each other and rely on each other like extensions of our own self.

I rode with Perry in the heat and cold, sun and rain, in the pre-dawn fog and in the clear blue sky of a summer afternoon. He was a stronger rider than me, so I spent a lot of time holding his back wheel as he pulled me around Upstate South Carolina and parts of Western North Carolina. He was an unwavering force on the road, and he got me through many of my first really long rides last summer.

He was also there at Donaldson every week, keeping the pace steady, taking pulls and periodically putting upstarts like me in our place in the little unsanctioned sprint zones we'd hit on the Country Ride. Every time I looked around, there he was. As the summer wore on, the post-Donaldson tailgating and trash talking became as much of a fixture as the ride itself. We'd always rag on Perry for his customary "Booty Sweat" shower that he take in the parking lot after every ride (He always had an old Arizona Iced Tea jug filled with water that he dump over his head to wash all the sweat off. Before long, we are all doing it). It's memories like this that keep coming back to me in technicolor.

In the Fall of last year, Perry's son, Taylor, started riding with us, and I could see that talent on the bike was a family trait. I got to watch a father-son dynamic that I can only dream to replicate if I'm lucky enough to have children. The two of them were friends, and I got to watch Taylor blossom on the bike, even as he did dumb kid stuff by launching off the front and missing a turn every once in a while.

As a newer cyclist, my days were more uneven. Some days I was on, and others I was off. Towards the end of the summer, I had a strong period where I was giving Perry a run for his money on a couple of rides, but that would always come and go. Through all of that, there was Perry's Wheel. I could always grab on and he'd tap out a smooth cadence, taking me where I needed to go. It's ironic that the last time I saw him was on a bike, but not out on the road. It was in a trainer class, and wouldn't you know it, he was set up right in front of me, as if he were pulling me like he's done so many times. If I had my way, I'd be back there right now, even if only for a moment. I'm going to miss that feeling, and I desperately miss my friend.

I just wish there had been more time, and my heart aches even more for his family. Life is so beautiful, but death is so random, and this has shaken me to the depths of my soul.

I'll see you on the other side, brother. Save a pull for me.

 Perry Lyles: 1963-2010

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


Well, I've been meaning to post here for a while now, but it appears that gremlins have invaded my home computer.

Any time I try to do anything it asks me what program I want to use, even for simple stuff like, oh, starting Internet Explorer or Firefox. It's got to be some kind of malware but antivirus, though it finds some stuff, has yet to kill this thing off. Alas, I've yet to find a solution and I fear that it's gonna take a reformat on the machine. Ugh

Do any of you techie types out there have ant suggestions? Pretty please?

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone. Any spelling errors are due to fat, clumsy thumbs.

Friday, February 5, 2010

An Open Letter to Winter

Dear Winter,

I really hate that it has come to this but I'm afraid we're going to have to stage an intervention if your current behavior continues. You see, we have always had a contentious relationship. We really do appreciate your existence because you provide a break from the often stifling heat of South Carolina and help us appreciate what have here, where we get to play outside pretty much 9-10 months out of the year.

You even provide the added benefit of dumping snow on little slices of heaven like Steamboat, Colorado, where we periodically get to go play in the snow.

An example of Winter behaving correctly in Steamboat

You, Winter, are the counterbalance, the one that keeps us honest, that tests our resolve. You send us inside to toil away on trainers or to simply hibernate in front of the television, dreaming of warmer and sunnier days. This is all well and good, but, sheesh, this is getting out of hand.

As I sit down to eat lunch while writing, this is the view outside my kitchen window:

This is not the Louisiana Bayou. It's my back yard.

You, Winter, have turned my back yard into a swamp. You, Winter, have decided, Montgomery Scott-like, to transport us, in terms of climate, to Belgium. Now, we love just about everything about Belgium: the chocolate, the beer, the cycling culture... Did I mention the beer? You, Winter, have however immersed us (pun intended) in the one thing we do not enjoy about Belgium: the weather.

This, my friend, must stop, and we would greatly appreciate your cooperation in ceasing and desisting all crappy weather activities until further notice.

And it is not only humans that dislike your current practices:

Seriously. You're making Jake sad, and he's NEVER sad..


The Yummy NOMs Brain Trust

Thursday, February 4, 2010


Or, at least I WAS melting, for a very difficult 18 minutes 15 seconds last night. Case in point:

ahhh Whattaworld, whattaworld...

Last nite, I headed over to the Greenville Cycling Center  to participate in an indoor time trial on the computrainers to support JDRF. This would mark not only my first time on Coach Jim's slick computrainer set up, but also the first time I did a time trial in any format.

I even got to do it with some friends:
The hardest, and the prettiest gals in the Upstate Peloton

Robin's always so dang composed, she should join OREC

I, on the other hand, am rarely composed, but I've got this melting thing down

The wifey, channeling her inner Cavendish

Why is this important, you ask? Well I'm toying with the idea of bike racing this year, and, to that end, I joined the Greenville Spinners Racing Team just to see if I like the whole racing scene. To be honest, after hearing of several good friends crashing at local races as well as being a little turned off at how seriously people take themselves at these things, I'd been a bit resistant the whole idea. I like riding my bike, and typically, I like to keep it simple. However, after serious lobbying from the wifey and a couple of my P3C3 mates, I decided to dip my toe. I still don't know what races, or even how many I want to do this year. 

Then last night happened. It wasn't epic. I didn't even ride that strongly, but it was really cool to just saddle up and tap out 10k of full on effort on my own. I might be on to something here, especially when 10k of effort affords me the ability to demolish something like this afterwards:

I've said it before, and I'll say it again. This is the best part of being a cyclist

So, now, I've got to a) get a TT bike (WOOHOO! TOYS!) b) figure out how to ride it, and c) scope out local TT races that I can ride in.

Shouldn't be too hard. Stay tuned for updates, and until the next time, stay hungry, friends...

ps: Thanks again to Jim Cunningham for having the event, and also to April at The Living Pixel for taking all the pics. My sweat has never been captured in such stunning high definition.

Wednesday, February 3, 2010


Well, so much for lots of updates all the time. I gotta shake these winter cobwebs.

In any case, we at Yummy NOMs want to congratulate the wifey on entering the blog world with her new space, The Wandering Cyclist.

She's going to be giving updates on her training plan, and race goals for the year, so go back early and often for tales of inteval workouts, blisters, carbo-loading, and other wonderful goodness.

I should also mention here that I'm participating in a training program as well, even with the same trainer. We have different goals, but we will be doing a lot of the work side-by-side, I'd imagine. No chance we'll end up getting hyper-competitive with eachother... None. Not at all...

(sewing machine leg kicks in..)

Seriously, we won't be talking smack or anything...

(getting really fidgety now)

Ok, ok... fine, the gauntlet is being thrown down. You think you can blog better than me. BRING IT ON!!!

(all better now)  

Saturday, January 23, 2010

The Return of the NOMs

(The sun rises and shines through a window, revealing a dusty space, stale after months of neglect. Our intrepid consumer of The Good Stuff peers in, reluctant to enter for fear what he might find left behind. Luckily, he realizes that he is simply talking about a metaphor, and a pretty weak one at that...)

Oh, you thought I was gone? Pshaw. It's only been, oh, almost 5 months since we last saw each other. They tell me that patience is a virtue, and for all three of you who visited this space back in the fall, I'm sure I've been pushing the limits of that virtue.

See, this whole blogging thing gets pretty daunting as you get behind and watch the various stories/posts you want to write pile up like a sink full of dirty dishes that you just don't feel like emptying. After a while, there comes to be so much that you don't want to even begin. Better just to blow the house up and move on. Ok, maybe not blow the house up, but you get what I mean, right?

To that end, I won't be providing a JD-style blow-by-blow of rides, meals, conversations and all around hilarity that has occurred in the past few months, but here's a couple of highlights:
  1. We completed the Ride to Austin. I won't begin to describe it. If you want to learn more about it, go here to see my and everybody else's updates along the way. I'll only say this about the experience: other than receiving the immense blessing of meeting and marrying my wife, the P3C3 ride is the greatest thing I have ever accomplished.
  2. The first ever Casa Zeta Christmas Pizza Festa went off with a minimal amount of fuss and introduced a lot of friends to some NOMalicious grilled pizza recipes.
  3. Thanksgiving, blessed, wonderful Thanksgiving came and went. Many delicious NOMs were plundered that day.
  4. The wifey and I successfully navigated the annual Florida Migration at Christmas, and even managed to get a ride in.
  5. Because of crazy cold temperatures, and a couple of bouts with illness, my wife and I have been pretty much off the bike for the past month, which sucks on approximately 73 different levels. As I sit here and write this, she's finally out riding the UWBL ride, a favorite of both of ours that we did every weekend last year, but have yet to complete until today. I'm still fighting a chest cold, so I'm currently trying to ignore my trainer sitting in the next room calling me names like "softie" and "wuss."

Anyway, like my trainer, this space has been sitting in a corner of my mind, mocking me for a quite a while now, and I'm here to declare that we are back, although probably not better than ever. Hopefully, dear reader, you will continue being patient as we work out the kinks and flex the muscles that have atrophied during our long hibernation. We going to try to keep this up more regularly, with shorter posts, random thoughts and musings, updates on a little thing called the FTC (the first rule of the FTC is that you DO NOT talk about the FTC), and many other topics. As the weather warms, I'm certain that the Master of All Things Epic will rear his head again and contribute some suffering fodder for your reading pleasure, so fear not if you have returned looking for epic ride updates.

Until then, my darling ones, stay tuned for the dawning of a new age here at Yummy NOMs.