TOC Shame

I was living in an information bubble for a couple days last week in regards to the end of the Tour of California. I was pretty sure the Tour de Levi would go off as it has the past two years, but this is bike racing, and I didn’t want anyone to spoil my viewing pleasure by leaking the outcome. I finished up the race just the other night and although the racing was extraordinary there was a phenomenon happing in the background that had me a bit perplexed. I fully understand the commotion and hysteria associated with being a fan at a world class cycling event. I’ve been to the Tour of Missouri, and Tour of Georgia multiple times and have been apart of the mayhem myself. It certainly acceptable to get a “little excited” when witnessing your two wheeled hero pass by after a few drinks, but what the Cali residents were drinking I don’t know.

You see, any time the race went towards the heavens, the TOC crowds started to get…well…stupid. Possibly in an effort to replicate the famous Devil from European cycling lore, the TOC spectators to seem to go to great lengths to stand out. Guys dressed in red, white and blue with huge afro wigs. Dudes in Speedos, nothing else. Clown suits, and sumo fat man outfits. Heck even the Pope running alongside the Peloton. It really appeared to me that those in question weren’t fans per say, but a community of losers looking for their 15 minutes of fame. Seems typical of a state where the rise and fall of Hollywood fame happens daily, that its residents would try to use Versus as a means to stardom.

It’s a part of bike pro bike racing I know, but come on guys, I want to see skinny guys in spandex flying up a mountain pass, not your fat ass running along side in a purple banana hammock, man boobs bouncing, all while carrying Old Glory wrapped around a stick you found on the roadside. Oh the humanity!

This One's for You Green Beans!

I put in some solid miles this weekend with the BOCOMO crowd. On Saturday the elder statesmen of the group begins to complain a bit about the pace being set by the two "young" guns in front, myself and Mr. Shottler. I proclaimed that in fact my young a$$ was riding RAGBRAI before Shottler was in diapers. At the urging of Mr. Beans, here is the proof. Now these are pictures of pictures so the quality is mighty poor but you'll get the idea. My cycling alfliction started a few moons and obviously fashion trends ago. What I wouldnt give to find that banna seat wonder and restore it to its previous mud bath glory.

So how many miles do you ride in 22 years of pounding on the pedals? There were no Garmin's or Powertaps in the 80's so we'll never know! Let the ridicule begin.

Sometimes 65 and sunny is not good for cycling...

Dr J, Green Beans, OZ and I met for a spin through some local parks, trails, gravel, and a bit of KT Sat, thinking the conditions wouldn't be too bad in the afternoon. We could not have been more wrong. The KT was sloppy in spots but manageable. Grindstone had 20 feet of trail that was nice and dry. Someone was asleep at the wheel and left the door open at Rock Bridge. It was beyond muddy and we quickly left the scene of the trail raping we did. Gravel road turned into south Louisiana quagmire. So that left us riding our Mt Bikes on the road. No fault of our fearless leader Beans though. It was wayyyy to windy for my weak butt to be on the road bikes, so all was good. Better luck next time fellas.

Thanks Sis!!!

On a solo gravel ride this week rocking my new Morgan Stanley jersey. Thanks Sis!