life hereafter

I am spending the next two weeks in Florida (my second home.)

Friday night I flew down to Naples, I am spending the weekend in Naples and then driving up to Tampa on Monday. There I will meet up with two other people and drive up to Orlando for a week of training put on by The Firm. Next Friday, I’ll hop on a plane down to Fort Lauderdale to visit family for five days.

Unfortunately my weekend in Dewey has resulted in some severe sunburn on my upper back, chest and shoulders. After spending a week religiously applying aloe and moisturizer to my skin, I laid off on Friday. Of course, that means that after my flight landed and I looked under my shirt, all my skin has started to peel off. Ugh. It’s actually one of the grossest things I’ve ever experienced. I am molting. My first stop in Naples was at a target to buy SPF 50 sunscreen and bottles of moisturizer. After a few swims in the ocean I seem to have “exfoliated” a majority of the dead skin. I have now revealed my semi-burnt, semi-pink, semi-white next layer of skin that is very sensitive to the touch.

I think I have learned my ‘not wearing sunscreen’ lesson.

I had to travel to Dallas for The Firm on Thursday and Friday of this past week, so I thought, why not extend the trip a little bit and visit my family for the weekend.

First, I decided to stay at the W Dallas Victory which was wonderful, whimsical and not the least bit woeful. (Sorry.) The rooms were fantastic, the ghostbar was intriguing and the views were quite excellent. I checked out a lovely little restaurant on McKinney Ave called Bread Winners. Everything on the menu was unique in some way, but tasted absolutely delicious. Although, I do not recommend the spinach dip, honestly I think they just warmed up a can of store bought spinach dip you can find in the chip isle of a supermarket. I had the Buttermilk Pan Fried Chicken as my entrée and it was superb. The chicken was juicy and not over done, the breading was just perfect and the cheesy potatoes and gravy were as homestyle as you can get.

After finalizing work my step mother picked me up from the office and drove me about twenty minutes north to the City of Frisco, where my father is now a police officer. Frisco was very cool. Everything is extremely new, and you can tell that what is there now, wasn’t there just a few years ago. It is growing very quickly, but the cost of living and housing prices are no where near what they are in the rest of the country. A house that would sell for $1.1 million in the northeast was barely $600k in Frisco. As my father has been tirelessly attempting to get me to move down to Texas, he took me around to a few open houses. The houses were amazing. Five bedrooms, two studies, a third “living area” and media rooms were standard. Even the “cheaper houses” in the $350k price range included all of the above features. Not a bad place to move if you are just starting a family, although it is a little too far outside of a city center for my taste. Also, the houses sit on zero property and backyards are non-existent. To get real land you have to move even farther outside of the city limits.

Who knows, Dallas and Texas made a good first impression on me, and I dare say that I will return.

Last Saturday, May 10th, I found myself pedaling down Kelley Drive searching for the Three Angels (which had mysteriously moved from where I last remembered them.) After avoiding numerous buses and clueless drivers, Perez and I found the angels and gathered around the officials for the Coaches & Coxswains meeting.

During the meeting we were reminded that this was an official event and we must obey the rules of the river while also having fun. We were also reminded that we were not allowed to interfere with the collegiate races, and as such would not be allowed on the water until the last Men’s event came down the course. This was tentatively scheduled for 11:21am. I found the owner of Team Concepts and received our bow number, 172.

Back on the bike we start pedaling up river towards the finish line and corporate event tents.  On the way we pass the University of Delaware Alumni Associate tent and wave hello. A few tents down we find our corporate tent and notice that the only ones there are the caterers. I pick up the phone and find out our captain (Mike) and the rest of the team are already getting ready by Strawberry Mansion bridge. However, the boat does not currently have a coxswain or “cox-box” (the device that lets every rower hear the voice of the tiny person facing everyone.)

Once again, we turn around on the bike and head back to the angels looking for the Team Concepts owner. Riding around the area for a few minutes we don’t see him and think it best to call another member of our team who had his number. As we are dialing, he walks by and we ask him what we should do about getting a coxswain and cox-box. His reply is that he already spoke to our captain and we are all set. Gee, would have been nice for Mike to call us back and let us know he already had what we needed.

Back on the bikes we pedal up river past the Alumni and Corporate tent and run into our old college coaches. They were a bit busy getting ready for the next event (which they would win.) Up by Strawberry Mansion Bridge we find our novice boat and meet our illustrious high-school coxswain. We find out that the shirts we are receiving for the race are both sleeveless and size XL. Fantastic. I felt more bad for our cox, as she was about half my size and had the same size shirt in which I was swimming.

We figured that now that we had found everyone we could watch a few of the college races go by and get onto the water within the next 15 minutes. As we start watching the races we realize that they are very far behind and there was no way we would be able to make it onto the river by 11:21. Forty minutes later, at 12:00 we find ourselves getting “hands-on” the boat and heading down the dock. We were informed that our warm up would consist of just paddling down the river until we were at the 1000 meter mark. Not a very long warm up when you consider that most people are hands-on and in the water at least 45 minutes before their scheduled start time.

As we paddle down to the start line we take a few practice “starts.” Everyone is a little nervous and jump, but overall it was not a bad warm up. I was feeling very confident in our race and ability, however I was becoming more and more nervous. It felt like I was back in college getting ready for a race. I knew I should have been out there to just have fun, but I was really starting to feel like I needed to win the race.

At the 1000m mark, they stopped all the boats and lined everyone up, we started to paddle slowly with only stern pair and no pressure down the river attempting to keep even as we approached the official 500m startling line in lane three. We found that even though we were not putting on any pressure we were ahead of all the other boats. This gave me even more confidence that we could really do well in the race.

At 500m, they stopped everyone, staggered the start due to the shape of the river and lined everyone up “even.” I could tell from the beginning that our high-school cox was pretty nervous, and that we were most certainly not pointed at the finish line. As the official says “ready….row!” we do our start “1/2, 1/2, 3/4, lengthen, full, crash!.” Our port side oars were clashing with the oars of the boat in lane two. At first I couldn’t tell what was happening, but then I saw that we were way over the lane markers and completely out of our territory. We were also in a really bad spot, no one on port side could row due to hitting the other boat, however if anyone on starboard attempted to row, it would push us more to port. So, everyone just stopped rowing. At this point all the other boats are pulling away and we are in dead last.

We very quickly get reset, and we start rowing again. This time I’m really mad, but I most certainly do not want to come in dead last. The next thing I know, is that we are gaining on the fifth place boat and making moves on the fourth and third place boat. With about twenty strokes to go, we are even with the boat in lane one and we are in fourth place. With ten strokes to go, we are one or two seats up on the boat in lane one and we are in third place. We cross the finish line about 3/4 of a length up on the fourth place boat and take third.

I was amazed. We were in last place (out of six) and we managed to come back with a third place finish. There is no doubt in my mind that had we stared properly and had no mishaps along the way, we would have been in first place. We quickly spun our boat and headed for the awards dock where we received bronze medals and the applause of the spectators, drunk college kids and our co-workers.

Not too shaby for a “half-time show.” I will definitely be back next year.

Perez and I participated in the Philly Critical Mass this past Friday.

From the website:

Critical Mass is an unorganized coincidence that happens in cities around the world on the last Friday of every month. It is a ride through the city to celebrate and remind everyone about the use of the bicycle as an effective means of transportation.

It was actually a lot of fun and a very interesting experience. I was a bit worried as I’ve seen the videos on YouTube showing people crashing into cars or getting into confrontations, but none of that happened on our ride. People did yell at some drivers, especially the ones who tried to run them over. But all in all, everyone was very friendly and most people seemed to understand. A lot asked what the ride was for, while others cheered the group on.

We rode through Center City, South Philly, The Art Museum, Fairmount and West Philly. It was a great way to see the city by bike without worrying about someone crashing into you, or you moving fast enough for a car.

Rowing practice for the corporate challenge did not go as well as planned this past Saturday. In fact, it was awful. Practice started with our boats one rower and two coxswains absent. The coach offered three high schools kids twenty bucks each to come on the water and act as bodies.

We lined up our boats with the intended race day configuration. Perez was stroking and I was in seven. The other experienced member of our crew was in three-seat. After spending twenty minutes on drills and warm ups we decided to have all eight people row. Eight different people, and eight different ways of rowing. It was a disaster. It was very typical of a crew’s first time rowing all eight, but throughout the course of the practice people just kept getting frustrated and worse. I managed to only get jabbed in the kidneys twice. After an hour of flopping around the river we brought the boats back in and our coach suggested we drop down a level in the competition from ‘intermediate’ to ‘novice’. Advice I think we should really take to heart.

I know this is supposed to be fun, but that competitive spirit keeps popping up and causing angry thoughts.

Yesterday, Perez and I inadvertently jumped head first into a 5 hour “fitness marathon.”

The day began with us going to the boathouse for the Dad Vail Corporate Challenge practice. We road our bikes from Manayunk to boathouse row and meet up at #5. On the way there the sky decides to open up and downpour. No warning. Just total drenching rain. Two minutes later it was over. It was like one of those weird summer storms, except it’s spring, and sometimes it’s still pretending to be winter outside. Once we arrived, we got changed and headed out. The moment we put the boat on the water it starts to drizzle again. Next thing we know, there are huge bolts of lightening and the sky opens up again. Then we notice all the crews coming back in with coaches saying how much worse it is up river.  Our coach decides to leave the boat on the water and have us stand in the boat bay for ten minutes to determine if it will “clear up.”

The entire time I am dreading her saying we are going to have another indoor practice. Those things are hell. A few minutes later it seems to be clearing up and we head out on the water.  Perez was in stroke and I was in 7. Stern pair is perhaps my least favorite position in the boat. I hate being in front of everyone and responsible for setting the form for the entire starboard side. The practice went alright. I was only jabbed in the back once with an oar by someone who fell completely out of time. Better than the first weeks in a novice boat at Delaware. I think we stand a very good chance of beating the other crews.

After we bring the boat in and place it in the bay, Perez and I hurry to get changed and get out of there. We signed up to do the 8th Annual R.E. Load Alley Cat race.  The event kicked off at 2pm and it was currently a little after 1. We still had to get down to 2nd and Spring Garden to register and pick up our rider numbers. We get to the back of the R.E. Load store at about 1:35 and find out that the start of the race is back at the Art Museum (where we just were!). Back on the bikes we booked it up to the Art Museum to meet the mass of about 200 people. This was a very diverse set of individuals. You had everything from the messengers with giant bags, tattoos and varied piercings to the crazy guy with a beard on a recumbent.  As is typical in Philly you had everyone in cars who were driving around the Art Museum circle beeping and hollering odd things.

At about 2pm, someone who was in charge grabs a megaphone, tells everyone to leave their bikes on the grass and head over to the statue/fountain thing. It was going to be a running start. As she is making the announcements and reading the rules she politely reminds us of what happened in Chicago a few months ago. This resulted in a rule change. It would no longer be a race, but a “fun ride.” With points assigned not for coming in first, but for doing the best at each of the various challenges they had set up at each checkpoint. We were also reminded that this was a highly illegal event. So be careful. After saying that she said perhaps she shouldn’t say that so loud. Moments later we were given the list of checkpoints with the caution that this was an April Fool’s race and a good number of them would be fake. We also realized that most everyone else had brown paper bags and were drinking from them. That should be safe.

We hopped on the bike and headed for the closest checkpoint at Lemon Hill first. About halfway there Perez finds himself leading the pack and climbing up the hill. At this point he remembers that he is on his fixed-gear bike and can not shift. Next thing I know he is hopping off from the front and pulling a u-turn. I asked what was up and learned that he wasn’t going to make it up the hill. Oh well. So much for that checkpoint. I bet it was fake anyway. Next we headed over to 25th and Spruce, which I thought said 25th and Spring Garden. Whoops. After correcting that mistake we were told to write a haiku about our bikes. Mine was something along the lines of:

green frame, red bar tape  | (i forget what was here) | don’t fail me now

It was lame, but it let me complete the checkpoint. From what I remember, Perez’s was funnier. At this point we started riding around the rittenhouse area and grabbed some food at Devil’s Alley. (Hey, it wasn’t a race anymore so who cares). After that we were riding down 21st near Cherry Street and the freaking road must have just recently experienced an earthquake. The road is completely broken and there is about a 10ft long, 1 inch deep pothole which I could not avoid quick enough. I go over and quickly realize that I have popped my rear tire. Not having a wrench on me, this was the end of the day. Frustrated I called a friend, left my bike in her garage and headed back to Manayunk.

All in all it was a very good day, and I managed to get some sun out of the whole deal. I realized that I was doing some form of exercise for the past five hours and I felt I deserved a whole lot of delicious food for that.

Hows this for a bit of complete randomness, motivated entirely by the Commerce Bank Triple Crown the weekend prior:

Friday night Perez convinces my roommate and myself that it would be an awesome idea to enter a race this weekend (Sunday). You know, only a few days after we all decided to seriously train for one… Except the one we were training for was over two months away. This race was less than two days away, at 7:50am, in middle-of-nowhere New Jersey. Woo!

All day Saturday is spent buying last minute supplies and some necessary extras for the bike race as well as getting in a nice recovery ride. We end up staying out on Saturday night until around 1am and setting our alarm clocks to wake us up at 5am. That’s the perfect amount of sleep you need when you have a race the next day…

We awaken at the prescribed time and start the drive to New Jeresey, in seperate cars no less, each taking a seperate route. That results in the following scenario an hour and ten minutes later: Perez is waiting for us at the course, I’m lost on some back road in New Jersey and no one has heard from my roommate. I finally manage to find my way after my Blackberry and Google maps saved the day (again). At this point the race is starting in less than 30 minutes and I still have to register and set up my bike. I love rushing. Finally the roommate makes it to the course, with even less time to spare.

As I am unpacking my bike, I hear the two cyclists next to me talking about how much they hate people who show up at races with unshaved legs, mountain shoes (as opposed to road) and a teeshirt (as opposed to a racing shirt). I think to myself, “Wow, I’m really glad I was able to cross all of that off my list before today :)!)

Even after all of that we all managed to make it to the starting line on time. However we suddenly hear a woman start yelling at Perez: “You can’t wear a sleveless shirt in the race!” She then tells him she will hold the race while he goes back to his car to change into the only other thing he has… a teeshirt. This whole thing is looking awesome already. After Perez’s moment of embarassment, we are all back on the start line and ready to go. Four 9.5 mile laps around the course and than a sprint finish.

The race starts and we are looking around us… we realize that we are pretty much the only non-racing club individuals in the race. A bit intimidating. We also realize that the start was a little faster than we expected, but completely manageable. After crusing along for about a mile and a half, the entire pelaton stops short, this causes me to nick the tire of the person in front of me. They were fine, but I start wobbling like crazy and almost go down. This also caused me to fall off the pelaton and have to really work to catch back up. I manage to get back in rather quickly and start crusing along again. I work my way into the middle and I hoped that I could stay there.

A bit of background right here:

My roommates bike has been suffering a lot as of late. He has gone through 7 tire tubes and three actual tires. We have no idea why it keeps popping after a few miles.

Lo and behold, my roommates tire pops at the three mile mark, and he is out of the race (the tire had a hole in it, no way to repair without an extra tire, and not worth it unless that extra tire is on a wheel.)

As we approached the first turn I hopped on the wheel of a rather large man I thought would provide a nice draft. Unfortunately coming out of the turn he decided he didn’t want to peddle anymore and was going to take a water break. Once again, I am detached from the pelaton. This time as I work to catch back up, I pass this poor girl who was also dropped as she mutters “Well, that was quick…” and falls signifigantly behind. By the second turn the entire field had split and I was pretty much on my own.

I managed to pass a few people who didn’t want to share the work to catch back up… I also later found out these people withdrew from the race on the second lap. On my second lap around, I see my poor roommate walking his bike back the three miles to the start, apparently there wasn’t any room in the car that follows for him and his bike. (Note to self, bring an extra everything with you when you race).

I also saw a nasty crash between two people on my third lap. I later found out that one guy broke his wrist and the other his collar bone.

A mere 38 miles later, the race is over and I managed to finish within my goal (under two hours). Not an impressive race by any means, but than again it was my first one, and I did not seriously prepare. However I am left with a better impression of how these things actually work and what to expect at the Cat 4/5 level: Lots of crashes and a wide range of “seriousness”.