du-AL

Al eats, drinks, and make merry
I went out last night with a number of my man friends (all except Fred who isn't aloud out on weeknights and doesn't have permission to travel to the big city without adult supervision). We went to the world's best steak house, Keen's Chop House, Manhattan. I had a great meal and a number of great beers. All was good.


This morning was completely screwed for AL.
This morning was another story. I had a food hangover and was a bit dry (couldn't seem to find the damn cat that slept in my mouth, though). Freddy and I were supposed to do a road ride this AM, but that got F'ed because I had to run to the airport to pick up a family member.

After the airport, I used some well placed whining and pissing to get myself out of a b-day party for a family friend's 5 year old. The mrs. gave me a pass and took the kiddies. YEE-HAWWWW!!!

So I made my own little duathlon in the 2 hours I had. First, I trucked over to my circuit course at Cedar Creek and pumped out 20 miles on the Cervelo. A bit windy but lovely riding weather. Then I did a quick transition and busted through a 4 mile run. Damn, I felt good. I thought I would be in a world of hurt after the dual heapings of abuse I've given my insides this week (Met's home opener then the chop house last night). But I was good to go (after a visit to deuce-ville, of course).

Now I am going to sit back and re-hydrate while watching the Mets play the Nats. "Nothing could be finer.."

I got a Rash!

Heywood at your service, kinda

With the weather so stunning out here on the west coast, it is pointless to stay inside while letting the body decompose on the couch. So Heywood and Big Cat hit the trail to knock out one of IMBA Epic trails, the South Yuba. With the ladies in agreement to shuttle us to the top, Heywood’s reliable blue truck was strategically placed at Edward’s crossing. The shuttle service, consisting of two fine-looking ladies and an excellent mode of transportation, drove the boys to Highway 20 and Omega road where our Epic was to begin.
Heywood has one small problem that plagues his life while living in the foothills of California. Poison oak. For what purpose did God place this dreadful plant on Earth for? To devastate Heywood’s life? More on this later.
First few miles, a fun downhill ride on fire road to the town of Washington. The folks of this small mountain town believe the Civil War has not finished and are cheering for a victory for the south. Needless to say, the two boys never made eye contact with a soul and rode a quickly as possible to the safety of the trailhead.

While on the trail, the views of the river were astonishing. Water had a beautiful turquoise tint too it while the clarity was truly amazing. The South Yuba trail is a well built trail to say the least. Most of the next 20 miles or so consisted of slow winding single track through the dense foliage of this ecosystem. Nothing too technical to speak off, just not a very fast trail. There are half a dozen stream crossings; most of them have a newly constructed bridge so the feet stay dry. Although the trail drops in elevation overall, there are lots of climbs to get the heart rate pounding away above the lactate threshold. At one point the trail is a few yards away from the river. Then the trail rises a few hundred feet above making for a fun downhill to follow. This rise and fall repeats itself numerous times during the journey. There are also numerous swimming spots along the route. Just a spectacular day on the bike. But, there was one problem looming over the head of the two boys the entire ride. Poison oak. This shit was everywhere. There is no riding around it, ducking under it, or trying to avoid it by any means. This shit was everywhere. Never seen so much poison oak on a trail in all the days spent here on Earth. Now Woody did try to come prepared with Tecnu, baby wipes, and long sleeve shirts but, that just was not enough. By the end of the ride, Heywood appeared to be going into anaphylactic shock. The 3 Bicoastal Boys would have been the 2 East Coast Boys if not for the quick thinking of Big Cat who apparently caries preloaded syringes of Epinephrine and Benadryl in his pack. Big Cat was begging to try mouth to mouth to help Heywood out. Sure glad the Benadryl worked. That would have made for an uncomfortable ride back to the car.

So five hour after starting our trip, we located the truck that had a little surprise waiting for us. Life is good!

Fantastic-AL

4/9 Mets Home Opener: What a DAY! Al blows off the factory, downs some brews on the train, eats some pizza, and watches the boys of summer on a sunny and cool Spring day. Ah, baseball is back!

Well, beat the drum and hold the phone - the sun came out today!
We're born again, there's new grass on the field.
A-roundin' third, and headed for home, it's a brown-eyed handsome man;
Anyone can understand the way I feel.

CHORUS:
Oh, put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Put me in, Coach - I'm ready to play today;
Look at me, I can be Centerfield.

Well, I spent some time in the Mudville Nine, watchin' it from the bench;
You know I took some lumps when the Mighty Casey struck out.
So Say Hey Willie, tell Ty Cobb and Joe DiMaggio;
Don't say "it ain't so", you know the time is now.

CHORUS

Yeah! I got it, I got it!

Got a beat-up glove, a homemade bat, and brand-new pair of shoes;
You know I think it's time to give this game a ride.
Just to hit the ball and touch 'em all - a moment in the sun;
(pop) It's gone and you can tell that one goodbye!

CHORUS CHORUS Yeah!

Today, on the other hand, was less than fantastic. Screaming headache this morning. And lots of shit to do at the plant. Gorgeous afternoon, though. I ran a nice six with 6 1/4 mile repeats up the hill at Bethpage Park. Good leg workout. Burned out all of yesterdays toxins.

Let's Go Mets!

Met-Al Madness!

Bwwwwwwwwhaaaahaaaahaaaaaaaaa! Moveitfred done went and stole a prime-time title out from the clutches of Al Bangorhard!

Our hero, Al, and a factory co-hort, Benny Wonderlick, blew off the assembly line early today in order to catch the Mets home opener at Shea. Moveitfred will leave the tales of heroic athletic feats to the loquacious skills of Mr. Bangorhard, however Moveitfred would be remiss if he did not explore with some detail the bag o' Met gear that Al stashed under the sagging, torn seats of his piece o' shit Camry.

Al, for you other two readers out there, is, indeed, Mr. Met.

Moveitfred pulled into the factory parking lot this morning and found a space next to Al's ride, thereby enabling him to take inventory of all the Met gear stashed into a grocery bag. Al has the Mets baseball cap, the Mets t-shirt, the Mets official warmup jacket, the Mets pants. (Al also has a big o' fucking head like the real Mr. Met). Al even has big Mets shoes, which are like clown shoes that honk every time he takes a step.

Al, Moveitfred will be rooting right along with you through the dog days of summer in order to propel the home team right back into the fall classic where they belong!

In other news, as Heywood mentioned so correctly, Moveitfred and family spent an idyllic spring break in the wilds of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. In all, standard American fun that is just all too boring to retell in any meaningful way.

So, on to still other news. Moveitfred experimented with a full tri workout today. Running, cycling, and yoga. Tri, right Al?