Against the Wind

So, as Fred alludes to in his prior post, I went to see Bob Seger and the Silver Bullet Band at Madison Square Garden in Manhattan last night. Now, before I answer the most pressing of your question ("why the fuck would you do that Al?!"), let me tell you a bit about NYC lately. Folks, it is colder than a witch's tit in a brass bra doin' push ups in the snow in the middle of Antarctica! I walked to a restaurant about 2 avenues away from the station (meeting my brother, Willy Bangorhard, for dinner before our show). Afterwards, I thought I might have hypothermia.

Back to the question at hand, ("why the fuck would you do that Al?!"):

Al was remembering those Hollywood Nights, his big two wheeler, those dark haired beauties, Betty Lou and the way she'd get down, those trips to K-k-k-k-k-Kathmandu. Al was hoping to see Bob belting it out. Al was hoping for the legions of Harley chicks that used to follow the Silver Bullet band around. But....




Well, let's just say that things were not as Al would have wanted them.



And Bob, well, he still sound pretty good. But he ain't what he once was.




But then again, who is?

Hey Al...

Have you seen old Rosie?
Is she lookin' mighty fine?

How 'bout hot Nancy?
Is she steppin' right on time?

Yoga Wreckage

As faithful followers of Moveitfred know, Monday is yoga night for the lanky and uncoordinated one. This is the night Moveitfred aligns his chakras and heals his hamsas. Tonight the Mrs. was across town at a meeting and planned to meet Moveitfred at the studio, however the high school sitter got all caught up in some riveting discussion at the drama club meeting and arrived late to send Moveitfred on his way.

Since Moveitfred can't stand cracking open the squeaky door and tip-toeing into the room after class starts only to inevitably get that last spot right up front, Moveitfred gave the sitter a sharp spank on the patookus and sent her on her way.

No studio yoga for freddo tonight.

Situations like this force fred into a home practice of his asanas, and so Moveitfred pulled up one of his fav home yoga tapes and got in a little darshana here at home.

Ommmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm...

fred in the woods

Moveitfred brokered a deal with the Mrs. over breakfast this morning (you go to yoga with the girlfriend first thing, Moveitfred will pick up kids, when you get home Moveitfred is out the door to the woods...) and put in a good two hours on the mountain bike over at the Cathedral Pines trail.


As Al pointed out earlier, pretty cold mofo today. Not, of course, KL training center north cold, however quite nippy in the 20's nonetheless. No wind in the woods, however, so conditions were very bearable. In fact, chilly Moveitfred was quite toasty with a few thin layers on. The fahking water bottle was the problem. Froze up on Moveitfred forcing him to circle back to the car for a beverage after one lap of the trail.


Trail was in good shape, bone dry and frozen solid. Only rough spots were the deep ruts that the douchebags carved out in the muddy sections after our recent rains. Moveitfred tackled his arch nemesis today: the log piles. After a breezy warmup lap Moveitfred went out of his way to circle through a few black diamond sections in order to climb the wood. Moveitfred was quite successful in getting over a few new piles without digging the chainring into the timbers and going ass over teakettle.


Back to the factory tomorrow for the start of a new production season with Moveitfred's ol' pal Al. The next few months should be filled with merrymaking and buffoonery as fred and Al try to exact some revelry out of the drudgery of assembly line work. Are you ready Al?

Eat Bush

Ok, I rarely speak about professional football. It just isn't important enough to take up space usually. But this evening offers me an opportunity to rant a bit. And here it is:

This whole culture of personality, this "I, I, Me, Me, My" mentality is just killing the essence of team sport. Here' s a perfect example. The Saints, playing for a decimated city, playing to continue the season, playing for a place in the Superbowl are down by 8. At no point have they led. Then the momentum seems to be shifting. Reggie Bush--admittedly, an incredibly talented player--makes a great play and outruns the defense, including Uhrlacher, to score a TD. As he approaches the endzone, he points in Uhrlacher's face to taunt him, then does a showboat somersault into the endzone.

Forget that the TD did NOT give the Saints the lead nor bring them even. Forget that the Saints went on to get stomped by the Bears. Just focus on this "move." It speaks to everything that is wrong with professional team sports these days--specifically baseball, football, basketball. It seems like players have lost all sense of team and are only playing for themselves. They've no respect for coaches, no respect for senior players, no sense of paying their dues, no sense of playing only to better their organizations.

And, even worse, crowds and commentators seem to eat the theatrics and trash talking and victory dances well before victory up. Am I completely alone here? Did no one else want Bush to land on his head and paralyze himself?

Ok, forget the paralysis thing. Just give me a moment to send Reggie a note:
Dear Reggie: You lost, big time. You got your ass stomped. You looked like a stupid fag flipping through the air and dancing afterwards when your team is still down by 2 and playing for their lives. You're an ass and your season is done. Fuck you.

Transmitt-AL

So, for those of you still with us after the Nod-Of The-Living Dead-Cast, here is the update on this morning's Manhattan 1/2:

• First, let me say this about the 15 degree and 10-20 mph wind pre-race/start: FUCK IT WAS COLD. For anyone who missed that, FUCK IT WAS COLD!!! I had layers of shit clothes that I peeled and tossed, a bunch of garbage bags all around me, but still I shivered my ass off. The only thing that sucked close to this was the mile jog back to the car post race. Brrrrrrrr.

• The start was, as is typical, a cluster fuck. New York Road Runners has been talking about doing wave starts for a while. It was mentioned by the prez of NYRR today again during the pre race speech. BUT IT DIDN'T HAPPEN. The problem: All these dicks ignore the time per mile markers and line up WAY AHEAD of their paces. So it takes a year and a day to get through the start gate and the first mile 'cause you're pushing past slow assholes who enjoy, it seems, being shouldered out of the way. As an example of this, I lined up by the 8 minute per mile marker at the start--only about 100 yards back of the start. But it took me a full 1:10 to get to the start line and then I spent the first mile weaving around and bumping past fuckers.

• Ice. The course was a bit treacherous. All the water stops were ice rinks and there were a lot of patches of black ice. NYRR worked hard to combat this with ice melt. But it was a losing battle. Saw a couple of runners go down hard.
  
  
• Pace: Really quite happy with my run today. I wanted to do 8 minute miles. Then I got a little freaked with the weather and the course yesterday. I gave it a "we'll see" prediction. In the end, I finished with a 1:44.03 total. This translates to a 7:57 minute per mile pace. Here's the breakdown (with commentary, of course): 1= 8:50 (really a 7:40 as it took 1:10 to get to the start line), 2= 7:55.18, 3= 7:45.65, 4= 7:53.42, 5= 8:27.82 (had to stop at the port o john...revenge of the oatmeal), 6 = 8:24.01 (had to stop again...let's just say "haste makes more waste"), 7= 7:33.34 (pissed about shit), 8= 7:50.05, 9= 7:56.47, 10= 7.55.35, 11= 7:42.08, 12= 7:35.95, 13= 7:28.04. 13.1=1:44.03.

Now I'm off to eat myself silly, lick my wounds, and drink copious amounts of homebrew (I have a crop of lager that is just now "mature," and I am psyched...post race carbo load y'all).


--Bangorhard Out!

Ps: A parting shot for you Slow Break

Fat Tire Vids

Some cool trailers here.

Heywood, time to start building in that forest out back...

Eureka!

Heywood Here,

We're out! The time has come for the Jablome family to ditch their bulletproof jackets and head for the hills. Mrs. Jablome was kind enough to inform me of our relocation with a FOR SALE sign on the front lawn. I only hope she plans on dragging me along for the ride. This is like déjà vu all over again.

I’m not exactly smart but I try to learn from others mistakes. You can observe a lot just by watching. So when it came time to pack my shit for this voyage, I left this to the professionals. Turns out there are a few holes in there system which translates into lost assets of mine: comfy duct tape covered La-Z-Boy, beloved jeans, and a collection of Playboy magazines featuring the most beautiful women in the world. Fortunately for Mrs. Jablome, none of her shit was misplaced. She has all the luck.

The new Jablome household is located in the gold country of California. Hoping to strike it rich up here so we can afford to upgrade our new abode. When not panning for gold, Heywood will be found exploring the trails of the Auburn State Recreational Area which borders the new casa de Jablome. Legend has it that the best singletrack in Cali is now just a stones throw away. I am hoping this will improve necessary skills on the trail and propel team Heywood to a podium finish in upcoming adventure races. Only time will tell.

Al, good luck in the run tomorrow. Fred, do something for once.

The Boys as, well, boys

Funnier than a kick in the nuts.

A Knockout.

Icic-Al

Ok, I admit it. I am a bit of a wuss. (How does one spell "wuss"?) Tomorrow is the Manhattan 1/2 Marathon, and I've got some worries. I'll start with the smallest concern:

1) The course is much tougher than I remember. I was just looking at the course description...it is two loops around Central Park with a finish on 102nd street. For those of you in the know, you know this is CHALLENGING! Two loops = 2 times up the steep "Cat Hill," 2 times up the long grade on the east side by the museum (about a mile long grade), 2 times up the STEEP/ LONG hill at the extreme north end of the park (this hill is a bitch). Ugh! I may scale back that 8 minute per mile plan. I'll see how I feel.

2) COLD. The weather is supposed to be in the 20s and windy at race start. Once I'm running, no issue really. But race day sign up is at 7 and race start is at 8:30. Ouch. also the start is at 84th and the finish at 102nd, which means some post race maneuvers to get back to subway or car. Al plans to bring some shitty old clothes and toss them at race start. Garbage bags are good in the plan too. (Black plastic = ghetto space blanket, y'all.)




Happy Trails, Fred. Wish Cracky and I were joining you out at Calverton...

Kloden Wins!

Well, kids, Moveitfred here wallowing through a bout of self-pity at having to return to his factory gig this week. What really gets to Moveitfred is that his good pal, Al Bangorhard, gets one more week of jerk-off time while freddo is busy making sure the conveyor belts are well-oiled for Al's return.

But, please, don't feel too sad for your ol' buddy Moveitfred. Moveitfred, with the expert guidance of mentor Al, has restructured his off-season routine to include some running and gastric intake maintenance along with the usual cycling work. Moveitfred loves Al (in a sort of aggressive man-to-man way, sans touching).

But what really tickled Moveitfred's sack of dicks today (or is it "bag" of dicks? Moveitfred can't remember) was the story out of the UK about some, uh, funny inconsistencies in the motor oil of apparent 06 TDF winner-to-be Pereiro. Oscar tests positive after stage 14 AND stage 16 and gets the green light to Tour dessus, ami! to Paris.

Hey, how 'bout that pro cycling, kids?

So now, as Moveitfred figures it, we're looking at an announcement sometime in 07 that our podium is:

1. Klodie
2. Little Carlos
3. Aussie Evans

Three clean-as-a-whistle riders, oui? Suppose Klodie and Ullrich swapped out a few doc appointments along the way? Think Little Carlos missed all those after-hours meetings Riis had with the crew? (Moveitfred ain't got nothin' on Evans other than the fact that he's an Aussie and lots of Aussies are assholes)

Bag o' dicks? Let's shout out a rousing AMEN! for bags and bags o' blood!

Where the fuck is LiveStrong when we need him?

This week in (very cold) running

Al here!

Well, maybe it is winter after all here in the Northeast. (All this warm weather should make you nervous.) 30 degrees today and a brisk wind. More cold weather promised for the rest of the week. Brrr. Should toughen me up a bit. This week features 36 miles for me as I build towards the LI Marathon.


At the end of the week, I'm planning to do the Manhattan 1/2 marathon (13.1). I'm looking at it as just a training run--get me back into distances above 10 miles. I'd like to do it at an 8 to 8:10 pace. This should be do-able...if I'm healthy. My daughter has had walking pneumonia for the last 10 days. I've been caring for her, and now I'm starting to feel under the weather. I'm not coughing, but I'm a bit congested, a bit weak, and my chest feels tight and hurts a little. (EEEK!)

Now, to return to a thought from the comments that followed a last week post ("Over the Hills and Through the Woods").
Mega commented that the post was "funnier than a bag of dicks." Some of us here had never heard the expression...much commenting ensued. Just today though, a friend sent me this video. (Not for the faint hearted.) Funny coincidence, eh? Now this is funnier than a bag of dicks!

Of Marathons, Duathlons, Triathlons, Fred-athlon

Al Here. So I went and registered for the Long Island Marathon (doing the full). This race has some big pluses and some BIG minuses for me.

The pluses: it's a very local race. I'll see all my racing pals from LIRRC and NYRRC, I'll run through home turf, and it is easy for friends and family to come out and cheer. It is also at a good time, early May-- it will be a good "get in shape for tri season" run.

Negatives: the biggest one is that the course is a real drag. About half of it goes up and then down the Wantagh Parkway. This is a long, straight (BORING), wide open (NO SHADE), pretty flat (BORING) stretch of highway. It is all blacktop too (hotter than a fat man's balls in August). It is also a race I've done a bunch of times (FULL=3, HALF=7 times). Part of me would like to do a travel race. (Some of my best running experiences have been trips to do the Chicago Marathon, the LA Marathon, the Cape Cod Marathon and even the rather shitty Buffalo Marathon.) But with work, two little kiddies etc etc etc this will be easier.

My training will start in earnest next week. Typically, I do about a 16 week marathon training cycle. {On a related note, here's a great training schedule from the NYRRC New York Marathon page. I use the Competitive Marathoner schedule which builds from 30 miles per week up to about 50 miles per week at peak. Anyone looking into getting into a marathon will find the beginner schedule very "novice friendly." Give it a go!} Right now, I'm loggin about 25 miles running per week (this is pretty much my base). I'm also getting in a riding day (road or MTB). I want to "stay in touch" with the bike during this marathon training cycle. I also plan to get some more time in the weight room in and to get some swimming in too. The bike, weights, and swim will need to be secondary. I won't use them as real training activities. Mostly, I'll want to maintain technique and strength there so I can transition quickly from run training to the tri.

Speaking of tri. I've been trying to get Freddy-boy to commit to doing a sprint tri this year. {I call this "trying" activity a Fred-athlon. Those of you who know Freddy know how tough getting him to commit to anything--besides sloth and depravity--is.} I'm enticing him with some local duathlons that will then lead him into the very friendly and fun Mighty North Fork Tri. This is a sprint with a calm open water 500 yard swim, 8 mile bike, and a 3.1 run. Freddy is a bit concerned because he screwed up the whole analogy thing. He heard the old cliche "swim like a fish, bike like the wind, run like a cat." But he messed the order up. Currently, he's swimming like a cat (thrashing, mewling, drowning) and running like a fish. No worries. We'll straighten this shit out.

Where's Heywood?

Sprinting through flames?

Rescuing those who blunder?

Or, perhaps, giggling at the bottom of a girl pile?

Friday With Fred

Gorgeous day in the neighborhood today, kids, and Moveitfred had a wide-open schedule. Moveitfred returns to the factory next week. He is looking forward to seeing his boss and all the smiling faces of his co-workers as they return to begin a new production cycle. Even our good friend Al should be back to the grind soon enough, adding his own special mayhem to the mix.

After some jerking around this morning while waiting for the drizzles to clear out of the area, Moveitfred prepped for a road ride on the Serotta. Moveitfred switched out his wheels before the ride, removing his Speed Dreams and replacing them with the trusty, beat-'em-up Open Pros. The Speedies are cool hoops, but there is something comforting about the OPs. Moveitfred's got the standard 3 cross, DT spokes and Record hubs to round out the package. Nothing fancy, just damn nice, solid wheels. Can Moveitfred get an Amen for Mavic?

Moveitfred got out for a modest 2 1/2 hours. The legs were a bit sluggish after doing a little ILT on the trainer last night. Rewind prior to last night and earlier in the day Moveitfred went out on a recon ride on the mtb with Callin' All Clarkes to a local patch of woods in town. Turned out to be a less than spectacular find. The trail was not marked and difficult to figure out. Moveitfred was fucking bamboozled half the time. There were lots of tight, technical sections that caught Moveitfred by surprise and caused him to do the dab and crawl. In all, it was fucked up and the two boys bailed out early.

But today, nice. Again, pleasantly mild here on the island paradise. Now, Moveitfred has no fucking idea how to do the movie shit that all the other clever mofos out there seem to be getting into, so Moveitfred is going to pass along a few old school photogs for your viewing pleasure.

Moveitfred calls this: Bike Shit On The Porch

Moveitfred calls this: Kneel On Front Porch/Put Shoe On/Shoot Sky

Moveitfred calls this: Heywood Jablome Memorial Hole

Moveitfred calls this: Scary Tree Limbs Tickle Port Jeff Harbor
Moveitfred calls this: Dead People In Historic Cemetery

Moveitfred calls this: Approximately Equal To A Roof Collapse
Moveitfred calls this: Misguided Snot on Leg Wiped With Glove

A Fred-trospective

Fred Through the Years

OK Willy...

Have you posted this one yet?

Fucking Mr. Original, are you?

Armstrong is a pimp

Lance in France

Moveitfred is a bitch

Well, Moveitfred's a bitch, he's a big fat bitch,
he's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world,
he's a stupid bitch if there ever was a bitch,
he's a bitch to all the boys and girls.

Monday he's a bitch, on Tuesday he's a bitch,
and Wednesday to Saturday he's a bitch,
then on Sunday just to be different he's a
super King Kamehameha be-atch.

Have you ever met my friend Moveitfred,
he's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world,
he's a mean old bitch and he has stupid hair,
he's a bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch,

bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch bitch cause-a
he's a stupid bitch,
Moveitfred's a bitch and he's just a dirty bitch,
Moveitfred is a bitch-ah.


--Heywood Jablome

Over the Hills and Through the Woods

Moveitfred sez:

Took to the mountain bike trail out at Calverton this morning with Al Bangorhard and C.C. Rider for some off-road, high-speed fun. This was the coming out party for Cracky--Al's new mountain bike (see below for the story of Cracky).

Here we see fred's bike and Cracky leaning against fred's bad-ass, muthafuckin' Camry wagon.

Although Moveitfred did recommend his type of basic, no-nonsense bicycle to Al as something most excellent for thrashing through the woods, fred had pleaded with Al to get a bicycle with some originality, some difference. Well, as we can see, Al went and got the exactofuckamundo same bike as fred--same brand, same model, same color, same components, same wheels, same tires, same...you get the idea.

It makes Moveitfred feel kinda gay to be seen in the woods with Al this way.

But Moveitfred was a good sport. He kept his mouth shut (for the most part) and lead Al and C.C. off into the woods. 'Cept Wrong-Way Fredo bolted off into the woods heading ass-backwards on a one-way trail. About two miles in Al saw fit to inform Moveitfred that all the trail blazes were on the wrong side of the trees. After some deep thinking on the part of Al, C.C., and fred, the boys decided it might not be good to charge through the tight, technical sections of singletrack headed the wrong way on the crowded weekend trail. So back to the beginning and off in the right direction it was.

The trail was in great shape after some recent, heavy rains. All was dry and warm today. After some modest warmup, freddy and Al put the hammer down and started to get into the rhythm of the twisty singletrack. C.C., getting his cycling legs back after a long hiatus, lagged behind but also made good time through the woods. The boys then started hitting the diamonds to get a little burn in the legs and lungs.

By the time the boys got to the last section of trail--some very tight, twisty singletrack through chest-high scrub--both Al and fred were pretty warmed up and rarin' to go. With Al in the lead and fred tight to his wheel, the pace picked up as those twinsy bikes started cookin' through the turns. Al, admittedly, was pushing the pace, and as we all know that when we push the pace sometimes we stretch a bit beyond our limits, get going a little too hot, and experience moments of flunderfuck. Well, our pal Al is no exception.

With Moveitfred tight on his wheel, Al twice came to abrupt stops. Now what was curious about these stops was that Al was not slamming on the brakes, sliding through the sand or washing out in pine needles. Instead Al was fucking grabbing tree.

That's right. Moveitfred looked up on two occasions, after seeing Al tread rapidly approaching his own wheel and doing the full-squeeze panic stop, only to see Al fucking wrapped around trees. fred's talking two-armed bear hugs. Give yo momma a hug because you're going away to camp hugs. Fucking treehugger hugs.

Moveitfred thinks Al was just expressing his green side.

Al also managed to get in a full-on shoulder slam to one bitch-ass tree that was giving him the malocchio.

That's our Al: soft, caring, yet savage and immutable.

In all a great day on the trail. Later in the day Moveitfred put in a few more miles with the kiddies and even got in some run barefoot in the sand beach time with the little guys. Mild January barefoot day? Has Moveitfred died and gone back to Cali?


ps: C.C., how's Elizabeth?