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?

Get Busy Living, or Get Busy Dying!

Heywood checking in:
We’re back. I do ask for forgiveness from the loyal listeners (Solo) regarding the recent lack of posts from the 3 bicoastal boys. We have all been busy. Out on the east coast, there was a temporary work shutdown for Al and Fred. They both did what any great American would do with a few days off, take a well deserved holiday. I hope those two enjoyed themselves. Both those birds are unaware of the technical advances recently made with laptops so they are unable to post while away from their houses. Come on guys, it’s the nineties, get with it!

As for me, I have been hanging out with the family in So Cal and spending some much needed time with the wife and dogs. Wood likes to keep a tiring schedule most of the time with riding, backpacking, and dog training. Sometimes the wife takes a back seat although she never complains about it. In fact, she usually encourages me to do it all. “Get busy living or get busy dying,” is what she tells me. And so I try, in large part due to her never ending support though all my endeavors, to truly LIVE life.

So pretty soon I get accustomed to her ways and start to expect such behavior. Many days surely pass without Heywood even noticing how special she truly is. Sometimes it takes a very stressful moment to realize what you have. These past couples of weeks have been filled with some extreme stress. The kind of stress that every family unfortunately faces every few years. And with all this stress surrounding the Jablome’s, there was my wife, solid as a rock. And it’s this stress that forces me to step back and appreciate what I have at home. So this past week was with my family. No computers. No blogs. No riding. Just family. Sure it was stressful and hectic. But it was also one of the best weeks of my life. I got to know my wife all over again and I loved it.

Now forget about all this mushy shit and get to the real shit with this blog. Heywood got a new ride. Wood owns a Santa Cruz Blur and loves the way it eats up single-track. It climbs fast, descends like a dream, and handles magnificent. But it lacks the 6.5” travel desired for some really big hits and fast downhill that Heywood loves to do. So last month, great wife #1 gave Woody the OK to purchase a new Santa Cruz Nomad. Unexpectedly, it came in just four weeks. That has to be an all time record for Santa Cruz. So I got a chance to take the beast out on the trails today and I am impressed. This bike just rocks! So while riding with Big Cat and Oscar the grouch, we decided to mix it up a little today. There is a local OHV/mountain bike park that splits the days between the two sports. Saturday was for the vehicles without engines so we gave it a try. Not knowing what trails to take, we just rolled the dice and tried a trail named Murderers. Sounds innocent enough, right? Hell no. This shit was balls to the wall, straight down with large boulders and drop offs and Wood loved it. This is kind of terrain used on downhill races. The Nomad was eating the trail up giving Wood a smile from ear to ear. I know what you’re saying, how tough could it be. Well at the bottom, the three of us run into the YETI-Fox downhill race team with Jared Graves. Yeah, the team was testing out equipment for the upcoming Sea Otter Classic next week in Monterrey, California. These guys had there team manager shuttling them up over and over in some big Ford Diesel with FOX plastered all over the sides. And in between runs the team mechanic wrenched on the bikes in the 30’ toy-hauler while they each received messages from the Swedish bikini team. These guys are the real deal and there fine tuning there downhill rigs for next weeks race on some trail that I just happened upon. Wood’s got no armor on, no full face piece and one very small set of balls. What the fuck was I doing here? These FOX dudes are going down these trails with some protective covering stolen from a medieval knight.

Somehow the trio survived the ordeal without a scratch. Luck was on our side. Will there be a next time? Yeah, I will give it another go around I guess. Like my wife says, “Get busy living, or get busy dying.”

Circ-AL

This morning it was colder than your best friend bangin' your significant other (while wearing your slippers and drinking your last Heineken).



I was out at 7:30 AM on the Cervelo for some laps around the closest thing we have to a velodrome around here...Cedar Creek Park. There's a central circuit of blacktop at the park that rings the playground, tennis courts, and ballfields. It is a bit more than a mile around and has a hill with some banking that is velodrome reminiscent in one spot.



In short, it is a quiet, smooth circuit that is good for some mile pumping. But when I got out, the temp was reading 30 degrees. And this does not account for the wind. Cedar Creek is on the water, and it was a-blowin' this morning on the Great South Bay! I shivered my way through 4 laps and scooted back to the car where I put on another layer and a third pair of gloves. This made it workable on the side where the wind hits your back. On the flipside, I hunkered down on the aeros and pumped on through.

I was hoping to see some of the riders who frequent this loop. But I was alone for the first 18 miles. (YOU PUSSIES!) Then a guy with a QR aero bike pulled up. But by the time he was unpacked and layered up, I was on mile 23 of 25. If it were a few miles earlier, I would have hooked up for some loops. But, at that point, I just wanted to finish. I pumped through my final two loops and called it good with 25 chilly miles under the belt.



In other news, Moveitfred is back from his outting to Virginny. (Freddy, hope there were no incidents involving buggery and banjoes.)



And, finally, a big shout-out to Heywood. Woody, much love brother. We're thinking of you here in NY.

Bangorhard OUT!

gastrointestin-AL

First, An Apology:
To our loyal and devoted readers (all 3 of you), I must apologize. I've been absent from these pages lately. I'm sorry.

Now, the Poop:




I must confess, I've got some issues (I know, Fred, you're saying, "no shit"). My guts give me trouble from time to time when I run, and it ain't pretty. I've reported on this before, but it continues to trouble me. It seems that running is quite "motivational" for my bowels. This is especially true of my morning runs (no pun intended) when I haven't had a chance to fully "download."

I've tried lots of things to deal with this...especially on race day. I've employed coffee, extra early wake ups, extra fiber, no fiber, oils, unguents, and once, I shudder to admit this, a pre marathon enema (that was a disaster as it led to more stops not fewer). The bottom line here, nothing has worked except for waiting to run until after the "clear out."

Well, this morning I did not have the luxury of a post dump run. Al K and I had an 8 on tap and we both had to be at the coal mine by late morning. We were kicking off at about 9, so the schedule did not accomodate my needs too well.

Things began nicely. It was a gorgeous, sunny, earlry spring day, and we were loving it. We trotted through the first 2 miles at a leisurely 8:30 pace. Then the cramps started. I warned AL K at about 2.75 that things were not good. At mile three I knew that "Houston, we have a problem."

I peeled off from Al K, hoping to walk back and find a bathroom or, if it came down to it, a big tree to grunt behind. I started duck walking the almost 3 miles back to Al K's house just praying for some divine intervention: LOOK, A MOBILE PORT O POTTY! No such luck.

When I was a mile from base camp, I saw a movie theater--DOOR LOCKED! Then there was a service station--NO BATHROOM! Squeezing my sphincter muscles for all they were worth, I shuffle-stepped to the deli across the street--OUT OF ORDER! At this point, I began to have that feeling one gets from time to time (besides the "oh god, I'm about to shit myself" feeling). I had that feeling that, somewhere above, someone was having a good laugh at my expense.

At this point, self-fouling seemd imminent. But I saw a last bastion of hope ahead: the train station. Like a power walker trying to hold a clementine in his ass while striding (I'm told this sort of thing goes on), I legged it the last quarter mile. As I approached the door, I had a horrible thought: I'm going to pull on this door and it will be locked. Then, in about 5 seconds, I'll be standing here in my own filth. But oh! Sweet reversal of fortune. The door swung open and there, ahead of me, was a Men's room.

I sped inside and dropped 'em. There was no time for a prophylactic papering, so I went into squat and squeeze mode (which, of course, was more of a squat and spray).

What a difference a few moments make! How is it that some simple (though severe) intestinal pressure can so dramatically effect one's whole worldview? I went from struggling in despair, defeated and despondent to exultant, rejoicing in my victory in just seconds. So simple, so silly.

See you on the road.

Half the man he used to be!

From ADA

"Did You Know?
Obesity is a chronic disease with a strong familial component.
Obesity increases one's risk of developing conditions such as high blood pressure, diabetes (type 2), heart disease, stroke, gallbladder disease and cancer of the breast, prostate and colon.
Health insurance providers rarely pay for treatment of obesity despite its serious effects on health.
The tendency toward obesity is fostered by our environment: lack of physical activity combined with high-calorie, low-cost foods.
If maintained, even weight losses as small as 10 percent of body weight can improve one's health.
The National Institutes of Health annually spends less than 1.0 percent of its budget on obesity research.
Persons with obesity are victims of employment and other discrimination, and are penalized for their condition despite many federal and state laws and policies."

So what is the big deal and why is Heywood Jablome boring all of the faithful readers of the bicoastal boys with this crap. Many of you may have missed the changes taking place with Moveitfred. The last time Heywood visited Fred was 5 months ago. Fred was a pathetic blob of fat cells barely recognizable as a human. Fred was better suited for the circus on display next to the bearded lady and a midget. The bike is not a place for a thing of his size. Fred was no longer able to keep up with his friends while hitting the pavement. He was the anchor of the group. Racing was out of the question. Zanconato was trying to figure how to build a bike that could withstand the loads of fat ass Fred. Fred was loosing confidence with every kilogram he gained while depression was sneaking its way into his life. Sickness was a way of life. The energy level was at an all time low. Something needed to change before he was dead or divorced from his love, the bicycle.

Then one day while watching Denise Austin in the morning, he thought to himself, "self, I can do that." So there it started. Soon Fred was rising early every morning to workout with Denise and get his sweat on. Food was no longer used as a way to kill time but rather a way to fuel his machine at work. Fred cut the crap out of the diet and started eating foods that more closely followed the FDA pyramid. Soon the pounds started to come off at an alarming rate. The faster they came off, the more inspired he became.

Now Fred is almost down to his fighting weight in college. He feels good, he looks good, he is good. Hills are now his friend on the bike. He dances on the pedals as he gracefully climbs the mountains of the east while caring half the weight he once did. He is truly a changed man. This year Fred will be one bad ass MoFo on the race course. I am very proud of my pal Fred and look forward to getting my ass kicked by his new slim, mean body, if you know what I mean.

These Girls Want To Know

What happened to the Bicoastal Boys?

One Down

While the majority of you were lounging at home complaining about the awful weather or the declining stock market, Heywood was out there doing it. Last Saturday, Woody competed in the 15th annual Cool mountain bike race. Cool is located about 6 miles south of God’s Country (Auburn for those of you who were wondering). Known for its mud in the winter, this year was surprisingly dry compared to years past. The temperature was in the mid 70’s with clear skies and no wind to speak of. The route consisted of two laps of a 10 mile loop. 70% fire road, 30% single track or double track. There are two really tough climbs with the rest of the course mostly rolling hills. What a perfect day for racing on the west coast.

Wood was a little anxious and did not want to be underdressed.

Me friend BIG CAT chose to wear his lucky suspenders.

Dust was in the air as 400 racers sprinted to the first turn.

Approaching the conclusion of each lap the riders faced a choice; take the easy route to the right which contained a muddy quagmire to slow down the pace or the jump to the left which got you over the swamp quickly as long as both wheels remained upright.

BIG CAT selected the bog. At least he was not overheating to any further extent.

Jablome took the jump.

While Wood did not finish 1st as previously premeditated, he did manage to stay clear of the dreadful DNF. This leaves lots of room for improvement for next year. Cheers!

Ides Of March

Al here. What's with everyone killing himself lately?

Anyway, Freddy Boy and I blew off a production meeting at the mine and pumped out some miles. It was overcast and breezy (through one section of the ride it was downright WINDY). Freddy and I did a nice 30 miles keepin' the pace up for a good portion of the ride. I'm getting more and more used to the aero rig. I feel fast on the thing, but I miss the classic geometry of my old Lemond Zurich.

Blowing off the Bronx 1/2 this Sunday. I probably could do it and be all right, but I just think it will be wise to wait a little while (allow a little more recovery time) before competing.

HEYWOOD!

Good Gawd, Man! Get your ass down south and save Moveitfred's West Coast digs!

time tri-AL

Well folks, I feel Good! Today was my first "real" workout in weeks. (I am feeling like I'm about 90% recovered which is a big improvement. I've been pretty sick for the last 2 months.) Today, Freddy and I took to the roads. It was the first warm (er) day up here in a while. We started early, so it was still chilly at our start (prolly 35 degrees). By the time we finished, it was a nice and sunny 45. I got my first real ride on the TT bike, and it was great.



The aero positioning took some getting used to. I found it strange to be steering with my elbows, shoulders, and back muscles. This was a real adjustment. At first, I noticed a good bit of weave when I pedaled. It took me a bit to get the right balance and positioning. By mid ride, I felt pretty confident. There was only one scary moment for me...The bars started to shift on a down hill when I was tucked down tight. This was a bit freaky: I'm pressing down in the tuck and the bars are rolling down on me...eeek! But all was cool after a bit of roadside tightening. (Nothing quite as dramatic as Solo's mid ride gruppo install / hemorrhoidectomy--eyes closed and only a rusty leatherman.)

We only had a shortish chunk of time this morning, so we did some nice flat (sorta fast) pace work for about 22 miles then finished with some hill repeats. I died on the 4th hill repeat. But pushed on for one more. It'll take me a few weeks to build back up after all the illness, I guess. The new and improved (slenderized) Moveitfred was tough. He pressed on for another one after I said "mommy." Now if we can only do something about his riding attire.

Callin' All Freuds

Bloggers:

Moveitfred had a cyclocross dream last night. Heywood was at the start. Al was at the start. Several of Moveitfred's old high school buddies were also lined up at the start, each about 120 El Beez overweight.

Starting gun goes off and Moveitfred immediately goes off the back. Soon he's one lap down and fading. Even the fat fucks who thought it "might be fun to try" are bucking through turns and over barriers, passing Moveitfred like he's waist deep in runny ca-ca.

During lap 2 Moveitfred ducks under the course tape and exits.

DNF.

What does this mean?

Respectfully,
A Concerned Moveitfred

(ps: uncharacteristically there were no naked women in this dream)


Fly me high through the starry skies
Maybe to an astral plane
Cross the highways of fantasy
Help me to forget today's pain
Ooh dream weaver
I believe you can get me through the night
Ooh dream weaver
I believe we can reach the morning light

Music

Meg's post referencing those whiny bitches from the Smiths (Goddamn weren't they just so fucking smart!) prompted Moveitfred to post below the current lineup of cds thrown on the floor next to his trainer down in the cold, moldy basement. Yes, correct, Moveitfred does not have one of those fancy mp3 players all you other mofos have for "burning" your stellar mix into a perfect training/HR lineup, so fuck you:

You can shove all that other pretentious music you listen to up your asses, mofos.

Flat Ethan Sez

it was a prudy nice weekend for gettin' out and puttin' in some road miles here in the nor'east.

Flat Ethan should know. That guy has been around. Here's Flat Ethan down by the docks in Port Jefferson today. He's a seafaring guy, enjoys hanging out with the wharf rats telling tall tales of rouge waves and sirens calling from the depths. Like any man of the sea you can certainly tell that he's got only one thing on his mind when on liberty: gettin' himself some flat Madge cross town at Billie's tavern.

Woodie, you remember Billie's, yo?



Ok, truf is Flat Ethan is the cartoon caricature of Moveitfred Jr's Cali friend Ethan, who sent his flat man our way for some photo ops along the eastern seaboard for a school project. So Moveitfred Jr has been hauling Flat Ethan all round town for exposures. Notice in this shot the wrist guards adorning Moveitfred Jr's appendages. He's sporting those not because of an injury but instead because he's a bad-ass extreme motherfucker who's always ready take on shit and throw down when needed.

Yo.

Moveitfred got out for a grand total of 70 miles on the road bike this weekend: 30 easy on Saturday and 40 with a bit more zing today. Saturday was nice, weren't it all you mofos in the NE? Moveitfred's only hitch on that day was bombing down his street to the harbor and hitting a patch of ice at the bottom. Moveitfred pulled a Zabel and cleat-surfed his way to safety without going down. Today Moveitfred upped the tempo a bit for 30 miles and then did a few repeats on the local bump in the road. Looks like temps will be dropping back into the 20's for the week ahead. So much for spring.

In closing Moveitfred wants to send a shout out to his pals Al and Heywood. Al was sent on a recon mission by the factory down to facilities in Florida. Al is being paid good money to study the latest in factory technology and to bring that knowledge back to our facility here on the island. Al, we are all looking forward to your report when you return this week. Heywood, what can Moveitfred say besides you better rehab your ass and get back out there in the dirt. Moveitfred and Heywood are having a 2 outta 3 bicoastal hookup along the shores of Lake Michigan in the not-too-distant future. Heywood, you've got to get yoself in prime shape to dismantle Chi-town.

By the way, did you get those Cubbies tix you cheap fucker? (Moveitfred scored some shitty seats to the Los Angeles Angels of Anaheim--or whatever the fuck they are called--and the dreaded Evil Empire while he and the famdamnly are out in Cali this summer).

Shits Going Down

Heywood at your service.

Does anyone bear in mind a previous post by the amazing Moveitfred involving house guest who clogged the Fred’s toilet? What the hell is a brotha to do when the same house guest visits Casa de Wood and plugs up our plumbing within the first hours of the visit?

The problem is the Woods moved from the old house with a new toilet containing a 2 3/8” trap way to the current casa which obviously does not contain such impressive hardware. The first time this terrific house guest rested his ass cheeks on the porcelain, he clogged the SOB. Yes, his virgin shit at the new shack. Mrs. Wood did not even have time to follow the advice of Gewilli and add a modest amount of fiber to the diet of the wonderful house guest. And yes, I got the same excuses as our pal Freddy did from wonderful guest; pipes are too old, incorrect kind of toilet, erroneous apparatus to unclog toilet. Something has got to change.

So the Woods and the houseguest that we love so much called an emergency meeting in the bathroom a first chance. We covered more efficient use of toilet paper, flushing more habitually while crapping, plunging technique, and physically cutting bulky terds into less significant pieces. Apparently our talked worked. Four days at the house, no more bunged toilets.

On to the real shit of this blog. Heywood really messed himself up this time. The trails were even and tacky with a crispness in the air that beckoned Woody to push the pace a little harder. On a slightly off camber right hand turn at Mach 3, the front tire lost traction so quickly that the bike was no longer beneath Wood within a split second. The landing was solid and rapid on the right side of Wood’s meek frame. While checking the body for injuries, it was instantly recognizable that the right shoulder did not feel the same as it did when the ride began. Fuck, the arm could not twirl on the shoulder at all. Realizing that there is no way in hell to traverse the remaining 20 miles on a trail, Wood dragged his bike a mile or two to the closest paved rode, called the wife and wept like a big pussy. First time in five years of mountain bike riding that Heywood had to call and find an alternative way home. Jablome’s life is over as me know it. So after one week of rest and 16,800 mg of Advil, Wood is ready to hit the trail again. Shoulder still a little tender and the arm still can’t be raised above horizontal. The diagnosis is torn ligaments/tendons with no displacement or broken bones. So what does this mean, Heywood is just a big pussy for crying over a sprain/strain. Oh well, I am back on the bike again today. Happy trails.

Al On Our Minds

Please, bloggers, send your warm thoughts to Al today. He is not feeling well.

Al, Godspeed.















Moveitfred believes he speaks for everyone when he says:

Maybe we didn't treat you
Quite as good as we should have
Maybe we didn't love you
Quite as often as we could have
Little things we should have said and done
We just never took the time
You were always on our minds
You were always on our minds

Plus One More

Photo courtesy of Extremeski from last day at the Tour de Cali.

Not the kind of tail Moveitfred was hoping to see in Long Beach.

Moveitfred took a well-deserved, self-imposed break from the factory today and is about to head out onto the slushy roads for a short run before retiring to the basement to spin out the legs.

Nothing like an action-packed afternoon.

Von Zipper Papa G. Good for welding or protecting your upper body from harmful UV rays.

Tail was everywhere.