Transfer Time

Transfer haiku:

Prologue finish line
Why are you so far away?
This last K shall suck.

Perched on a cooler
I can wince and drool -- that's it
Lungs like fire, on fire

Sleep avoided me
Tossed and turned and coughed til two
I curse you, Red Bull!

Colorado Springs
Gracious host city, farewell
Hello Salida

The forecast calls for
Colombian fireworks
Stage one, time to dance!

Listen up good, lungs
Gird your lions and steel your nerves!
Wait, do lungs have loins?

Threadbare

I'm starting to wear a little thin. 
At least my confidence is. 


Another race, 
Chasing, 
For time cut. 


More rookie mistakes.
More racing,
Outside my abilities. 


Some of it's luck. 
But some of it's not. 


I need to figure it out, 
Soon. 

SAN DIE--MAS!!!!

So first off -- there is a downright splendid photo of me over on the Team Exergy site at the moment. Be sure to check in on the team site whenever we're at a race -- Tad does a pretty good job of updating daily.

Next, Krogg is a sad caveman today. Here's why:

Krogg have rough day at office. Stop once to help Andres chase chase chase after flat tire. Krogg stop twice to help Barlevav chase chase chase after mechanical. Krogg write poem: 


Caveman caveman, why you no chase harder?
Caveman caveman, why you no rail those corners? 
Caveman caveman, why you no have stronger legs?
           Or bigger lungs?
Caveman caveman, why you crack and get lapped?
           And DNF? 
Krogg: 0. San Dimas: 2.
Caveman feeling a little blue.   

Thank you Krogg. Sorry to hear about your race.

So it looks like I get to watch another San Dimas crit from the sidelines. Crap. Another "Bogus Journey," eh? However, this time, at least I have the satisfaction that comes from helping a team mate back to the peloton. I might not have finished, but Andres did -- inside the top 20 (I think), and only a few seconds off the leaders. As disappointed as I am that I can't be there to help tomorrow, I consider my sacrifice a worthy one.

The Universe

Frumpy polarized gracious armadillos gingerly embolden dilapidated tubers.

Sizzling bombastic nefarious dugong, pulsating indentured hornswoggling newt!

Festering unperturbed philharmonic derrigable, mottled courageous galvanized karyotype.

Insatiably gelatinous corrosive iguana, gerrymander crepuscular kaleidoscopic cleavage.

Podium. Podium. Podium. 

Update: I had no idea what a trochee (pronounced trow-key) was until this morning, but thanks to XKCD, I now have a name for my condition. Trochee fixation. Thanks XKCD, for helping me come to terms with my disability. This comic actually had me laughing out loud:

UPDATE #2: DO YOU ALL REALIZE THAT THE PICTURE AT THE TOP OF THIS POST IS A PICTURE OF THE UNIVERSE??? LIKE OUR UNIVERSE, THE ONE WE LIVE IN? THOSE LINES THAT VAGUELY RESEMBLANT A SPIDER'S WEB ARE ACTUALLY GIANT STRUCTURES CALLED FILAMENTS, WHICH ARE MADE OF SUPER-CLUSTERS OF GALAXIES, WHICH ARE MADE OF CLUSTERS OF GALAXIES, WHICH ARE HUNDREDS OF THOUSANDS OF LIGHT YEARS ACROSS AND ARE COMPOSED OF HUNDREDS OF BILLIONS OF STARS EACH? EACH?? THE FRIGGIN' UNIVERSE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

An Ode to Hawkins Pack Out

Hawkins Pack Out, savior mine,
I came across you just in time,


For I was bonking somethin' fierce, 
Could barely push my easy gears! 


Twice the hill by Horsehoe's Bend, 
Balls-to-the-wall, I did ascend,


But upon returning to the other side, 
I found myself a touch cross-eyed, 


Things from there went bad to badder, 
My speed fell right down a ladder, 


By the time I hit Bogus Basin road, 
It was full-blown self-destruct mode,


As Hawkins Pack Out called my name, 
My body stopped, simple and plain. 


A giant burger, root beer, and fries,
Appeared before mine own eyes!


And that is how I made it home, 
To write for you this very poem.

New York

New York, you giant slithering medusa you!
You pompous glutton!
You vicious shameless relentless temptress!

From afar, the glint of brilliance you cast through my shades penetrates deep,
You shimmering splendorous wretch.
You gorgeous Narcissus of a thatchwork of steel.

Before I'm even aware of my curiosity,
You effervescent joyride you,
Your suck has got me firm, tendril wrapped 'round all-too-willing wrist.

Oh, how quickly your wings wrap, shading me in your opulence,
But binding me, irreversibly,
To your shiny-toothed grin.

You can't have me New York, not just yet.

Cryptic.

Gotta be cryptic,
But take my word for it friends,
Next year sure won't suck...

Steve Fisher is My Favorite! Steve Fisher! Wins!

Poetic interlude:


A tale I'd like to tell you, lord
Of bravery and might
About Steve Fisher's mighty sword
And the race he won last night


The fight began with flames and fire
Once lifted was the "neutral" fence
As matches lit, road met tire
And Steve's break'way thus commenced 


Nary a minute did the run'ways gain
Though they rode like raging bulls
The peloton chased in frantic vain
But needed smoother pulls


And in the final charge for glory
Steve unsheathed a sprint most gory

Congrats to Steve, and thanks to Wheelsinfocus.com.

TT Nats

It's tough to realize
That simply wanting something
Doesn't make it yours

And that trying hard
Often isn't good enough
When push comes to shove

The script I drafted
Clearly wasn't seen by all
And if so, ignored

Worst part: feeling good
About my ride, before that
Glimmer of hope - snuffed

Now I feel stupid
For shaving my hands and arms
So I'd go faster

Oh stop it! You child!
So what - you got your ass kicked!
Won't be the last time

Get up sam, come on
There's more racing to be done
Things will turn around

Just go eat a lot
Of ice cream, that will fix things
I mean it will, right?

Mt. Hood 1,2,3

Here are some poems about the first three stages of the Mt. Hood Cycling Classic. Well two poems actually, and a small word from Krogg. Enjoy.


Stage 1

Loops in the darkness
Around rain-covered racetrack
Four miles of fury

Treacherous corners

Await me undetected

Until it's too late

I lose all my nerve

And pull out of my turn

Grab fist-fulls of brake

Second lap faster
More importantly smoother
It's over so soon!

Results still unknown

As I drift off to dream land

Little did I know

Lang wakes before me

As consciousness dawns, "yo sam,

I think you got 8th"

Stage 2


Precious little squirrel. You probably didn't have a name -- and why would you, living your life among the trees of Mt. Tabor park? But I hope you won't mind if I give you one now, even after your life on this earth was shortened, indeed ended, brutally, last night. I think I shall name you Isabelle, little squirrel, after my first guinea pig. It's a nice name; I hope you like it. I have only used it once before, and I cared for my Isabelle deeply, so I hope you can see how much this name means to me.

Oh Isabelle, I saw you scamper 'cross our road. We were in the midst of a bike race, and safety, even that of innocent squirrels, wasn't our concern. I feared for you, Isabelle, as my mind triangulated your motion to ours. So when the rider in front of me failed to adjust his heading, and slayed you with his tire, his brutish, thirty-mile-per-hour bone crusher of a tire, I wasn't surprised. But oh how I was saddened. Murderer, I thought. This is your forrest, your park. Murderers, all of us! Your lifeless body was flung to the side of the road, the racer in front of me laughed, and I kept racing.


Stage 3

Krogg not quite know what happening. First things go good (Krogg get eighth) -- KROGG LOVE Mt. HOOD! Then things go bad (Krogg crash twice in crit) -- KROGG HATE Mt. HOOD! Then things go good again (Krogg win field sprint for second and move into 3rd in GC) -- KROGG LOVE Mt. HOOD AGAIN!!!

HERE PROOF:

(photo poached from cyclingnews via Oregon Cycling Action)

Tomorrow Krogg have time trial. Goes like this:

Start times:
11:07:00 Chris Baldwin
11:08:00 Sam Johnson
11:09:00 Paul Mach

Krogg have small message for time trialists who start near Krogg:

KROGG NOT INTIMIDATED IN THE LEAST BY THOUGHT OF CHASING DOWN MULTIPLE-TIME NATIONAL TT CHAMP, NOR IS KROGG INTIMIDATED BY DAUNTING TASK OF HOLDING OFF FORMER WINNER OF MT. HOOD CYCLING CLASSIC. NEVER-MIND SMALL DRIBBLE OF URINE ISSUING FROM KROGG'S BIB-SHORTS -- THAT MERELY SO KROGG IS LIGHTER ON CLIMBS.