Martin's Tour of Richmond

I still can't figure out how Richmond got the star of one of my favorite 90's sitcoms to put on a Gran Fondo here, but we did, and I figured someone should tell the tale.  Of course, I wasn't actually a participant per se, but I was there for some (10 min.) of it and thought I'd give you a quick run down.  So here goes..

As some of you may know, I work with a bit of a tight schedule on Saturday mornings.  Most weekends lately, I have not been able to do the Spin Mafia ride.  This is because I have to get home and get all showered and cleaned up before my wife sees me.  Eleven years together and she's never seen me without make up and hair did.  Pretty good record, and I'd like to keep it in tact, thank you.  Plus if I don't get home in time for her to teach her class at the gym, she'll make me take my poops in the backyard again.  So, naturally, I didn't have the time to do a 102 mile group ride around the streets of Richmond.  Plus I'm tighter than the curls in Panella's high school afro, so I wasn't about to drop my hard-earned mani/pedi money on a bike ride around my hometown. 

My plan was to leave home at 7am and ride 3 hours.  Done.

I got onto Riverside Dr. sometime around 7:15am and started seeing signs for the Tour of Richmond, so I knew I might get caught by the ride at some point, especially since I'd be taking Cherokee and Old Gun, both of which were part of the Gran Fondo.  Shortly thereafter, I started seeing spectators on the road (okay, more like "spectator") and volunteers directing traffic/riders.  They would clap for me as I passed, and I would give them the universal director's sign for "cut" (hand swipe across the throat, but not like, "Hey I'm gonna kill you" style) trying to tell them that I wasn't part of the ride.  After this occurred several more times along the way, I eventually gave into my vanity and started pandering to my people.  Instead of trying to tell them, "Hey, I'm just an average dude on a bike, out for a ride.  Yeah, I'm moving at an incredibly fast speed, so I can understand why you might think that I am THAT far ahead of everyone else, but I'm just being me.  I am who I am," I decided I'd humor them.  I started making serious faces as I rode by them and I would get low into an aero position, maybe even drape my arms across the bars like the big boys do.  I'd speed up as I passed them and they'd cheer/clap/take pictures/ring cowbells/ooh/ahh/swoon/faint/scream like Chris Harvie at a Biebs concert, and then after I was out of their sight I would soft pedal back to 14mph, realize that I lack the skill and upper body strength to do the arms resting on the bars thingy, and lose control and swerve, but luckly regain control before wrecking.  Rinse and repeat for each spectator.  I started to believe my lie after a while though, and I actually thought I was in a solo break in a big race.  I busted ass to get to the top of Old Gun before getting caught, but it was not meant to be.  I saw the leaders approaching me right past the Boat Club on Old Gun, so I pulled over to save them the shame of getting blown to bits by my thunderous pedal crushing pace and I cheered for friends as they went by.  The lead group was maybe 7 or 8 guys, then the 2nd group came along not quite a minute later, so I cheered for them too.  I spotted Darrell, Fritz, and Harvie of the cool kids cycling club aka Spin Mafia, and a bunch of other friends as well.  After they passed, there wasn't another group behind them so I got back on the road and headed up the hill behind them, just trying to stay out of everyone's way.  About halfway up the hill, I realized these Nancies must have been on a Macy's run because I caught them.  I rolled up behind McNelis and asked him if he planned on riding his bike today.  Then I chatted with Harvie for a few minutes before we reached Robious Rd.  At that point, I kept straight while they went right and the rest, as they say, is history.


Where are they now?

Darrell Marion punished everyone for 102 miles, then he went home and ate a homeless guy on a dare. 

Fritz Mehler finished in the lead group as well, and was later offered the position of replacing The Most Interesting Man In The World, as well as the Men's Warehouse spokesman.  He is currently weighing his options.

Chris Harvie grew and epic mustache and released a series of workout videos to compete with P90X.  He called them P90XXX. 

I looped around and came back up Robious Rd. and back down Old Gun and Cherokee, so I got to see all the other participants of the day.  As I passed each group, I yelled, "Hey!!! Category 4 BAR Champ here!! No big deal though!!!"  Then I went home, got drunk on some Dogfish Head Bitches Brew (try it!!) and started typing something that would be in permanent ink on the internet. 

Cherie Don't Like It

You guys remember that time Cherie sent out an innocent email to VA Cycling that triggered the apocalypse?  What a fun week.  See you guys at the Working Man's.

Stony Point Crit

It has been a while since I've contributed anything on here, but I felt inspired today.  Not inspired like the time I emptied a bunch of Black Cat fireworks into a film container and stuck a fuse in it... make no mistake, that WAS inspired, but real, actual inspired.  I went out to the Stony Point Crit to find just about every member of Da Family present.  First I spotted the one and only Don Vito and Cherie hanging out by the starting line with a few people who I didn't really recognize.  I kissed the ring and then I was introduced to Rat, Maria, and Ben who were in attendance as spectators and/or hecklers.  I had heard a lot about Rat from Joe, and I already knew who Maria was, but this was the first time I had actually met any of them.  So if you guys are reading this, it was great to finally meet you, but I really just wanted to tell a little tale which kind of came full circle or whatever today.

About 5 years ago, maybe more, maybe less, I went to the gym to take a spin class that my wife took regularly.  I had been to a couple before, and I think I had just started riding on the road around that time.  So my wife and I showed up that day to find the usual instructor, Megan was absent and a substitute instructor was filling in.  This instructor strolled up to class rocking the official Spin Mafia jacket, and I immediately took note.  I had no idea who she was, or what the Spin Mafia was, but I was quite curious to find out.  I mean, the class itself was pretty tough that day (from what I recall, this "sub" had us doing some much longer intervals than usual), but that JACKET!!! Man that thing looked sweet, and "Spin Mafia?"  That sounded more badass than Chuck Norris and Steven Segal, and John McLain combined... yeah, I said it.  So I went home that night and used my totally creepy internet spy skills and Googled "Spin Mafia."  What I found was a website with just enough information about them to know they were legit.... then I got to the profile pictures of the members and, well... let's just say McNelis isn't a runway model, ok?  Anyway, I found this instructor on there and found out her name was Maria.  After checking out some race results for these folks, I found out just how badass the Spin Mafia was.  I checked out the description of the Classic Spin Mafia ride with an average speed of something like 23-24mph maybe, and thought, "Holy shit, there's no way I could ever ride with these guys!" but that of course, was great motivation. I learned later, I think through a friend at the gym, that Maria was a state champ.  Needless to say, I was super impressed that I took a spin class from her, and thought how awesome it would be to A) ride with these badasses one day, and B) have a badass state champ jersey of my own... dreams, right?

Okay, now that I've been exposed as a total internet lurking weirdo, let's fast forward to present day.  Some of you may know that I'm trying to win a jersey this season that says "State Champ" on it, and believe it or not, I'm actually in a pretty good spot in the BAR competition to do this.  The guy in 1st has upgraded already to Cat 3, and with my 6th place finish at Stony Point, I should be moving up into 2nd....but we'll see... still a ways to go.  Anyway, I just thought it was really cool to finally meet Maria, who kind of indirectly inspired me to be able to ride with the baddest dudes and ladies in town just by rocking that cool jacket and kicking my ass on a spin bike.  Not only that, but to meet her on the same day where I might actually move into serious contention for that State Champ jersey... well, it just seemed like I should write about it.  So thanks to Maria, and to all you other Family members for pushing a brother to get better.  I may not make it out to the official rides as much as I did last year, but hey, if I'm real lucky, I might just win a cool jersey to show for it.

Also real quick, special shout outs to all the Mafioso who raced today.  Cherie won the 40+ race, Panella got 5th in the Cat 3, Oliver got 6th, Pete got 11th, Steve Benjamin, Tarzan, Jay, Nick, Fritz, and Baumgartner all raced, Harvie, John Payne, and Lynn kicked some serious ass directing traffic, and Garner worked registration like a BEAST!!  Think that's everyone, right??

Old Man Winter (not a post about Paul)

Steve Martin's character from The Jerk, Navin R. Johnson, opens the film by saying, "I was born a poor, black child." Well, I think I was born a hungry, Mexican child, because after every single Spin Mafia ride, all I can think about is eating a giant burrito. Okay, so maybe I was born a skinny fat child...or something like that. Whichever works best for you.

It was in the 20's this morning at 7:15am when Chris Jones and I got on the bikes and started riding over to The Lot. Chris had done a threshold test on a Computrainer the day before, so I was looking forward to him being a little tired from that. He would eventually let me down on that count... again... and again... and again.

At first, I would say it was surprising to find around 15 people crazy enough to come out to the start of the ride, but then again, we ARE The Spin Mafia... we eat glass for breakfast, nails for lunch, and our young for dinner. The downside to that, of course, comes after our morning coffee, but hey, HTFU, right?

After the first 7 miles or so, my hands were almost completely numb. Our paceline was rotating nicely, but I was beginning to worry that if it got any worse, I'd have to retire to a solo ride. Riding in a pack with no dexterity in your hands is hazardous to everyone's health, and I didn't want to be responsible for causing a wreck and hurting Jimmay's pretty new Felt. Get a scratch on that thing already! Luckily, after I complained about the physical pain my hand was in to Joe, it miraculously started feeling better... turns out the purse I was carrying was the problem.

The ride continued pretty much as usual, and Chris and I wrapped it all up with around 66 miles and according to my newly acquired Garmin, around 3000 calories. I've never been one to really think about calories, but it's pretty awesome to know how many calories I should crush...err... replace over the next few hours.

Thanks for the ride everyone, now for a few quick notes:

1. A PSA... watch riding 2 abreast on roads where cars can't pass when doing so, and stop at the stop signs... especially the ones with cops sitting nearby

2. Katie... knee warmers? Really? I probably had a spare set of tights in that purse I mentioned that you could've used... just ask next time!

3. As long as I'm referencing The Jerk, here are the 5 funniest movies ever as a topic for debate: 1. The Jerk 2. What About Bob? 3. The Cable Guy 4. Wedding Crashers 5. The Hangover

I'll be your huckleberry

Tom Petty once sang that, "the waiting is the hardest part." Most people might think he was singing about a girl or something lame like that, but actually, that song is about being a cyclist who comes down with an illness during New Year's weekend when the weather is unseasonably warm and all he can do is wait until he is well enough to ride.

That's a true story.

I woke up Christmas morning with a cold. No big deal, I'll just keep on doing what I do. A week later, I noticed that said cold had now moved south into my chest. I finished up a 2.5 hour ride on Friday out by the battlefields and upon cooling down, launched into a coughing fit reminiscent of Val Kilmer in his portrayal of Doc Holliday in the magnificent work of cinematic prowess, Tombstone. I limped home, and for the rest of the day, I looked like Ratso Rizzo from Midnight Cowboy, wasting away in the loving arms of Jon Voigt while this song played in the background:



I'm not here to feel sorry for myself though, or to try and make you feel sorry for me. I just know that you've all been in this position before, so you can all relate, and perhaps you can also relate to how I spent my days off the bike while you were all out riding and enjoying the weather.

We all practice some form of neglect so that we can spend hours on our bikes. Whether it's household maintenance, your day job, or basic hygiene (you thought I was going to make a Chris Harvie joke there, right? Well, I've matured), we all put certain things off for "just one more week." Well, when I can't get on my bike, a funny thing happens... I remember all these things, and I have to DO THEM. This, of course, drives my wife crazy. And while I know I should be resting, I look at it like I AM resting because I'm not on my bike. She does not agree. The thing is, if I don't stay busy, I will sit around and sulk about what I COULD be doing (riding). I'll experience massive nervous breakdowns, complete with sobbing uncontrollably, eating chocolates while watching Lifetime movies, and shadow boxing in the mirror wearing just my tighty-whities until I REALLY lose it and start watching Danny Glover movies as if they were actually any good. LUDICROUS!!!

My point is this: If you are sick and you want to get back on your bike ASAP, you HAVE TO CHILL!!! This means no more painting the trim, no more trimming the shrubs, no more unclogging the drain, and no more fixing the back door.

That's what SHE said.

I miss you guys, and clearly I've been watching too much TV and movies.

Return Of The Son of Christmas Eve Eve

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Gym People Redux

I had absolutely no intention of revisiting the subject of gym people, but after the last two visits to the gym, I could no longer contain myself. I have witnessed all of these species within the last 2 trips to the gym, so in other words, I am only working with a small sample size, and I still manage to pull out the cream of the crop.

You're So Vain. You probably think this blog is about you.

There is a small group of guys at my gym. When I say, "small" I am not only referring to the overall group size, or to their individual statures, but to their characters as human beings. They come into the yoga studio where I go to stretch after working out, and they do this because it has gigantic mirrors. They wear wife beaters and they gel their hair up into rock solid ski slopes on top of their heads. Then they proceed to do a few sets of sit ups broken up by pulling their shirts up and admiring their abs in the mirror. Right out there in public. Have you no shame? At least do this in the privacy of your own bathroom like me, where you can have the freedom to do a full on pose-off in your underwear like you are competing for Mr. Universe. Err...uhh... I mean, like a guy I know... wait, that sounds even worse. Anyway, the worst part about these guys is not the Ab-a-palooza (not to be confused with the ABBA-palooza, which is actually quite fabulous), but it's the fact that they talk the entire time they are in there and they giggle like school girls. And what's worse is that they aren't speaking English, so I can't even tell what they are saying. And as we all know, when you're in a group of people who are not speaking your language, they are definitely making fun of YOU. Screw those guys.

The Throwback

We all love a little nostalgia. Whether it's the 70's Saturday on your local radio station, or the 80's movie marathon on VH1, we enjoy looking back at the stuff we used to think was cool and remembering when we used to think we were cool. We weren't cool. Ever. Why do you think we're cyclists? It's one of the only sports where scrawny nerds excel. There are some, however, that take nostalgia just a little too far. Like the guy at the gym this morning. Although I left him out of my previous post, he is actually a regular and you know him well. When he enters the gym, his long, flowing, jheri curled locks immediately trigger a giant fan which blows them back, as well as a smoke machine and Whitesnake's "Here I Go Again." He walks in slow motion by the counter and instead of scanning his membership card, he just gives the scanner a swift elbow like the Fonz hitting the jukebox... and it beeps! The girl at the counter sighs and faints. His leather jacket is aged to perfection. His stone washed jeans with elastic cuffs are radiant. His bright white high tops seem to glide across the floor as he heads for the weight room. Then he goes ahead and knocks out his entire workout without changing clothes. When he's done, he swings his leg over a Harley parked under the power rack and Tawny Kitaen hops on the back, wraps her arms around his waist, and they ride right out the front door while Meatloaf plays over the PA system.

B-Rad

If anyone has ever seen Malibu's Most Wanted, then you know who I'm talking about. If not, here's a clip:


In other words, he's Vanilla Ice.

This dude enters the weight room this morning followed by his sidekick. His sidekick is the Marcie to his Peppermint Patty. He always walks behind B-Rad (which is Brad's stage name), and he never speaks unless spoken to. B-Rad wears all black. Black sweats, black wife beater (which screams "classy"), black gloves, and even a black stocking hat...because it's a chilly 68 degrees up in here, yo! His arms and neck are covered in prison tats, which oddly enough look to be very professionally done. He stands still for a minute and scans the gym to impose his superiority over all the losers there who clearly are not as hard as he is. Then he does a set of shoulder presses, a set on the bench, and a set of assisted pullups. Marcie doesn't do a single set, he just spots. Then B-Rad wraps it up with a quick dip in the pool while Marcie gets dressed and pulls the Caddy around. B-Rad doesn't swim laps though, he does MMA kicks and punches underwater for the resistance it provides.

That wraps up my series on gym people. Regardless of how I made it sound, I actually do work out when I am at the gym and don't just sit around and observe. These people are just too hard to miss, and too good not to write about.