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.

No Coffee, but some Cobbles

Met up with Jimmy, Tony, Mike G., and The Don this morning for a great Coffee & Cobbles ride and here's how it went down:

It was super freaking hot outside when I left the house at 7am.

Paul rode with his elbows tucked in close.

Tony didn't gun it up any hills.

I didn't try to keep up with Tony gunning it up any hills (see previous entry).

My food didn't freeze in my jersey pocket... you know, because it was so HOT out.

Jimmy didn't buy hot chocolate at 7-11 and mix it with his gatorade in his moldy bottle.

Joe came out and adamantly insisted that we stop for at least 30 minutes for coffee.

Mike and I jumped on the opportunity to climb Libby Hill when Tony offered.

I didn't eat a pile of pancakes with a side of bacon when I got home.

My 16 month old daughter took a nap immediately when I returned home from lunch so that I could do the same.


So yeah, that's how it went down today.

Except the opposite.

Happy Hours

Is it weird that I felt just slightly uncomfortable being around all of you without any of us wearing spandex?

Yeah, I thought so too.

Nevertheless, it was great to get together with everyone for the Spin Mafia Holiday Happy Hour at Capital Ale House last night. I have to admit that I think we all clean up pretty well for a bunch of miscreants, and it's always entertaining to get together with people you see on a regular basis, yet you have a hard time identifying when they aren't on bikes or wearing helmets. I'm still trying to figure out who the short guy with the dark hair and thick eyebrows was who carried on a conversation with the cadence of an auctioneer. Something with a "J" maybe? Oh well, whoever you were, it was good to meet you.

I didn't get to talk to everyone, because daddy was hungry for some fish tacos, so he had to get a table. So to those I missed, I'll catch you next time. In any case, here are a few things I learned last night:

1. Even when there are literally hundreds of beers to choose from, a true Irishman still chooses Guinness. Keep fighting the good fight, Des.
2. Chris Harvie has 2 poodles that he didn't want me to tell anyone about.
3. Capital Ale has the 2nd best fish tacos around (Tarrant's is #1).
4. If you block the path in front of the bar, a portly gentleman will kindly tell you that "This is your last warning to stay clear" Don Vito totally should've replied with, "Do you KNOW who I am?"
5. We were NOT supposed to wear full kits to the bar. That was a close call.
6. 7 men sharing a table at a restaurant can only mean one thing... apparently.
7. The Mayan Curse of 2012 is not something that happens after eating fish tacos.
8. I must really like you guys if I'm willing to drive down 288 at rush hour without my bike to see you.
9. Spin Mafia comes out strong whether it's on the road, or on the town.
10. A good list always has 10 entries.

We need to do it again sometime. Thanks to Don Vito for putting it together.

See you on the road!

You guys are gonna be so jealous

Did a 4 hour ride with Chris Jones this morning. We're riding down Monument at 7:00am and as we get to Belmont the road is closed and some people are milling about. We ride past the "Road Closed" signs anyway and turn onto Belmont and as we turn, Chris says, "Dude, that was Steven Spielberg! They're filming the Lincoln movie!"

The guy DID look exactly like Spielberg.

We keep riding though, and did a loop out to Varina and back, and then headed over to Riverside. The whole time, we're talking about how Stevie would be honored to have his picture taken with us and how Tommy Lee Jones would be so appreciative to have Chris introduce himself because as Chris put it, "There aren't too many of us Joneses out there... we gotta stick together." We call them Stevie and T.L. because we prefer to call people what that like to be called. We do it with all the big guns: Stevie Spielberg, Marty Scorsese, Eddie Jimmy Olmos...

As we approach the Huguenot Bridge, I offer Chris an option, "We can either continue on as planned to Old Gun, or we can head back over the river and try to get a picture with Stevie and T.L."

Chris says, "I'll be honest with you, I feel we would be letting our friends and relatives down by not going to see Stevie."

To which I reply, "I'm 99% guaranteed a starring role in this film once Stevie sees this mustache. Let's do this."

What did you guys do today?

Oh nothing much, just starred in a biopic about our 16th president. No big deal.

Detour.

We head back over and as we approach Belmont again, the barricades are still there with 2 people directing traffic to the left and right. They tell us, "Oh you guys can go on through."

"YES!!!"

I ask one of these fine folks what the chances are of us getting our picture taken with Stevie Spielberg.

"Oh this isn't Spielberg, it's a commercial for the Monument Ave 10K," he says.

"NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!"

Seeing the guy in the banana costume should have tipped us off as we approached, but I thought maybe that was just the best way they could think of to disguise Daniel Day-Lewis' Honest Abe... you know, because he could fit the stove-pipe hat under the banana suit.

Still trying to figure out what Stevie was doing directing a commercial for the 10K, but people do weird things I guess. I mean, you guys remember Coverdale/Page, right?

See you on the road.

Wish List

So I had been meaning to write another blog for the past few weeks to go along with the general theme of Thanksgiving. You know, the usual listing of things I am thankful for, like Plaza Azteca Mexican Restaurant, radiant heating (that’s heated floors people!), and this blog , but as is the case with the holiday season, time and energy are at a premium and sometimes we don’t get to do everything we intended to do. So since it is now past Thanksgiving, it wouldn’t be right to do a Thanksgiving post about what I am thankful for. Instead, we’ll pull the old switcheroo on this entry and we will make this a post about things I WILL be thankful for… after you get them for me… for Christmas. That’s right friends, this is my wish list. Please do not be modest with your generosity, I won’t judge you for spending too much. I’m very understanding like that. I realize that this entry doesn’t have a whole lot to do with cycling, but as cyclists, you’ll probably find some of this information very valuable. I am fully aware that all the items are food. To quote my attorney, Steve Benjamin, “[This is] What cyclists talk about on training rides AFTER they have exhausted the subject of women [or men, if you’re into that], sports, and bikes. Except Ryan Clarke. All he talks about is food.”

This is true, so let’s DO THIS!

Peanut Butter & Co Peanut Butter (1 of every flavor) – Cyclists are professional eaters…FACT. We need calories, and we need them YESTERDAY. If you’re like me (handsome, charming, bitchin’ mustache), then you appreciate the nutritious value of a good peanut butter. The Spin Mafia ain’t your mama’s cycling team, and therefore we should not lower ourselves to eating some June Cleaver, white bread, jive turkey peanut butter. Creamy or crunchy?... that’s child’s play. How about Dark Chocolate Dreams or Cinnamon Raisin Swirl? Now we’re on to something. I mean, spicy peanut butter?!?!? Maple flavored peanut butter?!?!? WHO is the genius that came up with this stuff and WHY is there not a statue erected in his or her honor? You can find some of the flavors at your local grocery store, but not all of them. I’ve done the research (you're welcome) and the only way to get some of them around here is to order them directly from the website. So, contact me off list for my address and you can just have them ship directly to my house. Make sure you get a tracking number and possibly shipping insurance. This stuff is like gold.

Edy’s Slow Churned Ice Cream – You guys are going to have to trust me on this one. I’m an expert. I eat ice cream Every. Single. Night. This is not an exaggeration, I actually do this. I was a Cat 4 ice cream eater for a few years, and I went straight to pro with this discovery. I have journeyed far and wide (throughout the frozen dessert section), and I have sampled ice creams from the most exotic locales. From Turkey Hill to Breyers, from Ben & Jerry’s to Haagen Dazs. Based on strict judging criteria, Edy’s Slow Churned has emerged the victor. While Ben & Jerry’s does offer the best assortment of flavors, they also have quite a bit of calories. Edy’s Slow Churned boasts half the calories or less, and still delivers on flavor. We may be serious eaters, but we are sensible as well, no? Here’s the trick though… While you can go any day of the year and pickup such standards as Cookies and Cream, Mint Chocolate Chip, or Strawberry, it takes some serious cunning (luck) to find the “Limited Edition” flavors. These pop up sporadically throughout the year, and you’d better buy a few, because there’s no telling when they’ll return. I’m talking about Samoa Ice Cream (you know, like the Girl Scout Cookies), Mud Pie Ice Cream (from the heavens), and last but certainly not least, Smores Ice Cream. If there is one absolute truth in life, it is that everything, EVERYTHING is better with a graham cracker swirl. Real quick, here is the Ice Cream Decision Hierarchy. This is how you will buy:

1. Graham Cracker Swirl – if no options are available, proceed to #2 (and so on)…

2. Some sort of cookie crunch

3. Peanut butter

4. Brownie bits

The exception to the rule here is if there is something that you’ve never before heard of. For example, they had Pumpkin flavor recently… as in pumpkin pie. Using the hierarchy, I was forced to buy it, and I was rewarded with ice cream that tasted like a ginger bread man and only had 90 calories per serving (Ben & Jerry’s has over 200 usually).

Target Brand Zen Party Mix –Target is a great little place. It’s not quite as classy as Wal-Mart, but then again, what is? In their snack section they have a bunch of trail mix type concoctions, but only one that takes you to THE Party. I used to go to the Zen Party on the reg. Those were my wild-child days. Hittin’ the Zen Party left and right. Sometimes I’d just eat the dried wasabi peas. Sometimes I’d have a cocktail of sesame sticks, spicy rice crackers, and cashews. Hell, sometimes I would just eat whatever I could get my hands on. I became desperate, pawning my parents’ valuables for Zen Party money, breaking into neighbors’ cars to fuel my Zen Party fix. Hard times man, hard times. I’ve been off that stuff for a good bit, but I’m lookin’ to score. Hook a brother up with a VIP pass to the Zen Party. Just this one time, I swear.

Nutella (hazelnut, cocoa, and skim milk, mixed into a delicious spread) - You’ve seen the commercial. If you haven’t, then clearly you don’t watch nearly enough television… It’s a wholesome breakfast for your kids. That’s what the commercial says. It shows a mom giving her kids Nutella on toast, and everyone is smiling. The sun is shining, there’s a bluebird on my shoulder, etc., etc. Look, I’m not going to bullshit you on this one… that’s probably a stretch. If it’s like the house I grew up in, it’s more like this:

Mom is not smiling as she hands over the Nutellafied toast, she’s frowning. Junior just dumped his orange juice in his sister’s oatmeal because she ratted him out for smoking a joint out in the driveway while he warmed up the ’88 Bonneville for the ride to school, and daughter dearest retaliated with Nutella toast to the dome. That’s what I’ve heard goes down at least. Not me, just a guy a know.

Nutella intake must be kept under control. You can’t go around spooning out Nutella all willy-nilly and expect to remain svelte. I prefer 2 pieces of toast daily with a healthy dose of Nutella on each. I kid you not, I go to sleep each night excited about waking up for this one. Every day is Christmas.

Also, I have yet to try this, but via the Nutella internet forum that I am a founding member of, I heard you can take your empty jar, fill it with milk, mix it up, and voila: chocolate milk.

Scoreboard, y’all.

This size will do for your gift to me:

Protein Shakes – And you thought this was all about indulgence. I feel I should at least include something you folks recognize as healthy (although all of the above items can be used wisely in that regard if done properly). I make one of two shakes immediately after hard or long workouts to get my recovery off on the right foot, and here they are. Nothing exotic or unheard of, just good for you (and good FOR you).

1. Strawberry/Banana Shake (put this stuff in your blender and do it up)

a. 2 scoops chocolate whey protein powder

b. 1 cup milk (depending on how thick you want it)

c. 1 frozen banana broken into ice cube size pieces

d. 5-8 frozen strawberries

e. 1 big scoop of peanut butter

2. Coffee Shake (blenderize homies)

a. 2 scoops chocolate whey protein powder

b. 1 cup milk

c. Handful of almonds

d. Spoonful of instant coffee grounds

e. Handful of ice cubes

These should be consumed directly from the blender. The recovery effect will be ten-fold if you do this in front of your in-laws. Trust me, I know.

Alright, we’re going to wrap it up on that note. I could go all day on this topic, but I feel I’ve given you a nice buffet to choose from. In regards to cycling, I’ve managed a handful of rides lately (mostly solo). I did my first Coffee & Cobbles (partial) this past weekend, and while it was a great ride, from what I’m told, the full experience can only be had when Jimmy Burns is present. I’ll just have to wait for that. I’ll catch up with everyone soon though on one ride or another. I broke in my new Spin Mafia bibs and jacket recently, and I will say, with an unblemished record of staunch heterosexuality, they’re fabulous.

Now gets the shopping people. These gifts aren’t going to buy/make themselves.

These are the people in your neighborhood...gym

Ah yes, cold weather is upon us, and today with the end of daylight savings time, many of us will be forced to find some other modes of entertainment besides those of the two-wheeled variety. Clearly none of us will simply hang our bikes up to collect dust over the winter, but for the working man, there will be much time to fill and energy to expend between blinkie light rides at West Creek and weekend rides with the Mafia. I am talking, of course, about cross-training. Cross-training comes in many varieties. For some, it means dabbling in the multi-sport lifestyle of running and swimming. For some, it means something of the Nordic variety like cross-country skiing, snow-shoeing, or in Chris Harvie’s case: ice dancing. For some, it means taking up the sport of competitive eating. And for some, it means taking a trip to your friendly neighborhood gymnasium for some titillating exposure to the mass of humanity that frequents such a place. While I am mixing it up a bit this off season with some running, swimming, competitive cheerleading, and jousting; I am also hitting the gym a bit more, and I am here to introduce you to my gym… one miserable nimrod at a time. So come on in, it’s warm inside, and there’s fresh beef jerky for all!

There are many different types of people who frequent the gym, but let’s start with the main infrastructure: management. Most modern gyms offer all sorts of classes and personal training “experiences” via their friendly and knowledgeable staff. Here we will examine the rare species known as Spin Class Instructor. Spin class, for those of you who don’t know, is essentially an hour or so spent in a dark room with no windows or ventilation with about 30 other sweat-drenched people listening to techno music. So kind of like those discotheques Joe used to go to before he settled down. As I said before, the class is built around the music. The instructor tells you things like, “You should be pedaling with the beat!” which is ironic considering the instructor usually has all the rhythm of a baseboard heater.

Also, “You should not be bouncing in your seat. If you are, you need more resistance!” Meanwhile, Spin Class Instructor’s head just poked a hole in the drop ceiling as a direct result of all the bouncing in the saddle that’s going on.

Moving on from the spin class room to the weight room, let’s take a look at Weight Room Guy. Weight Room Guy is ALWAYS at the gym, no matter what time or what day you go. He can be identified by his gallon jug-o-water that he totes around. Weight Room Guy doesn’t have time for your sissified 32 oz. water bottles, he’s here on business. Weight Room Guy does not travel alone. He brings his friend with him for support. They yell at each other, things like, “If the bar ain’t bendin’, you’re just pretendin’!” or “If you can’t hack it, rack it.” Or this…

Weight Room Guy doesn’t waste time doing sets of 10 or more… Weight Room Guy warms up with 6 sets of 4 and then bangs out 4 sets of 1.

Weight Room Guy doesn’t own shirts with sleeves, but he DOES own bedazzled jeans for leisure wear. Sometimes Weight Room Guy gets on a treadmill, albeit with a weighted vest or backpack on. If you see this happen, approach slowly and point him in the right direction… he’s lost.

Let’s steer this ship now towards the yoga studio where we will find Yoga Guy. To the naked eye and nose, Yoga Guy might seem like a homeless person, but this is merely a defense mechanism to keep Weight Room Guy from asking him for a spot. Some key traits to look for in Yoga Guy are a neck beard, cut off sweat pants with mustard stains on them, and a t-shirt from when the Dead played at RFK Stadium in ’95. Don’t make the mistake of asking Yoga Guy about his shirt, or you will be hypnotized by his droning voice telling the story of how “these 3 dudes got struck by lightning… It was sooo trippppy!” This is another defense mechanism… avoid at all costs. Yoga guy is not above farting in front of people while deep in the throes of a downward dog. He is releasing toxins before he goes back home to his mom’s basement to drink a liter of Pepsi and eat a bag of Cheetos while playing video games for the rest of the day. Yoga Guy is unemployed.

Now we’ll step outside for some fresh air only to find… the opposite. This can mean only one thing: It’s Smokes After Working Out Guy. Smokes After Working Out Guy doesn’t chase that superset with a protein shake, he gets his recovery from his cigs. He can’t even wait to get to his car to light up, he has to do it right in front of the gym. Smokes After Working Out Guy is dedicated to his craft. He works hard, he plays hard, and he has a hard time making it up a flight of stairs without weezing. Let’s go back inside.

A last lap around the gym reveals one more species: Cross Training Cyclist Guy. He warms up in spin class where he makes angry faces while sprinting, gives people “The Look” during climbing and attack portions, complains about the bike not being the proper fit, rolls his eyes at things Spin Class Instructor says, and then writes about class in a blog for all his cycling friends. Then, Cross Training Cyclist Guy makes his way past Yoga Guy to the weight room. Since the bones in his arms have the density of a chocolate covered malt ball, and the muscles surrounding them aren’t much better, he heads first to the bench press to shore up his weakness. After loading up the bar with the smallest amount of weight possible, he struggles through a few sets while Weight Room Guy decides whether he should feast on this sickly creature, or just leave him be. Cyclist Guy then moves about the weight room like a lost child, pondering the strange equipment and creatures that fill it. After several minutes of poking and prodding machines then jumping back like the monkeys at the beginning of 2001: A Space Odyssey, he retreats home to his gels, his lycra, and his computer where he can blog all about it to his cycling friends.

See you guys on the road.

Sincerely,

Cross Training Cyclist Guy