BIG Wheels!

From left to right are my oldest set of wheels to my newest. Notice the progression of girth over time. I am now about as fat as you can get. And I gotta say, it's a lot more fun to gain fat than it is to lose it.

Date: July 21
Mileage: 25.1
July mileage: 599.7
Temperature upon departure: 56
Inches of rain today: .17"

Shortly after I hung up the phone upon learning that Geoff had won his big race this morning, I hauled my touring bike up the stairs only to see a big cardboard box waiting at the top. It had my name on it! I tossed my bike aside and raced down the steps with the package, tearing the tape to shreds with the first knife I found. When I looked inside, I squealed. Out loud. Like a 4-year-old girl at a princess party.

The box held the wheels that I impulse-bought on eBay on the Fourth of July. On July 3, I received an unexpected federal tax return in the mail. The next day, I won the bid for wheels that I had been drooling over for seven days. The final price - exactly 63 cents less than the amount of that check. Large Marge rims with Endomorph tires - the kind they put on Surly Pugsleys and other fat bikes. New snow bike project! Yeah!

They're so cute. Look how small they make Geoff's new 29" rims seem.

Afterward, I took my woefully anorexic road bike out for the planned ride. I was having such a good morning, I pedaled the 25 miles out to North Douglas and back with an average speed of 18.7 miles per hour. By far my best ... and I didn't even have to enter the pain cave once. It was probably the fact that there was almost no wind ... but I like to think it was the big big wheels waiting for me at home.

Now I just need a frame ... a bottom bracket ... a new seat and stem ... Hmmm. I have things to buy, money to make. To eBay!

Geoff won Crow Pass!

Geoff just called me from Eagle River, letting me know that he took first in the Crow Pass Crossing (26-mile wilderness marathon with sketchy technical trail, a climb over a 3,800-foot pass, and a glacier river crossing) with a time of three hours and seven minutes. This is Geoff's demon race, the one he wanted the most, so his winning it is very exciting. He said he lost several minutes during the race when he crossed the path of a mother bear and cub. The cub scurried away while the mother stood just off the trail huffing and grunting. He couldn't pass so he said he took advantage of the situation to "take a quick break and eat a Gu." I think eating a Gu is the last thing I'd do if an angry mama bear was huffing at me, but it's a good illustration of just how focused Geoff gets in these races.

He's taking a quick break and the Eagle River visitor's center, and then he's going to drive back to Hope with Pete and hang out and ride with other mountain bikers from Anchorage during the Bon Ton Roulet. It sounds like a lot of fun. I'm filled with jealousy that I need to channel. I've been waiting around all morning for news. Time to go for a ride.

All to myself

Date: July 20
Mileage: 13.5
July mileage: 574.6
Temperature upon departure: 51
Inches of rain today: .63"

Geoff is out of town for the weekend, which means I get to watch trashy movies like "Smokin' Aces" and eat cereal right out of the box - as a meal! It also means that after a few hours, I am going to feel like a brain-dead blob in need of some sort of nourishment.

But I definitely picked the right day of the weekend for a long ride. It rained pretty much nonstop today and the temperature I think dropped into the 40s at one point. Brrr. But then I got to thinking - if I don't really want to be out in that, probably nobody wants to be out in that.

So I set out for an evening recovery ride on the most popular trail in town - the Perseverance Trail. The trail can be a mob scene on sunny days and lined with iPod-wearing oblivious joggers even on wet days. But for some reason, it was completely deserted this evening. I guess it's because, even though I think of Friday as "Sunday," most people still think it's Friday. Good. More room for me.

A picture of me and Sugar before the hose-down, looking like we've earned it. I was thinking today about what a great mud bike Sugar has become. The tires grip in like crampons and the moving parts have held up pretty well against water and rust. What's interesting to me is that this bike is the same as it's always been. It's the same bike that I hoped would make me less timid on desert slickrock back when I was an Idahoan and a very different mountain biker than I am today. It's the same bike that I decided would make a great snowbike when I was a new Alaskan and a little more naive than I am today. Now I use it to go muddin' in Juneau. I change, but Sugar keeps soldiering on - stock tires, stock drivetrain, stock almost everything.

I guess that's my confession today. I am not a bike snob. I will probably never be a bike snob, although I have no problem with those who choose that lifestyle. The fact that I think Sugar is a great mudbike doesn't mean he is. There are probably a million little things I could do to make him better. There are probably a million other bikes out there more suited to the job. But I know Sugar. I trust Sugar. I love him just the way he is.

Sometimes, when I am tempted to upgrade, I think of a photograph I saw in a newspaper once. It showed a grocery-store type shelf stocked top to bottom, dozens of feet wide, with colorful cans. The caption said, simply, "Cat Food." And I think ... do we really need all these choices? Do we really?

And I ask myself ... why would I want to upgrade Sugar? Because it would make me faster? I'm not fast to begin with; what kind of miracle bike would change that? Because it would be more comfortable? I've already ridden Sugar for 24 hours straight in a cold sleetstorm. Where am I going to find a better test of comfort than that? Because it would make me cooler? I ride a full-suspension, 26"-wheeled, fully-geared aluminum bicycle with stock parts. In the eyes of most of the endurance biking world, I might as well put some Barbie stickers on a Schwinn, that's how cool I am.

No, Sugar and I share something that no one can ever take away. Complacency.