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May 27, 2004
That Sinking Feeling...
I was up at the Westview Mini Mall yesterday to drop off my Kerrisdale Blaze team uniform. "End of an era," I had thought as I quickly gathered up my shorts and jersey from the car before I shut and locked the door. The Blaze was a coed basketball team that I had been the substitute on for just over three years. It had worked nicely into my schedule as we generally played late afternoon/evenings on Sundays. Now with me moving to Victoria they were ready to reclaim their jersey.
I dropped off the uniform, mailed my letter and purchased a java. I was just heading back to my car as I reached for my keys. Erg, I could feel my stomach start on its quick plummet towards my feet, no keys. "Why me, why today and why here?"
As I approached the car I quickly ran through my options:
#1 - I could bus home, pick up the spare keys and ride my bike back out, (due to the monsoon I vetoed this idea).
#2 - I could try and break in myself, (time was of the essence today and I had no desire to play with a coat hanger in the rain).
#3 - I could phone Dad, (not particularly useful as he lives in Nelson and is vacationing in Nakusp).
#4 - I could call the tow truck, ($$).
With my decision made, I walked to the phone booth, deposited 25? and dialed the local tow-truck to come save me.
It always amazes me how in a blink of an eye the trained "Break and Enter Professional" can get inside my Subaru Loyal. This time the fellow used an inflatable wedge. He just inserted it between the window and the doorframe and pumped it up. Working with the oversized coat hanger and the inch of crack he had created, (no dirty comments), he managed to unlatch the door in under 2-minutes.
45-minutes and 25 dollars later, (after my Capilano Student Discount), I was back into action ready for my next financial superfluous blunder.
Posted by jmclean at 06:18 PM | Comments (1)
May 24, 2004
Clipped In
Today I tried out my new, blue, Shimano shoes and clipless pedals. These were another purchase of late. With only four days left of work, my rationale tells me I have to buy all the things I need, (or just desire), while I still have a job. Now I am looking and walking like a real biker. However, I am still working on riding like one.
These new pedals have tightly adjusted springs which actually require you to twist the shoe's unscathed cleats out of. What a novel idea as my old Cannondale shoes had no useable cleats left and the pedal's springs had long since failed. That old shoe/pedal set was purchased with my Kona Blast back in 2000 and ridden (almost) daily since. A week ago clipping out was a merely the act of pulling my foot up harder than a typical pedal stroke. Today that was not the case.
After our cruise through Stanley Park, we rode along the Lower Levels of NV and headed up the dog walking trails along the Seymour River. Following closely behind Andrew I was forced to make a sudden stop. The "Brail-Trail" Riding Technique of his failed as he had turned into a dead end. With my eight-inch hydraulic disk brakes, the stop wasn't a problem. When I went to put down my foot, I instead put my body down. A slow calculated tipping to the left placed me and my ego into the shrubbery. After a quick blush and a giggle I brushed most of the greenery off my shorts and shirt and pedaled on.
After more minutes and many more kilometres we started on our way back towards Stanley Park. We were riding along the Seymour Parkway and opted to stop for the red light, as there were cars everywhere. I was in the middle of our threesome pack. There I balanced trying to kick out of the pedals. Swaying, swaying, swaying, to tumbling to the right this time!
With my bike and legs in the road and my body sprawled across the sidewalk I was partially laughing and partially dying of embarrassment. Because of the funny angle my ankles were in, the fact there was 33 pounds of bike on me, and the notion that I should be trying to act suave, the unclipping wasn't happening. There I lay. Fortunately my "Quick Release Helmet Visor" came off, Lars pointed out through his laughter.
After two traffic light changes, and countless motorist wondering why there was a girl flailing about with a bike locked to her feet and two guys laughing at her, I managed to untwist myself. With the humiliating portion of my day over with we returned over the Lions Gate Bridge. I eventually arrived safely back in Burnaby. The duration of the return trip was spent trying to convince myself, everybody has "accidents".
Posted by jmclean at 08:51 PM | Comments (0)
May 21, 2004
Bridging the Creek
Election time is here and I vote for building more bridges over, (or tunnels under), Mosquito Creek in NV.
This Friday wasn't the first time I figured I'd "short-cut" through the park, only to discover Mosquito Creek separating me from my destination. I was on the Upper East Side of the Creek trying desperately to find Earl LaBounty's house, (Upper West Side of the Creek). If you are unfamiliar with the LaBounty name, just visualize an elderly man who drives a CRV. With my road bike hoisted over one shoulder, I stumbled along the rocky-rooty trail. I must have walked 6 or 7 blocks through forested nothingness, following the creek. What was really getting to me was how there could be so much forested nothingness surrounded by these residential monstrosities. As the rain started to fall through the dense forest canopy I started to weigh the option of tiptoeing across the less-deep sections of creek. For the first time in a long time my common sense prevailed. I continued my trudge another few blocks eventually finding my salvation, a non-descript metal bridge.
Posted by jmclean at 08:20 PM | Comments (0)
May 17, 2004
Whistled Away
This weekend started with the idea of riding Whistler's Mountain Bike Park. Ingenious, a chairlift set up to transport me and my HUGE bike to the top of a plethora of the bike specific trails. For good measure we then added in a deluxe hotel suite, gourmet meals, a night in the club, and six good friends. You may think that that is just another weekend in the life of Jenn. If only that were true, however, this weekend past I felt like I really had it all!
Late Friday evening after packing our two cars full of;
6 people
3 mountain bikes
1 road bike
3 snowboards
1 pair of skis
And enough food, clothes and equipment to keep us satisfied we headed up the Sea to Sky highway.
Arriving at the "luxurious" Tantalus Hotel in downtown Whistler we settled in. Through the darkness, we could pick out the two hot tubs, pool, tennis courts and of course the surrounding mountain shadows. Here we mentally and physically prepared for our weekend ahead with some beverages, appetizers, entertainment and relaxation, (AKA booze, chips, TV and the couch).
Saturday morning we woke to Jenn and Richard's rendition of Nat King Cole's "Unforgettable" and the Marching Band playing their rendition of "The Flintstones Theme". Nothing beats melodies in the morning!
After the early morning tunage we hit the Hill. Starting off a little uncertain, nervous and timid we rode B-Line. Next was A-Line and from there our confidence was building; Dirt Merchant, Fantastic, Heart of Darkness, A-Line, Boneyard, A-Line, Boneyard, B-Line, A-Line, Boneyeard and A-Line. Run after run of progressively faster descents, smoother lines and bigger hits. By the end of the day my hands hurt, my shoulders ached, I could feel my quads and calves threatening to crap, I had sunny-ed my cheeks, and I had a permi-grin. Well worth my $40.00 lift ticket!
Back at the hotel we dined like royalty. We whet our appetite with a meat lasagna appetizer. We moved on to the main course of cheddar-filled smokies served with a side Wonderbread hotdog buns, and our chose of ketchup, mustard and relish condiments. We soon discovered danger in the wieners. If you poked them in just the right spot with just enough pressure out would squirt an uncontrolled medley of boiling cheese and meat.
Still in the hotel, at around 11:00 we had a scare. On of the group had made full body contact with the evil couch and was being tempted by the sleep magnets. The attack came without notice and took a full group effort to revive our snoozy comrade. With much prodding, pushing, begging and sweet-talking we managed to release the couch's grip on Ti Ti and get to the club as a complete clique.
Sunday 9:40 AM, I find myself back in the room, woken to the marching band's rendition of "the Flintstones", again. Not wanting to miss any of the much-improved group's beats I open the sliding glass door and let the sweet melodies flow in. As I started to fully regain consciousness I notice there are signs of life in our hotel room. I can already smell the bacon and coffee aromas mingling forming a mouth water scent. All I can say is Breakfast of Champions! With this one meal we were re-stocked with enough energy and calories to carry us through our entire day.
At this point I head off in the direction of Pemberton. The road bike was flying until I decided it was time to turn back. Note to self: a 50-minute bike ride with a tailwind and a noticeable decrease in elevation equals a not entirely enjoyable return trip. 1 hours and 30 minutes later, almost double the time of the first half, I was back in the hotel hot tub. There I sat sipping on some simple sugars, and preparing for my return to Vancouver's grind.
Posted by jmclean at 06:44 PM | Comments (0)
May 13, 2004
JAVA
Click on the bike :)
Posted by jmclean at 11:00 AM | Comments (3)
May 11, 2004
Bananaholic
adj.
1. Related to or resulting from banana, any of several treelike Asian herbs of the genus Musa, especially M. acuminata, having a terminal crown of large, entire leaves and a hanging cluster of fruits.
2. Containing or preserved in banana.
3. Suffering from bananaism.
I have recently realized that both my longtime roommate and myself suffer from bananaism. We generally get struck on the same days with the symptoms. These include, but are not limited to:
1. purchasing large numbers of bananas
2. believing that we actually enjoy eating bananas
3. forgetting they ripen and turn black before we have any desire to eat them
About one week after we get hit, the aftermath begins. I relocate the fruit from our fruit dish on the counter into the freezer. This is a bad habit that I picked up from my Mom. The original idea was that the frozen bananas would be ready to make baking goods out of, however, in our case we have just ended up with dozens of black bananas sitting in our freezer door. This, (with good reason), drives my roommate insane.
Now not being one to enjoy wasting food I have started depleting the fruit by baking banana baked goods. Banana breads, banana cakes, banana muffins, just to name the dominant byproducts of our surplus. Recently I have mixed it up and the last batch of muffins was fantastic, (Jen's Banana Cranberry Muffins).
However, the true reason of this entry is to make public knowledge of the disease that is out there. It has the power to take over, not only your fruit dish, but your freezer door as well. It takes a strong person to pass by the 49?/lb produce and not purchase half a dozen. To fight this I have ?borrowed? a couple steps from AA and made slight modifications. Hopefully this will help any others who are being weakened by the starchy yellow life destroyer.
1. We admitted we were powerless over bananas ? that our lives had become unmanageable.
8. Made a list of all persons we had harmed and became willing to make amends to them all, (this does not mean baking them a banana loaf).
10. Continued to take personal inventory and when we were wrong in purchasing more bananas promptly admitted it.
Posted by jmclean at 06:25 PM | Comments (1)
May 09, 2004
Head Banging
My most recent Saturday started as most Saturdays start. Early. I was up at the crack of dawn, or so it seemed. Before 8am the car was packed with the cross-country biking gear. The plan was to complete a trial run of the Test Of Metal, (TOM - the big 67 km bike race in Squamish). By 9:30, with two friends in tow, we were parked at the Brennan Park Leisure Centre in Squamish, the start point for the real TOM.
Never having ridden the whole racecourse in one go, I was excited and nervous. How was the four to five-hour epic ride going to treat me? It all started as it should, up, up and up to Alice Lake. Here is where I managed to flat my tire. It took all three of us cursing and sweating to get the skinny tire, (2.1") off and then back on to the not-so-skinny rim. In retrospect it was probably just a slow leak. No hole was ever found, though we did get a nice breather.
Onward we continued. Following the course up the hike-a-bike, down the Corners, down the road, up the road, over the bridge, up the trail, past the Powerhouse water station, up Bonk Hill, past the rock blasting area, to the top of 9-mile hill, (HOORAY), and on to the Ring Creek Rip. At this point I was ready to enjoy the fruits of my labour, approximately 10 kilometres of downhill. We were 47-kilometres into the ride with only 20 more to go. I won?t lie, I was getting tired!
Like a shot I took off down the trail. I was hovering in the speed slightly below being out of control, and slightly above my usual comfort zone. I was loving the rush, thinking of all the other riders who wouldn?t dare go this fast. High on adrenaline and delusional from exhaustion, I spotted an exposed rock. I decided that I would hop it. That went all right, until I hit the landing. At that exact moment my right arm gave up. With my feeble grip I tried to brake. To the left of the trail I saw a fallen tree. As I have recently learned, your bike follows your line of sight.
KaBAAM, I hit the tree trunk square on. At this point I remember fear, air, and landing headfirst. I quickly tried to jump up, got half way up and collapsed back. I could hear Lars? bike screech to a stop behind me then his laughter, ?Holy cow, that, {ha ha ha}, was awesome! Are you ok, {ha ha ha}?!??
?No!?
That shut him up pretty quick. Luckily, and I mean luckily, when I finally got up and walked around to access the crash scene, there were no major injuries. My right ankle was bleeding, my legs and middle were bruised, and my neck was getting a bit stiff. I had landed a good 5 feet from the log. Using my investigation expertise I pieced together the crash. I had gone headfirst over the handlebars and log. The bike followed and was launched over me. It was found 12-feet down trail from where I had landed.
When we finally got going again I was a little more sheepish. At this point I had no desire to attempt the last few kilometers of the course. We took the Garabaldi Park Road out.
Thanks to Andrew and Lars for not making me feel too bad about falling on the easiest bit of the whole ride. Now I have something to do this afternoon, buy a new helmet.
Posted by jmclean at 12:55 PM | Comments (0)
May 06, 2004
The Bad Driver
Have you ever been the victim of the 10-kilometres-under-the-speedlimit-driver? You know the scenario, you are on a single lane highway with no passing lanes, (or when there is one there is oncoming traffic), and there is a car ahead driving UNDER the limit. In the most infuriating circumstances the weather is cooperative, road conditions are fine and the roads are reasonably empty. Everybody knows that you should always do at least the posted limit. According to my Dad?s friend Jack 1.1 times the limit is acceptable. As well, the yellow curve limit signs aren?t actually the law. I learned that from Lisa when I was 16, she informed me that those were, ?just suggestions?.
Well, that being said, I was the 10-kilometres-under-the-speedlimit-driver today. I took advantage of the fact that the sun was shining, and the Sea to Sky was screaming to be driven at Mach 5. It is funny how upset some people get at you and how fast the line of traffic becomes 30 or 40 cars. I originally wasn?t doing this as a study of human impatience but merely taking my time getting back to the office. By the end I was amazed at how people were getting so agitated, swerving back and forth to find a place to cram the gas pedal to the floor. The Sea to Sky is the best place to pull this, because when the ?faster? cars finally do get the opportunity to ZIZZZZ by, they can usually be seen at the next stoplight or construction flag person, (no more than two cars in front of me).
I started to enjoy this study and began practicing my favourite ?trick? I learned while driving in the interior. I am usually the victim of this ?trick?, but not today. Please note this works especially well if you have a new powerful automobile and have no idea how to corner it. You start by driving real slow for the curvy technical sections of road and then when there is a passing lane or a dotted middle line you accelerate. Let me tell you, no better way to make friends on the road than pulling this gag two or three passing lanes in a row.
Happy Driving!
Posted by jmclean at 06:51 PM | Comments (0)