Although this race was low in attendance, it provided a great opportunity to get some intensity work in before the big show. After waking up indecisive whether or not to race I was happy with my choice as the downpour of hail started just after crossing the finish line. The course was interesting; a great mix of cyclocross style, double track Iceman prep, and a bit of single track. Joeberon set the pace high from the gun and we were off. After sitting on Joe’s wheel for the first lap we realized we had quickly left the field long behind. However, later in the race I faltered on a corner, came out of my pedal, and Joe was able to get away from me. I kept the gap to Joe fairly close for the rest of the race but was unable to catch him. I rolled in for 1st place in my age category and 2nd place overall. I was satisfied with my result, and glad I rode my Trek Top Fuel 9.9 as the course was fairly rough.
Thanks to Lake Orion High School for organizing a late season race!
As many of you may know, I place high value in community. I’m a kind of guy who wants to go where everybody knows my name and they’re always glad I came.
Last night, the Hermit-man and I were rolling around the streets of RO and got into a discussion about all of the nicknames that embody the Michigan cycling community. It’s a bit absurd if you really stop and think about the wealth of cleverly-nominated associations out there.
Why do we do this?
I’ve narrowed it down to two reasons: 1. Term of endearment, symbolizing acceptance 2. Term of ridicule
My short-lived first roommate I had in college, with whom I went in blind, was one of those social outcast akward types that anyone who took one look at would immediately file him into some kind of “that guy” category. He had so few of friends that he took it upon himself to nominate his own nickname which was never adopted by a soul despite his dedication and persistence of referring to himself with this self-proclaimed nickname. I only lasted two weeks with this fellow before I went nuts and had a little talk with my RA to move me to another room. The straw that broke my back was coming home to 8 cans of polished off tuna fish adorned on the floor with a side of whitie tighties casually laying around fully equipped with skid marks so defined an accident reconstructionist could of determined exactly what was served up in the cafeteria the night before…but this is a different story. Nonetheless, back to my point; Rule #1 when it comes to nicknames-it has to be bestowed upon you from your social group…without exception, no self-nominations!
So, after brainstorming for a few minutes, I came up with this list. Feel free to add to it or share a story of how your nickname may have come about.
Also, there is something special at stake for any person who can correctly identify every name with the proper person.
“What’s new lately”, asked my mom late Sunday night as I am driving and conversing with her on my cell phone. “You haven’t been updating your blog, is everything OK? Isn’t anything interesting happening”. Truth is, this time of year I seem to always slip into my mundane state of mind. Although I entertained the notion of racing every weekend in October, it seems the call of fun base miles rolling out from my front door and post-ride beers seemed overridingly more fun. I was supposed to race Peak to Peak this weekend and even thought about doubling up and suffering some cross the next day but after my teammates were on the fence about making the northern excursion, I found it easy to throw in the towel. So the weekend was spent rolling over leafs on my squishy fat tire bike, getting in the ever-so-important therapeutic miles, and engaging in general TCOBing (taken care of business).
On Saturday, Adam York rode with us and I discovered that he was unaware of the greatest movie ever made. Recently, John Coyle posted a “If it weren’t for Claire Young” story which got me thinking. In a nut shell, his story expressed that he was unsure of where he would be today had Claire not looked at him when he was 8 years old and commented, “You look pretty good on a bike, you should race”. It made me realize that one movie taught me virtually everything there is to know about life. Folks, I’m talking about Rad, the greatest story ever told…it’s a fact. The movie instilled my passion for bikes, taught me about relationships, love, struggle, money, greed, honor, and the fruits of hard work and dedication. It was 1986 and I think I was playing outside at the time. My eldest brother’s future wives’ brother brought over two movies he had just rented and asked if I wanted to watch them. One was Iron Eagle (another great flick, but that’s another story), the other was Rad. How was I to know my life would change from that day on? I can still remember my first viewing, the tricks amazed me, the soundtrack got my adrenaline pumping, and the plot sucked me in like a dyson. My mom quickly had to enforce the rule that I was to have a 1 hour waiting period, or cool down session if you will, post-viewing before I could ride my bike for fear my elevated state would cause me to surely attempt some kind of stunt that would wind me up in the ER.
Who you I be today if it weren't for Rad?
If anyone has been deprived of this movie and would like to reserve a VIP screening in the Stein Theatre, feel free to contact me anytime and I will personally facilitate your very own evening of life-changing cinematic excellence.
Mom, I hope this provides you with fodder to make it through your week.
It seems the blog thing has become a bit burdensome amidst a delicate juggling of attending weddings, baptisms, retirement parties, work conferences, working overtime with our after school program, and still squeezing in time to ride at a frequency that maintains my sanity. I sincerely apologize to all those who frequent this blog addictively while at work in a similar fashion to escaping to the bathroom stall for about 20 minutes in the name of work avoidance. Alas, there is not much of significant interest to report about or write lately for the Finkelstein. I still haven’t managed to drag myself to a cross race, but I do look forward to racing the Peak to Peak race at Crystal Mountain this weekend.
Enough of my own blabbery…as a testament to my commitment to enhancing your work day by providing distractive material, I have decided to regurgitate another rousing page in The Dybo memoirs.
Did I ever tell you about the day Lauren was born? She was born on New Year’s Day you know. I can remember it vividly. I was a bit on edge because there were some risks associated with the pregnancy. As a side note, I had made a commitment to myself this year to ride EVERYDAY.
At 4:30 in the morning I am awoken to Mallissa freaking poking me in the side yelling at me to get up because her water just broke. What was the first thought on my mind? Sh*t…I am NOT going to get to ride today, it’s New Years Day and I am already going to fail at my goal. So we all got up and we’re shuffling to get our things ready for the hospital and Mallissa calls her friend who had also gone to all the pregnancy classes with us and had agreed to help us through the process come the big day. Well, no longer than 15 minutes after we got up, Mallissa started to realize I was gone and was asking herself where the hell I was.
My goal was to ride EVERYDAY that year. I tell you what, I am a man who likes to freaking stick to his goals. Where was I? Where do you think the Godfather of Michigan Cycling was, I had snuck out the door and was on my freaking bike.
Ok, ok…don’t get all up in arms, I made it back in time to witness the miracle of the birth of my first child, and it was amazing and almost as good as my ride!
