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THE RACING CHRONICLES: SNORES, BORES and CORES; or Nobody Cares About Your Personal Journal Much and Even Less Your Journey
A. J. Liebling
F. Scott Fitzgerald In 1926 Henry L. Mencken visited Southern California, a place of great reward for chiropractors, osteopaths, and other of your mainstream shake down artists. But, of particular interest was the evangelical beauty Aimee Semple McPherson who before finding Southern California had bounced around the West scratching out a living as a rather dull carnival barker, faith healer and cow-town evangelist. However, in LA she was a roaring success being what "there were more morons collected in Los Angeles than in any town on earth-because it was a pasture foreordained for evangelists, and she was the first comer to give anything low enough for its taste and comprehension." H.L. Mencken on Religion, Edited by S.T. Joshi. Yet, in appreciating folderol and chimeras Mencken's booboisie had nothing on cycling readers and even more so these journaling boneheads who seem to believe their syntax mishmashes pass for entertainment or even worse, keen insight. Every week or so the Self would receive a call or email calmly suggesting that "you can't believe this idiot." However, the Self has a certain soft spot for those perpetually stuck in neutral and who never got to date the pretty girl. Best to leave them with the delusion that at sometime, someone will take him or her seriously; there is no need to point out that this is as likely as the Self getting girls on the L-Word to turn out for him. But, enough is too much when such nattering nebbishes start showing up on Truesport. It is one thing to get this pixal waste in an email that can be deleted upon receipt; it is another to see it when the browser opens. There is only so much that even a person mollified by powerful multi-colored pharmacy agents can handle. II. Cliff Bars remind Self of the pool scene in Caddy Shack; the scene pretty well killed off Baby Ruth sales. But, hey, as Tom Delay would tell you were he not busy in Court, "you take money where you find it; and if you have to eat toilet products to get it, just make sure your executive assistants have strong stomachs." It is an entirely more tasteless exercise to describe the experience in writing; and this, Mr. Chump Bar, cannot be overlooked. Now and again a commentator will refer jocularly to Chicago as the Second City, apparently unaware this is a pejorative nomination coined by A.J. Liebling when more or less compelled to live there for a time. But even lowered expectations don't explain the mix of rehash and Oprah babble that makes up the Chump Bar column. First, of all everyone in the Midwest rides in the cold; even if it were funny, fun, unique, and brave it has been done already and inserting a skidding sponsor's car does not make it fresh. These are known as "fruit cart scenes." So too the gym scams: hairy legged guys who can't work the free weights-much hilarity indeed and always worth a tenth time telling. But, of course we all know that deep down the boys are working so hard to get through that first phase of the build up as they patiently wait the time when they can turn new muscle into cycling speed-the spade work has to be served, as it were. Please next time tell us how many repetitions you are doing and is it a six week course and how much you lift and whether you have to reduce your cycling in order to get the maximum benefit and does not sacrificing cycling make you grouchy and harder to live with and how do the wife and kids and co-workers get along with you when you are so deprived. And could you give a little diet advice; oh, not the tales about pizza eating and getting fat-we all know that is just high jinx. Speaking of the wife and kids it is so nice to know that you are going to put cycling in its proper place this year and give more attention to the important things. This is really good because there is nothing more inspiring than another tear stained story of a sensitive person who does what he should and not what he wants. Gosh, it is good to know about your guilt. Here is an idea: take the three minutes you spent sharing your story with us and spend it playing slap and tickle. It won't be easy to do without your next version of "my life" but, hey the family comes first. III.
Rotten Psychotic Lawyer Lazlo
Then again, perhaps Lazlo is wrong and people do indeed pine for these personal stories of discovery. Well, the Self has shined in his mind on many such days. He just didn't know anyone cared. So, here is today's exciting entry as reported to MKA who takes a fatherly interest in knowing how my days go.
First, I want to wish all those I am really angry with a wonderful day. I may not yet be able to forgive everyone for so causing me harm and anguish but at least I can wish them well. (I try to mix my cycling journal with my morning journaling because well the same discipline it takes to be dedicated to cycling is the same type of consistency required to really find a way to do whatever it is I really want to do and be, which I don't know yet, but will surely find.) Anyway, Roger, I am really thrilled with today's computrainer workout. I learned so much about myself. It is really amazing to have my mind and body getting together this way. It is sort of like the day we rode up the coast really hard and then had Mocha at that place in Newport Beach where you showed me how to order your special MKA. It was hard to believe that they actually had a coffee drink named after you. But, that is enough with the nostalgia. Today I put out 150 Watts-that is a measurement of power. I learned from this really insightful article at Truesport that modern coaches rely on power training. So, if you think you can just continue to win because you do twenty five hill repeats up the Palisades then you have another lesson coming. If you don't do your workout at the precisely determined level appropriate for your heart beat, lactate level, and BO Max then you are simply going to be a failure. I don't know what BO Max has to with it but I am pretty certain yours is way high-LOL. I did this 150 Watts for twenty minutes all at one time. I was on a six percent grade and according to my Spin Spam Silly Scope I was getting a perfect fifty percent balance between right leg and left leg; however when I got over 150 watts my left leg started to do more of the work. I didn't know my right leg was weaker than my left; the three years in casts and four operations never gave me a clue. I never figured that not being able to stand on my right foot was of any moment. It is therefore almost serendipitous that I spent three grand to get the extra software. I also bought a dedicated big screen monitor TV so that I could really maximize both the depth and variation of the feelings that I got from the ride up the Alps. It is so just so exciting. I must say I do find the Pyrenees climbs more difficult because of the grade changes. I know that Phil and Paul have pointed this out on Lance TV but I never really appreciated the difference until I fired up the software. I pretty much have given up riding outside because the scenery and experience is so much better in my living room and it is easier to stay perfectly hydrated and nutrient loaded-but you have to watch out because it gets hot riding inside and the sound of a fan just ruins the ambience. I mean an electric fan; the cheering of the fans lining the road is something else entirely. I am just going to do inside races this year; I probably won't fall down as much. Well,
I have to go now as they are re-running the Science of Lance on
FIT TV. It comes right after the re-runs of the Biggest Loser on
Bravo. Let me know when you get your biked hooked up so that we
can have a cyber space race. I think I can stay on your wheel this
year being what you have only the one hip. PS: I agree that all the other guys on Labor are lazy shiftless swag whores. But, I will keep the secret until the end of the season when we will blow off their bonuses.
III. Luck
is that particular moment when Hawkstar She
was the most successful practitioner of her trade
Every day the Self gets a Spam Mail from some gentleman named Graham something or other offering super secret television programs and discs that promise to improve the Core through Zen Practice. The sales shot is that all really swell cyclists have strong cores. Now, the Self is pretty certain that the guys who win races almost always can go faster than the other racers and probably have better this and better that. However, other than the nut cases who ride around with God is My Pilot decals blazoned on their chests the Self was not aware that really fast guys gave a hip and skip about the pureness of their core values. And being what the Self's values fall in that short range between a Republican Congressman at an Indiana Reservation Casino and Bill O'Reilly with an all day free Hot Office Assistants' 900 number it seemed pretty well rigged up that Self was not going to be having very many good racing days. So it came to pass that Self was lamenting this to the Hawkstar who wins quite a few races right there smack up against Richard Melon Scaif gangs of lunatics who can't wait for all the heretics to be burned in a fiery mass-pool boys and maids exempted. It went something like this:
It is always good to have friends with whom training ideas can be kicked around. IV. Next time we will take a look at recent cycling books. The Self long ago swore off sports books; but, is drawn to them as a school teacher conventioneer is to motel porn. There is never going to be a money shot, but, it's all there is. Ride Fast and Take Chances. Billy Stone
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