Sold!

Out with the old, in with the new. I sent my Cane Creek track wheels on down the road to make way for new, bad ass sponsor equipment.

I've also got a sweet set of brand new Cane Creek carbon road wheels for sale if anyone's interested. Hit me up.

Humpy

It was like 'Planet of the Dogs' at my grandma's house this weekend.  There were 8 of them at her house, as all my relatives converged on her farm for my grandpa's funeral.

The little dog, Barney, was obsessed with humping the lab, Draggin (yes, I spelled that right). All day, every day. When he wasn't humping Draggin, he was standing near Draggin, air-humping.  Even when Draggin was running at full speed, Barney was trying to hump him. It was insane, though I admire his persistence.

For his part, Draggin paid no attention to it. None at all. He must be really secure in his sexuality.

Sue The T-Rex

I'd never been to the Stearns History Museum before, and probably won't go again, but they happened to have the "A T-Rex Name Sue" exhibit. The kids had watched Jurassic Park for the first time a couple weeks ago, so they thought it was really bitchin' (my words, not theirs).

I was surprised just how tiny Sue's arms are...she looks like a computer programmer!

Bizzay

I haven't been a very good blogger lately because I've been busy with a lot of things in real life. My grandpa died on the eve of my cousin's wedding. The whole family congregated in Fargo for the ceremony; it was great to see everyone, but it was really a bittersweet weekend.

Grandpa's quality of life had waned severely in recent years, and I truly believe he was ready to go. It doesn't make it any easier, though.

The funeral is tomorrow, and this will be the first time the kids have seen a dead person. I think they kind of understand the concept of death, but I'm a little worried about how they'll handle it.

I've also been swamped with work lately. Demos, meetings, and project deadlines. I'm not complaining though...it makes my job a lot more interesting, and I kinda thrive off the pressure.

I started lifting again, which has left me in a much happier mood. I set up a 5-day split, with a 6th day of ergo sprints.

And....that's it.

I Hate Being The Least Attractive Person In A Photo

I Am An Awesome Runner

And I have a medal to prove it!

I smoked from the time I was 17 until I was about 21. I got out of shape and didn't take very good care of myself.

One day, I decided to get my shit together. I quite smoking and started running. Every day. At first, I couldn't even make it a mile. After a few weeks, though, I could run for about 20 minutes, though it was hard as fuck.

Somehow, a friend convinced me to do the Get-In-Gear run with him. I knew I couldn't complete the standard 10km (6.2 miles), so I opted for the 2km "Fun Run". No one told me that "fun" = "kids". Sure, there were other adults there...the moms and dads of the kids in the race. Needless to say, I felt a little out of place.

The worst part was that I didn't even win! Not even close. I was probably somewhere around 50th. Or 100th. Some of those little fuckers are fast! I even got beat by a chubby kid in jean shorts.

After the race I went to the booth where everyone who registered for the 2km Fun Run was to receive a medal. I walked up to the guy working and informed him that I was there to pick up my medal. He informed me that the medals were only for the kids who ran the Fun Run. I sheepishly displayed my registration form and told him that I had, in fact, completed the Fun Run. He seemed very impressed (I could tell by the way he chuckled) and produced a medal for me, which I proudly wore for the rest of the day.

Max Is Getting Awesomer

I Am Iron Man!

Fuck!

The First Time I Got Kicked In The Nuts

The year was 1992, and I was in 6th grade. We were the oldest kids in the middle school and thought we were super cool.

If you remember 1992, it was a time when most kids could safely ride their bikes to school. Except for me, because we lived way the fuck out in the country. Since my bus always got to school really early, I would wait by the bike rack for my friends to show up.

This particular day was "field trip day", one of the greatest days in all of grade school. Needless to say, I was pretty excited and was acting up a bit. OK, let's be honest, I was being a belligerent little prick. I was showing off by taking some of the younger kids' bikes out of the rack (no one used locks back then) and riding them around, jumping the steps, trying to grind the pedals, and just generally being a jackass.

After one particularly sweet move, I triumphantly flung the wee bike back into the rack. It hit pretty hard and broke the front reflector off of another bike.

"Oh shit," one of my friend said, "that's Edwin's bike". Remember how I said we were the oldest kids in the school? Well, that's not entirely true. Edwin was 3 years older than the rest of us (don't ask), and therefor quite a bit bigger.

I figured it wasn't a big deal. I mean, it's a fucking reflector, right? Most kids removed them the day they got their bikes. But of course, one of my asshole friends has to make it a big deal. He ran off, shouting "I'm telling Edwin!"

I chuckled a bit, knowing he wouldn't care. I mean, who would? Its a fucking reflector. Just then, the bell rang and we all headed to our lockers.

I put my backpack in my locker, and just as I was closing it, I turned around to see a furious Edwin running down the hall toward me. I braced for impact, but he stopped short. I started to say, "Hey, sorry abou-" when he hauled off and kicked me right in the nuts.

Who does that!??!?!

Anyway, I dropped like a sack of potatoes. I writhed in pain while a semi-circle of curious onlookers gathered around. It took about 15 minutes for me to get off the ground, and I ended up having to go to the doctor because ol' lefty swelled up like a plumb. To make things worse, the nurse there was a good friend of our family and I had to show her my sack. She seemed unimpressed.

Intense nut pain forced me to stay home the following day, fueling in-school rumors that my nuts had exploded (or my "eggs had been scrambled") and I'd been forced to have an emergency sex change. Middle school is funny like that.

To add insult to injury, the principal saw kicking me in the nuts as a perfectly acceptable retaliation for a broken reflector, and forced me to pay Edwin $1.19 to replace it. Then he gave me detention.

Success!

I now have 2 tubeless tires that have held air for over 48 hours.

Once I had the proper equipment, it was a very simple process.   Time will tell if they're worth the hassle.

Ergo Sprints

I forgot how much these hurt.

I'm feelin' pretty good though, so I can't complain.

Static

Tubeless Conversion - 1 Hour And No Progress

Turns out I have an "extra deep" rim bed and need foam weather stripping to build it up.

I tried to do without, but failed miserably.  I probably should have read the instructions first.

Google vs. Bing, A Real-World Test

When I was out in Boston last week, I was sitting in a bar with a couple guys from Microsoft. They with their Windows Mobile phones and I with my Google Android phone. There were a few lighthearted jabs at each others' chosen mobile platforms and several remarks about Google vs. Bing and the much-ballyhooed "Decision Engine". Yes, we had some chuckles, but which is better when it comes to real-world functionality?

Later in the night a commercial came on the TV in the bar featuring Garth from 'Wayne's World'. It's the scene where he's in the laundromat, and the Microsoft guy couldn't remember what song played at that point in the movie. So he did what any tech-dork would do and pulled out his phone.

After about 5 minutes of searching Bing, he hadn't turned anything up. I checked Google on my phone and found my answer in the first search result. It took less than 15 seconds from the time I pulled my phone out of my pocket.

The Microsoft guy was speechless.

Google built their reputation on the power of their search engine, and Microsoft tried to play catch-up by dumping a ton of resources into a product that was supposed to be competitive, if not better. After using it a bit, I've gotta give it a 'C+'.

It's probably fine for the "big 3" search categories of shopping, travel, and health, but beyond that I'm not sold.

I honestly think it's too little, too late. Google has become a verb, and I think Microsoft wasted their money.

The National Champ Is The National Champ Again

In light of some recent events, James Tainter, everyone's favorite National Champion, is once again a 2-time gold medal winner.

Just yesterday it was announced that the "legendary" Kenny Williams was busted for doping at the 2009 Masters National Championships, where he won 3 gold medals and set a World Record. (Detail of his admission of guilt can be found here).

While I'm excited that JT is being belatedly rewarded for all his hard work last season, I know this isn't how he wanted to win. He was robbed of his opportunity to stand on the podium and slip into his Stars & Stripes jersey. In short, it just ain't the same.

Kenny claims that this positive test was due to some over-the-counter DHEA that he took 6 weeks prior to Masters Nationals. That story seems a bit fabricated to me, but anything other than what Kenny is saying is purely speculation. I will say, though, that I don't know of many over-the-counter drugs that stay in your system for 6 weeks. Additionally, it doesn't matter if he was taking what essentially amounts to a placebo or if he was sticking a testosterone patch in his chamois, the motive is the same.

And honestly...masters racing!? Really? Doping for masters racing? Really? For shame.

The First Time I Got Kicked In The Head

I've been fortunate enough in my life to have been kicked in the head only a handful of times. Just like (ahem) other things in life, the first time is generally the most memorable.

It happened when I was at one of my first-ever college parties. Now, I fancied myself an epic partier, but reality sometimes has a way of crushing our dreams.

We had arrived at our 3rd house party of the night, and I was already pretty drunk. They were having a wop party, which contains a lot of freakin' alcohol. There were other illicit substances there, but we won't go into that. Anyway, this led to me becoming, for lack of a better term, completely shitfaced. I must have had 6 or 7 glasses. Not a bad value for $5, if I do say so myself.

I was chatting up some ugly girls when I realized I had to piss. Like, really bad. I asked one of the ugly girls where the bathroom was, and she pointed to a room in the corner. My first clue that this was not the bathroom should have been the fact that there was a lock on the door. It must have been a shitty lock, because I was able to outsmart it, even in my inebriated state.

Once I entered the room, I realized that it was some dude's bedroom. Not being of sound mind, it seemed perfectly logical to piss in the corner.

About halfway through my piss, someone walked in a shouted, "What the fuck are you doing in here!?!?!?!?" I quickly put my dong back in my pants and said that I was looking for the bathroom.

Well, the act of putting my dong away must have looked like I was putting something in my pocket, because he yelled out to his friend that I was in his room trying to steal shit. I guess I'd rather they think I'm stealing shit than know that I was pissing in the corner. I think. In hindsight, neither situation is ideal.

Anyway, they checked my pockets and didn't find anything, obviously. As they were dragging me out of the house, one of my buddies says, "Dude, did that guy catch you peeing in his room?" Fuck.

"You pissed in my room???? You pissed in my room????"

"Ummmm...I guess so. Sorry."

I started to walk away, but one of his friend tripped me from behind. Then the dude kicked me in the head 3 times before being pulled away. It hurt like a bitch from what I remember.

I would have accepted, I dunno, maybe a gut-punch or something from the guy. I'll admit it was disrespectful and gross. But to attack me from behind then kick me in the head when I'm down...well, that's just a bitch move. Apparently he got punched in the face later in the night, so I guess I feel pretty good about that.

Since then, I've always been sure to be cognizant of where the bathroom is when I go to a party.

[This is just the first installment in a series of posts about injuries that I didn't want to sustain but probably deserved, including "The First Time I Got Kicked In The Balls" and "The First Time I Got Headbutted By A Division 1 Linebacker". *sigh* Memories...]

This Better Be Awesome

Trick Or Treat!

It's never a good sign when the night ends like this.
But let's start back at the beginning, shall we?

Max always gets pissed off when we carve pumpkins, but he always wants to do it anyway. Good times.
We went trick-or-treating with some friends in Sartell.
Bandit even got in on the action.
Kristin was a punk chick.
I was Brett Michaels. Yes, I put my own makeup on.
After trick-or-treating we sent the kids out to Grandma's house and the adults went to a haunted house, thenwe had some friends over for many, many drinks.



We tried playing night games, but for some reason half the group couldn't figure out the rules so we gave up.

Our guests called a cab at around 2:00 AM, but it didn't show up until almost 4:00. By that time, everyone's drinking had pretty much caught up with them and they started falling asleep. Or puking.

Except Matt, who was a Rock Band fiend.
Then some dude dressed as Prince showed up and insisted that we do shots.
By the time the cab finally showed up, most everyone at the party was sick. Not me, of course, because I know my limits (haha).

Kristin spent the entire next day puking. It was kinda pitiful. I somehow managed to tweak my back, so I pretty much just lounged on the couch watching football. Also pitiful.

Get It?

Gotta love Mickey's grenades.