The replacement Frontline arrived today as promised. Judging from the dents in the box, I can believe the Post Office lost the first one.
11 hours ago
Thursday, June 18, 2009
1-800PetMeds.com
Let's hear it for 1-800PetMeds. I ordered some Frontline for my cat several weeks ago but it never arrived. I emailed 1-800PetMeds about my missing order and requested that they contact me. I honestly expected only an email reply within a day or two. Well, within minutes of sending my email, my phone rang with an operator for 1-800PetMeds on the other end. She was very nice and didn't give me any grief about my order. In fact, she quickly arraigned for another shipment and apologized for the inconvenience.
The replacement Frontline arrived today as promised. Judging from the dents in the box, I can believe the Post Office lost the first one.
The replacement Frontline arrived today as promised. Judging from the dents in the box, I can believe the Post Office lost the first one.
Monday, June 15, 2009
Touching Up the Moots
One of the downtube decals on my bike sustained some minor damage a while back. It was nothing too serious, just a small scratch on one of the letters that I easily touched up with paint. I wasn’t happy about the scratch, but I could live with it. Mountain bikes get dinged and scratched. It’s just the nature of the beast.
However, while washing my bike last week, I used Greased Lightening degreaser on the frame that apparently contained something a little too harsh and noticed a small section of the decal started to bleach. I think the degreaser found its way behind the paint and ate away at the ink. Anyway, this freaked me out.
I called the Mother Ship (Moots factory) and talked with a very nice woman named Kassi who set me up with a factory sticker kit.
The replacement decal set arrived today from Colorado, so I set up a work area on the patio to apply a new decal on the downtube.
The kit contains more decals than I actually need, so I have lots of extra decals now. I suppose it’s nice to have them on hand in case of a cosmetic emergency.
Applying the replacement decal was rather straightforward and much easier than I anticipated. I was a little worried about being able to remove the glue residue, but a little Goo Gone on a paper towel worked great. Now my Moots looks showroom new.
However, while washing my bike last week, I used Greased Lightening degreaser on the frame that apparently contained something a little too harsh and noticed a small section of the decal started to bleach. I think the degreaser found its way behind the paint and ate away at the ink. Anyway, this freaked me out.
I called the Mother Ship (Moots factory) and talked with a very nice woman named Kassi who set me up with a factory sticker kit.
The replacement decal set arrived today from Colorado, so I set up a work area on the patio to apply a new decal on the downtube.
The kit contains more decals than I actually need, so I have lots of extra decals now. I suppose it’s nice to have them on hand in case of a cosmetic emergency. 
Applying the replacement decal was rather straightforward and much easier than I anticipated. I was a little worried about being able to remove the glue residue, but a little Goo Gone on a paper towel worked great. Now my Moots looks showroom new.
Handbuilt in the Rockies. Touched up in Mississippi.
Sunday, June 14, 2009
2009 Bama 'Cross Schedule
Let the insanity begin!
9/26 - Clanton
10/4 - Avondale
10/18 - Prattville
11/1 - Tuscaloosa
11/8 - Birmingham at Sloss Furnace
11/14 - Anniston, Saturday Night Race
11/22 - Montgomery
12/6 - Cullman
Saturday, June 13, 2009
Worn SRAM RED Cassette?
I'm afraid my Sram Red cassette is shot. At least, that's what the guys at the shop tell me. I had problems getting it into the smallest cog for a few months and just attributed it to worn cables or a simple limit screw adjustment. Considering I've only had this cassette for about a year, I was dumbfounded when I was told it is worn-out.
To be honest, I'm not willing to accept that the cassette is shot just yet. I cleaned it and examined the teeth and they seem to be in good order. I'll probably put this cassette on another wheel and see if it works.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Races to Ponder
I need to work out which races I'm gong to do and make plans accordingly. My participation will largely depend on weather since I've sworn off mud races. If anyone has any event suggestions, please feel free to let me know. I'd also like to squeeze in a century ride or two this year since I haven't done one in a while and really miss non-competitive social rides.
Race Menu
June 21, Three Legged Dog. Little Rock, AR.
June 28, Mississippi State Games, Meridian, MS.
July 12, Alabama State Championships, Anniston, AL.
July 19, Lock 4 Challenge, Nashville, TN.
July 19, Eureka Springs Fat Tire Festival, Eureka Springs, AR.
Aug.15, Legend of Stanky Creek Time Trial, Memphis, TN.
Aug.16, Legend of Stanky Creek Cross Country, Memphis, TN.
Sept. 20, Clear Creek Challenge, Oxford MS.
Sept. 27, C.E.N.L.A., Alexandria, LA.
Sept. TBA, Black Bear Rampage, Ducktown, TN.
Oct. 3, 12-Hours of Stank, Memphis, TN.
Oct. 17, 6-Hours of Herb, Memphis, TN.
Oct.18, McGee/Martin Lungbuster, Ridgeland, MS.
Oct. TBA, Dead Dog Mtb. Birmingham, AL.
Oct. TBA, Bama Cross Series. Alabama.
Nov. TBA, Memphis Cyclocrunk Series, Memphis, TN.
Nov. TBA, Memphis CX Championship, Memphis, TN.
Race Menu
June 21, Three Legged Dog. Little Rock, AR.
June 28, Mississippi State Games, Meridian, MS.
July 12, Alabama State Championships, Anniston, AL.
July 19, Lock 4 Challenge, Nashville, TN.
July 19, Eureka Springs Fat Tire Festival, Eureka Springs, AR.
Aug.15, Legend of Stanky Creek Time Trial, Memphis, TN.
Aug.16, Legend of Stanky Creek Cross Country, Memphis, TN.
Sept. 20, Clear Creek Challenge, Oxford MS.
Sept. 27, C.E.N.L.A., Alexandria, LA.
Sept. TBA, Black Bear Rampage, Ducktown, TN.
Oct. 3, 12-Hours of Stank, Memphis, TN.
Oct. 17, 6-Hours of Herb, Memphis, TN.
Oct.18, McGee/Martin Lungbuster, Ridgeland, MS.
Oct. TBA, Dead Dog Mtb. Birmingham, AL.
Oct. TBA, Bama Cross Series. Alabama.
Nov. TBA, Memphis Cyclocrunk Series, Memphis, TN.
Nov. TBA, Memphis CX Championship, Memphis, TN.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
Random Bump 'n Grind Photos
Catharine Pendrel and Georgia Gould (my hero) talk before the race.
Pua Sawicki and Georgia Gould on the line.
Pro men lining up for the start. Geoff Kabush and his sideburns in orange.
Super pro Geoff Kabush. I want sideburns like that!
Georgia Gould burning it up on the trail.
Sho-Air team bus. This is the way to travel.
2009 Bump 'n Grind
I almost missed my group staging for the race because I was unknowingly mingling in the 50+ crowd. Maybe I was feeling old at the time and enjoying a senior moment. Maybe I just enjoyed the friendly conversation about bikes. The sad truth is, I was getting nervous about the race and didn't pay attention to the announcements blasting over the public address system. Considering the volume of the announcer's voice, I must have been seriously distracted. Once I realize my group is staging for the race, I begin working my way through a small gaggle of bikes and riders to stage with the proper race group. When I reach the start area, all the prime positions are gone, and I reluctantly settle on a spot in the very back next to one of the barriers. "Oh great!" I think to myself. "Now I have to fight my way through traffic to reach the front."
As I look over my competition for the day, I size up everyone based on their kits and equipment. It's not the most scientific method, but it works for me. I figure if someone is going to spend $5000 or more for a bicycle, then they're probably a little more serious than the average recreational rider. If they happen to be wearing a team kit and have freshly shaven legs, then you know whose wheel to grab at the start. Like I said, it's not scientific, but it works for me.
The seconds tick down to the start and the knot in my stomach tightens. I want to go back to the friendly people in the 50+ group, but I'm trapped by my date of birth. The whistle blows and a burst of metallic cleats lock into pedals in a series of rapid clicks followed by the rattle of tensioning chains and shifting gears. We're off for 17 miles of bumps and grinds in the largest mountain bike race in the Southeast.
I instantly get stuck behind some slow traffic as we enter a wooded picnic area across from the starting line and know the gap on the front is going to be huge if I can't move up. I try to pass on a short downhill but am almost forced into a tree and decide to back off and attack on the short pavement section coming up. I work my way past the guy who almost forced me into the tree and open a gap on him. The group is starting to string out by this point like an over worked rope. I catch a glimpse of the lead group turning into the single track as I scream down Peavine Road toward the trailhead with two or three other riders on my wheel. "This is going to suck", I think to myself. I decide to go hard but not so hard that I burn myself out. There's a nasty climb coming up, and I figure I can do my damage there and catch the leaders.
The sounds of chains slapping against metal and knobby tires scraping rocks continued to echo behind me from the small train of riders on my rear wheel. They're obviously using me to set pace, so I crank it up a level in hopes of opening a gap. They're still on me after two attempts, so I start leading them over roots and rocks. This also fails. I attack again on a down hill section and eventually shake them off and try to open more distance on them.
I soon encounter the tail end of the 40-45 group and even a few stragglers in the 35-39 group and begin to weave my way through. When it comes to passing, I'm very polite. I don't know why, but I always say "thank you" when someone moves over so I can pass. It goes something like this. I'll get within a bike length of a slower rider and say, "When you get a chance." They find a place to slide over and I'll pass and say "thank you" as I go around them. I almost start laughing when someone says, "And thank you for not being an asshole." after I pass with my customary courtesy. I instantly flashback to last year when some roadie turned mountain biker for a day was being a complete jerk to everyone on the trail and realize he must be at it again this year doing the same thing.
When I reach the base of the long climb up Oak Mountain, I see a long string of people on bikes and begin to grind my way up. During my preride the day before, I didn't think the climb was so bad. In fact, it seemed shorter and not as steep as last year. Someone must have gone out there in the middle of the night and added a ton of dirt to the mountain because it suddenly felt longer and much steeper than the day before. The good news is everyone around me seemed to be suffering much more. For those of you not familiar with Bump 'n Grind, the climb is a rock infested fire road to the top of the mountain. I love it! It hurts, but I love it all the same. As I make my way to the top past riders and small groups of riders, I
often go off the worn path and pass on the rocky sections just to avoid the chance of someone stalling out in front of me. I eventually reach the summit and continue to the last trail sections of the race - Blood rock and Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.
As I'm racing toward the much-dreaded "Blood Rock" section, both legs are on the verge of cramping. I don't know why I continue to have cramping problems this year, and it's becoming a serious issue for me. I didn't cramp last year, so I'm at a loss as to what happened this time. The only thing that comes to mind is I spent too much time preriding the course the day before and dehydrated myself more than I realized. I believe I was out there for about 3.5 to 4 hours in total with only a small bottle of water. Yeah, that was stupid. I normally don't even touch my bike the day before a race, but needed to check out the course since I was unable to make the trip to Birmingham earlier.
I make the right turn onto the BUMP trail and soon cramp in both legs. This forces me to stop and move off the course. Several people pass as I'm off to the side trying to get my legs moving again. I remount my bike after a little stretching and rubbing, but my legs are still not fully cooperating and on the verge of locking up. When I reach "Blood Rock", the muscles in my legs tighten with every bounce and bump on the rocks. I'm concentrating so hard at navigating through the maze of rocks and drops that I do not even notice the crowd standing around waiting for the inevitable crashes. I'm literally in my own world. When I reach the final drop, both legs start cramping and I can only control the bike with my arms. For a brief moment, I pop off the saddle and almost lose control, but manage a great save. I clear the last rock and continue down the trail with a great sense of relief. After a few minutes, the muscles in my legs start to relax and I regain some measure of control over them again.
The last section of the course is a hammer fest called "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride". It's a relatively easy strip of trail with a hard packed surface and lots of fast turns. I'm feeling good and pick up the pace considerably, eventually passing some riders who went around me as I stood along the trailside battling my legs. With each pass, I start to feel better and know the finish is near. Eventually, the sounds of the finish area begin to filter through the trees, and I start railing through the corners like madman on a mission. I encounter small groups of spectators peering from behind trees, yelling out words of encouragement, and ringing cowbells. There's something about the clank of a cowbell that makes me pedal faster. As I come out of the single-track, I can see a patchwork of tent canopies and team trailers in the distance with the timing clock hanging from a scaffold arched finish line. I blow through gears like a runaway truck and make for ramming speed as I hit the line and put another Bump 'n Grind in the record books.
I place 6th in a field of 16, just one spot short of earning valuable upgrade points.
As I look over my competition for the day, I size up everyone based on their kits and equipment. It's not the most scientific method, but it works for me. I figure if someone is going to spend $5000 or more for a bicycle, then they're probably a little more serious than the average recreational rider. If they happen to be wearing a team kit and have freshly shaven legs, then you know whose wheel to grab at the start. Like I said, it's not scientific, but it works for me.
The seconds tick down to the start and the knot in my stomach tightens. I want to go back to the friendly people in the 50+ group, but I'm trapped by my date of birth. The whistle blows and a burst of metallic cleats lock into pedals in a series of rapid clicks followed by the rattle of tensioning chains and shifting gears. We're off for 17 miles of bumps and grinds in the largest mountain bike race in the Southeast.
I instantly get stuck behind some slow traffic as we enter a wooded picnic area across from the starting line and know the gap on the front is going to be huge if I can't move up. I try to pass on a short downhill but am almost forced into a tree and decide to back off and attack on the short pavement section coming up. I work my way past the guy who almost forced me into the tree and open a gap on him. The group is starting to string out by this point like an over worked rope. I catch a glimpse of the lead group turning into the single track as I scream down Peavine Road toward the trailhead with two or three other riders on my wheel. "This is going to suck", I think to myself. I decide to go hard but not so hard that I burn myself out. There's a nasty climb coming up, and I figure I can do my damage there and catch the leaders.
The sounds of chains slapping against metal and knobby tires scraping rocks continued to echo behind me from the small train of riders on my rear wheel. They're obviously using me to set pace, so I crank it up a level in hopes of opening a gap. They're still on me after two attempts, so I start leading them over roots and rocks. This also fails. I attack again on a down hill section and eventually shake them off and try to open more distance on them.
I soon encounter the tail end of the 40-45 group and even a few stragglers in the 35-39 group and begin to weave my way through. When it comes to passing, I'm very polite. I don't know why, but I always say "thank you" when someone moves over so I can pass. It goes something like this. I'll get within a bike length of a slower rider and say, "When you get a chance." They find a place to slide over and I'll pass and say "thank you" as I go around them. I almost start laughing when someone says, "And thank you for not being an asshole." after I pass with my customary courtesy. I instantly flashback to last year when some roadie turned mountain biker for a day was being a complete jerk to everyone on the trail and realize he must be at it again this year doing the same thing.
When I reach the base of the long climb up Oak Mountain, I see a long string of people on bikes and begin to grind my way up. During my preride the day before, I didn't think the climb was so bad. In fact, it seemed shorter and not as steep as last year. Someone must have gone out there in the middle of the night and added a ton of dirt to the mountain because it suddenly felt longer and much steeper than the day before. The good news is everyone around me seemed to be suffering much more. For those of you not familiar with Bump 'n Grind, the climb is a rock infested fire road to the top of the mountain. I love it! It hurts, but I love it all the same. As I make my way to the top past riders and small groups of riders, I
often go off the worn path and pass on the rocky sections just to avoid the chance of someone stalling out in front of me. I eventually reach the summit and continue to the last trail sections of the race - Blood rock and Mr. Toad's Wild Ride.
As I'm racing toward the much-dreaded "Blood Rock" section, both legs are on the verge of cramping. I don't know why I continue to have cramping problems this year, and it's becoming a serious issue for me. I didn't cramp last year, so I'm at a loss as to what happened this time. The only thing that comes to mind is I spent too much time preriding the course the day before and dehydrated myself more than I realized. I believe I was out there for about 3.5 to 4 hours in total with only a small bottle of water. Yeah, that was stupid. I normally don't even touch my bike the day before a race, but needed to check out the course since I was unable to make the trip to Birmingham earlier.
I make the right turn onto the BUMP trail and soon cramp in both legs. This forces me to stop and move off the course. Several people pass as I'm off to the side trying to get my legs moving again. I remount my bike after a little stretching and rubbing, but my legs are still not fully cooperating and on the verge of locking up. When I reach "Blood Rock", the muscles in my legs tighten with every bounce and bump on the rocks. I'm concentrating so hard at navigating through the maze of rocks and drops that I do not even notice the crowd standing around waiting for the inevitable crashes. I'm literally in my own world. When I reach the final drop, both legs start cramping and I can only control the bike with my arms. For a brief moment, I pop off the saddle and almost lose control, but manage a great save. I clear the last rock and continue down the trail with a great sense of relief. After a few minutes, the muscles in my legs start to relax and I regain some measure of control over them again.
Paul Tidwell Photography, Inc. All Rights Purchased.
Paul Tidwell Photography, Inc. All Rights Purchased.
The last section of the course is a hammer fest called "Mr. Toad's Wild Ride". It's a relatively easy strip of trail with a hard packed surface and lots of fast turns. I'm feeling good and pick up the pace considerably, eventually passing some riders who went around me as I stood along the trailside battling my legs. With each pass, I start to feel better and know the finish is near. Eventually, the sounds of the finish area begin to filter through the trees, and I start railing through the corners like madman on a mission. I encounter small groups of spectators peering from behind trees, yelling out words of encouragement, and ringing cowbells. There's something about the clank of a cowbell that makes me pedal faster. As I come out of the single-track, I can see a patchwork of tent canopies and team trailers in the distance with the timing clock hanging from a scaffold arched finish line. I blow through gears like a runaway truck and make for ramming speed as I hit the line and put another Bump 'n Grind in the record books.
I place 6th in a field of 16, just one spot short of earning valuable upgrade points.
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