the tenth inning

I'm entranced by Ken Burn's The Tenth Inning.

And I'm not afraid to admit that I teared up at several points when watching the last two nights. I am a sports fan. Long live sport.

...

My favorite bit last night was the Ichiro spotlight. And my favorite part of that segment the quote from the Seattle Post-Intelligencer in response to his amazing throw from right field, catching the A's Terrance Long trying to take third (watch here, at 0:51):

"That throw needs to be framed and hung on the wall at the Louve, next to the Mona Lisa."

An awkward expression of the poignant beauty of sporting excellence. Yessir. I concur.

...

Speaking of sporting excellence and poignant beauty, how about The Big Swiss Time Machine...

Yessir.

(If FC joins that Luxembourger team and ends up on a Trek next year I'm going to puke. Anything, please... Anything but a Trek.)

the good

It felt good to be a bike racer today. Results not terrific, but I felt good. Empowered. And that feeling--I'm pretty sure that's why I race bikes in the first place.

(And I haven't raced in over two months, so there's that.)

the summer's massive adventure

I've spent much too little effort chronically the events of our massive summer road trip as it was happening. There was so much goodness. But here's a little taste. At least it's a little taste of the riding, but even a banquet of riding stories would be just an appetizer of the grander Goatish fun of the trip. (What'd ya think of that last sentence? A little too much?)

The Goatmobile (our new swagger wagon) prepped for the trip. The two small wheels at the front of that heap atop the roof are the back wheels of our jogger stroller. The box is loaded with camping gear. The back is loaded with all the crap a family of five needs for a six-week road trip. And seats will soon be loaded with the five of us: N (36), V (36), A (12), M (8), and R (1).


Our first night was spent in a mosqueto-infested swamp on the shore of Lake Michigan, the second with dear friends in Rochchester, MN. Then the Badlands (a pre-dawn ride through Badlands NP remains a trip highlight), and the next day at Mt. Rushmore and the Black Hills. An early morning ride through Custer State Park was interrupted by a full-on buffalo orgy spilling out over the highway. I counted 65 buffs, but there could have easily been double that number.


After spending nine or ten days in Idaho Falls, which included a wonderfully adventurous 72-mile road ride (30 some miles of which was over unpaved USFS road), and an mtb misadventure where I fell (sort of head/shoulders first) down an eight-foot embankment into essentially a trough of cow dung, we made it to Boise. At dawn the next day I rode across town and up the gravel road to Table Rock, a table-like bluff situated prominently in the foothills just east of the city.


A favorite ride for Boise folk is the 16-mile jaunt from the city to the base of Bogus Basin Ski Resort, a climb of about 3500'. As I climbed the road I got to wondering if there was an all-dirt way to get to the ski station; not just the lower lodge, where we ride our road bikes, but all the way to the 7,500' peak of Shaffer Butte. A few days later I found it. An estimated 4800' net elevation gain in a more or less steady climb. On the day, probably more like 6000' gross elevation. It was a dee-light-full ride. (Punctuated with the obligatory shot of my ride atop the summit.)

After a week in Boise, we were back in Idaho Falls, then to Utah for a week in and around the Wasatch Front. A friend took me on a lovely five-hour mtb ride; a true loop, we never rode the same trail twice. I wish I knew the names of all the trails. We started high in Millcreek Canyon, crossed the ridge into the Canyons Resort, meandered south near the 8000' line into Park City Resort, then climbed back up the ridge at Guardsman's Pass (Big Cottonwood Canyon), rode north along a section of the Great Western Trail, and then eventually descended back to the upper Millcreek trail head. Those Wasatch trails are such a pleasure. I'm very, very jealous.


There was other great mountain biking in Utah--the Draper foothill trails, Strawberry Reservoir, the Snow Basin area above Ogden--but I had to pull the road bike from the quiver once more in Utah Co., my sense of nostalgia for the dense aspen forests of the Alpine Loop being too strong to resist. (Also, last time I mountain biked in American Fork Canyon--three years ago--I broke my collarbone. So I chose the road this time...)


On the way home we made stops in both Grand Junction and Colorado Springs, Co. (two Colorado towns whose names those in-the-know shorten with casual non-proper noun type appellations--"The Junction" and "The Springs"...and now you know). In The Springs, after a morning mtb jaunt through Palmer Park, a friend took me up "The Incline." Fifteen years of visiting Colorado Springs and I had no idea this existed. But it's awesome. Two thousand feet of elevation over an average grade of 41% (max grade 68%). There used to be rails, apparently, and a cable car-style car that took people to some kind of lookout/resort atop the hill. But that closed in 1990, and now people (including me) illegally access and climb the old rail line. Apparently the Incline is a favorite winter training playground for Olympic athletes, presumably when there's no snow.


I enjoyed my walk up. I even ran the last 50 feet or so. But I took the trail down.

But school's started and the summer is over.

And its September.

But September means cross.

And cross is boss.

So get excited! (My excitement has led to extravagantly placing an order for a new Specialized Crux S-Works. I'm excited! But not brave enough to tell my wife. Yet.)