Ethics....

In the sixties, my basic values were formed. I lived in Baltimore and participated in the first desegregation bussing program. I was bussed to a school in a "colored" neighborhood. On my first day at the new school - I was made to hold the hand of a local girl and the two us us led a staged group walk to the playground for newspaper photo ops. I was in 2nd grade, a tow-headed kid who was embarrassed, not by the integration, but because I had to hold the hand of a girl.

At home, my Republican parents expressed ideals about respect and inclusion, despite their parent's backgrounds and disdain regarding "coloreds." This even included a framed notice of sale for "Two Good Slaves" from an ancestral auction in the 1800's that hung on the kitchen wall of my paternal grandparents. I recall the word "nigger" being used by my father's father and my mother's mother. I do not recall my parents ever using the word, nor disparaging anyone of another ethnicity. But I could see fear on my mother's face as I left to go to school "across town." She could feel fear and a sense of "wrongness", but acted on her ideals.

I have tremendous respect for my parents' ability to intellectually embrace the greater concept of "us", and choose to pursue a self-less view, despite their fears and pre-dispositions due to their parents' coaching and many friends' statements. At that time, "whites" lived in separate neighborhoods and there were mostly two parallel societies with one believing themselves to be "superior" to the other.

What I now recognize is that my parents set an example of acting on their ideals, despite the temptation to be self protective and to act selfishly to protect their own position and preserve their sense of "superiority" or otherwise exclusive and controlling status. They recognized we are together in our community, nation, and planet. This was when my values were being formed... ages 4-8.. a time when the fundamentals with which a person views their world are imprinted.

The sense of pursuing ideals as a virtue and the only truly worthy pursuit- go beyond the self and enter the realm of selfless action. In practice, I have found I revert to self when I look at my actions: taking care of me and my family first, then a small part for others. I still struggle with this and have not sacrificed self to the same degree that I satisfy self. But I have made choices: the type of business I am willing to support, the charities I donate to, and the political stance I express and actively support.

Around 1980, our political leadership began expousing the merit of "I, me", first. Much of the media touted the supposed ideal that accumulated riches was our right and we shifted to a "have it now" society. Borrow today, scramble over others to get what's yours and pay for it later. "Greed is Good" marked the front cover of Time magazine and our leadership openly encouraged it.

Here we are 30 years later. For me, the consequences look like shite. Our values are confused, our national identity is that the US is only a segment of the global market and our national ethic to serve on another, muted. To accomodate our selfishness, we have narrowed our view, our inclusion, to us/me versus them(others). We are doing this to one another.

Ideals and ethics are interwoven. Manifesting them comes in the form of acts. As a crude example for let's say, Christians, ask yourself, "What would Jesus do in this situation?" Then do whatever the answer is. For the agnostic narcissists, ask "How would this look on the front page of the newpaper?" Then act in a manner fits. For those who feel genuine love for another, ask yourself " Would I do this to my Grandmother?"

On the playing field of MTB racing, we compete in a safe and mostly inconsequential arena. In life, I invite you to follow the Golden Rule. If you have forgotten "The Golden Rule is an ethical code that states one has a right to just treatment, and a responsibility to ensure justice for others. It is also called the ethic of reciprocity. It is arguably the most essential basis for the modern concept of human rights, though it has its critics.[2] A key element of the golden rule is that a person attempting to live by this rule treats all people, not just members of his or her in-group, with consideration."

That's what I'm talkin' 'bout.

Weights and Losing Some

The competitor in me is beginning to get restless and reared his ugly head last week, activated by the prospect of winning a weight loss contest - at work. Most people tell me I'm skinny, slim or otherwise unhealthily built. "Eat!" is what I'd hear from my Italian mother and Grandmother, if I was Italian.

At today's weigh-in, the number came in at a "healthy" 180 lbs of lean mean bikin' machine. If I stand in front of a mirror, I like to think it only shows in the love handle region, but I've managed to put on a nice uniform layer over my entire body of sweet sweet adipose tissue, a.k.a. blubber. I've noticed that my pants are a bit tight and that I look like a goober with high water cuffing since my hips, butt and physique makes all clothing sit a bit higher as its tries to wrap around an ever-growing girth. "Gee, these pant legs used to drape over my shoes but now I'm ready for to wade for trout."
I can hear your thoughts now: "No Al , tell us it isn't true. You can't possibly by 29 pounds heavier than you were at the starting line of the nats in '08!" Ok I'm not. Since we weighed in while dresssed in work attire, minus shoes, pocket stuff, and the congenital twin living in my abdomen, I am probably ONLY 177#, a mere 26 pounds heavier.
The contest involves two categories: % of body weight lost in 12 weeks AND % body weight lost in any one week. There are 31 competitors. I am in the "WTF is he doing here" category. Oddsmakers in Vegas are saying I stand a 1:31 chance of net overall and I say a 1:10 chance of a weekly loss title. Can you hear the NBA theme song pumping up the crowd? I can.
My goal is to weigh in on April 25 at 160. So let's see here, according to my calculation (Time x Avogadro's number x the circumference of the earth divided by pi x Schroedinger's equation net of atomic attrition and corrected by the dark matter gravitational distortion x coefficient of friction of the red pigment used on the heads of Nubian hunting tribes near the African Sahel known as Nuer), the result is something significant but probably not relevant to anything we've discussed so far. Let's just say everyone will be cheering as I approach the final weigh in. Everyone.

Snomobike Video and Cutting Ice

Last week I made my way out to Mast Yard for a relaxathon. Yes, and now you too can watch this or take two Ambien(TM) to get a good night's sleep. Sometimes the purr of corduroy snomobile tracks makes everything seem at peace.

I did a stint as NH farmer today- cutting ice on Kezar Lake in Sutton. It's now resting in a 19th century ice house, awaiting August's Farm Days celebration. Wet, cold, ice, a lake, Model T's on skis racing out and back, sun, and some delicious venison stew kept the genuine nature going.

Riding the Bridges at Ft Rock

Rode over at Fort Rock last weekend. Conditions for January... fantastic. The real coup was hitting the trails with some new buds that know the place. Here's the Hero Wide version:
Bridges in the Snow About 2/3 of the way through, Shadrack drops a nice lip and at the end, I'm forced to do a brief trackstand at the mid point on the swamp crossing bridge - that'll bring things into focus real fast, no matter if the consequences are water or ice. I've always thought that bridge would make a sweet race feature but alas, the Ft Rock Revenge is no longer. A race at Willowdale has replaced it. No doubt it''ll rock.

Pete made this one from the same ride with a VHoldr.
Pete's Awesome VHoldr Ft Rock smoothie
I'm in blue since you're all wondering, well maybe not... I like his resolution more... and come to think of it, maybe I'm encoding the movie wrong...maybe I need a lesson...or maybe I should just Shut Up and Ride. Tomorrow: snomobile trails in the Mink Hills. Varoom...

Mike "The Man" Patrick

Found out pro Mike Patrick had a brain hemmorhage last week. He's out of critical condition and slated to enter a rehab in CT next week. Mike is having difficulty speaking and moving his right side.
Please direct the power of healing/love/prayer to Mike. He'd love to hear from us so please contact him at bikemike1165@hotmail.com or via snailmail at
Mike Patrick c/o Joan Cousins 60 Broad St. APT 2h Milford, CT 06460
Mike is a fighter so you know he is motivated. Let's give him a hand.

Plunging Through

Over the Christmas holiday I managed to shoot some ice biking videos and edited down a nice little clip. Hey here it is now.... - four guys cruising Stumpfield Marsh and the surrounding flood control area in Hopkinton. Ric, Mike and Mike's son Brent and I rode a couple of hours on the day before Christmas, nursing warmth from the last rays of bright sun under blue skies. The surface was textured by the snow which fell when the ice formed, making a nice rumbly buzz from the studded tires and drifty corners when taken a bit too abruptly. Cold flat ice makes for the most traction, with bumpy ice coming in a close second and soft bumpy ice coming in third- the studs break away when cornering and the bumps make for less of an overall surface area of the tire's contact patch. We had soft bumpy conditions and Mike made good use of his shorts with hip pads as did his son who used his tailbone instead. Clever. Natural. Youthful.

It was a spectacular day on the ice. Which makes for a nice little segue to Saturday's ice ride.

The day after Christmas, Mike, Brent and I ventured out onto a certain local lake- buzzing along- excited about making our way the length of the lake and then over to Turkey Pond and it's marsh. Mike sometimes rides head down and when he does, I know I'll be struggling to keep up. When Mike put his head down this time I could see he'd be in trouble. There was a light snow falling and so the ice should appear uniformly white, right? A line of dark spots on the lake revealed another type of ice, ice with water on it.

I yelled to Mike as I slowed while scanning left for safe passage. Mike zoomed on and - accompanied by a classic cracking sound - watched while his front wheel plunged through, followed by his bike and 'heck, might as well go for a refreshing swim' Mike. Brent, naturally alarmed, ran to the edge - ignoring my yells to stay away from the edge and then, realizing he was in full "go" mode, to lay down on the ice to spread his weight. He didn't heed either and a second later was grabbed by dad and pulled in. Double the fun!

So we went from a nice ride to a swim and then from having two bikes and two guys to link together and form a chain to reach our cold water swimming expert, we had two guys swimming, two bikes, a lot of water and... Brent popped out of the water, just like a cork. Not long afterward Mike was out and I had retrieved his bike by extending another, hooking the bars through a wheel to pull it in.

In my jersey pocket that day were a set of Polar Picks, used by ice fishermen and ice sailors to drag themselves out when and if they break through ice. Just having received them as a gift the day before, I could have slid them to either guy as a plan B. They appear to work great, and have retractable spikes that afford the swimmer traction to climb out over wet slippery ice. (Caution! - the things sink. Put them in a place that's easy to access too, but don't let go of them if you take them out in an emergency. The mfg says to put them through your jacket sleeves and have them dangling but I can't imagine anyone doing so while biking.)

We cruised back and I made up some coffee while Mike thawed out in a hot shower. Later I went out solo, sticking to roads and the known thick ice on Sewall's Pond.

I had to wonder what some unknowing hiker, who may have seen the hole in the ice, thought. Maybe something like "nice day for a swim" or "Call 911!" or maaaybe
"More chlorine in the gene pool please." Silly bikers.

Sparklies in the Night

The shift to riding at night is one that I anticipate with some uncertainty each year. Will someone with the same consistent zeal for riding come through this year, joining me for the adventure? Will the trails be naughty or nice? Will I ride and play in the dark with abandon, caution thrown to the wind until I hit that patch of ice before mounting studded tires - only to feel the bike disappear from underneath me- with that hard hip hit that aches for a week?

So far I have been out for 7 or 8 night rides and been joined for three of them. Some are sweet, but mostly the social rides involve many stops for light issues and head issues. The chaos is expected. The good time with my buds and accompanying sluggish nature signals the time to downplay the virtues of speed and constant rolling - the solo times offering the chance to ride end to end without a stop. Alone, I unbridle my fitness, become comfortable with the myopic 8 foot radius of vision - and the darkness that blankets me when I stop, go silent, and turn off my light to breath in the night, the woods, the calm.

Last night I did the drill- hustling home after leaving work a bit early, rushing to dress and get out the door, and the anxious ride to meet the guys in time. Nearly always, the more I rush, the more I wait when we come together. It is a force of nature, complicit in reminding me the world turns as fast as the world turns, no matter how much anyone speeds up or slows down. Rushing and waiting come together in neat packages, just like order and chaos.

We rode out to Mast Yard which is accessedvia no more than 1/2 mile of road and then onto railroad bed and a joiner trail system known as Lehntinen Park or "behind the kayak place", or the Snowduster's trail which holds the essential nature of the ride. It combines several seemingly independent systems built for different purposes- snowmobiles, trains, hiking, barge tow roads, mast tree harvetsing - that mell together when we ride... for biking.

At the lot where I met my buddies, a tree-tall shadow man called out "You guys ride up by Runnells Road?" "Yep, we do." A hand extended out of the dark and we met one of the land owners that open their gates to recreation- a godsend for all of us who use land with little regard for the owner's perspective, yet we openly receive the gift to us all. He simply asked us to keep an eye out for anyone going by his house under construction. Another figurative bridge built between biker and the community.

During the ride we passed through about 2 inches of crunchy snow with some sections having been shielded from the storm beneath hemlocks where bare ground quieted the otherwise noisy crunch of our tires. We passed through a couple of sections of woods - briefly- that were like the sugar coated images in past cards and of National Geographic where on top of the snow that had fallen, crystalline sparklies had formed during the past day or so of cold. In one of these sections, sparklieswere seemingly suspended in the air. Mike and I remarked upon it but the others had ridden right through them, self absorbed or altered in some other way to miss the kiss of unique beauty. Each sparkle was multi-colored producing a prismatic illusion. Science explains the mechanism, experience notices the mystery. Both areas were down low and next to meadows so cold air from radiational cooling must have caused the phenomenon that evoked wonder- or vice versa.

3 hours later I rolled back up to my door and noticed a slight shift- that time had passed, that something about the driveway, the house, and me had changed. Not sure what- but different and right and a bit more worn in a natural way.
Riding at night. Welcome back.