Really Cool

Video: Beyond the Peloton, Paris-Roubaix

Tour D' Wolf (Muddy)

Its Better than 1000 Island

Had a craving for pasta tonight.

First person to comment & tell me the dish will get a $25.00 gift card to Frank Grisanti's. I'll even stop by your table and say hello when you come in.

Interval Training

If you click the map, it gives you a full breakdown of the ride. I really like Strava, very informative.

Quickie Between Shifts

Finding My Mojo

I wouldn't make any sudden movements if I were you, he's viscous. Meet "Mojo", the newest member of our family and now the official mascot of the "Buckle Up & Ride" blog. He has been with us since Easter Sunday, damn that Easter bunny!

Let me give you some background. It's common when people get married to each bring something to the relationship, in today's world it's debt, but we each brought a dog. Kimberly had a Golden Retriever named Copper and I had a Yellow Lab named Max. This union worked well, they chewed the house up together, barked incessantly together and played let's dig under the fence and escape four times a week together. It was a match made in heaven. After two full re-sods of the lawn and the addition of two children, we realized it was to much. We both found great homes for each dog and called it quits. It was not easy, but it was the best not just for us, but for them as well. We vowed then never to have another dog.

Over the past four "dog free" years, we have moved into a new home, had a third child, and successfully created a beautiful backyard. It's been great. Kimberly and I spend evenings sitting on the porch watching the kids play in the thick green grass. I've been waiting for this moment for 10 years.

"Free Labradoodle" That's what the sign at our son's school said. I told myself to keep walking, but something drew me back. I reluctantly, but excitedly scribbled the phone number onto my hand. I knew there was no chance in hell Kimberly would go for it, you see, she's the level headed one, I'm the "what the hell" one. I left her a voice mail with all the details, and to my surprise she called back with intrigue, now I was worried. We did our research over the next week or so and decided to pull the trigger. It was for the kids, you know...

We had decided to surprise the kids with him on Easter Sunday. We had it all planned out, Kimberly and I had gone to Pet Smart and bought all the essentials. (It was at that moment I realized why I hadn't missed not having a dog.) It was like Christmas, we hid everything in the storage shed and giggled in anticipation over the kids reactions. Personally, I was hoping for a "Americas Funniest Home Videos" reaction where the kids scream uncontrollably and run around in circles. It turned out a little differently. Our 7 year old was interested for 2 minutes, then went back to blowing his duck call. Our 3 year old got angry when we told him he couldn't ride him like a horse and our 1 year old baby girl, well, she fell in love immediately. 1 our of 3 ain't bad...

It's been 6 days since Mojo arrived. In that time we have had torrential rain, house rattling thunder, lightning and a power outage, it's been crazy. But he's hung in there, only one accident in the house (1 to many for mom) and he loves being in his kennel. He sleeps all night and loves going on walks. The other two kids are really warming up to him also. Just don't tell my 3 year old that he will be getting bigger, it makes him cry.

I still don't know what drew us to take this chance, but I'm glad we did. Seeing the kids smile makes it all worth while.

Weekend Rides

This Saturday ride was crazy. It was really cold and windy. Rode in a group of 12-15 guys, we worked together and had a really good ride. Because of the weather, I was really pleased when this one was over.



This was my first trails ride. It has been almost 20 years since I have ridden on the trails, it was great. I had the pleasure of being lead around by "Douche" for this one. He got us lost twice and he almost fell backwards into a creek, damn I wish he would have. That picture would be classic. Great workout.

The Smell of Victory

I knew it was broken immediately. Mainly because I heard it snap. It was one of those weird times when you don't want to look, but I've usually only experienced those times when I cut myself in the kitchen. As I lay on my back in 7" of snow I was surprised that it didn't hurt, UNTIL 5 seconds later. The pain rushed from my leg straight through my entire body. I immediately rolled over because I was convinced I was going to vomit. The family rushed over and all I could say was "DON'T TOUCH ME". I think I laid in the snow for 10 minutes, at-least long enough that it looked and felt as though I had jumped into the lake with my clothes on. Being the stubborn man (dumb-ass) I am, I didn't want any assistance getting into the house. I hobbled in and got into my chair. The pain had come down and I had convinced myself that it was just a bad sprain. It began to swell, but not to big & it never really turned that awful black color that looks like you got frostbite from climbing Mt. Everest. I took some Advil, climbed the steps to my bed and fell asleep.

The next morning I woke up and realized I had a problem, off to the Dr. I went. An hour later my original thought was confirmed, broken. My GP handed me my X-Rays and I headed off to Ortho Memphis. (That part made me feel cool, kinda like Patrick Swayze in Roadhouse). Dr. Heck came in, looked at the X-Ray and gave me the good news. Broken fibula bone and more than likely I had torn all the tendons and ligament around my ankle. He told me it would be a week before we could decide if surgery was necessary. I selected my cast color, Livestrong Yellow. It wasn't called that, I just found it similar. 30 minutes later, I walked out with a Big Bird cast and crutches; first time in 36 years I had ever been in this position. A week went by and I went back, Big Bird removed and surgery was confirmed, Dr. Jameson would do the procedure 10 days later. So I selected cast color # 2 and headed home.



After ten days, I went in for surgery. 3 hours later I woke up in recovery feeling awesome. Another 45 minutes, and the nurse offered me a Otter Pop- I chose green- and told me to go home. I spent about the next 2 weeks high on pain killers and I watched every movie available on iTunes. It wasn't so bad. At this point, they had me in a huge splint. It was uncomfortable, really uncomfortable. I wore that splint for another week and went back for a check up. It was the first time I would get to see the results of my surgery. It was cool.



A 6 inch scar with 16 staples. I liked it. After a good viewing and then a wonderful alcohol swab scrub, it was time for another cast. I went black this time. But as an added bonus, they gave me a incredibly comfortable high fashion shoe to accompany my black cast.



I wore this high fashion accessory for another two weeks. It was completely embarassing, but at least I could walk. I marked each day on the calendar like a child waiting for X-Mas. On March 8th I woke up and ran down the steps and out the door. The day had finally arrived. No more cast. It was a moment that definitely ranked high on my list. They called me back and brought over the machine that still gives me nightmares.



Now you have to remember, this leg had not been bathed in two months. When the lady removed it she literally gagged, no lie. Then said, "Wow, that is ripe"! I thought, "Hell yeah it's ripe, but don't you see this everyday?" But I didn't care, freedom was so close I could smell it. Or maybe that was just my foot.

After another thorough alcohol scrub, I slid on my favorite sock and was ready to hit the open road.



Now I have to be honest, the only reason I posted a picture of the sock is because I hope someone from Swiftwick sees this blog and sends me a few free pairs. But I will say, they are the best socks ever. They are super comfortable and they never slide down your leg. I wear them in every situation, from exercise to wearing a suit. Oh, and if you're interested, they sell them at Victory Bicycle Studio. But enough of the corporate stuff.

That brings us to today, day 3 of freedom and training. Leg feels great. I rode on my trainer again tonight for 45 minutes. My resting heart-rate today was 75 when I began, I pushed it harder and had an average cadence of 98 and I burned 697 calories. I get tomorrow off, but I do have a big surprise waiting for me. My mountain bike arrived today, and I'm going to get fitted on it tomorrow at 2. I'll be posting pics very soon. We're going to the farm this weekend and I'll get to enjoy my first outdoor ride in almost five months. Hell yeah.

My Training Partners

Day # 2 of my training. My morning started great, I took my bazillion vitamins, ate my oatmeal and headed to work. Perfect start I was thinking to myself. My first post-cast ride the night before was fantastic, I woke up with no leg pain at all, I was ready to conquer day two. Then I walked into the kitchen and read the luncheon special board for the day, CHICKEN POT PIE. SHIT!!!! I love our chicken pot pie, love it. Why did this happen on day 2, why not day 97? So I told myself that I would be strong, I would have my fresh salad w/ oil & vinegar and fresh smoked turkey. Well that lasted all of about 45 minutes. I just couldn't pass it up- warm, creamy, with tender chicken and that flaky crust. I know your mouths are watering right now. So I caved. I let it bother me for about 2 minutes. I still have 156 days to lose 30 pounds and I'll make it up tomorrow, unless it's meatloaf day! Please lord, don't let it be meatloaf day.
I started cycling years ago to lose weight- I was 240 pounds at the time. I will never forget the first time I squeezed into my bike shorts and jersey. I almost quit right there in the dressing room of the cycling shop, but I turned opposite the mirror and sucked it up. My rides began short, mainly because I was out of breath! But as time progressed, they got longer, and by longer I mean like 10 miles. Then the harassment began. I have this friend, we will call him "Douche" to protect his identity. We started riding about the same time, but he became obsessed. He kept telling me that my silly little rides weren't going to make me any stronger, but I ignored it. When I did ride with him, I would hold his wheel for as long as I could, constantly yelling at him to slow down, but he wouldn't. This went on for months, but I began to realize that I was going faster, longer and getting stronger. He finally convinced me to begin the group rides. He rode the 'A' ride and I would hang back and wait for the 'B' ride to start. Not a Tuesday or Thursday went by that he didn't turn around as the A-group was pulling away, look back at me sitting still and call me a pussy. Out loud. One morning, I just couldn't stand it any more and I went for it. I pulled out with the big dogs. It was fast, I mean really fast, but I survived. I was never up front or took a pull; I just sat mid pack and peddled my ass off, but I made it. I was proud that morning, I felt like I was really a part of something special. I never went back to that B ride, but I will have to swallow my pride and join that group again next week.
So back to the post title. Right now, the training I'm doing is all indoors on my trainer. My only friend is that computer & my kids who are constantly trying to grab the brakes or stick their hands in the wheels. Clark has me set up this way for the first 5-6 days. He refers to it as Active Recovery Rides of 45 minutes. Notice he says "recovery". These past two night I have been sweating like a whore in church when the timer on my friend above reaches 45 minutes. Just a little note, if any of you that read this ever come to my house, I would avoid the brown rug in the office, a lot of sweat has been dropped on that baby!
Tonight's workout was really good, my heart rate pre-ride was around 90, got up to 168, I rode for 45 solid minutes at a cadence of 93-96, total mileage was 20 miles and I burned close to 650 calories. So now that I think about it, who gives a shit about that small bowl of Chicken Pot Pie, it probably made me work a little harder tonight.
I dedicate tonight's post to "Douche". Thanks for all the constant harassment over the years. You made me a better rider, both mentally and physically. See you on the road soon, Pussy.

My Inspiration

For a couple of years I had heard about this insane mountain bike race in Leadville, Co. Like most of us now do in today's age, I went to You Tube and watched some videos, thinking "these people are f-ing nuts". I actually knew a guy in my hometown that had participated & had heard how about how it was both amazing & horrifying. But I was still confused as to why someone would want to spend all that time & money to suffer for 9-12 hours climbing at elevations that made you feel as though you were breathing out of the cocktail straw they give you w/ favorite whiskey drink.

I'm an avid reader of Bicycling, Velo News, Fat Cyclist, blah blah blah & all of them had ads running about the documentary, Race Across the Sky. It was going to be playing for one night only at select theaters across the country. I went to our local Malco theatre website and saw that it was going to be playing here in Memphis. I decided to check it out, I tried to get a few friends to go, but they flaked, (some bs about kids & work & their wives)? So I went solo, which didn't feel really cool, sitting there with my Malco popcorn and coke combo, but whatever, I had to check it out.

An hour and a half later I walked out of the theatre in a daze, not do to the acting or the score of the film, but to the sheer passion and determination of these participants. I'm not talking about the elite athletes, but the weekend warriors, the riders who gather with friends and do rides that include conversation and a quick stop at the local coffee shop halfway. These people blew me away. They were from every background and every age, suffering like not many in this world could imagine, and they loved it. Some made it and some didn't. I watched in silence as grown men cried when they were told they would have to abort b/c they didn't make time cut offs and myself shed some tears as I learned the story of a lady that had been diagnosed with MS over twenty years ago that was riding. That was it, I was inspired and fired up. I wanted to suffer and cry with the masses. I raced home and got onto the Leadville website, read about the rules for signing up, paid my money and entered my name in the lottery drawing. You see, thousands sign up from all over the world and only 1500 are accepted.

Now for a little background, I'm a cyclist. I didn't just see the movie and think I could jump from the couch to 12,570 feet and 100 miles. I have been riding for a few years. It started as a hobby and became an addiction, mentally and financially. I rode group rides three days a week and even had my own personal bike trainer, Clark. (You will here alot about Clark in this blog). So I continued my training on the road bike and winter set in. Most of the time now was being spent on the trainer inside and in the gym, things were great. I had actually forgotten about the Leadville race, since the drawing wouldn't take place until February 28th, 2011.

On January 10th, we got a huge snow here in Memphis, my family and I were having a great day playing in the snow. What started as a fun snowball fight, ended in an oh shit moment. My left foot went into a hole and I heard a snap, I lay there, about to vomit as I realized that I probably broke my leg. My loving and compassionate wife told me it was probably just sprained and just prop it up, thanks Mom. The next morning I went for an X-ray & it was confirmed, broken fibular bone and most of the ligament and tendons around my ankle had torn. Are you fucking kidding me? 10 days later I had a three hour surgery that lead to a plate and 10 screws. I spent the next 6 weeks in a cast. On February 28th, I received a text from a friend asking if I had received the email confirmation from Leadville & I said I hadn't. But not 2 minutes after that call my iphone buzzed, I was in! I looked down at the leg, covered in a black cast and thought, REALLY? I spent that night thinking there was no was in hell it was possible. I called Clark the next day and gave him the news, thinking he would tell me it wasn't possible, but he didn't. He told me it would happen and we would work our ass of to make it happen. Those words inspired me as much as the participants I had watched months earlier.

That bring us to today. I had my cast cut off and was given a walking boot. I came home from work and my training began. I did 45 minutes on the trainer at an avg. of 95 cadence. It felt amazing. But not as amazing as that first shower I took after. You see, it's been two months since I was last able to take one. My training from Clark is set, my mind is motivated and I want that fucking belt buckle.

Thanks Clark.