Riding with Kit Boo

Rumors of Ernest Hemingway's demise are greatly exaggerated. Here he is researching his sequel to Old Man and the Sea called The Really Old Man and the Lake". It will be even shorter than his novella. The revised first line will go like this: "He was an old man who fished alone in a Lund rowboat in Mirror Lake and he had gone eighty-four days now without taking a fish."

After my brush with literary greatness Kitima and I went out for a ride after the rain stopped. Last things first: Kitima polishing off Papa Bear. The last 12 miles were into a fierce headwind.

Instead of the out and back on Braselton we opted to climb up Whiteface until turned away at the toll booth. She donned her Cheetos jersey.

Time for some nutrition...candy cane flavored Infinit.

Descending into Wilmington. Lots of Tri-Life folks out and about today. Apparently they can't ride to the right of the white line.

Still fresh and climbing out of town near Jack Rabbit Hill.

Later we ate at Nicholas and we are crashing out tonight. Tomorrow she is running and I'm going to get up early and climb all of Whiteface before the gate opens.

Ice Cream Alley

Yesterday Kitima and I fit in one loop of the bike course and headed back to our place. I took a three-hour nap. After two hours though I don't think it qualifies as a nap. It is sleeping.

We met up with Bill, Sharon, Jeremy, Glen and Rich at the Brew Pub and were lucky enough to beat the Tri-Life gang so we didn't have to wait at a table. We discussed with Rich, who had just done his first century ride, the finer points of chamois butter. I suggested the Euro version, or as I like to call it, the "party in your pants" version.

Jeremy did the ol' "drop the grape" scam on Kitima at dinner. It was awkwardly executed but for further details ask him...I'd like to keep this blog's rating at PG.

Thoroughly stuffed we hobbled into town on tired legs. Not too tired for ice cream though.


Glen was psyched enough that they had the rare flavor "coffee coffee buzzbuzzbuzz" that he called his wife, another fan of the flavor, and did sort of a "nananabooboo" to her.

Instead of sitting on the side area with benches we migrated towards an alley/driveway replete with crumbling pavement, industrial kitchen exhaust fans and window-mounted air conditioners. Every fixture seemed rusty and dripping with a rusty, oozing liquid. Bill and Rich stretched out on some steps and actually made concrete look comfortable. Jochen found us and we all discussed the finer points of euthanizing deer, where to buy on sale bike clothes in Placid (Placid Planet), Sharon's new bike, Hannah's need for aerobars and Jeremy's upcoming shopping spree at EMS.

We all ambled back to the cars except for Glen who jumped into the street and did some intervals. If you listened closely you could hear him saying "buzzbuzzbuzz".

Wallyworld is closed

If you are a Seinfeld fan you remember the episode where Elaine dances: horribly and replete with thumb thrusts and spasmodic kicks. Jerry finally calls her on it.
"But I love to dance," she said.
"That's not helping!" Jerry admonishes.

I love climbing on my bike. Not sure if I've got some subconscious tic going on with a stray left elbow or wayward tongue jab but if I do would someone let me know.

This morning I headed out of Lake Placid and descended the hills into Wilmington, hung a left and started climbing the Whiteface Mountain Highway. It was cool and cloudy: arm warmer weather.

About fifteen minutes in I hit Santa's Workshop. It was desolated. I think the elves had to take a few forced weeks off due to the economy.
"All I want for Christmas is the ability to climb."

I continued to climb until I arrived at the toll booth and I saw the sign prohibiting bicycles. The polite toll booth lady informed me I could only climb it before nine in the morning or after 5:15 at night. I had to turn around.

"You made it up the steepest part," she said with that infinite cheer of a Disney employee.

Off I descended and then made the ten or so miles back to Placid climbing the hills that are on the last ten miles of each IMLP bike loop.

The Au Sable river was loaded with people drowning flies.

I'm thinking that if you do the Whiteface Mountain bike race you might want compact cranks or at least a 27-tooth cog in the back. Bring your road bike or descending will be a bit dodgy.

Kitima got back from her ride and now we are off to scope out some lunch.

Placid Digs

We got into Placid last night around eight. The ride was uneventful except for some foul watermelon, a brief RV convoy and a few loud and fragrant "berry burps".
We are staying in town at an apartment on Mirror Lake that is owned by one of Kitima's friends. It is on Main St. and there isn't a need for a car...other than moving it from one parking lot to the next. I don't know how new this is but all parking on Main St. is now metered.

Kitima takes in the view on our second story deck. Is that a loon? No, just someone from Tri-Life.

We didn't bring our wetsuits but the water didn't seem insanely cold.

This is looking back towards the IM swim start.

If you wanted to get up you could've seen the sunrise.

We went to the Downtown Diner for breakfast. I had the chocolate chip pancakes and Kitima had eggs Benedict...probably no need for gels on the ride now.

Kitima is doing one loop of the course and I'm riding over to Whiteface for a climb. I'll snap a few photos from the top and post them later.

Juicy Lucy

Lucy (may she rest in peace) was an amiable prostitute that used to ply her carnal trade on Monroe Av. under the professional title rhyme of Juicy Lucy. She was by all accounts successful at her chosen career.

Gary Fisher is the man behind his eponymous bike company. His company having recently been purchased by bike giant Trek you could say he is also an occupational sensation.

I recently purchased a Gary Fisher Hi Fi Pro 29er full suspension mountain bike. It is a fun ride.

I'll let you, gentle reader, have some merriment listing common attributes that would make a prostitute and a mountain bike worthy of kudos (see sentence above to get you warmed to the task). As I age I find double-entendre humor a lazy literary device. Get a few beers in me at a party though and I believe it to be the height of oral hilarity (the last two words would send me reeling in a buffoonish pratfall into the french onion dip).

To assist any dim readers who haven't bunny-hopped to any conclusions the nom de bicyclette is Juicy Lucy.

Several pictures from it's maiden voyage are below.


Post-ride at Ontario County Park or as the cool kids say, "The OCP"; sounds like a show on the Fox network.

The overlook at OCP. That's route 33 below. I'll be doing a review of the bike soon.