Who am I?

OK. Lots of nasty email saying: What happened to the blog?

Hello? It is the end of August. My world goes from busy to freaking balls out busy because of the various schools opening up and the other operations throughout. Here is the longest word in the world.

Missourivalleylindenwoodwilliamwoodsstlouiscollegeofpharmacypelawarehighlandsstandrewswestalayherockwoodparkplacethefountainsfourseasonsstratfordkenwood.

Very exciting time, but very busy nonetheless. Excuse me for getting "on it" wit da biz, but I have people who need the Pfoodman right now. I will be back riding in a week or so, in time for the 150 and in shape for the cross season. Fact is, I can't ride when it is this hot anymore. It takes pretty supreme fitness to take the pain of heat and fatigue. I ain't got it right now.

I am thinking that the Wildwood freaks are jazzing up for their trip to Colorado and when they return they too will be burned out and need to take a break from riding bikes. I am sure Schuck and Thrasher can crush me now. I got on the scale the other day and instead of registering the usual 192-194, I was surprised to see well north of 196. Must be the cake.

So I was talking to one of the the cashiers at Java 101 this morning, one of two coffee shops that we operate at Lindenwood University. I was telling her how busy I am lately--that I can't seem to get caught up--work was truly very demanding for me right now. I wish I had more time to spread out my day. I mentioned the various Cafe's that we operate (I don't call them cafeterias. I go with cafe because I can't stand the thought of working at a Luby's). I was bragging about how many meals we crank out per day as a business--the other operations, we serve almost 70,000 meals a week in total now, and counting. I asked her if she thought that was neat. I think she nodded her head, yes. She was listening and making small talk, very understanding of where I was coming from. I have been chewing java (drinking a lot of coffee) for about three weeks straight now.

While talking with the cashier, I looked up and spotted a picture frame that needed to be adjusted and asked her politely to take the picture down and re-align the print in the frame. She looked at me kind of funny and asked me again what I had said, precisely. I said: "Crawl up on to the counter and take the picture down, take the back side of it out of the frame and adjust the matting so it is not off center". After all, I was thinking, I had chosen the prints and done the work myself originally. I wanted it to look nice.

She looked at me in all seriousness and said, "For that sir, I would have to ask my boss!"

I am truly the village idiot. My employees don't even know me.

Videos for Sunday

Lindenwood has a cycling team

"Students will have an opportunity to compete while being funded by the university"

Darren Marhanka, Lindenwood University.

"apart from the sports teams and the success of all of the programs there, from a business perspective, the turnaround story is one of the biggest of the century. I could write a book about my experiences there. I am changed forever by being a part of that campus community for that past 13 years. The place is down right magical for those who make it that way. I owe a lot to that place."

Ralph Pfremmer, Pfoodman.

In the late 1980's, under severe financial distress, one option for the board of directors was to sell the campus, yes the entire campus, to UMSL for a buck. They instead elected to hire Dennis Spellmann, a consultant and strategist for private academic institutions. He was a tough guy, hands down one of the most focused men I have ever met. It was his way or your exit. You listened and took your orders. You knew he was right. No need to for conflict. He sat behind a big wooden desk. In the early years he smoked cigars until his doc or his wife finally got him to quit. And Doc was what we called him too. Doc was as warm as it got.

He and his family began the long process of re-inventing the school based on the original heritage of the college, founded in 1827 by Mary Sibley. It was a girls school, a finishing school. Parents sent their daughters there to learn how to be ladies "a private school for girls that emphasizes training in cultural and social activities." My father in law said he got arrested for sneaking in to Cobbs hall in 1952, a night out prowl for the girls across the river from his dorm at Washington University. I think that is just terrible Ed, kids don't do that now.

As far as I am concerned, Spellmann and his team of loyal board, faculty and staff will go down in history as orchestrating one of the largest non-profit entrepreneurial endeavors in the region. Spellmann died last year and his influence remains there along side Mary Sibley the founder, others like Bob Hyland of KMOX, Ray Harman of Hasco International with the dedication and support of many people, mostly his loyal faculty and staff.

I started there as a cafeteria manger in late 1993 and was embraced by a group (faculty and staff) who were on board with Spellmann's ideology. The challenge was surely the balance of academic standards with that of the financial picture, which began to improve immediately under his guidance.

He was quick to remind everyone that this was not a state school, no funding related to operations were ever an option. He ran the place like a business, and implemented successful programs in an effort to reduce costs and enhance operations and academics. There was the student work study program, hands on programing training and work in the many departments at the school. There were many facility upgrades for growth, but only if he were to pay cash for the construction; there is "no-debt" at Lindenwood. My favorite program by far was the Pork for Tuition barter program. A deal we figured out that gave struggling farmers a way to pay for their kids tuition by bartering "on the hoof" pork for the value of processed pork normally purchased by my company, Pfoodman/Hospitality Services. Pork was processed in a USDA facility then shipped cooked and served in the cafeteria. The program gained national attention, covered on BBS, World News Tonight and national sindicated programs. PETA even claimed we were harboring pigs on the loading dock, ready for harvesting. I was quoted in the LA Times, the Chicago Sun Times and multiple publications throughout the US thanks to Doc and his genious public relations.

You can't help but like the place if it sneaks in to your life. Spellmann pretty much gave me a leg up and I am thankful in so many ways. Now under the direction of Dr. James Evans, a 30 year veteran of the school who succeeded Spellmann, the focus is on academic program standards and experience. He is the perfect fit for the next generation and I am happy to be a part of his team too. The campus just announced another 35 million dollar expansion on top of the 150 million that has already taken place since 1995. Over 3000 students live on campus now.

Take the time to check it out.

Dental Nazi Hygienists

I was sitting in the chair waiting for the rather plain brown haired dental assistant to begin her process. I was getting a crown installed on my back upper molar. I have never had a crown, never really had an issue with my teeth other than having two wisdom teeth removed a couple months ago. Seems the removal gave indication of a crack in the tooth and now I have an annuity with the dentist. I have to go back to get my permanent crown, with a check for 475 bucks.

This has been a year of pain and I am not happy about it. The wisdom teeth, the knee, the crown. The cross season will be a walk in the park.

By the way, I elected to receive Nitrous Oxide as part of the experience, not the right choice. Not only did I not feel the "fun" from breathing the gas, I did not have enough oxygen while breathing it and about five minutes in I found myself ripping the nose mask off and gasping for breath; a pounding ringing in my ears and chest. Freaked me out. It was like I was back in Colorado climbing a fire road, Little Buddy turning back and laughing at me, saying: "you slow bastard, you're not going to make it are you?".

I told the responding squad of nurses and hygienists that that was what it felt like, climbing a mountain and not getting my breath, Little Buddy, the summit.... and....they just turned their heads and looked at me strangely, assuming that I was all %$#@ up. Which I was not.

Truth was, the dental assistant was on the phone with Easter Seals, her son was handicapped and I was keeping her from picking him up in his wheelchair, it had begun to rain, and she was concerned and needed to find out what she should do. It was taking a little longer on me, her last patient of the day. I was thinking: "Out they should all come for causing a display like that". I would have let her go right then to pick up her child had I known, but I wasn't done smelling the grinding of hardened protein.

I will never forget a couple things. First, the smell the ground tooth. It is like taking a bic lighter to a clump of hair. It curls up real fast and smells like, burnt hair. There is a similarity, the smell of burnt hair and ground tooth. When I smell this I think of death, dried blood, pain. Why would anyone let another person do this to another. I can see why the Nazi's used this type of process, tooth drilling. I would rather be shot than be tortured like that.

The other thing is the realization that the tooth will never be the same. After the grinding process, that which was the only thing the dentist actually did, the hygienist did virtually everything, I ran my tongue around what was left. It was a ground down stump of what used to be my God given flesh and blood. It was done, most of it. With me from childhood, my tooth was reduced to that which a metal cap would cover, temporarily, until the porcelain permanent cap comes in a few weeks. Sad.

So after two unsuccessful tries at a mold for the permanent cap, the third one was good to go, and I had to pee from the 2 hour ordeal. We all hugged, the staff and I. Said "tootle-do" until the next time. "See you later", "mmbuh-bye".

How could any group of people be so happy after inflicting so much pain and/or discomfort. Beware the Dental Nazi's, those cute little hygienists shrouded by the colorful scrubs and white little tennis shoes. I watched my back on the way out the door. Even though I had what was considered a decent experience, overall.

Keystone

So we wake up and Ploch says, "Man, I am sore, 2 to 3 hours is all I can ride". Then we got to the trail and started a 2 hour climb, again. Now, I am 45 years old. That was the theme of the weekend. I am the 45 year old guy, they, the others, not so old. So it came as no surprise that I, after yet another 2500 foot climb, wheelied through the covered bridge atop the ski mountain at Keystone. Yes, we rode to the top, then shreded the locals on there 5 inch travel FS's on Hardtails.

We climbed around 11,000 feet in the four days there. There is a different life to be had at the mercy of hills like those. Life is good now and will be better when returning home refreshed and back at peak fitness. See the happy happy?

On the subject of 29er

On this trip especially it seemed we were given the occasional double take on our bikes. All of us are on 29ers and, with the exception of BLM, all hard tail (he has the dos niner softy).

Last months trip to Telluride had me returning to MO with the feeling that I am missing the full suspension plush downhill goodness afforded by a 4 inch travel and a little more girth in the framework. I rented an 07 Specialized Stumpjumper FSR Expert while there and catted up in size to an extra large. I was wanting to see how the longer top tube worked with my stature, how much faster and with how much more comfort I could descend with. It did the trick.

This week provided me with the understanding that the 29er hardtail is of a regional choice and one of a training specific discipline. The trails in MO, rollers, ups and downs, roots and rocks, lots of distance to cover, lots of pedaling suit my semi custom Gunnar and frankly, my riding style in general, so I am staying with my opinion that 29ers are good for large framed riders, with skill. The larger wheels help me maintain speed in the flats and gradual climbs, and, while the smaller downhills don't require much more than the comfort of the steel frame, things level out for this type of bike.

In Colorado, they work nicely along double track jeep roads, cross country treks and, from what I have observed, competitions like the Firecracker 50 and Leadville 100. But for the extended descents, rocky and technical high speed goodness, I would go with a 26 FS any day. It is not that I would not do any more riding in Colorado on a 29er. They were workhourses, getting us in and out of the Breckenridge Colorado Trail system where the plan was to do a lot of accending, getting as high as we could go. I would simply bring another beefy friend to assure the comfort of my fatass.

12447

Photo stolen from Chris Ploch

Over 3000 feet of climbing yesterday. Not including the urban assault on the village of Keystone. We met a bunch of nutty downhill dudes who offered to let us use their bikes on a couple of runs from the gondola today. They were intrigued by our taste for slow accent on the 29er hardtails. In fact, one dude asked if that was indeed a Gunnar 29er, then he said he would likely crack it in two if he were to ride it on the double black D coming down from the top of the mountain. These dudes were pretty funny, LB and I will likely take the challenge.

Bike Racing

It is over a hundred degrees in MO, while our crew in Colorado remains tightly bundled in fleece each night, hiding from the chill of mountain crisp. I am the only one who is not DRJ, so I have been sabotaging a few things when I can. Like the other day, when Little Buddy was snoring. I stuffed a soy nut kernel up his nose to shut him up. Then, half way up the climb the next day, we hear all this coughing and spitting, yup, soy nut. I put a nice gap on him.

The Pfoodman picks for the remaining race season:

Coming soon is the Cyclwerx Cape Girardeu MTB race. It is always hot there. Last time I did it was a cramp fest. I made the finish but, Mother Mary, it was painful. We are planning on attending this race, heat or not, because Brad Brown is a bad ass, and he and his posse are always coming to the Lew for our races.

For me the cross season won't get here soon enough. Mike Weiss of Bigshark Bicycles is likely very busy, not thinking too far ahead of this season, because he is one of the main players of the Tour of Missouri, coming soon to our state. I am sure he will see to the series, as he always does. I am hoping my knee is good enough to prance through the barriers by then. So far so good. The plan is to get a whole new slew of riders to come out and try Cross Racing.

Labor Day means the Gateway Cup for all the crit racers in the St. Louis region. The Pfoodman doesn't train for crits, but I have always had a good time going and cheering teammates, friends and acquaintances on. Pick a race and go and make it a day of racing, a great spectator sport.

There is again the Little Sac River 12 hour in Springfield MO. I have done this race a couple times and it is always a good time for those wanting to jump in to the endurance (team or solo) gig. It is always fun to emerge on a new field of riders, other than the usual suspects, to see how you rank. I would put it on your calander, if I were you. September 1st. Pfoodman/Wapiti will likely have a team there.

Alas, Burnin in the Bluff. Russ and Adrienne Murphy of Mesa Cycles are getting ready to present this years version. The trash talking has begun, and there are weeks to go. Get a team and get your silly butts there. A good time had by all. Pfoodman/Wapiti will be there.

Pfat guys with game

Photo not un-retouched...

Colorado Trail was the pick. A decent 19 mile loop with a gain of 2500 to 11500 feet of gasping. We all did fairly well on the accent. The decent was fast and filled with switchbacks. This was a good day, after a two hour climb, we were rewarded with sweetness. Above is how you shred a root for the pixel.

Ploch was the usual 1.5 ahead on any descent, but it was reasonable because he was the youngest and blah, blah, blah. He snapped the below picture as he was attacking on the first mile, popping wheelies, talking on his cell etc.

Below: Waiting for Little Buddy...

Breckenridge 07

Yeah, a selection of homies got on a plane to shred some singletrack in CO. For the record, I am the oldest. This post will serve as an appetiser to other pics. Chris Ploch, Brenden Macnamee (BLM), Mark Bauer (LB) and myself were able to get a pretty good burn on at Peaks Trail after pretty much staying up all night and getting our act together on day 1. LB forgot his friggin shoes and that started the days hazing. We sent a finger pose to thrasher on the top of Loveland Pass, on the way to Keystone were we were staying. After an epic ride today on the Colorado Trail, we will decend upon the Leadville 100 to make fun of the painmongers. We will likely through water balloons at Ken Keister, now resident of Colorado, along with other GORC dudes, who made the lottery

Loveland bypasses the tunnel on highway 6 on the way to Keystone. I won't post the finger pose, instead please enjoy the gun show.

Cyclocross

The antics of cross racing, eager to crowd please. Who wears white sox with plaid?

Over on the St. Louis biking Dawt Cowm a reader posted a comment about the cyclocross season that is soon to be upon us. Dr. Mark, a veteran and baddass of the local cross scene apparently busted his collarbone and now can only think of next season that which will become available to him upon recovery. Sorry Mark, to hear about the clav. It will heal and you will be bunny jumping the friggin barriers in no time. Those that "get" cross can't wait until the crisp air is ready for Sunday rides with Bubba.

Yes, it is August and the smell of Autumn lung will soon be in the air. The smell of lung you gaff? Because lung is what you'll smell when doing the multiple laps in a cyclocross race. It is your own lung that you smell, because you have coughed it up on to your shirt, while participating in the race. Fun stuff when all said and done. Like cowbell? Likely the place for you.

I think this years cross season will be a good one. I know I look forward to inviting the newbies out for a whirl, see the looks on their faces while skipping over the barriers on lap 10. So an overview is in order...

What is Cyclocross?

Winter Fun: Cyclo-Cross (often abbreviated to 'Cross) is generally an autumn and winter sport. Massed starts make for exciting races, usually no more than an hour in length – and shorter for juniors, women and veterans. Some organisers are now starting to run summer series, which are proving very popular.
Lapping it up! - Cyclo-Cross races are usually multi lap events, held on short (typically less than a mile and often less than half a mile), grassy courses, generally in public parks or on school playing fields. Less technically demanding than Mountain Biking, Cyclo-Cross often requires riders to dismount to clear artificial obstacles – often wooden boards. The ability to swap smoothly and quickly from riding to running and back to riding in one fluid motion is a key skill for advanced riders.
Private Battles: The short lap lengths mean that better riders often lap some of the slower competitors, but that’s not the end of the race – you can still submerge yourself in the action, enjoy your own private battles and forget whether you are first or a hundred and first – that’s the beauty of the sport: it’s what you make of it that counts.
Bike Facts: Cyclo-Cross machines look very similar to road bikes, with dropped handlebars and thin tyres - however the latter have a knobbled-tread for grip, powerful brakes, low gears and better frame clearances to prevent clogging with mud, all of which adds up to make them easy to handle on the rough.

Fly Nightmares

I awoke the other night, around 3:00 am after a significant nightmare. It was quite entertaining, granted, I was a little horrified at how my skull could come up with such stuff.

I was standing on the side of a stream, water trickling past, dancing whitewater, little mini-rapids, making the sound of one of those "Fang Shoo way" water fountains some of y'all have in your homes, flowing over rounded granite, water cascading over rock, in a shut-in somewhere, I stood meditating my way through the peaceful moment.

When out of nowhere Kevin Miquelon, Vice President of the Ozark Fly Fishing Association and President of Pfoodman, enters the picture. He just kind of like "popped in", didn't walk up or cross the stream to come near me or nothin. Suddenly, he was just there, staring through me, as if to see something behind me, but through me. He showed no emotion as he stood with a $1500.00 Fly Rod in his hand, holding it high, as if to say, "you pissed me off and I am going to whip your ass with my fly rod you jerk". It was like, if he were to bring his arm down, the rod would strike me square in the face. And he had one of those Karate outfits on, with a black belt and frankly, (he looks a little Asian if he squints up just right). He still had on his Merrill's, hell, he never takes them off.

So what happened? Kevin began beating me about the face and head with the fly rod. I began to bleed from all the injuries, swelled up around the face and eyes. I couldn't see very well as he repeatedly struck be about the face and head. I stood frozen, without the ability to flee, the sky was dark, clouds rolled in, the water was black as oil, the eyes of a madman squared off with what was left of my sight. I saw the face of a wolf and he beat me down.

But Just as quickly as the madman had appeared, he was gone. The stream turned quiet, the playful chatter of water over rock found its way back and things were serene again, Wapiti. I touched my face and head, nothing. Not a scratch.

While laying in bed, sweaty, alert after the nightmare, frightened and cowering beneath the covers, it occurred to me why the dream had come--why the "pop in"--why the sudden ass whopping by Kevin, my favorite and "more bald than I am" guy.

Was it because I had announced in front of the group at a our meeting earlier in the day, our Pfoodman/Wapiti Cycling Club meeting, that Kevin had indeed made a commitment to ride 40 miles of the MS 150 bike tour? Forty miles that a kindergartner could do?

He had snucked in to my dream and commenced to beating me. He infiltrated my subconscious in order to get back at me for making him keep his word that he would:

A) Raise money for MS.

B) Actually get on a bike and ride it the novice minimum of 40 miles, the day of the tour.

I can think of no other reason to take such a beating. Other than the fact that I might have mentioned that nobody is really stupid enough to buy a $1500.00 freaking fly rod.