David Byrne (phsyco killer)

Sales managment classic (warning explitives)

Why? Why?

Finally got Teiber to join us today. Seems he has his kick back and was once again making me chase him up Lone wolf and cursing the sound of youthful kenda on gravel. Uh, hello Mickey, I am Mr. Tubeless. I am your friend.

I suppose I was late, missing Krewit's secret training regimen. I took a jersey and bibs out of the back of my car and labeled it Geezer, just in case the DRJ sends him down to triple A. Paul, your kit is hanging, pressed and clean, when you are ready.

It was thirty minutes before I noticed Shuck was on a single speed. Dammit all, I thought I had him pinned a few times. It is not enough to get him on Roller Coaster and any downhill. His pull away time is a fear factor on climbs greater than 10% grade. He needs a Nancy Kerrigan thing.



What about Matson? I hate that course though appreciate the race, blah, blah, blah. It is on the bottom five Pfoodman's best places to ride list except when doing a tri-fecta and usually I am pissed off at climbing up the hill last. Circles of ups and downs. Since I am still forcing the endurance thing on the fat body, I seem to think it might be a struggle on the bike for 3 + hours. So I am going to Rhett's run and do the Midwest Fat Tire race to seek out the likes of Junior Shoemaker, Dan Clinkenbeard and a couple other homies from the past. I like Rhett's run and I am not in contention with the NORBA series. Shuck sits in 2nd place behind Da-wayne in endurance and Thrasher sits in fourth or fifth in SS. Looking forward to catching up with them in the next few weeks if things keep moving along. I am trying to peak for the Landahl Race in KC. The body is responding to the buildup quit nicely. It will be nice to challenge some fresh blood in Columbia. Hoping to go flat free.

Charitable Struggle

This is a risky topic, because Pfoodman is a charitable place. And we have all sorts of initiatives whereby we help raise money for groups in need. Name it, the Arthritis foundation, the MS Society, Trailnet, Covenant House, Youth in Need, Emais Homes, I have been doing this for quite a while and to me, giving is a part of our social responsibility. In other words, I think each business should give something, to someone other than themselves and/or their employees, just to keep the ball rolling. I figured out long ago that giving can become part of a marketing program and strategic. Strategic Philanthropy, no kidding, read about it here.

In my charitable gigs, I give away catering "in kind" so I can help those organizing events raise a more net proceeds. Sometimes the wife and I will make a cash donation. I am criticized by my fellow "caterers" this way, because, I am told, that I erode a bit of the market by doing this. But let me say this: We are not a off-site catering business, so there. We are a restaurant company doing business under contract. Who wants to try and get ahead by loading trucks and renting tents? I could write an entire book on why you don't want to get in to the catering business, or the restaurant business for that matter. Loading trucks and managing employees are on the top list.

There are methods used by all charities to attract and retain givers. Some are a hell-of-a-lot better than others at asking for money. Yesterday was a good one. A text message was sent yesterday from a telephone solicitor from United Way asking if I wanted to donate any money? Just like that? Times are bad, things are really, really bad. I got a letter from several others this week, more horrible times, the worst, send, send, send. People dying, kids, dogs, cats, seniors, the world is ending. Send.

Inflation is a bitch. And there are reasons for charities to meet goals and offset pullback when it comes to not receiving the equivalent to last years income or projected income. There are organizations furiously grinding out efforts to achieve that which was projected last year that will fall short this year. They have spent money on programs, hired additional workers and increased infrastructure, based on projections. Yes, the bottom is dropping out of the non- profit market. Got your check book out yet?

Dear Charity, you must get creative. Please come up with the best way for me to promote my business through your charity events. Seek to partner with me if you are asking for money. Turn me on to your client list, have me to lunch with your board members, do what is necessary. What have you done for those who you intend to benefit? To text a message is about as lame as giving just-a-quarter at the salvation army bucket at Schnucks. Programing is key and givers expect something in return. There is no free catering.

Is it leverage, exploitation? Nope, it is business in 2008.

New Steed

An 83 trek 300 from 83 pimped by my boy Fatboy at Ballwin Cycles today. Well, he put some break levers on because I was too lazy. Yes, that is a thomson stem custom eno on the rear and front. Campy breaks, flippable SS to Fixie, Hawkins Bianchi fork. Delicious.

Redneck Poisson

Scotty, beam me up.

I woke up this morning to talk radio, like I usually do. Farmer Dave of the Big 550 starts it out, then Vic Porcelli, the whining and death and destruction of rising gas prices, the economy, the state of things falling to %$#*. By the time I get out of bed my stomach hurts. It is no wonder things are the way they are. All you have to do is listen to the news. The news alerts us to how bad it is, just in case we don't know and we can then walk around all day thinking the end is coming soon. If we didn't know things were bad, would it be that way? Too much negative stuff has entered my world lately. I won't be manipulated. Too much bullshit.

It must be because I went to bed after watching three back to back episodes of A&E 48 hour reality crime shows. You know, the ones where they profile a group of detectives solving a murder. It starts with a gory murder scene. They go out and find the perps, usually a gang banger, interview them, catch them in lies and then put the hammer down in interrogation, leaving the perp weeping. The big tough gang banger ends up sitting alone in a cold room, t-shirt in his hands wiping his eyes, because he saw his mama cry outside in the waiting room. Off to prison, a tragedy unfolds, another life wasted. I like these shows because of their no bullshit quotient. There should be more of them and they should play on big screen tv's throughout the country in the cities and places where kids and bad guys can get exposed.

I heard the other day that a guy that I tried to help about 20 years ago, ended up back in prison. His name is Scott. I grew up with Scott in Columbia Mo, back in the 70's. Scotty had a gift, he was very well liked and knew how to charm people with his quick wit and charitable personality. If you were a smoker, and most of us were unfortunately, he would be the one lighting your cigarette. He was kind of like a little brother to everyone. Most people liked him.

His brother was a friend of mine, so when Scotty and his parents showed up one day at my place of employment, I gave them the time of day. This was 1987. Scotty had been in prison for credit card fraud and was recently released. The look on his mom and dads face indicated that he was in need of a leg up and asked me if I could find it in my heart to give him a job.

Hey, the restaurant business takes all kinds. I gladly took Scotty in and gave him a job as a cook at the popular restaurant, Houlihans, downtown at Union Station. Back then we didn't have to do background checks. I vouched for him, he was like family. Back in Columbia that was the way things were. We were homeboys, and we generally watched out for one another. Scotty needed a leg up and that is what he got. He was immediatly embraced by the chef and the rest of the staff. He was required to stay at a Halfway house at the Salvation Army for the first couple months, attend parole visits and all that stuff. I made sure that he kept his plate clean of much else other than work and clean living.

He quickly rose to the top of the kitchen hierarchy in this high volume restaurant. And upon his sixth month review, was given more responsibility and a raise. He was even considered for the culinary program, where he could train and become a salaried manager someday. He was coming up on the end of his probationary period and could move in to his own housing. So since I had a room available in my house, and he seemed to behave himself pretty well, I let him have it. Hell, I also had an old truck that I didn't use, I let him use it for a while until he could get a car of his own.

Things were going great, I had a good employee, a housemate that cleaned like a woman, he was getting his act together. I was feeling pretty good about this.

That was until one day when JW, my other roommate, came to me and said that he had gotten a bill for 700 bucks on his Government issued Diners Club Card. I said that he should quit dining out so much. He said that he never got the card in the mail. Then it occurred to me. One night when I came home from work, Scotty was in the kitchen with another employee of mine, whom I didn't care for. I jumped his ass for bringing the low life in to my house, told him that the dude was bad news, will wind up in jail himself. I asked Scotty if he knew who he was messing with.

There were other times. After Scottie got a car. I came home to find a young kid sitting and watching TV in the front room. There was nobody around, and I couldn't figure out what was going on. Until I heard the movement upstairs. When Scotty and the mother of the kid emerged from his room, I understood exactly what was going on. She was somebody Scotty had picked up and brought home, didn't even know her or the kid. She was a prostitute.

Needless to say I was livid and launched again into lecture, that which would surely convince him that the path he was headed was bad and that he needs to kept things straight. I told him to get the hell out. It wasn't but a few days later that JW figured out that Scotty had stolen the credit card and used it in Sauget, time and time again, for his own benefit. I fired ole Scotty and had to call his parents for the money so JW wouldn't call the cops and land the dude back in prison. They paid up and home came Scotty, back to Columbia, back to where he was before prison. It wasn't six months later that he got a ten year sentence for doing the same thing. He has been out for less than a year.

This time I heard it was him leaving the scene of an accident, drug use and probation. All I could think was that he wanted to go back to prison, hell, he must "be somebody" there. That is all I can figure. I think his mom will cry when she finds out, again.

Diesel is over 4 bucks a gallon. I sure am glad that is the worst thing I have to deal with.

Dude, your Ruckus is pimp

Leave it to the Japanese to blingity bling bling...

Stupid Pic from yesteryear

This picture really doesn't call for a caption, other than Thrasher sings like George Michael when sipping Newcastle. No, really.

Crested Butte, on the hill, 07

Stupid Pic from yesteryear

I am sucking on some coffee when up roles Pirtle in a vint 911 with a mountain bike stuffed in the back, just in time for the cliff cave start in 2002. I suppose somebody thought that it was odd enough to take the picture, but what was funny was watching him shimmy into the tight space right at the front by registration. A crowd soon gathered and said to Merle, " Hey, is that Dewey Farnsworth from The Bogey Club"?

Shuck

Friggin Eric has been kickin my A!

The dude is in second place in endurance. Not bad for a 50+ I say promote him. He is now in charge of Logistics.

Trash-Master-Thrasher

The Velo Force Short Track Dirt Crit Series will take place in June and July this year. Master of Ceremonies is our boy Craig Thrasher, who, by the way, has had a decent season thus far. We actually had a hard time dropping him on Sundays Tri-fecta, on the flats coming back. I must say, I got a heck of a work out. Losing my glasses, twice, I am told.

Funerals inspire deep thought

I was sitting on a plane going to a funeral for my uncle in Scottsdale AZ, Wednesday. I love taking Southwest Airlines because they have the most kickass magazine, Spirit. I have gotten more inspiration from that magazine in the past 10 years than the bible--just the right combination of lifestyle relevancy to capture my attention on a 3 hour flight.

This time I was inspired by an article: Being an Angel, paying things forward, (Spirit May 2008, p.76) [Screw MLA standards on referencing, I never get it right.]

Anyway, in the article there was a quote from Gandhi: “You must be the change you want to see in the world”. Good stuff, pretty well sums up the concept of monkey see/monkey do, live by example, be authentic, be a role model, inspire by doing. I couldn't agree more and figure I am wired this way (in a way), for whatever reason and feel compelled to do something to change the world someday, for the better.

To be honest, I have a big dose of this in my system. There is a huge part of me that would just as soon say: “Screw it. I am checking out from this perpetual struggle-of-a-place and making a change”. No more work, no more aspiration for material things, no more conforming to the way that our society doles out expectation, done. Of course, this idea combined with the fact that I have a kid getting ready to enter college, a mortgage, a business, employees and their families and lots of balls in the air, makes for an interesting dichotomy.

Yep, a large part of me says, “hey dude, be done with this. It’s time to move to the dessert and non-compete. Cash in and experience the grey area, that which isn’t fueled by money, or unreasonable fabricated resources and glutinous tendencies”. But then the voice fades; the appetizer comes from the kitchen at Annie Guns, as it always does.

I just figure that I have played my part well enough in society, done the job, performed for the system that incubates, cultivates and regulates others like me for future use, soldiers feeding the system for economic sustainability, for the status quo of our social economic position. I haven’t really “lived” any dream to change the world. I have just played the part, based on the rules given me. So it appears that it is not all that authentic having your cake and eating it too, what not going “all in” means.

So I am asking, who is truly “all in”, like Gandhi, especially when it comes to the struggles in front of us daily? There are those who are perceived to be genuine in their quest to change the world: politicians, educators, law enforcement, churches, capitalists. Societies measuring device, some sort of success quotient, keeps these people on the brink of disaster. We have such a need to perform, to succeed. We end up having to work both sides of the fence. As human beings, a negative environment necessitates performance. We are wired for performance and tell our stories of perseverance for the purpose of recruitment to excellence, more status quo for the jungle. You still with me?

It is in our wiring, the achievement thing. At least for me it is--a force, a yearning for accomplishment-- it's the game, a little out of whack at times.

I read the book the Four Agreements about five times to try and understand and then cure some of this. Not because I don’t enjoy what I have or want to change my comfy surroundings. But because there are times that the quest for success has become too much to deal with, the pressure and the connecting-the-dot craftsmanship that I purvey each day. It is a cycle: each day connects to the prior days dots and tomorrow I must connect those that I prospect ongoing, for more achievement, a vertical collection of achievements. The big secret? As long as the dots are in the pipeline it is not necessarily all that hard to keep things moving along.

I would not mind being studied like Gandhi was. Not that I think that there is anything remarkable about me or my situation. I am just thinking that all the commotion would be a catalyst for me to change...something—that I might enjoy all the attention enough to aspire to "Be"—I would need this as a catalyst, I suppose. I would then be forced to ask myself: what change would I like to see in the world? And how much of the change is really just about me? Something tells me that “being" the change that I want to see in the world requires a lot of sacrifice, and there lies what is wrong with the system.

Gandhi's Talisman:

"I will give you a talisman. Whenever you are in doubt, or when the self becomes too much with you, apply the following test. Recall the face of the poorest and the weakest man [woman] whom you may have seen, and ask yourself, if the step you contemplate is going to be of any use to him [her]. Will he [she] gain anything by it? Will it restore him [her] to a control over his [her] own life and destiny? In other words, will it lead to swaraj [freedom] for the hungry and spiritually starving millions?Then you will find your doubts and your self melt away."

- One of the last notes left behind by Gandhi in 1948, expressing his deepest social thought.

Scales are for weighing stuff

My wife was laughing at me when I returned from my ride yesterday. She and my kid said they saw me coming up Baxter and laughed at sight of my sleeveless jersey. She should be damn glad I am out there compared to the rest of the 45+ year olds roaming the isles of Dierbergs clutching mayonnaise based dip.

I had on an old Velo Force Jersey; my first jersey from joining the team back in 2004 after I left Dogfish for a 100,000 signing bonus, but let's keep that under wrap. I still have a bunch of old jerseys of teams etc. There is something to keeping them around, showeing up at rides, talking about how it was back when that jersey was...around. The old Velo Force jersey looks like fish scales and is purple, yellow and red. I am sure Mike Rosen (formerly of Velo Force and now of Big Shark) didn't choose these colors. His style is much too impeccable, driving a 911 with a 3000 bike to the trail head on winter Sundays. Can't one up him on that for christsake. It wasn't long after the scales went away that the red bibs went too. Women didn't like the red bibs. Or maybe they liked them but didn't want their children to see the men wearing them.

Actually, I always liked the fish scale jersey and wish now that I hadn't cut the sleeves off to show off the guns.

I suppose it was in an effort to proclaim myself more of a MTB enthusiast, a little more grassroots, a little less Roadie Euber Farnsworth. Not that there is anything wrong with it, a declared "road concentration" of scientific and financial magnitude. It is just not me. I figure I can keep up with most of these types for a while. Because, after doing this for a while, there is a level of fitness that you can attain that pretty much keeps you from getting shot out the back. You can suck wheel until there is a gap, and as long as you don't let a gap happen and your fitness is there to keep it from happening, you are good to go, until you say that your route takes you away from the group, like yesterday.

Had a nice kick with Team Seagal Member, Matt Hoffmeister yesterday. He was on his fixed gear, pre-1980-Frankenstein of a bike. Me on a a 613. I could not believe how well he road that thing. He had a backpack on too. I was grasping for air on the first couple climbs thinking I am old and fat, again. Then it occurred to me that, not only has Matt been doing this for a while, but he has been commuting, holding non-races, showing up time after time on rides and races. He is a fit dude. And, most obvious, he is powered by the magic of PBR.

It also occurred to me that I don't have a century in my legs and my road miles have fallen short this year. A century is in order for this weekend, no excuses. We need an 80 miler every week. The Castlewood training has effected my ability. No more Castlewood for a while. I plan on spanking Eric this weekend. I hope he is ready.

1998 5281 E39

Yep, I still have this sleek and classic lady. My wife likes staring down all the folks in Town and Country--the Lincoln Town Cars with plates not quite as low as this one. I have had this plate since Walkin Joe Teasdale lived in the gov manse. Back in the day.

I was thinking I would store it. My wife wants a new car and I don't want her driving this one. Jimmy Valentine, you can't part with your old glove BMW's either....

I bought this car from Johnny Merle of Team Dogfish. Larry Merle, Johnnies uncle, has a couple car lots up in Flo. One of them has a decent stable of luxury model cream puffs like this one. It is just getting seasoned at 150,000. Not worth selling or trading. I think I will store it somewhere.

Un-heavy Metal Race Crap

There was supposed to be one bottle for each lap. Apparently I overused.

The race was an absolute bust. Feeling pretty good after lap #1 climb up Lone Wolf, I got gapped from Eric and Brenden on Love behind a bunch of SS and sport guys. Nobody would get out of the way until I basically had to cuss my way by. I knew that Roller Coaster would be my change with the decent at Grotpeter coming soon. I saw Brenden on the fire road on the way down and taunted him a bit. He looked to be hammering pretty good and I had just passed the dude in yellow. I had put too much in to it, as usual and had to back off. The field was not a good place to recover, especially on lap one, no firm ground. I hit the hill again and saw Brenden shoot up pretty quick. I had to back way off to keep from really blowing it. At the top I had to muster up a bunch of go and blew it big time. The decent was filled with a bunch of recovery. I was able to do some damage and passed a bunch of sport riders going in to the grotpeter decent. Then I saw Rich Pierce and a couple others working together in the sport race. I figured I would try and get through them before the water shed and romped it just off the rollercoaster, going wide and....flatting. The first

I had trouble getting he tire to set and must have bitten the tube, I made it another hundred yards before it flatted again. I had some glue and tried my best to keep it from losing any more air, so I could get to the bottom. Rich must have thought I was crazy because I stopped and dismounted right in front of him after passing.

Trying to make up more time, I had to push as hard as I could. Brenden and Jeremy were way up there, Eric was a shoo in for second behind Da-wayne. I lost at least 15-20 minutes. Same spot, front tire this time, no tube. I had to run from the top of Grotpeter to the finish and get a new tube and fix it again, 45 pounds of air goodness this time. I was spent and almost dropped out but thought that it might not be good for the fitness. So I busted out another couple laps, 5 in all, should have had 6 but I lost a good 30 minutes to down time. I am looking forward to getting out there again as fitness is returning. Hats off to Brenden, Eric, Jeremy the others. It was a strong field for the most part.
I like the color bouncing off in the morning.

National City Challenge

The DRJ sure did a nice job on Saturdays race. A good time was had by all. I think our team performed extremely well.

Christine and Becky 3rd and 5th respectively, Eric, Craig and Mr. Flat boy myself, 2nd, 6th and 7th, all decent results on ain incredible challenging course. The climb up Lone Wolf is a monster. We also had two First Timer Riders, Peter Miquelon and Cody Van Iwaarden who took 3rd and 4th in their first race ever for team Wapiti. Peter podiumed with two guys who were in their 30's. Some talent there, for sure.

Some housekeeping

I love the fact that when engaging others on the Internet it is possible to hide behind your commentary, anonymously, if need be. I choose not to do this for reasons of my own. Keeps things under control, a must for me. And I confess, I have gone on a rampage under disguise before, fueled a fire or two with some flame bait on a message board here and there. It gets kind of boring after a while being a lurker. Again, the magic of the Internet, you eventually find that which is real, after filtering through the garbage. I say dump the inner garbage that keeps you from identifying yourself in all matters that interest you.

An anonymous comment came in that disturbs me a bit from my last post about the Dem's and Pubs. Maybe the writer did not have the time or patience to provide their identity, who really cares? The condescending nature of the opinion is what matters to me. I find it a tragedy that I failed to measure up to or provide the verbal imagery necessary for the reader to approve of the use of the subject of war, as it relates to my report of lighthearted political condition, the way I am comfortable purveying it for now. What, am I supposed to pay homage to the war by a standard? Was I being disrespectful? I did mention the war, and I did say it was a pain in the ass. Is it not? A line item critique of ones work is a bit shallow, based on the little I know and understand about writing and currrent events, for that matter.

Go write your own blog, rant and rave about the atrocities and magnitude of the condition that we are in. Keep tabs on the countless bodies, bloodshed, IUD's, amputees. Create an entire blood log, one that captures the most God awful images you can find. Post it, send it, virtually get it all over the world. Shout from your window your distaste of our government and how they have ruined your life by subjecting us to such Barbary. Stand on the corner bullcalling your way through the lunch rush, your duty as a disrespected reader. Cut yourself off from the rest of the world, raise your family in the underbrush, eat from the creeks and fields a menu of non-conformity. I say that pretty well captures your entitlement and right to free expression, or did I miss something?

By all means, write about it. Find yourself an audience that won't take things too seriously if you want to keep them engaged. Take risks that bend a position here or there. You sure as hell don't want anyone pirating your imagery into narrow minded-ness,

Comprendo my strateg-ery Amigo?

Some political ramble

I get most of my news from the front page of AOL. Who would have thought 30 years ago that our news would come from a flat screen monitor (some don't even have yet) while sitting in the basement nursing a cup of coffee. The reason you see, is that my kid is a bit angry in the morning and prefers not to have the lights on around the breakfast table, so reading the paper is out. Frankly, I don't like the hassle of the paper, I am more comfortable using less energy, only my finger and the effort of the coffee to my mouth.

Nope, if I say the wrong thing in the morning the little princess starts throwing the f-bomb around and the dog hides under the bed. The neighbors hardly talk to us anymore. I think it is because they might be highly religious and we...we are apparently the sacramental bearers of fowl language, loud and often.

It is strange to think that with the click of a mouse you can read a story about the first Black President (or first female President) and then click over to a video of a teenager smashing his face on a skateboard stunt on youtube, or to Wikepedia looking up any word or term using knowledge from anyone with a computer. It is amazing the change that has taken place in how we run our lives, communicate, shop, entertain ourselves. I can't help but think we are being monitored somehow. Some form of information gathered and used to prepare some form of report on our Internet activity. Men, you know what I'm talking about.

When Al Gore invented the Internet, I wonder if he considered the fact that an email would be circulating someday comparing his home and his utility bill to one of President Bushes homes in Texas. That is what I got the other day, a slanted email from a friend making that comparison. Some form of democrat vs. Republican rhetoric.

Spare me fellas. For me it is all boiling down to who will raise the taxes less?

Anyway, the Tennessee Center for Policy Research charged that the gas and electric bills for Gore's 20-room home and pool house devoured nearly 221,000 kilowatt-hours in 2006, more than 20 times the national average of 10,656 kilowatt-hours. Google it folks, it is right there on his information highway. As for Bush, the home was evidently his Crawford Winter White House, has 25,000 gallons of rainwater storage, gray water collection from sinks and showers for irrigation, passive solar, geothermal heating and cooling.

I have been thinking about Bush lately with the race coming up this weekend. He is a mountain biker and I would like to offer to take him on a ride sometime, because he rides bikes on his ranch and I would assume that he "gets it". If all comes true, through the magic of the the epidemic Internet, maybe he will see this blog and take me up on it, fly in on Airforce One and meet me at Castlewood. I might have some dogs and chili brought in for the occasion. Like we did at a bike race that Dogfish Merle put on back in 2000, the day Pfoodman was born.

And a couple years later, when I got that equipment tax credit of 100 grand, due to the help of his administration, a one time write off to help businesses, it friggin really helped. During the Internet era, and through Bushes administration, I was able to start a business and continue to let it emerge due to lower tax philosophy and less government interference. It's been a good ride and I don't plan to sit idol waiting for someone to screw it up, hence forth the blog entry today.

Hey, it ain't perfect, the war is a pain in the ass, the oil thing is a bitch. Can you believe that just yesterday the Federal Government outwardly accepted the fact that the higher commodities prices do, in fact, have something to do with the bio-fuel rally. WTF?

I have listened to the Dem's position themselves again on a bandwagon of change, Obama and his power of motivation and inspiration, Hillary, the others before them.

When asked on what the Dem's should do first when taking office one Alabama native had all the answers:

1. Press the president to get us out of Iraq as soon as possible. 2.Demand an end to prisoner abuse and torture, and secret prisons. Insist that the Geneva Conventions be completely upheld. 3. Insist that the president mend fences with our traditional allies. 4. Increase the minimum wage. 5. Universal health care for all Americans. 6. See that the rich pay their fair share of the taxes. 7. Encourage the development of alternative fuels. 8. Pardon Third World debt.

I wouldnt invite this guy to the Wood.

Mountain Bike Races on the horizon

This Saturday, May 10th. Missouri NORBA, Castlewood State Park.

Sunday May 18th. Heartland Series, St. Joseph MO go here

Sunday, June 1, Missouri NORBA, Matson HillSunday June 8th, Heartland Series, Blue Springs, Landahl Reserve go here

Anybody going anywhere else? After this Castlewood Race, we will begin training at Chubb and Greensfelder with more frequency. Wed, Sat and Sunday on non-race weeks, Monday, Tuesday and Sat (light) on race weeks.

We need to identify who our 12 hour teams are soon for later in the year. These three are the next that I will try to attend. If anyone else has a race they want to attend let me know.

Castlewood Rally

I decided to one up whomever yesterday, embarking on a three hour ride doing laps on the "published" race course at Castlewood. I have been doing laps there for three weeks trying to get this POS body back in to shape, chasing Schuck and Thrasher, giving them all of the: "yeah, I am kicking his ass" they can have. And I am happy to oblige. I am happy to report that I have lost a buttload of weight too. Which I am happy about, after a less than positive attitude throughout the winter. I think they know I am coming. Something feels good about the level of fitness that I have embarked upon. This might be a cool year if I don't let work and other stuff get in the way. I think I will continue to "hands off" a thing or two. No more micromanagement, no more worry about stuff all the time until the back and neck hurt. I am going to live in the day for once. For about a year, see what happens. If the worst that can happen is that I lose the fervor for business, then I suppose it is actually a good thing when it comes to health. Yet, when I am at peak fitness, I can fall and bust my ass. It think we all know that there is a happy medium.

It was indeed a tough winter. Months of ridiculous mindset, bad habits combined with injury can be a death sentence to the overall fabric of on going conditioning. One would agree that there are cycles (ups and downs) when it comes to ongoing fitness, but there can also be a form of self defeat that can gain momentum if you aren't careful; the spiraling of an "I don't care" attitude. This happens when the focus goes away, when the buzz of exercise is gone from the daily menu, when you begin to forget about the thrill of a decent, or the exhilaration of a pace line at 30 mph. Yep, I missed that feeling more than I thought, and realize now what can happen if you turn your back on your priorities. It is called 10 pounds of fat. The climb back in to low body fat is a bit of a friggin nightmare.

Today I started my ride going up Lone Wolf and would finish the fourth lap right after that ascent. For anyone not 165 pounds or lighter it is a bit of a challenge. I remember being a beginner back in 2000, having to climb the damn thing three times, then do the old Ranger station three times. I pushed the bike more than I rode it. I was around 225.

I kind of paced myself and crested the top, crossing over to Love, doing roller coaster and down Grottpeter. Lots of fair weather riders out, seems like several will show at the race this Saturday. I flatted coming down Grottpeter and had a defective tube for the repair so I had to carry my bike out without rolling it because the piece of shiat Little Albert shredded itself.

When I got to the parking lot, Eric Pirtle, Craig Wolflsager (both on tiny little 26 inch bikes), John Mathews, Bobby Arnold, Tom Albert, Wes, I think I saw Kankles there later. The whole friggin DRJ was out in force. I saw Mark Lewis too, of yesteryear's ICCC, didn't see his twin. Earlier in the week, I saw Bob Crowe, Tom Blackman, Friggin Barry Blumenkemper, hammering the shiat out of Love. Cody was there from the shop. It was like there was a special on ham sandwiches down there. Everybody grabbing what they could before race time.

I finished my three hours, got in the car and checked my phone for messages. There were 13 missed phone calls. I was on the phone until right before American Idol at 7:00 pm. You get shot at my house if you don't pray to the American Idol Gods. I should get six laps on Sat.

The Ruckas Pace Vehicle at Lindenwood

The Girls

Local model and tennis star Natalie Pfremmer with mother Janie.

Doug and Ralph

I like this pic and this is what makes me figure out a way to get to CO this summer.

Sup Dawg American

I am thinking Randy is the coolest American Idol panel geek, having Journey and all to his credit. He is a rocker, still a little over weight after stomach bypass, a little strange. He also hangs with the weird gal with the high voice Mariah something or another. American Idol is a part of the family fabric right now and I am counting the days until my Tuesday nights are free and my wife can go about living her life normally, a productive member of conversational society. It will be nothing but Hillary and Obama after the conclusion of this years American Idol. Pass the biscuits please.

We were all gathered around the TV last night, like we have for the past 10 or 12 weeks, we in our sick fashion, awaiting Brooke to get "offed" due to screwing up the beginning of yet another song. I was hoping it was Archeletta who would go, because of a series of lofty boring versions of unrecognizable spiritual songs that his dad chooses for him. If he says the words: "I am so happy" with that look of bewilderment, one more time, I am thinking of making a call to second best cheesy boffo, Tanya Harding, to take him out.

David Cook is the real deal. Look for him to win.

Funk a Deli

It was a pain in the ass last weekend when my wife was down with the stomach funk. We had Van Halen tickets and I was sure she was going to want to skip. But she rallied and we made the show. Van Halen proved to be what they have been in the past, loud, playful and now, nostalgic.

She got the stuff on Thursday, coming home and hitting the bed early. This obviously "cramped" my and my daughters style, no dinner, none of the other stuff that supports the family unit. The animals were in protest too. I tried to be empathetic. She is never ill and she was obviously not well. She had a fever too. So I thought she might have the flu.

Let me tell you something folks, when your spouse comes home with that stomach stuff, you might as well jump in the toilet and swim laps right then and there, because it is only a matter of time before you find yourself in the same spot.

I had gone to Indy to host a meeting of Pfoodman's Silverset division. A group of our Senior Living Executives getting together to share ideas, make acquaintances etc. We took dinner at one of the local chain restaurants, one of the peanut-on-the-floor places, Long Horn, or Roadhouse, something like that. I am usually not too impressed with these types of joints. Ribs and steaks. Too many of them. Any way. I was having a hard time getting my food down, didn't feel just right. We had a little happy hour, nothing too over the top. Bill brought his guitar for later, as did I. We thought we would jam a little bit at the hotel. Something we do from time to time, when we get the group together. I couldn't hardly eat my dinner and didn't play worth a dang. I should have known what was happening.

The next day it was a little bit more of the same. Nothing tasted good, even lunch. Chef Anton had a marvelous lunch for the group. Tenderloin atop a fresh potato pancake, roasted vegetables and a reduction of something or other, a marvelous dessert. An unuasual feeling came over me shortly after the lunch break.

It was the last bit of food that I have eaten since and it is two days later. I was stuck in the hotel, missing dinner that night, sick as a dog. I had contracted what my wife had gotten earlier in the week. Only worse? Holding a meeting, hosting a bunch of people from out of town, having meetings with others, and not being able to attend? I was very embarrassed to say the least. Worse than that, we had to get back to St. Louis as soon as possible the next day. I had Russ, Bill and Joyce with me. At one point the windows were steamed up in the car on the way back, an incubated test tube specimen for all to enjoy. We passed around a bottle of sanitizer to take the edge off. I hope they don't get it. I will say that when I stepped on the scale, I was a good 5 pounds less this morning. Staying hydrated is key with this sort of thing. If you get what I am sayin.

I feel a little bit better this morning, the fever comes and goes and I have stuff to do at work. When I get ill and especially at my age, I feel so old. Feels like an indication of what life might be like in later years, scary and an eye opener. I hope to get well and embark on an even healthier lifestyle. I suck at being sick. Who has time for it?