"Hey Man, Your Back Wheel Looks Like Shit!"

Is it bad when you can put your finger through your innertube?  It is when the spare tube is 6 miles away in the back of the car.  Lunch ride fail.

Beer Mile

I love it... an American Record in the Beer Mile by an Olympic 800m runner.

I did a few beer miles in my day, the last was in 2001(holy shit that was a long time ago!).  The clock read 9:15 after earning myself a penalty lap for ... putting it nicely - being unable to keep the beer down.  That December night, I vowed to never do another one.  It's one of the few events in which my brother has a better PR than I do.  As Ron so eloquently put it this morning... "your brother is the 354th fastest beer miler in the world, according to the official records."  Maybe it's time I come out of retirement...

Runners World article...

U.S. Olympic Runner Runs 5-Minute Mile ... While Chugging Beers - Watch More Celebrity Videos or Subscribe

1:40.91

The 800m is an event that has been near and dear to me since I started running track in 7th grade.  It's the event that I learned to love more than any other... and it's a passion that has lain dormant within me for almost a decade now.

A little description of the 800... It's too long to call a sprint, but to short to call a run.  It tests the athelete's endurance by forcing them to maintain speed for two long laps, your finish often resulting from your tactical decisions - much like a distance race.  It tests the athlete's speed by forcing you to outgun your opponents in only two short laps, like a sprint.  Becuase of that mix, an argument could be made that the 800 is one of the toughest events in Track and Field and I absolutely loved racing it - and what's more - I was pretty good at it.

In middle school, I ran two events.  The 800m and the 1600m.  That was it.  I had found my niche and set up shop... actually, I built a permanent structure (a walk in fridge with good IPA on tap...).  That niche is why, to this day, I can fake it in a shorter bike race and finish way above where my fitness level should put me.  Early in High School, I was a little punk and didnt really run track until my Junior year.  When I came out though... I went right to the 800.  We had a solid group of guys and I was fortunate enough to be a solid 3rd man on our 4x800m relay team.  That year, we went to The National Scholastic meet to place second behind an "all-star" team of kids from Northern Virginia.

Coming into my Senior year, I put in a lot of work with my friends over the summer.  We had an outstanding group of about 10-15 guys, any one of whom would be a top guy on nearly any other high school cross country team in the nation - on ours, they were pack fodder.  We were good.  We went on to set a state record that season.  My first of cross country season set me up well with the base that I needed to be at my best in the middle distance races to come.  It provided that endurance to hold on through the entire 800m.

Coming off such a storied cross country season, my friends and I were raring to go on the track.  I was fortunate enough to anchor our mid distance relays to some pretty impressive results;  Some highlights were a pair of Penn Relays - Championship of America medals (which ironically, half the teams from other countries) a PIAA State Championship, a top 20 time on the US all time list and a National Championship.  I went on to run mid distance at a Division I program for a couple seasons where I'm disappointed to say that my punk kid mentality had a resurgence and cut my division I career short.  Post collegiately, I volunteered to coach mid distance at a local High School and had the opportunity to run with and help coach an 800m state champion.  After that, I got my isht together and started running the 800 again.  I raced a lot of local college track meets over the next few years and posted up some PR's in the middle distance events.  So... to say that I'm a bit passionate about the decade or so that I spent working on the 800m event would be an understatement.

Here is just about the only evidence of my running career that I could find on the intermaweb:   

The other night, we were watching some of the sprints.  It brings me joy and a sense of pride that Kim is so genuinely interested in the Olympics and especially the track events.  I love that She'll ask some good questions; questions that really make me think to answer.  Not because I didn't know the answers... but the answers have been bouncing around in my mind for so many years that I've nearly forgotten.  Once the thoughts started coming back though, I had to restrain myself from flooding her with too much information.  At some point, I flew down the stairs into our dungeon of a basement and grabbed an old pair of track spikes.  With great pride, I presented to her my size 13, 800 meter shoes.  "See Babe?  This is what they look like... This is how they're designed to get you up on your toes... these little metal spikes, give you incredible traction... etc. etc."

The Olympic games have opened up a window where I can show my wife and son a glimpse of what I used to do, "before I existed" in their world.  I look forward to the televised track events and was very excited to catch the 800m yesterday, so that I could show them, hey "this was Bill Showers the runner" which led to Bill Showers the cyclist that they've come to love.

Yesterday, brought us what was/will be perhaps the greatest performance in all of the Olympic games this year.  At the very least, it was far and away the most impressive track and field event.  You could argue that there were other track events that were more impressive, but you would be wrong.  The men's 800 meter final was absolutely unbelievable.  David Rudisha led the race and ran completely alone from gun to tape setting one of the most impressive world records that we'll ever see.  What's more, is that he pulled the entire field to personal best times, which, by itself is just as unbelievable.  The silver medal went to an 18 year old kid, who became the third person - ever - to run faster than 1:42. 

1:40!!  eleven seconds faster than me in my heyday

The event that I so wanted to watch with my family, I watched by myself today, in my lonely office.  Last night a convoy of Verizon trucks ripped through our neighborhood, taking  with them our TV, our Phones, and our Internet.  After a 45 minute phone call I had to retreat with my tail between my legs.  I fucking hate you Verizon.  Hate.  You.

Bear Creek Mid Atlantic Super Series Finals

Coming into the MASS finals this year, I had no expectations at all.  I'd not been racing and was obviously not in the hunt for the series.  I did have a loose plan that came as a result of attempting to reassure my nervous wife that I'd be OK... Being that I was racing for the first time this year on the toughest, most technical course in the MASS, in some of the most oppressive weather that we've had.  I doubt that I convinced her, but my resulting "race plan" was to go out easy (which I don't do), have fun (which I can't do after going out hard) and most of all be safe (Racing at Bear Creek?)  Right... It's not like there are any places to screw up and hurt yourself there.

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot, I realized that I'd forgotten my license.  Seriously?  It's been on the kitchen counter, all season.  I rummaged through my wallet to find last year's license.  No.  I took that out of my wallet last week when I cleaned out the useless crap.  Great start... I figured the worst thing to happen would be a forced CAT 2 entry and I'd bandit the pro race, get DQ'd and not have my results show up on the USAC page.  Meh.  The registration people were cool about it and after accepting the registration - pending the official's ruling - I politely told her that I'm going to disappear now and nobody will see me until after the race.  I promised to go to the official afterwards to accept my lashings. 

With an hour or so of the start, I went out for a warmup.  From the first crank, my bike was making a god aweful racket.  It was unbearable and it would have been unsportsmanlike for me to ride the thing in it's current state.  I spent 15 minutes scouring the area for the only tool that I didn't grab off the workbench - a bottom bracket tool.  Figures.  After performing bike surgery half an hour from the gun, I headed out for another short warmup.  Not a peep from the bottom bracket... Score.  You're welcome, fellow competitors.  An announcement came that our start was to be delayed by another 10 minutes, which accompanied by my nerves, prompted me to shoot out for another quick loop to stay "warm" - in the 90° heat­.  Good call.  A few minutes later, I returned to a starting grid packed full of 40 guys.  Fail - I could only laugh at myself for that stupidity.  I found a cozy spot in the back row next to Mike Laub and we made some small talk.  Chatting about our bikes and such I overheard one of the guys near us complaining about his back row position.  He was bitching to the CAT 1 field behind us and generally being obnoxious...  Getting annoyed with his broadcasting of excuses, I just wanted them to say go already...

A hundred yards in, there's a short punchy gravel climb that a lot of guys have trouble with, especially in a tight start group.  I knew it was coming and was able to carry momentum through a loose inside line and pass a bunch of guys.  We hit the pavement climb to the trail head and I was steadily moving up.  About half way up, I hear a pleasant greeting from my left.  I look over, smile and start chatting ... "Hey! How's it goin' Steve?"  That brief conversation was enough put me off the pavement and into the bushes.  I almost lose it all together and pray that there are no hidden rocks in the brush.  I held it together and managed to sneak back onto the tarmac.  Most of my momentum and a several positions gone, Lebair asked me "What the hell was that move?"  "Oh, no big deal...."  Jokingly, I said something about Ordons using some trickery to crash me out in the first half mile. "Rat Bastard."  I regained my composure just in time to stop at the trail head for the bottleneck into the woods.  I dismount, stand there, crack a joke and pick my nose... I probably could have had a beer before getting onto the dirt.  Realistically about 15 seconds later, I entered the woods running - the first 25 places were long gone and I could only see the last 10-15 guys.  I guess that is where a good starting position and some gear options make a huge difference.  Pfft.

The trail turned downhill and over the first root, I burped my front tire.  I think "Wow.  It's going to be one of those days I guess..."  It was just a little bit of air, but it was enough to make me nervous for a bit.   I was probably running too much pressure anyway and after making it through the first rock garden, I forgot all about it.  Feeling good starting the first climb I made some passes.  Halfway up, a guy chopped me, twice in a row on two punchy climbs, completely killing my momentum.  Both times they would have been otherwise clean passes and that kind of crap always fires me up whether it's intentional or not.  Luckily, I had to come off the bike the second time and was able to run past him.  Otherwise, I would have definitely burned another match or three to get around on the next flat section.  Thanks, Richard. 

As I started to descend, I could feel Matt Miller on my wheel.  I know he likes it here and descends really well so I offered up a line.  I figured that he would let loose and was hoping that I'd be able to hang on for the ride.  Just after he went around, I could feel my back end starting to get loose.  30 seconds later I was fumbling around with my CO2s on the side of the trail.  Thankfully, it sealed, but I lost my ride down the mountain, a chunk of time and several places in the process.  The rest of that first lap was pretty much a blur.  I rode fairly conservatively, questioning if the tire was good to go or if it was going to let loose in a cloud of Stans at the worst possible moment.   

Second lap, the tire was holding air and after gaining some spots on the climb, my confidence in the bike came returned.  I descended well and could see some people coming back to me.  Near the bottom of the mountain, I nearly T-boned Festa as he practiced some trials in a tight corner.  He kindly apologized and gave up a line shortly thereafter.  I tell you what, it's really refreshing to be out there with guys that aren't assholes.  Despite what our license might say, we're all amateurs and we're all out there for fun.  Some guys lose sight of that and I think that a little sportsmanship and being a genuinely good guy on the trail goes a long way.  Things like that definitely build some Karma and I think we all could use a little extra now and again.  From my limited interactions with Mike, I bet he's got a lot of points.       

Awesome pictures by A.E. Landes Photography

3/4 of the way around lap two, we were starting to hit lapped traffic.  It's always a frustrating and precarious situation when you have this kind of thing going on and every year I think I have the same experiences here.  I always try to be as nice as possible... I say please when I ask for a pass and thank you as I go by.  I know that nobody ever wants to give up their line, but it's a lot safer for everyone.  Stalling only frustrates the faster rider and a lot of times it will make them force a pass - which can be dangerous and frustrating for both racers.  When a racer catches you and has politely asked to pass more than once please don't ask; "Are you there?"  Yes.  I am here.  Yes.  I still want to pass you safely.  And Yes.  My patience is running extremely thin.  Kindly yield in accordance to the rules of racing.   

The third lap I felt pretty strong on the climb and was able to pick off a few more.  I had no idea what position I was in, but I was feeling good about the fact that I had steadily moved up the whole race.  I took a few chances on the descent trying to make up some time on those whom I couldn't see.  I did catch a glimse or three of somebody that was behind me on the switchbacks and that helped me keep on the gas.  Eventually, I started seeing a carrot out in front but I knew I was running out of room.  As we left the woods for the last time, I could see that he was within striking distance.  I knew that I'd really have to work to bring him back on the half mile gravel finish, so I got on it.  I couldn't turn the pedals over quick enough to close it down on the flat around the lake, but he wasn't gaining anything.  As we started the last climb, I could see him struggling.  About 200 yards out, I made contact just as we crested the hill.  I really needed to make a pass here, but I just didn't have it.  I sprinted hard on the downhill finish, but he had the lead position coming into the sweeping corner before the line.  Hoping that the gravel would make him swing wide, I tried a last ditch effort to get around the inside.  I couldn't hold it, the back end broke free and that was it.  We rolled across together, 12th and 13th place. 

I'm pretty happy with how the race panned out.  I stayed relaxed, had fun and didn't get hurt.  I got to put in a race effort on next year's Nationals course, which suits me pretty well.  I'm excited about getting my ass handed to me by the likes of Todd Wells.  I wonder how many guys will be in that field on a single speed?

Are There Bicycle Gods?

Several times now, my wife has told me that I should have a go at a 'cross season this year, She says that I should do some actual cross workouts kit up for some races and see what happens.  She's said that she'd be happy to go and cheer me on from the other side of the tape.  I know that she is sincere, but I also know that it pains her a bit to say such things.  She's loved 'cross much more deeply than I have and perhaps ever will.  Standing at the tape will invoke some feelings and emotions that can only come from a cross race and can only be felt by someone who has truly loved it.  My typical response has been simply to smile and say, we'll see, Babe - which is my roundabout way of saying that I'm not terribly interested in that.  Yesterday was the first time that I've said anything positive about cross this year - to anyone.
_________________________________________________________________________________

This morning I was running a bit late and I was scrambling to round up my gear for a lunch ride - Scrambler... remember?  I got everything together and reached for the road bike...Of course it has a flat tire.  Rather than fight with a new tube, kill another 15 minutes dicking around in the garage, and inevitably get grease or tire grime on my dress shirt; I grabbed the busted up Redline.

I can't remember the last time that I've had a flat on the road bike...  Of course it happened on this morning.  What the Shit?  Once in a while things like this happen.  Flat tires happen.  I get it.  Now, I'm a realist and I'm hesitant to believe in higher powers.  But can my first flat tire in thousands of miles of tarmac, gravel and the occasional singletrack be just an eery coincidence.  Or is it a sign.  I don't have the answer, but I know that I'm almost hesitant to go for that lunch ride today... almost. There are some gravel roads around that I've not yet gone down and they look perfect for some 32's...  Crazy.

Changes...

The last few months...  Wow.  So much has happened and so much has changed this year..  I was going to just throw some pics up here, but that's so weak.  A cop out.  My head spins when I try to think about it all and I keep going back to the two big ones... so I'll touch on those.

To start, Kim and I became Mr and Mrs. Bill Showers on April 7th, 2012.  We were married on the anniversary weekend of our first date.  We were married on the trails that we ride together most which are also happen to be the trails where we had that first date.  I've thought of our first date every time that I ride through those woods and now I think of our wedding day too.  It's a constant reminder of one of the best days of my life.  I know I'm biased, but I think we set the bar pretty high for both a ceremony and a reception.

The second has been consuming all my thoughts for the past couple months... we're having a baby.  We're having a baby.  We're having a baby!  With the excitement and anticipation, many things that would ordinarily be on my mind are nowhere to be found these days.

Kim passed the first trimester a little while ago.  It's not been an easy road for us but she's been amazingly strong so far and I've been doing my best to support her and make her feel as comfortable as she can be.  It's tiring for her and for me, but I know the cliche(s) and I know that it'll all be worth it. 

With a baby coming, thoughts of planning and preparations come and go in waves... I think about all that we need to do in the next five months and scares me a little bit.  Kim and I are both scramblers more than planners....Two peas in a pod I guess.  But it means that most of the things will probably be pushed off until the last possible moment.  In my own weird way, I think I'm trying to prepare as much as I can, and I think I'm starting to nest.  A few weeks ago, I got rid of the neglected and impractical XTerra and bought a more practical (and safe) station wagon for Kim.  I'm looking to get rid of the Mazda (because it's a ticking time bomb) and buy a POS beater car for myself and my shitty commute.  I've started cleaning out the attic, cleaned up the garage and I've been stressing about our yard.  Yeah... the yard.   I'm starting to put some effort into reclaiming the yard that we've been neglecting for the past couple years.  We love to be outside and the baby needs some soft grass to crawl through next spring, right? 

This week I have an appointment with a flooring company with an annoying advertising campaign.  They're going to give me an estimate for putting in some hardwood.  Our carpet in the family room is stained with kid stuff, dog stuff and who knows what else.  It's stretched out, it's gross and we can't have the baby crawling on that nasty mess, right?  So instead of getting on the bike tomorrow night, I get to deal with a greasy floor salesman.  I can't wait for this one.  

I have been getting on my bike once in a while but I haven't raced at all this season.  Well... that's not entirely true.  I did race one lap at French Creek.  I don't have much confidence in my fitness and as a result, I just don't have the desire to compete.  There are a couple races left on the calendar that I still have my eye on, but who knows. Now that the season is waning and I've not finished an XC race in ten months or so, It's really easy to come up with an excuse not to enter the start grid. 

Just recently, I've found myself thinking about 'cross.  That's pretty foreign to me, and it's a little confusing.   'cross for the past few years has just been a way to get a competitive fix once the xc season is over.  I have no idea why I'm thinking about it now, in my least competitive year in since I've started cycling.  I think about the turns, the fast grassy sections, the mud, the dismounts, the running... I've actually thought about starting to run a couple times a week.  I find myself thinking about the beat up hand-me-down Redline that I have in the garage.  I wonder if it's ready for the abuse that comes with a cross season.  I wonder if I should try to convert it to a single speed.  I wonder if I'll even be into the 'cross season when it gets here. 

Head spinning, Pedal spinning.  Repeat.  Getting on the bike once in a while is helping to keep me focused on - or distracted from - reality.  I suspect that it'll continue until I really need to scramble. Then it'll be complete chaos... until it's not.  That's how we roll, and it'll be fiiiiine. 

One of my favorite pics from our date in Islamorada.  Having fun - its what we do.

Four Months...

It's been four months since I've last shared anything here. Back in February or March, the Blogger went through some changes that really pissed off my office computer. The PC here is a crotchety old thing that still runs an archaic browser along with all kinds of other obsolete software that isn't compatible with most of the Internet browsing world. When Blogger made those changes, I couldn't access anything. I couldn't even log in. I don't usually do much in the way of blogging from home, so while my "work" productivity may have improved marginally, my blogging productivity came to a grinding halt. Meh.

Well a lot has changed since Valentine's Day. For starters; I made the IT department install FireFox onto my computer. Now I can see more of the Internet than ever before and I can even access my blog again. FTW. So to celebrate the resurgence of my Internet and the coming of summer, maybe tomorrow I'll share some pictures from the last few months to get you up to speed.

Try to stay cool and be safe... it's 100° out there today.

Saint Valentine's Day 2012

Sneaking around, rushing it, making sweet treats for the ones we love...Doing our best to draw up some crafty cards complete with cartoon characters and multicolored hearts and daffodils and heartfelt sentiments...

Getting dressed up after preparing a tasty Mediterranean style dinner and then indulging on a heart shaped desert (made with Love by KPD soon to be S)...

Rockin' the sugar high, melting faces, composing songs about Love, Love, Love.

Doing our best to make sure that the ones we hold most dear feel extra special on Saint Valentine's day. Thankful to be having such a great night out, right here at home.

Better Late Than... Whatever.

Despite battling sickness, last week was pretty good on the bike. I finally, I took advantage of the freakishly mild weather and fired out for a lunch ride early in the week. Wow. It's been months and I had forgotten how therapeutic and fun it can be to ride my bike in the midst of my work day. The Wednesday night ride, was a lot better for me than the last several had been. Ron and Mike still slapped me around, but feeling half decent on a hard ride is a more than welcome change. I could even see them at the top of a couple climbs. Win(sorta). The bonus is that I was in shorts and arm warmers for a late January night ride - so maybe the weather had something to do with how I felt. Whatever it was, I'll take it.

I was on the bike Saturday and Sunday with Kim, so that's four out of the last seven days. In my world, that's a pretty good stretch. I've got a bike and a kit in the car today and the view from my office is bright and blue. The National Weather Service thinks this week will be a good one, and I've got slightly more motivation that I've had all winter. Maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to harness it and have another "good" week.

Just Riding Along; A Brisk Walk in the Park

Late Saturday morning I was graciously afforded a window of opportunity in which I intended to play in the fresh snow with my bike. The SS was locked inside my car, which was buried under a Mazda sized snowbank. Fail.

With precious limited time, I had no intentions of digging it out. I'll save that task for Monday morning because I like to procrastinate before heading to my office. I pulled the Salsa down from it's perch above the workbench and cannibalized some bits to make it rideable once again.

(Muddied and incomplete... the lesser of two evils I guess.)

Rolling from the parking lot, there were was evidence of a few riders before me but I remained hopeful that I'd be able to make some fresh tracks. The scenery is typically censored by the darkness of night or the blur of tunnel vision. This morning my ride was unusually scenic... a welcome change.

(Gratuitous pics of our snow covered wedding venue.)

The usual scenery was passing by slowly enough to look around once in a while. I found no evidence of life on some of the more obscure, less ridden trails. The snow was a little crunchy, but mostly rideable. The climbs were a redline effort at roughly half a mile an hour.

(Score with some virgin snow)

Toward the end of the ride, my bike started acting up a bit. There was an occasional - but recognizable - pop coming from the drivetrain. The DT Swiss hubs tend to skip a tooth once in a while under load. No big deal. It happens once a ride, maybe. After a few times, I was starting to get nervous. Then on a false flat, the hub didn't engage. I tried once more and after a few yards, it happened again.

Hoofing it.

Disgusted, I dismounted my bike and started to fiddle with it like I was actually going to fix it trailside in the snow. In a superb effort to diagnose and remedy the problem, I turned the crank arm a few times and watched the wheel spin. Then, I made a rooster tail as I lowered the wheel into the snow. That was cool... So I did it again. The second time was much less entertaining, so I started walking. Sweaty and frustrated from my wrenching efforts, my comfort level was declining rapidly. Walking swiftly, wasn't swift enough. I started to run. When I'm just running , a snowy run is one of the few times that I find joy in it. Running while pushing a lame bicycle through the snow while cold and wet, however, is definitely not enjoyable at all.

Meh.

Knives and Guns

I've been bailing most of the Wednesday nights this winter. I've had my reasons; sometimes the rain calls it, sometimes I've got things to take care of, sometimes I have no good reason whatsoever. Whatever they've been, its a big smelly pile and now and I feel like my fitness is in a bad spot. The last couple times that I've been out on Wednesday, I've found myself coming unglued way too early and paying the price for my lackadasical training regimen. I can hear the alarm going off, but I just want to hit the snooze button again. It's an ugly wake up call and now I find myself looking down the barrel of a rapidly approaching race season. I have to admit... my knees are knocking at the prospect of bringing knives to the line in April.

Cold Rides and Wet Feet

French Creek in between relaxation periods on Sunday. The trails were cold and crunchy. Most of the wet spots were frozen solid and only the running water remained. Last week we were remarking how warm it was... this is some crazy weather we're having.

All those forced dismounts have paid dividends... She looks well balanced as she avoided the freezing cold water. A few minutes later, we rode the deep crossing. Wet feet at sub 20 degree temperatures means that a good ride, just ended early. Oh well... French Creek rarely disappoints.

Spaghetti and Meatballs

Sunday night KPD (Soon to be S) and I collaborated with our Americanization of an old world staple; we cooked up some Spaghetti and Meatballs for her parents.
With some subtle refinements after the first run of noodles a couple weeks ago, she figured out what worked best with making, rolling, cutting and drying the pasta dough. She nailed it. I can't even begin to tell you how to do it, so you'll have to ask her.
While she was creating her noodles, I was making a pass at butchering the traditional Italian family dish with my first ever attempt at a good ole 'merican meatball (or thirty). With the essentials in hand from an earlier trip to The Twilight Zone, I got to work.

First, I beat up a couple eggs. No, I totally kicked their ass. After they were broken and vulnerable, I attacked again. I whipped them around - but not too much - till they were all mixed up and pedaling squares. Then, to add insult to injury I pelted the eggs with some bread crumbs, dried basil and oregano. After that, I crushed the shit out of some dried chiles with a couple pieces of marble and fired them into the mix. Oh, and I shredded a shit-ton of pecorino onto the top. After the finely shredded peco, the mess looked like some twisted awkward metaphor... It was like tarring and feathering an unborn chicken. weird.

Anyway, I swiftly dispatched the awkwardness and started folding it all together with the meat. I found that the best way to do this (well... this was my first time - I don't know if I did it right - but it sure did work for me) is to fold everything together with my hands. Squeezing, pulling, pushing, squishing; A device, just won't do. Get that shit together, people. I did add some olive oil to lube things up a bit and I think that was a good move to keep it moist.

As the bowl of meat was chillin' in the fridge (read: it needs to firm up), I diced up a bunch of garlic and a big ole shallot. The more the merrier in my opinion, but one of our dinner guests adamantly denies his in the closet love for garlic. Fine. I only used a little. I swear. I kept this stuff on deck while I heated up a little olive oil in a pan. I threw five balls into the oil on med+ heat. Aww, Hell no. I'm way too impatient and it'd take all damned night. I browned that batch and set them on a rack to drain. The next round, I dumped the remaining 25 meatballs into the pan. Much better. Roll those boys around to make sure they're nicely browned on all sides. If not, they look like shit, they taste like shit, and they make you shit. Seriously. Salmonella sucks.

Once all the balls were done I sauteed the garlic and shallots - carefully - in the same pan. If they burn, you fucked up. Period. You can't used anything in that pan if the garlic turns black. After a few minutes the shallots turned to that translucenty look and all was well. I poured in some leftover red to cool things down and then added a big ass can of tomato sauce to simmer for a few minutes. That's pretty much it for the sauce.I poured my sauce all over the meatballs in a Pyrex dish, covered it and threw it into the oven at 375°. I'm sure any "real" chef will all tell you to keep simmering in the same pot or pan... Whatever. This is my recipe and I like to make things up as I go. Especially when I've planned poorly and my panhood is inadequate. I couldn't fit everything into what I was using so there so I had to improvise. Also, I didn't want to trigger a pandemic (thanks for the entertainment Gwyneth, but your Contagion is not welcome here), so I wanted to be absolutely sure that the meat - the pork in particular - was fully cooked.

Here's the rough recipe for about 30 balls... and yes, size does matter. My balls are about the size of a 12 tooth cog:
2 eggs
1lb ground beef
1lb spicy Italian sausage w/o casing
some dried basil
some dried oregano
dried chiles or red pepper flakes to taste
a cup or so bread crumbs
1/4c olive oil
a shitload - easily a cup - of finely planed pecorino. It was light and feathery, not dense like canned Parmesan.

In the end, my charade worked out surprisingly well. Everything plated up great with some fresh basil and grated cheese. How my recipes come together so well despite my blatant disregard for the "right" way baffles me sometimes. Other times, I'll just grin and graciously accept the victory. I find it very satisfying to cook real food from scratch and I love to feed my family and friends. What's more? When cooking for ourselves, we have complete control of the nourishment that goes into our bodies and we can minimze the bullshit in our diets without much effort. That's a few checks in the win column.

Friday night KPD (soon to be S) and got ourselves ready and went out for dinner and drinks at one of our favorite spots. We wore our coats, but really didn't need 'em. It was 50° and holding. What's that about? A little foreshadowing I guess...

WTS? 60 degrees and clear skies?

Saturday morning, we awoke to Beady-eyed Chris Sowers giggling at his own warm weather jokes. 45° to start the day. I opened the garage to warm it up in there, spending some to prep the singles... cleaning, lubing, tweaking. By about 10:30, we were ready to roll south for our longest ride of the year.

The trails were decent... a little more moist than would be ideal, but not bad. Just slick enough in some corners to make things interesting. While out on our tour, the temps soared over 60°. Sixty degrees. In January. I sound like a broken record; I keep saying "I can't believe it's so warm..." I feel like I say this every ride.

I wonder if we'll just keep these warm days coming? I wonder when the winter's gonna hit? I wonder if mother nature is pissed? I wonder.