24 hours of GREAT GOOGALY MOOGALY

okay, so, this actually happened back in early august, but i've finally put this together enough to relate my experience to the Web.

basically, each year, up in the heart of pinkham notch in the beautiful white mountains, an event takes place at great glen trails. now, you see, great glen trails is an extensive network of singletrack, carriage roads and pathways located at the foot of mt. washington. it's also home to the mt. washington auto road, but since i hate that fucking road for what it stands for, i'm not going to say too much. it's not that the road is THAT bad in theory, it's that every asshole with a car and twenty bucks can drive their SUV up to the highest point in new england. it's just not right.

ANYWAY... each year, up at great glen, they hold a 24-hour bike race that draws people in droves. you can ride in teams of two, four, five or, if you're clinically insane, go it solo. the point of the event is to turn your body into mush over the course of 24 hours while you question reality and swear to yourself that you'll never leave the house again.

no, scratch that.

actually, it's to see how many laps around the 8 1/2 mile course you can make from noon saturday to noon sunday. you and your teammates are issued a time chip that goes around your ankle, and you ride the course with the chip, get to the finish line, hand the chip off like a baton to your teammate, and head back to your tent city to relax and regroup before your next lap. basically, we had it so there was about 2 hours of lag time before you had to start thinking about your next lap.

so, i did it, and here's my account (based mostly on the journal i kept during the event and my own hazy recollection of what happened...

the 24 hours of great glen... abriged.

first off, here's the success story:

me and my three teammates completed 24 laps on the 8-mile, carriage road and singletrack course from noon saturday until noon sunday, and until basically none of us could walk afterwards. at least josh (one of the members of the other Resort Sports Network team) was wise enough to have a massage scheduled for sunday night. lucky bastard.

oh, and by the way, the solo division winner? 25 laps. BY HIMSELF. he beat our entire team, and we finished in the top tier!!!!

as i sit here, listening to "blame it on the tetons" by Modest Mouse, it's actually fun to reflect on it. so here's the deal:

• 12:00 noon: cannon goes off at noon saturday. i'm leading off for my team. the race begins with the traditional "le mans" start: running the 1/2 mile around the great glen pond, to the start area, where dr. dewey had my bike waiting for me. burned myself on the run. i begin pedaling, and immediately wonder why i'm doing this.

• 12:54: finish my first lap, feeling pretty good. i'm done, right?

• 4:00: nope, gotta go again. damn! did i mention people friggin' PAY to do this?

• 5:30: back, changed, wrote in my journal, fell asleep in my chair with among 20 people having loud conversations. 25 minutes later, someone tapped me on the shoulder. time to get ready to ride the course again.

• 6:15: i'm on the bike. again. my ass is killing me, i'm climbing the switchbacks again, and i just got passed like i was going BACKWARDS by some 17-year-old kid who weighs 100 pounds. if i catch him, i'm making sure he dies painfully.

• 7:20: i get to the finish corral and jump off the bike—both legs cramp to locking, excruciating pain, and i fall over. i pushed the bike on my knees to the finish and tagged my teammate. why am i doing this again? p.s. it's getting dark, and getting cold. and i've heard that some people are actually enjoying this.

my buddy abe cramped so bad about a quarter of a mile into his third lap that he had to sit on a hillside for 15 minutes before he could move his legs again...

• 11:00: i hate myself and want to die. i'm also seeing things. this is fun! tears flow freely.

actually, the night ride is a lot of fun—all you're focused on is as far as your headlight and headlamp will throw a beam of light, so your world becomes that bubble. everything else fades completely out. i actually start whistling on the course. this isn't so bad!

• 11:35: just hit the climb on Dugway. i'm not whistling, smiling or having fun anymore. hell, i'm not even RIDING! off the bike, and pushing... and without shame, because i'm not the only ghost out here off the pedals.

• 12:10: done until 4AM—dewey and steve are going to ride doubles. sweet! i'm gonnZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ......

• 4:00AM: you're kidding, right?

• 4:20AM: ha! dude... if you have to ask...

• 4:30AM: tim still hasn't come back off course—oh, there he is—no choice now, gotta get back on the bike. by the way, the next day, i found out i had two conversations that i don't remember taking place. eerie.

AND IT'S NOW RAINING.

• 5:10AM (approx): tim got to the timing tent about a half hour ago, and i took off, and here i am, entering the tough singletrack, watch that—OUCH. that really freaking hurt. see, when it's this late and you're delirious, it's awful hard to wheelie over a log. especially when you hit it broadside and go ass over teakettle... but nothing seems broken. my body's OK, too, i think.

• 5:50AM: honey, i'm home! i reach the timing tent, but where's my teammate waiting for me. dewey, where are you? do i even have teammates left? where am i? auntie em???

• 6:00AM: oh, there's dewey, asleep. in his tent. he's roused and gone.

• 6:50AM: ZZZZZZZZ.... oh, sh*t, i bled all over my sleeping bag. guess i wasn't so unscathed after all. my elbow's flowing like a faucet!

• 7:00AM: TEAM DECISION: dewey's going out for one more ride. tim's going to take one. steve's done. nick, can you finish us out at around 11? "oh hell yeah!"

• 10:59AM: "i change my mind!"

• 11:01AM: damn! back on the course. lap six. i'm beyond hate now.

the whole ride (which is more like gliding and then walking up anything remotely resembling a climb) is a folly. i puke. i cheer on other people puking. i banter with people i've passed and those who've passed me over the course of the day. i'm miserable, but so are they, and we keep going... because we know this is it. cross the line and we're done. cross the line and it's over. cross the line... just cross the line!!!!

12:19PM: LINE CROSSED!!!!

final tally: personal: six laps, 48 miles, over 6 1/2 hours on course
team total: 24 laps, 192 miles, 24 hours and 19 minutes on course
it's over. i'm too tired and sickly feeling to even drink a beer... but i pack my stuff up and get out of great glen, thankful for the experience, which i hated like the plague. but, of course, you'll see us there next year!!!

check out www.24hoursofgreatglen.com for all the details...

my own ramblings (with apologies to simmons)

thoughts while sitting at home on a friday, waiting for 18 rugby jerseys to dry so we can get them all dirty again tomorrow against yale grad school...

if keith foulke goes down for the season and nobody's there to hear it, does he make a noise?

there's nothing like the first sub-40 degree day in new england. nothing.

i don't care if there's 40 or 40,000 people attending a fair, there's still no better place to go people-watching.

if you dress up your dog in clothes, you deserve to be shaved like a poodle.

when i become a famous rock star (and i will), i won't wear any clothes i wouldn't have worn before i became famous.

that includes tuxedoes and t-shirts over $17. unless they're made out of tekware, capeline or any other waterproof/breathable fabric. then the sky's the limit.

i lived there. i became immersed in the culture. i love the place. i still have friends there. yet, outside of monty python, lock stock & two smoking barrels and the original italian job, i have a really, really, REALLY hard time finding british humo(u)r funny.

you don't have to smoke reefer to love jambands.

a beer at 3pm in the office helps promote a healthy work environment.

being stuck inside on a friday night sucks.

when you're a three-time superbowl champion in the midst of a dynasty, and you have a bad week (even though you lost to potentially the best team in the NFC), how in the blue hell can you be installed as a three-point underdog? vegas, help me out on this one...

it's going to be fun to watch the NHL again.

the police were the greatest trio of all time. and, once again with apologies to the sports guy, i will not argue about this. one of the top five drummers ever, a criminally underrated guitar player, and one hell of a bassist writing amazing tunes while being a consummate frontman. gold.

is there anything more intriguing than discovering a disposable camera you haven't sent to the lab for developing yet?

if there's a gaggle of female coworkers giggling together in a circle, do you want to know what they're giggling about? i mean, it could be about you, or it could be something so terrible you'd be scarred for life by finding out...

i'm completely out of touch with MTV. do they still show videos? help me out on this.

the weather's better in california right now.

somewhere, there's someone lighting a pair of skis in sacrifice to Ullr, the god of snow, right now.

if that someone is you, i bow to your buddha nature...

...it'll be me before too long.

i just ordered a new mountain bike. it'll be arriving within two weeks. i'm only going to be able to ride it for about two months before it goes into hibernation for the winter. despite that, it's still the unquestioned highlight of my past month.

is it necesarry to have more than four pairs of skis? what if you use all of them?

...wait, don't answer that. that question was just for me.

this has gone on too long... hope all two of you who read this found it as amusing as i did while putting it together.

mahalo.

new orleans - what now?

where would you rather go? las vegas or new orleans? this is a complete no-brainer for me. answer would be new orleans in a heartbeat - each day of the week and twice on sunday.

but, being as it is, i think we're on the brink of watching one of the country's major cities become a ghost town. are they going to rebuild new orleans? i saw a headline on last week that read THE BATTLE FOR NEW ORLEANS; can it go back to the way it was? i think that the U.S. has crossed a line that's permanent, and it's going to leave scars.

such a vibrant, exciting, mystical, spectral, ALIVE city can't be recreated or replaced, and the aura - the mix of emotions you feel there - the feeling that this place can't be real, that you're imagining all of it, and the sense that there's no law, and it's always teetering on the edge of anarchy - has never been more in your face than now.

now there's just a feeling of terrible regret and sadness - regret that this city is never going to be the same, sadness for the people dealing with the destruction of their lives. that's pretty much left of new orleans for me. no more stumbles throughout the french quarter, listening for the next secret jazz club i'll stumble upon, no more sights, sound and senses that you can't find anywhere else.

i'm so sorry for the people who lived or worked, or just loved new orleans. i hope that they can put their lives back together, whether it's moving on or moving back, if it comes back. but i just don't know. i hope it does, but i'm not optimistic. i'm just sorry.

at the same time, i have a very strange feeling in my gut about a)the folks who didn't leave when they were warned and b)the government that has, so far, not done its job making the situation. firstly, you were warned! i'm sorry, but you knew what was coming, but you chose to "ride the storm out." i have a feeling the next time your state declares emergency, you'll mosey out. and as for the good ol' u.s. government, get your shit together and do what you can to save those folks. witless as they may be, it's your job to get them out of there safe and sound.

the old ghosts of new orleans have left, with new ones of this tragedy coming in to take their place.

it's over. new orleans is done.

winter

if you're a skier, one of the biggest days of the year happens in august. that's right, august. dog days of summer, the whole shebang. it's that day when the first ski magazine hits your mailbox. god damn, it's like crack. the first POWDER of the year drops, and all the sudden i'm seeing pics of the new crop of skis, shots of deep, deep pow, new schoolers going absoluetly batshit in the backcountry, and suddenly the whole world becomes a tease before the lifts begin to turn.

well, it happened on friday, and i'm so ready for summer to end that i'm lighting an old pair of skis on fire in sacrifice to Ullr, the god of snow. come on, man, i know you're watching! help us out! let the sun worshippers suffer for once, and have a massive winter drop on us beginning in early october!

i'm willing to let a month pass before my sacrifice is answered...

AAARRRRGH!

what the hell has happened? i'm looking around at people on this mySpace.com thing, and, obviously, i know i'm getting old fast, but JESUS. people "liking gangstas" and loving abercrombie and fitch—wait, i thought that was over... isn't it?

nope. not even in portland, maine, apparently.

i'm fucking terrified about the future if these brain surgeons are going to be holding down the fort for us while we're shitting in our pants in old folk's homes. am i that out of touch? is the urban lifestyle encroaching on northern new england? are great, semi-crunchy towns like portland doomed to be crawling with hoochie ghetto rats and wannabe ganstas? god, i hope not.

this is kind of fun, actually, i can sound off about this with vitriol, sound like an old fogie, then disappear into the woods for a few days and clear my head. of course, while i'm gone, people who say "skater boyz are HOTTT" and "i don't read unless i'm forced to" take control slowly but surely.

this needs to stop. peoople need to call it "pot," not "chronic"... drink good beer, not shitty 40s... and i mean here, because people are taking someone else's life and making it theirs! look where you are!!! when your life is shaped the way it is by living in a place where there's real danger and real problems, it is what it is... when you see that way of life on TV and then try to make it your own, well, you're just a fucking poser.

you wouldn't know real danger if you found yourself with a gun to your head.

what i wouldn't give to go back in time and nip MTV in the ass... and see if people didn't think for themselves these days because of it.

that's all from this 27-year-old fogie for now... off to take my vitamins and change my depends, i guess...

a bruschi-free zone

well, after some erronious reports (courtesy of an overzealous boston news agency) stating that tedy bruschi would be returning for the 2005 season, we've come to find out that our man tedy will NOT be suiting up for your world champion new england patriots until 2006, if ever.

i find it amazing we're even having this discussion—-the guy had a STROKE--yet he still had enough guts, talent and ability to alllllll-most get back out on the field. and i can't imagine how much it hurts for him to have to admit that no, he can't play this year, because his heart (which he relied on more than any other muscle in his body) won't allow him to.

as easy as it is today to bow down to the altar of professional athletes and their amazing ability, this is a guy who truly EARNED the respect of his peers and, ultimately, became a true cult hero here in new england. not because of his athleticism and grace, but through his grit, integrity and bulldoggedness (if that's not a real word it should be). and now that he's had heart trouble, in new england all we can think about is reggie lewis. it's not fun to think about that--another one of our own struck down. hopefully he'll be able to get through this and come back; i just hope that, whatever he decides to do with his future, we won't have to bury another one of our heroes. and, just like reggie, this is a player who means more to his team than the numbers he puts up.

i don't think this is the last we've seen of number 54, but if we have, i think it's time to seriously begin considering a massive grassroots campaign to get tedy into canton. hopefully, though, he'll be back where he belongs next year to defend the patriots' unprecedented THIRD SUPER BOWL IN A ROW. but for this year at least, there's a gigantic hole on the patriots that needs to be filled in tedy's absence.

and i don't just mean on the field.

"by the way, which one's pink?"

all my life, i've been a fan of pink floyd, so hearing that that the "heyday" lineup (roger, david, nick, richard) were getting back together for a one-off performance for Live8 in london was, to say the least, intriguing.

and you know what? they put on a tremendous show if you caught the performance on AOL.com. it was a stripped down version of the band, unlike the ridiculously over-the-top production they put on tour from '87 on. gone were the loads of additional musicians, save a second, rhythm guitar player and a backup singer. and they ripped! roger waters was clearly bursting (and nearly self-destructing) with nervous engery, but, damn, that added to the fun! seeing the members of pink floyd smiling? together? spontaneously? unheard of! especially from those stuffy bastards. and that was the fun of it. dave gilmour can still play a mean guitar, the band was tight and alive, and it was worth ever second if you caught it.

except on MTV, where they cut away during the guitar solo of "comfortably numb." i'm sorry, but that's the last straw—i want to jam a soup spoon in my head when i think about how disrespectful it was—the last nail in the coffin of what used to be a truly groundbreaking network. it's now gone and turned itself in to a second-rate, talentless network full of wannabe assholes, sluts, drunks and absolute morons willing to fuck their mother if it'll get them on TV. but it's "reality!" yeah, if reality is exploiting every stereotype available by putting people on TV who put on the role of "frat boy," "gay guy," "hip-hop dude," "sorority chick" and "depressed goth/outsider/ugly duckling." i've a feeling that they've forgotten how to act when the camera looks away...

what the hell happened? are you saying you can't move those commercials back a little bit (oh, i don't know, somewhere in one of those spots where you don't show music anymore, maybe...) so floyd can finish their set? the backlash has been swift and definite, and i'm thinking that MTV has lost it. and for what? for $$$.

don't get me wrong, i'm fine with the idea of a business wanting to do well and be successful financially, but when nobody knows who's in charge anymore, and when MTV (and every other network) is part of a conglomerate of faceless suits, i'm kind of leery of anything they do that's supposed to smack of artistic merit. how can that happen when it has to go through standards and practices? oh, unless steve-o is stapling a crocodile to his nuts.

how about something truly offensive, like music videos by progressive musicians taking some real risks, and (gasp!) playing instruments instead of saying "babe" over a techno track?

oh, wait. THAT is truly offensive. good music can just change your life for the better. wouldn't want to see that on MTV.

wouldn't sell...

call rodney harrison; we're going to war!!

you knew they'd only sit and wait for so long before they pulled something like this. glasnost my ass!!

those commie bastards have fired the first shot. give back the ring and we'll only blow up st. petersburg, you drunken swine.

good stuff! 6/20 edition...

...and all is well. so things are still rolling. we've gone over the 20-hit mark (well, including double posts and other minutiae, but who's splitting hairs?), and what makes me so excited about the potential of this question is you really can't argue it. of course, rush doesn't seem to be a popular choice, but dammit, this is america. canadian bands need to be represented here as well! and, as always, keep the ideas rolling. keep us fresh, tell us your feelings on good music - keep discourse alive!

keep it coming, kids, we're officially crossing blogs! check out my friend erin's blog, which is moving officially into the "desert island" realm. and keep the ROCK LIST going below...

mahalo!

forget the desert island, this is for ALL the marbles.

since i love music so much, i'm constantly bringing up the classic bar conversation, "if you were stranded on a desert island and could bring five CDs with you to listen to, what would they be?". it always brings interesting people to the table, and there's constant debate over the choices (even if it is purely personal, and bound to change by the number of drinks you've consumed).

well, i'm sending the question to the masses, but with one giant caveat: i want to know the five greatest ROCK albums of all time. by rock i mean you can include seattle, include the early 80's punk scene, add the british invasions of both the '60s and '80s. add metal, add the rock/rap shit if you think it belongs.

to light this candle, here's what post and i came up with today while we were supposed to be working (note: this is in no particular order, which is kind of a cop out):

rush - moving pictures
led zeppelin - III
the beatles - abbey road
the jimi hendrix experience - axis: bold as love
guns n' roses - appetite for destruction

now go squabble! this list is going to be decimated, as it should, but that's why it was posted: for dialogue on great music. voice your opinion, this is america, dammit!

TWO WEEKS... addendum

...yesterday, at approximately 12:15pm, the sun returned, and suddenly everything has life again. there's something to this, i tell you. now that the sun's back (and yeah, that means bugs, but i'll take 'em), people's outlook has shifted from internal to external, and there's sharing going on again, and folks are de-cocooning. it's a beautiful sight.

mahalo.

TWO WEEKS...

...since we've seen the sun up here in the Valley. we're all on suicide watch. 24-hour monitoring, because anyone's a candidate to pull the trigger. so i'll use this as a valve, to let off some pressure, and it's nice, because i really don't give a shit if anyone sees this, because this is just great self-therapy. get what you want out, and if someone sees it, and agrees, disagrees, is apathetic to it, whatever, i can walk away feeling like i've left whatever i was feeling behind.

however, there's nothing you can do for your psyche when you haven't seen the sun in 14 or so days. and an hour here and there just doesn't do anything but whet the appetite. i've heard some people are content with going to the tanning both so they can "feel like they've been in the sun"; apparently, that helps. well, have fun there without me (apologies to a friend who told me it's helpful, but i'll stay out in the clouds letting my skin turn the color of paste rather than get in one of those fucking pods).

this has all been like some great purging — when the weather breaks, and everything's back to "normal", we'll go on like nothing happened, but look around here: people have been affected by this. see if people don't react more sharply than they normally would... push a button and see if someone doesn't lash out.

i don't know. but i do know i'd sure like to wear sunglasses again.

the big easy

well, heading on down south to n'awlins tomorrow, and i'd be lying, lying, lying if i said i wasn't the least bit apprehensive. this is the kind of place you can lose yourself in, you know? vampire legends, ghost stories, voodoo, the fact that the city is going to be resting comfortably at the bottom of the mississippi before too long - lots of stuff!

...that and the fact that you can walk down the street and see all manner of debauchery, day or night, while drinking any beverage you can manage to carry.

i think i'll bring my gun. of course, i'll put it in my checked luggage. that would be if i had a firearm to arm myself. i don't. but i wish i did.

back with a report when i return for all none of you checking this out... mahalo.

mahalo, doc

when the Good Doctor Hunter S. Thompson decides he'd rather be anywhere but Earth, it gets me a little down. so have many Drinks for the man and wish him well on his journey, wherever he is now...

probably telling God and the Devil how he liked the other's place better.

BUT HE'S FREAKIN' DEAD.

"Ray Charles wins album, record of the year at Grammys" - CNN.com

wait a minute. this can't be right, can it? i mean, he's freakin' dead, and the album was released after he was freakin' dead, and we wouldn't even be talking about this if he was freakin' alive. even with the movie being released (which was a fine film).

let the dead stay dead.

Whew!

didn't play all that well. deceased grandmothers. grisly broken arms. bionic enemy receivers.

didn't matter. D-Y-N-A-S-T-Y.

let's get a couple more.

.750

three-for-four. brady brings the pats to their third super bowl in four years, and it still feels like people are surprised when it happens. of course vegas is installing us as the favorites (as of 11pm sunday the eagles are getting 6 from us in the superbowl), yet public opinion isn't sure of what to say. well, i'll say this: keep the team under the pop culture and popular opinion radars. it's worked so far.

20 - 3

so, anyone want to buy an "AFC champion indianapolis colts" shirt?

Revelations

we'll keep with the bible theme for a little while, seeing as that's made some people... edgy.

let's take stock here! so far it's been a week without chew (i'm sure everyone is THRILLED. no. really, i'm sure you're just peeing your pants about that one), and some people have come out of the woodwork i didn't expect.

people with pronounced and overdeveloped vocabularies who hide their own issues about their alternative lifestyle behind hateful and harmful slings and arrows they shoot at "friends."

either that or they get married as a front.

i'm liking this! even though it's a constant ganging up on me (nothing too unusual there - WAIT, that didn't sound right - nevermind), it seems to me that i'm acting like a surrogate therapist, holding your baggage for you while you make yourselves feel better through abuse. come on! drink the kool aid!

look at what i've done, i've made all of you people use the internet for something other than looking for weiners.

now if you'll excuse me, i'm off to check out whether or not lindsay lohan's had a boob job or not.

Great American Dip-Out: Day #2

so i've quit chewing tobacco. by my count it's been almost 36 hours since my last dip, and things are good. morale is high, resistance is strong. the question is, how long will altoids, gum and cough drops hold off the inevitable cravings for nicotine? i mean, cold turkey is a painful exercise, and a lonely one at that.

i'm walking around like bruce banner on the verge of snapping - "you wouldn't like me when i'm angry." half the time i'm daring people to piss me off so i can feel justified in flying off the handle. it's definitely an interesting study of self-restraint mixed with hubris.

i can't see how helpful it is to write this though, as i'm happiest right now when my mind's off this subject, and here i am dwelling on it. so i'm stopping...

right...

now.

define: clarivoyance

4" - 6" tonight. creepy, huh?

...and another thing, Mother Nature's pissed!

i don't know what we did, but we've done something that REALLY put some sand in mother nature's underpants. asian tsunamis, flooding in the midwest, snow in soCal, and here in new england...total dogshit. something in between april's promise of spring and a dirty diaper. really not nice, especially here in a ski town. feels like the air's sucking out the heart of us, just to turn it into ice to dump on our streets. hope this doesn't last too long...

Prima Blogga

greetings. welcome to my mind, at least when i have the mind to mine it for thoughts... don't hold your breath. but this is my soapbox! my chance to put up my feelings, likes, loves, hates and other varoius and sundry things that pop into my head, whenever they do so. so stay tuned! updates will be fitful and unpredictable, but they will NOT be boring.

pray for snow,
2socks