Boot Dryer DIY

UGLY, but fully functional
For almost nothing I made a boot dryer. I bought a bathroom ceiling fan for $13 and used wood from a drawer. I cut off the cord from something that went into the trash and found some PVC pipe and I was in business.

This is the fan unit. I mounted it to a two by four and mounted that into the drawer.

Then I drilled the holes for the PVC and glued them in place with gorilla glue

Tux made sure I did a quality job....
Then I used some bathroom caulk and sealed around the PVC.
I used wood from the bottom of another drawer and sealed it off.
After last week's SSCXWC, it got put to the test.

What is good about this is there is NO heat, so you can leave it on overnight and not cook anything. It was cheap, it is quiet enough and by plugging, or opening the tops, you can dry one to five pairs of boots/gloves, etc..

The price of victory

My one and only Podium finish...

In my life, certain stories have so clearly captured an issue for me that they have become part of my mindset. As someone who has been on every side of competition; when I heard the following story told in the first person, I knew I would not forget it.

I grew up in a small town and our high school competed against other small town schools. I was the star pitcher on our school’s baseball team. Most teams including ours, had few if any substitutes on the bench. One game the other school had ten players in uniform, but one was acting as the bat boy and appeared to have no plans to enter the game. An outfielder on the other team sprained his ankle in the last inning and they substituted this player in for him. The other fielders shifted as if this player wasn’t there. After three outs they came in for their final at bat.

We had a big lead and I was pitching well. With two outs the bat boy came to the plate. I could tell he was nervous and I wanted to get one more strike out to beat my previous best. I threw a fastball and he stepped toward third base as if getting out of the way and the pitch. The pitch was called strike one. Another fastball had the same result. I knew if I threw him a curve he would step out of the way and the pitch would curve over the plate for the third strike. His teammates shouted encouragement him to swing and hang in there.

I threw the curve and he fell to the ground in fear. The ball arced in for the third strike. As I was about to begin my personal celebration I saw the batter sitting in the dirt with his shoulders slumped over, crying. His teammates were approaching him to try and console him. I had set my record; we had won the game. Baseball and winning just never meant as much to me after that.

That story struck me as I had seldom considered the price of victory. I had let my children win when we would race to the car; but aside from that, I had not entertained the concept of sacrifice in competition. We all do things for the greater good. We recycle, we make charitable contributions, we open doors for strangers, but these things really cost us little.

At what point do we yield our egos and/or our personal financial gain for a greater good? When does the responsibility we bear as leaders, or just as equals, mean we put the needs of others before ourselves. I have always felt that when I held leadership positions in companies that I had a duty to make money for the owners, but that I also had a duty to provide opportunities to those who worked for me. I felt this two edged sword was part of the burden of management and I have always willingly accepted it.

Nobody believes more in a capitalistic society where hard work is rewarded more than me. However, I believe that anyone who does not understand and seriously weigh the impact of their actions on others is unfit and undeserving of leadership.

That’s all I’m going to say about that.

For now.

Cyclocross Equipment Failure

Short version: After the SSCXWC the bottom bracket on my single speed will turn no more.

Excessive pontification version:
For much of my life I made do with second rate stuff; actually, third rate stuff. When other kids rode Schwinn Stingrays, I had a purple bike from Montgomery Ward (I split the head tube landing off a jump). When other kids got Levi’s I had jeans from JC Penney that were made of polyester so they never faded. I remember rubbing the knees of my pants on the sidewalk trying to get them to fade. Not only did they never fade, my mother put patches on the knees.

As a teenager my fancy turned to backpacking and my dear mother taught me to sew and I began making some of my own gear. My stuff was ugly, but marginally functional. My father was, and remains, mechanically inept. Aside from an ancient hammer, a ten pound crescent wrench and two screw drivers, we had no tools. I’m not sure I ever saw my dad use the crescent wrench.

As I grew older I continued to scrounge equipment and make do with what I could afford. There were some areas where I refused to compromise. Rock climbing ropes were first quality and I cared for them and made them last. I didn’t have fancy cams, but made do with 1970 era stoppers and the like.

In my adult life, my bike equipment has been mid to upper end stuff. My wonderful wife has bestowed Park tools on me for birthdays and holidays. With better tools I have been able to maintain our bikes without spending a lot of money at bike shops.

This is my sixth season of Cyclocross. I have crashed and flatted and had all of the typical experiences. I haven’t had the broken derailleur or shifters that make us all cringe when we see them. Hank, my fellow equipment-o-phile broke his derailleur and his hanger a couple of races ago.

After SSCXWC I was cleaning my bike and the pedals were really hard to turn; as if there was too much preload. So much of my learning has been by trial and error that I assumed it was my mistake and removed the subject BB only to find it was frozen solid. I pried off the seal and the bearings appeared to be welded in place. No amount of solvent could remedy the situation. Although I didn’t check the time, I pronounced it dead at the scene.

I had a choice between ordering another crappy bottom bracket, or for 30% more, getting a bombproof one at cost through our sponsor bike shop. This will be my first, and I expect my last bike, where my BB retails for more than I paid for the frame.

I hope it is "Other."

I went to look up something on my blog while at work today and here is what greeted me.

Blocked Website
Your access to the website http://evodavo.blogspot.com/
was blocked for the following reason: Blocked Reason:
Content Analysis Category: Hate, Other

Silver Lake Race Report 2010

2009 Silver Lake.... Same sand, different year.

Aside from some pathetic yoga on Monday after the brutal race on October 10th, I didn’t work out all week. I felt beat up and sick so taking the time off, made the most sense.

Sunday morning the air was crisp and there was frost on the grass. Tux was anxious as I ate my oatmeal; he wanted to come, but this wasn’t the week to bring him. I made my way to Silver Lake with SFW following me.

The early sun created a misty fog that gave the lake a surreal look. The ground was dry and if it weren’t for the sand it would have been a fast course.

Course description:
Crossing the start/finish line you are on the only flat pavement on the whole course. After only about ten rods in distance you are on sand. Riders would invariably try to ride the sand and in two to ten seconds the riders would be churning and wrestling their bikes to stay upright and keep moving forward. With rare exception, everyone would eventually grind (perfect word usage) to a stop and bail and run. The sand went on for about ¾ furlong which wouldn’t be bad except it was sand, so it took forever to run. I run better than most, so I generally made up ground here.

After the sand you had twenty yards before a sharp left hand turn took you to an uphill that had a barrier at the bottom (what idiot thought that was a good idea?). Up and over the barrier and then about one chain later you have a loose climb that you don’t stand a chance of riding up because it is too close to the barrier you just went over. In theory with a perfect remount and lots of power applied instantly it could happen. After ascending the loose run up, you mount up and begin a gradual climb on singletrack. Then a series of tight twisty turns where I did better than in years past thanks to tubies and Sam teaching us about cornering. This emerges onto a gravel road that starts flat and then turns sharply downhill. Then a sharp ninty-plus degree right hand turn onto a short, super steep loose trail and more tight turns including downhill off camber devil turns followed by short, but really steep climbs. Then seventy meters of pavement brings you back onto a sand section which can be ridden by about half the riders. You are trying to float effortlessly over the sand and put our mega watts of power at the same time. The best way to describe it is to imagine applying power through the full cycle of the pedal stroke avoiding the bobbing of only applying power on the down stroke.

After riding the sand you hit a patch of harder stuff followed by sand that 90% had to run. Then you emerge onto a super steep climb that takes you directly to the top of the park with only one short off camber respite from the double digit grade gravel and grass climb. When you get here you are absolutely gassed. Then a series of downhill, off camber turn, stupid steep uphill short flat to the next downhill, repeat turns. The downhills give you a moment to catch your breath and then another series of tight switchbacks lets you practice your tight turning skills. This final series seems about half a league long.

After crossing the start finish line, the sand looms ahead like a debt that cannot be escaped.

I got the call up to the first row. This was the first time I have been in the first row as a result of call ups. For reasons I don’t fully understand our first lap was in fact a half lap with a detour that took us through the first fifty meters of sand and then turned around and caught the end of the sand section on the last half of the lap. To my udder amazement I got the hole shot as we hit the sand. While all are equal in the sand, some are more equal than others. I soon was about tenth as we started riding the menacing hills. Out of the saddle I fought to hold my position and improve it when I could. I did okay on the steep downs and ups and was still about tenth as we hit the sand on the second lap. I rode most of the sand on the second lap and when I bailed I was able to keep my momentum up and moved up a bit through the sand. I tried to climb the loose stuff past the barrier and piled into the ivy. I lost a couple spots but then passed some who had just passed me. The Curtlo was awesome and went where I pointed it. I was a little too cautious and people would catch me on downhills, but I powered back on the climbs and flats. I felt whipped on the third lap, but pushed it on my final lap. I felt I was able to ride the tight stuff better by keeping my outside pedal weighted and just going for it.

I crossed the line 14th which is my season best among a field of 48 finishers. Unlike last week, I was able to speak after finishing. Last week I just wanted to climb into a warm dry sleeping bag and close my eyes. This week I found some post race food and put on some dry clothes and prepared to double up and do the single speed race.

I had changed out my front ring from a 34 to a 38 last week. Kevin was running a 38-20 and said it was the set up to have on this course. My 38-16 was clearly too high and this wasn’t the course to go high. I will revert back tonight. The single speed category is largely young studs that could mix it up with the CAT 1/2 guys. I feel every one of my fiddy years when I line up with those lads.

I rightfully start at the back of the SS race and as we hit the sand ten seconds after the start the carnage exploded in front of me. Sand, arms, feet, and wheels were flying everywhere. I bailed quickly and ran through the Omaha Beach scene and was “not last” as I like to say. The climbs were almost, but not quite, impossible in my high gear, and I held my own through the turns. I moved up a few places among the rear of the SS field and was passed by a couple of the CAT 1/2 Women. The 45+ Master 3 Men were likewise catching me after my ninety second lead was squandered by my slow pace. I took a tumble in the sand and managed to scrape my elbow, but I quickly got up and kept plugging. The sand was beginning to lose its luster and although I continued to do okay, the day was wearing on me. On the third of six laps, at the run up I got someone’s brake hood shoved into my right kidney. Since your power comes from your low back something that rarely enters into a Cyclocross racers mind darted into my stream of thought; reason. I began hoping for a “mercy” mechanical.

As I crossed the start/finish line I looked ahead at the sand section. It looked a mile long. I coasted into the sand and shouldered my bike. I already had a top fifteen finish on the day and was still recovering. My low back hurt where I got jabbed and I was tired. I decided that was enough for one day.

I brushed the sand off my elbow and noticed I was bleeding. My hip had also taken the classic bruise/scrape that is the “I fell on my side during a Cyclocross race today” badge of courage.

I cheered on my teammates and when the race was over I packed and headed home. I was tired, bruised and bloody. By the way, Tux was totally fascinated by my elbow smelling like blood. It was a good day and I am looking forward to the SSCXWC race next week.

Wonderdog Update

With Hottie exploring the Cyclocross options within the Carolinas Tux and I are trying not to find ourselves humming the theme song from “The odd couple.” Tux is an affable companion and is content to join me on whatever task I am engaged. He has many endearing traits including his shoe relocation program. When my youngest daughter would get antsy we would get her to jump on the trampoline to burn off the excess energy. Tux sometimes starts to boil over and we take him into the backyard where he rips around like a motorcycle in a cage. It is enough of a spectacle that the neighbors race to their windows to watch him.

He does have a habit that we don’t like. He knows not to get on our bed when we are in it. When we’re gone, our bed is his safe place. He hops on and lies down. We don’t want to find his hair on our bedspread, so we toss a blanket on the bed when we aren’t in it. The problem is, he has developed an appreciation for the finer things. He pulls back not only the blanket, but also the comforter and sheets so he can plop his furry self on our high thread count sheets and pillowcases. We console ourselves that he could have worse habits like chewing furniture or leather shoes, or peeing. If the worst thing we have to do is wash our sheets more often; we’ll take it.

He is a gentle soul and loves to get affection. When he takes a treat from your hand he is grateful and your fingers are never at risk. As a racer he made his living chasing the little furry thing, and since joining our family he has caught a squirrel which seemed to me entirely consistent with his training. When Tux caught the squirrel he believed he had been chasing his entire life, he brought it in the house to share his joy. Hottie was less enthusiastic and called me very excited at work asking that I remove his “trophy.”

He is still a cool pup.

Bull Mouse

I am still recovering. While the race Sunday was really hard, I have just felt off since last Thursday. I ignored the signs until Sunday evening after my race when I collapsed into bed spent. Monday morning I did yoga, or what I have come to call yoga, and the rest of the week I’ve been sleeping in.

With recovery topping my list of training priorities in 2010, I am just taking it easy until I feel good. Tux the wonderdog has shown great patience with me in the meantime.