This blog is a retrospective

I’d promised to get a few more cycling photos up from days of yore and had time to throw two up today. The first is of me riding up the climb at the National Cycling Championships in Boise ID in 1986, and the second is me finishing with the third or fourth group, about 4 minutes behind Steve Larsen, Kirk Willett, Dave McCook and company.

I often wonder about the other juniors in that race, some went on to have pretty good pro careers like the guys mentioned above. Some probably quit a few years after the race, as I did, only to rekindle their interest in cycling in the 1990s. 21 years down the line I wonder how many of them still dream of cycling, but have put it on the back-burner because their raison d’etre is now family and career. I wonder how many have little kids, and are 25 pounds overweight, like me. I wonder how many, even, are still racing or even riding at all?

This blog is a retrospective

I’d promised to get a few more cycling photos up from days of yore and had time to throw two up today. The first is of me riding up the climb at the National Cycling Championships in Boise ID in 1986, and the second is me finishing with the third or fourth group, about 4 minutes behind Steve Larsen, Kirk Willett, Dave McCook and company.

I often wonder about the other juniors in that race, some went on to have pretty good pro careers like the guys mentioned above. Some probably quit a few years after the race, as I did, only to rekindle their interest in cycling in the 1990s. 21 years down the line I wonder how many of them still dream of cycling, but have put it on the back-burner because their raison d’etre is now family and career. I wonder how many have little kids, and are 25 pounds overweight, like me. I wonder how many, even, are still racing or even riding at all?

Juice fast

Back between 1994 and 1998 I used to fast about once a month, and always had great success with it. I like the discipline of it, especially after the discipline it takes to eat competitively and generally gorge myself for weeks at a time.

I'm off for about 5 days from work, and so I planned on doing one 24 or 36 hour fast during this time.

This is how it goes.

6pm--the night before--fasting starts.

8am: I usually wake up and am not hungry, today was no exception.

10am: This is when I'm usually hungry, but I just drank about 15 oz. of vegetable juice.

12pm: A small bowl of vegetable broth and some more juice.

2pm: nap. This is when the major discomfort begins, which often starts to affect the mind.

4pm: pure hunger

6pm: decide either to break the fast or keep going.

8pm: If doing 36 hr. fast the hunger tends to go away for some reason.

Juice fast

Back between 1994 and 1998 I used to fast about once a month, and always had great success with it. I like the discipline of it, especially after the discipline it takes to eat competitively and generally gorge myself for weeks at a time.

I'm off for about 5 days from work, and so I planned on doing one 24 or 36 hour fast during this time.

This is how it goes.

6pm--the night before--fasting starts.

8am: I usually wake up and am not hungry, today was no exception.

10am: This is when I'm usually hungry, but I just drank about 15 oz. of vegetable juice.

12pm: A small bowl of vegetable broth and some more juice.

2pm: nap. This is when the major discomfort begins, which often starts to affect the mind.

4pm: pure hunger

6pm: decide either to break the fast or keep going.

8pm: If doing 36 hr. fast the hunger tends to go away for some reason.

Of all my readership, which I know now numbers in the thousands, Michael and Tater are probably the only ones who know about or remember this person, but he must be mentioned and immortalized.

Mike the Bike was a guy in Kirksville, Missouri who owned a bike shop in the 1980s on Green Street, appropriately named “Mike the Bike Shop.” I have no idea what his last name was, we all just knew him as Mike the Bike.

Mike the Bike was nice, but he was also crazy. Notice the item above, for instance. The race started at 1:30, but all showed up to “stage” at 11, which meant standing around in 35 degree weather for 2 ½ hours. He also wanted to build a velodrome in his basement, and he handed out expensive cycling equipment like candy, very expensive wool jerseys, (which I believe sda still has one, the black and yellow one) even bike frames. He once drove a school bus, but got mad at all the kids on the bus and let them all out on State Highway 11, a very busy road East of Kirksville without a shoulder. Fortunately, none of the kids died. Mike the Bike, however, never set foot in a school bus again.

However, his coup de grace of craziness had to be staging a criterium in Kirksville during a festival, without telling any of the festival organizers he was doing it. So, this “criterium” involved, mostly, dodging people, dogs, and very small children who had no idea why bicycles were barreling toward them. Soon after that, his shop closed.

I’ll always remember Mike the Bike fondly, though. He was generous to a fault, and he gave my brother and I tons of stuff—just gave it to us. I spent hours and hours at his shop, just shooting the breeze with other local cycling fanatics. And, even though he didn’t quite GET racing, he understood what it took to be serious about bikes.

Last we all heard, he was pumping gas at a filling station in Hurdland, MO, which kind of makes me sad.

Of all my readership, which I know now numbers in the thousands, Michael and Tater are probably the only ones who know about or remember this person, but he must be mentioned and immortalized.

Mike the Bike was a guy in Kirksville, Missouri who owned a bike shop in the 1980s on Green Street, appropriately named “Mike the Bike Shop.” I have no idea what his last name was, we all just knew him as Mike the Bike.

Mike the Bike was nice, but he was also crazy. Notice the item above, for instance. The race started at 1:30, but all showed up to “stage” at 11, which meant standing around in 35 degree weather for 2 ½ hours. He also wanted to build a velodrome in his basement, and he handed out expensive cycling equipment like candy, very expensive wool jerseys, (which I believe sda still has one, the black and yellow one) even bike frames. He once drove a school bus, but got mad at all the kids on the bus and let them all out on State Highway 11, a very busy road East of Kirksville without a shoulder. Fortunately, none of the kids died. Mike the Bike, however, never set foot in a school bus again.

However, his coup de grace of craziness had to be staging a criterium in Kirksville during a festival, without telling any of the festival organizers he was doing it. So, this “criterium” involved, mostly, dodging people, dogs, and very small children who had no idea why bicycles were barreling toward them. Soon after that, his shop closed.

I’ll always remember Mike the Bike fondly, though. He was generous to a fault, and he gave my brother and I tons of stuff—just gave it to us. I spent hours and hours at his shop, just shooting the breeze with other local cycling fanatics. And, even though he didn’t quite GET racing, he understood what it took to be serious about bikes.

Last we all heard, he was pumping gas at a filling station in Hurdland, MO, which kind of makes me sad.