It's windy.

I got out on the path today and almost got knocked over by the wind. Seriously. The waves on the lake were big enough to surf. I got about 3 miles and decided riding was a bad idea, and it took me literally twice as long to get back as it did to get out. There's nothing like the feeling of pushing as hard as you can against the wind and only going 15 mph.

It's cold.

It was like 70 yesterday, and then I wake up to a frost advisory this morning. Awesome.

I turned in my last midterm today, which means I have more time to ride and I won't be pulling two all nighters a week anymore. On the plus side, the lowest grade I've gotten in any class this semester is a 93. I own the fucking Dean's List.

I ran into a guy on the bike path today who told me he was a big Stuart O'Grady fan. Such a fan that he bought a Dura-Ace equipped Cervelo Soloist Carbon rolling on some Zipp 404 tubulars. And a full CSC kit to match. And when I say full kit, I mean full kit: not just jersey and bibs, but a hat, socks, Bell helmet, gloves, arm and leg warmers, and even shoe covers. He's Australian, so he decided to take advantage of the weak American dollar and buy a ton of stuff. God it was awesome.

Oh, and he looked exactly like Robbie McEwan.

It is DISGUSTING outside.

And now my bike is too. Which is too bad, because I just had it tuned up and cleaned last weekend. Looks like I'll be getting out the Simple Green tonight.

And my kit is encrusted with grime and dirt. I have a dirty roostertail all the way up my back and onto my helmet. I have so many wet and dirty clothes that I actually don't have enough places to hang them in the room so they can dry. I guess it serves me right for insisting on riding even though it was 50 degrees and raining. The group I was going to ride with bailed on me because of the rain, but I was too restless - I've been off the bike for a few days because of midterms and papers, so I wanted to get out for a few hours no matter what.

I'm going to go take an extremely hot shower.

PS. This is the first picture posted from the new 10.1 megapixel camera. See how crazy sharp it is? Click on that and look at the big version, it's AWESOME. Sorry, I'm really excited about this.

FUN FACT: I am fiscally irresponsible

It's not every day my dad and I go out and spend a grand on a whim.

But we did yesterday. I got a new camera.

We had actually been considering it for a long time, because I need a new SLR for school and stuff. My old Pentax, the *istDS, is getting, well, old. And the new K10D is an effing beast. It's about twice as fast as the old camera, has built in vibration dampening, and has an extra four megapixels. I could not be more excited about this thing.

Oh! and I might be a photo intern for the Sun-Times next semester. Which is pretty cool. Still looking for a summer internship, though, and I'm thinking about applying at the World-Herald in Omaha. Mostly because I would rather not live all alone in Chicago this summer, and I want to race in Omaha. Bryan, you know of any photo-related internships at the OWH?

The Bataan Death Ride

Went on my first Shabbos ride today, though it was combined with the Bike Masters Saturday ride. Munson was kind enough to let me borrow his kickass LeMond, which rides surprisingly well for aluminum and is also super responsive. It was particularly kind of him because it meant he had to ride his commuter Bianchi, which weights a shade under a metric ton. And it's a 1x9, which must have hurt.

The first half of the ride when pretty well, considering it was the usual cast of characters for a Saturday ride: a bunch of guys who aren't really accustomed to riding in groups, some squirrely dudes with aero bars, a few guys who like to hammer off and on. For the most part, Brian, Jon, Mike and I left those guys alone. I would prefer not to break a collarbone at the hands of an inexperienced rider on aero bars again. I contested some sprints with Bryan, all of which I lost. In general, I did better in the sprints than I thought I would, so that was good news. Did a terrible job on the hills, though, and it didn't help that I haven't ridden or slept enough in the last 10 days because of midterms. Bryan did a great job getting me up through the pack in the sprint around the lake, but I just didn't have it in the end.

Got dropped going with the wind back from Two Rivers, when I just didn't have anything left in the tank. Rode back on King Lake with Jon, Bryan, and Munson, just clipping along and talking. That was the best part of the ride, hands down.

But then we hit the hills and wind on the way back, and it blew. Hard. I had no energy, no drive, and I lost all my motivation to do well after I started to crack. It was as much a psychological battle as a physical one on the way back, and I lost both.

It was a tough ride, but I'm glad I did it. Really glad.

I didn't ride a single mile this week.

Not a one. Which is disappointing, even though I know I spent my time doing more important things, like passing my midterms.

The worst part is that I don't miss it as much as I used to. In Omaha, if I couldn't ride for more than two days it produced almost physical pain. But here in Chicago, I'm getting bored of the bike path already. It's the same thing day after day - perfectly flat course that would be perfect for doing some intervals if it weren't so crowded. I'm always dodging rollerbladers and some jerkoff on a Huffy wearing sandals inevitably tries to hang on my wheel. Or worse, a messenger races me. I'm also a little disillusioned with the path after some guy got into a fight with me because I was too close to his rear wheel after he cut me off in a crowded slow zone going 20 mph. He rode right on my wheel, insulting me the whole way, trying to make fun of my Italian national team jersey (he said, quote, "Look at you in your guinea national jersey. I bet you don't even speak any Italian." Which is, 1. not true, I do speak a good bit of Italian, and 2. completely nonsensical. What does that have to do with anything? Also, he was riding a Bianchi and didn't speak any Italian, so according to his criteria, he is more in the wrong than I). He told me I was fat, I told him he was an aging, washed-up, chest-thumping alpha male who should take solace in the fact that he can still pass the soccer moms cruising down the Chicago bike path on 26" tires. I've never been so close to actually getting into a fight in my life.

The worst part about that incident was that it really diminished the bike path for me. I have had a thousand great experiences out there, but this guy wiped them all out in two minutes. The shine is off the apple for me. Hopefully I'll get in a few good rides this weekend in Omaha (I get in Friday and leave Tuesday, I'm looking for a bike if you've got one you're not using for the weekend) and it will rekindle my love for the sport.

In the meantime, I'll have to console myself by hitting the path here in Chicago and looking for that Bianchi guy so I can shove a stick in his spokes.