Careful Where You Squat!

Today I had a near disaster experience.  I was so close to disaster that my heart rate is still jacked up about it.  I can only thank the running gods, maybe mother nature herself, for sparing me. 

It all happened on a trail during a 15 mile run.  I was moving well up the single track trail in Coyote Canyon, a few steps ahead of my brother who was on his mountain bike.  Just as I stopped to take in the view across Newport Coast Road, I received a call from my GI track.  This was not a routine call.  This was an emergency call.  I quickly grabbed some Charmin from my brothers Camelback and charged for the nearest bush.

As I was crouched down tending to my business, my brother made a wise crack about a rattlesnake biting me in the ass.  “Ha ha bro, I know what I’m doing out here, don’t try to scare me with your jokes”, I thought to myself.  But his words must have hit home, because just as quickly as the thought of a rattlesnake was moving through my sub conscience, my eyes were surveying the ground around me.  All was well until turned to my right…

Holy crap, there’s a bee hive two feet from my bare ass!  “Get the hell out of here!”, I remember yelling to my brother. I felt like a ballerina who had just soiled her tutu as I tip toed away while pulling up my shorts.   Thank god I had finished with the Charmin. 

Today I came very close to disaster.  If I had been a mere two feet to my right when I squatted, well, I don’t think I’d be here—sitting—to tell you the story.  

Thanks Beano

Cracks in the Cycling Empire?

I just finished reading the article Blood Brothers, published in this weekend’s edition of the Wall Street Journal.  The story is essentially Floyd Landis’ account of the systematic doping that goes on in the world of professional cycling, including Lance Armstrong.  The Tour de France begins its first stage today.

Though as I sit here today I’m disappointed in the sport of cycling, particularly the Tour de France, a race I have followed for over 25 years as a genuine fan.  I yearn for the days when American’s were considered nothing more than want-to-be’s by Europeans in the sport of cycling.    At least until Greg LeMond and Andy Hampsten showed up and spoiled their party.  Greg and Andy paved the way for today’s American’s cyclists.  They toiled in the Alps and Pyrenees when most American’s didn’t even know the meaning of peloton.  Or EPO.  Or testosterone patches.

What has cycling become?  From my vantage point it's is nothing more than a shell of its former self, held together as a sport by extremely well-off sponsors and media hype.  When money enters the game, the rules change.  People do things that they wont do for the simple joy of it.  I’m all for making a living in sport.  But it’s gone way beyond that.  Sponsors want market exposure, product branding, and sales.  Isn’t that what capitalism is all about?  Are the riders being exploited? What about the fans?  If drugs are really happening, and I think they are, the answer to those two questions is affirmative.

This wasn’t intended to be a rant, but I’m just so disappointed in the sport right now.  I so much wanted Floyd Landis to assume the title that Greg and Lance held before him, but it wasn’t to be.  When he rode uncontested for most of a stage in one of the most dramatic comebacks in the history of sports, only to be dethroned by a drug test, was for me, simply, depressing. Now that he has come clean and said what he has said he can at last breathe deep, look his mom in the eye, and not blink.  There is something to be said for being able to do just that.  I think our grandparents would place that above standing on the podium in terms of a life value.  I’m not sure our generation would.