Ian, how'd you confuse your body today?

With a rubix cube.

I'm curious as to what the reaction would be if I just ended the post like that. Rubix cubes are confusing, and when you commit to something as much as I do you end up using your entire body to solve that dratsab. Except that when I was younger I cheated by just peeling off the stickers and putting them in convenient locations, so I'll end this story with a lesson for you all.

If you try and cheat the rubix cube, it will strike back. Keep that in mind. I google searched "Attacking Rubix Cube" and this is the result that I got.

Luckily for you I'm not going to end this post with that note. I do enjoy a good thinker to process while I go about my day, and I'm sure you do too, but instead I'm going to remove any thinking from your afternoon and just spoon feed you the details about how I confused the living organisms (organizmz if you're creative) out of my body today.

I woke up this morning freezing cold. This is not an exaggeration, I actually peed an icicle.

Next, I put on sweats, sweatshirt, and down booties. I waltzed downstairs where I had coffee #1. My insides became warm and my feet followed in line. Soon, I was comfortably warm.

I had originally planned on doing a bike ride after waking up. However, the weather was confused and as the rain pounded against my window and dripped off like all the fat on a Christmas ham (I've never had Christmas ham, but if it's as drippy fat as I'm imagining I'm not interested) [side note, I just got mad that my computer didn't autocorrect <im> to <I'm> like my cell phone does. That's a bad sign for my future of being able to communicate with people]. Anyways, I decided that since I was now comfortably warm from proper clothing and coffee, I would wait to ride outdoors.

I worked on schoolwork (sort of) for the next couple of hours. I had coffee #2 and even took my down bootie slippers off. My comfortableness led me to decide that since the weather was awful, I would do my intervals inside on the rollers and then finish the rest of the riding on my cross bike outdoors.

I got kitted up and headed into the garage where it was colder than an arctic 7-11. I turned the fan on, had it face me on the rollers, and shivered as it taunted me with its cold breath.

I pedaled for about five minutes shivering, and then as my cadence and breathing increased my jersey zipper proportionately was pulled down. Soon, the jersey was off and my intervals were starting. Two towels, one and a half water bottles, and one huge sweat puddle-lake-river later I was burning hot and finished with ride one. I sat on the stairs in our garage, the steam coming off my back giving me an angelic vibe, contemplating my warmth. I slowly took my shoes off, composed myself, and walked into the well-heated house.

Ten minutes later I was still sweating, my body confused by its shift from max effort to checking Twitter. As I prepared for ride two, my new riding clothes were layered on my still-sweating body. The long sleeve undershirt, long sleeve jersey and rain jacket stuck to my mid-August sweat. I pulled leg warmers and tights on, slowly cooking myself inside.

I got onto my cross bike and headed out in the rain. Blissfully content for about 13 minutes, I soon turned onto the most exposed part of the ride. After being pelted with sleet for five minutes, I hit the trails and started "ripping" through the mud puddles and gravel. Things were great for about an hour, then I started getting COLD.

I finished the ride shivering, soaked to the bone in muddy water. My bike was a mess, so I stumbled to find the hose. We've got these hellish covers to keep the pipes from freezing, so after spinning a wing-nut with numb and swollen fingers and sloppily attaching the hose, I finally was able to get my bike clean.

At this point, my hands and feet are useless. I spray my legs down to clean the mud off my leg warmers and struggle to reassemble the pipe cover, which has a design so difficult that it would make Houdini raise a white flag.

Finally the faucet cover was on and I was able to go inside. After having to open my shoe buckles with telekinesis, I got inside the house.

Every working brain cell told me to wait to shower. I'm supposed to put sweats and wool socks on and drink tea until I thaw out a bit. Unfortunately, rap music has taught me that rules are meant to be broken so I headed straight for the shower.

I went from freezing cold to painfully warm much too fast. I'm not ashamed to admit it- today was one of those fetal position in the shower kind of days. We all have those, right? Right? Uh-oh. My feet and hands came alive first, pounding like some poorly operated highschool marching band.

Then I went to Hawaii and sat on the beach and got really comfortably warm again.

Maybe it would help to summarize, and think of this musically. Much like Brian McKnight's SMASH hit "Back to One", I present to you:

"Back to Being Cold and Back to Warm" by Ian Crane:

Step 1, you wake up really cold,
Two, you get dressed right and get warm bro,
Three, you ride hard and a fast, and that's how you get really sweaty
Four, You ride outdoors
Five, you freeze some more
Six, you take a shower
If I ever believe that I'm warming, then I'll start back at this morning

One, you wake up really COLD
Two, you get dressed right and get warm bro,
Three, you ride hard and a fast, and that's how you get really sweaty
Four, You ride outdoors
Five, you freeze some more
Six, you take a shower
If I ever believe that I'm warming, then I'll start back at this morning

hey hey hey.

 
Cheers.

Oh, and I have an essay due tomorrow. Hence the blog post.

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Gravitec camp 2013

It's 4:30 on a Saturday afternoon and I am about to die.

Let's rewind a bit. I'll leave you hanging in suspense with the question in your mind on whether or not I survived the Sponsor Camp for the 2013 Hagens Berman Cycling team.

Last weekend was the meet and greet- mainly a good excuse to get to know our new teammates and director, but also a chance to learn about sponsors, expectations, and metaphorically pour one out for the homies who couldn't be there.

For those of you with memories like baby geniuses, Danny made a crash at Redmond Derby Days, broke his collar bone, and got surgery. Fast forward 6 months and the plate in his shoulder had to come out. This just HAD to happen last weekend, so instead of him actually being there, Alan created this cardboard cutout of him. Much fun was had. In other news, Steve has papercuts all over his body.

Friday afternoon came the time for 9 cyclists to step far, far away from their sweat pant wearing lifestyles to don some fancy clothes for dinner with the Don. In order to avoid last years parking lot changing fiasco, we all chose to wear nice clothing all day instead of just for dinner. This led to Winger running to the store rapidly to buy laces so he could look just like me.

To avoid cocky statements about who was the best dressed, I'll instead focus on the fact that Cody brought two ties for a one tie sort of weekend. This is something that I have tremendous respect for, and although he only wore one, he was able to hook Stuart up with his extra tie. This is the beginning of a weekend filled with great teamwork and stylish dressing. Meanwhile, Jon "Horndogbrocal" Hornbeck didn't wear a tie. This led Steve Berman to call Jon out at dinner as being the "rebellious one of the group". In a non-related story, Alan sat next to Berman for a brief meal and he wasn't wearing a tie.

I found this picture of Alan at dinner. He slipped the bow-tie on after Berman left.

On the complete opposite side of the spectrum, here's a picture of one of my teammates in their fancy getup:

That's a picture of David just outside the restaurant. I bet most of you thought that I was going to follow up an "Alan is tall" joke with a "Steve is short" joke, but I flipped it on you. I wasn't going to belittle Steve with a small joke.

Enough about clothing. Friday was an opportunity to hear about:

• Our new Jamis bikes. We will be riding the Xenith SL on the road and the Xenith TT frame in time trials.
• BRAND NEW Shimano shoes. We are using the R320.  So new that they're not on the website yet. Check em' out here
• http://www.cyclingnews.com/news/former-us-pro-swindlehurst-to-direct-domestic-team
• Reynolds Wheels

We are all excited to have Burke Swindlehurst be our DS for the year. Here's an amazing fact about Burke- he has done the Cascade Cycling Classic and the Tour of the Gila more than fifteen times each! It is going to be very beneficial to our team to have someone with as much experience as he does. If you're wondering why we all made the split in a crosswind at Gila, it's because Burke knows about that one house in that one corner that blocks the wind at a 37 degree angle and makes it so you can move up easily before a windy area that always has a stiff 23 mph breeze coming from the NE.

Saturday morning took us to the new Gravitec warehouse. For those of you who don't know, Gravitec is a company who specializes in fall protection for workers whose job puts them at risk of falling from high places. People like window washers, construction workers, and Circ de Soleil acrobats all rely on Gravitec to educate them on how to be safe while working at heights and provide them with protection technology in the event of a fall.

Then there's us.

Photo by Kyle Mutter and Winger Studios

The goal for Saturday was to put the riders in uncomfortable or unfamiliar situations where we would have to rely on our teammates and our communication skills in order to solve a task or to safely navigate an obstacle. A couple of my favorites from the day were:

• The wall climb- We were taken to the base of a 15ft wall with a platform at the top and were told "you have three minutes to get everyone to the top. GO". This is the moment when David Fleischhauer carried the weight of the entire team on his shoulders. Look for him to do this more throughout the season, but in this specific moment we decided that the best way to get all of our people over the ledge was to have David squat everyone up on his shoulders. This worked GREAT until there were only two people left at the bottom. One of those was David, who also happens to be the biggest/strongest guy on the team. We were able to get him up, but then were left with no one to boost the last guy up. 

Photo by Kyle Mutter and Winger Studios

•  Flat changing contest- This seemed pretty normal. Get a bunch of cyclists together doing activities and make them change a tire really fast, right? Sort of. We got paired up with a teammate. Myself and Staz set about making tactical decisions, and then my right arm was abruptly tied behind my back. So was Staz's. All of a sudden, this tire changing contest was two guys with two left arms total. Go! What was cool about this is that there was a lot of unspoken teamwork happening. At least with Staz and I we knew exactly what needed to be done with the tire. In contrast to a task that we weren't comfortable with (ie climbing a wall), we were able to set about doing it and fix problems as they came up. This gives me confidence for the 2013 season. When you put our team in an element that we are comfortable with (bike racing), I think we have proved that we are prepared to work well together. Since y'all are dying to know the results of the race, Staz and I changed the flat in ~2 minutes and 40seconds. We were the second ones to take off the tire, take out the tube, put the tube back in, put the tire back on, and inflate it to 100 psi using only our left hands. Steve and Jon technically got it done first, but as soon as they got to 101 psi their tube blew. Our tube is safe to race on, so who's the real winner here?

• 100 ft of rope climb- We did this last year, but it is still as brutal and as fun. Climb 100 ft of rope using one strap on your leg and an ascender and your puny little arms will hurt in the morning. Guaranteed.

Photo by Kyle Mutter and Winger Studios

• Tight rope walk and Commando crawl- Two methods of getting across a rope at a height. The first was a ~25 foot shuffle across a gap on a rope 35 feet in the air. You stood on the rope, tried to be as smooth as possible, and supported yourself with another rope above your head. The commando crawl was a little different. You hugged the rope on your stomach, and inched across it staring anywhere but directly at the ground 35-40 feet below you. Never have I seen anyone move their arms as fast as when Colby fell off and was dangling by just his arms. He jungle gym'd across the rest of the rope quite rapidly to safety. Now I'm convinced that I'll never have to do any heavy lifting the rest of the year. He's in charge.

Photo by Kyle Mutter and Winger Studios

Photo by Kyle Mutter and Winger Studios

Finally, the moment you've all been waiting for. My death or near-death experience (which one is it?!?!). At the end of the day we were given the chance to do the 15ft wall climb again. This time we were wearing our harnesses. The first time we failed miserably- we needed to get 10 guys up and over the wall in 3 minutes or less. We got 9 guys up in about 7 minutes. This second time around, we were supposed to get 12 guys over the wall in 3.5 minutes.

Instead of just David doing squats, I helped him carry the weight of the team. We held the team on our shoulders and would not budge. By doing two at a time, we were rapidly getting guys to the top and soon were left with just David and I at the ground level.

I did a wall sit and David climbed up my thighs, onto my shoulders and was grabbed by someone at the top. The ~10 guys at the top all pulled David up halfway so that he was held in limbo. Half his body dangled off the wall like some Rambo ice-climbing movie. I was able to just reach David's foot, so I grabbed that and began walking up the wall, Mission Impossible style. Soon I reached his harness and was able to climb up that until I was close to the top. Trouble- I had nowhere else to climb. As I dangled off of David, I saw Cody lean over the side and grab on to my shoulders. Since he's Canadian, and Canadians know a thing or two about lugging heavy objects, I just sort of assumed that I could let go of David. Unspoken teamwork. I released my monkey grip on David's harness and as the rest of the team pulled David up and over the wall, I hung 15 feet in the air, the only thing keeping me from the Felix Baumgartner freefall to the ground below was Cody. This is where I learned that Cody J Campbell has the upper body strength of 11 cyclists or at least 1.5 adult males. I expected to hang there until Cody got some help from the other guys, but instead he started pulling. Cody single-handily saved me from imminent sore ankles, good footage for @WingerStudios, and probably a different ending to my blog post.

Here are some more photos from Kyle Mutter and Winger Studios:
 

Dude, sup Danny?


Yes, this is a cycling team. Yes, these were not cycling-related activities. But if you take an athlete out of their comfort zone you introduce a new dimension to their interactions. Instead of facing problems that we've all seen before, we were forced to: communicate better, think outside of the box, use each others strengths and weaknesses, and rely on people that we just met.

How many of you would jump off a 40 foot structure with only 8 people ensuring that you didn't splatter on the ground? And of those 8 people controlling your fate, you've known half of them for less than a day?

Standing 40 feet in the air about to take that jump, I did not hesitate for a second. Thank you Gravitec for turning a group of strangers into a much closer team.

We are all excited to get out on bikes and try to drop each other. Sorry, I meant work well together.

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Living at Danny's House

This is the story of a man named Ian Crane,

Who jumped on Virgin Airlines to escape the rain,

Who had froze and shivered, aching pain,

Escape to California, a race to train

He arrived in California, the puddles splashed high,

Readied himself to hear "who brought the rain? Oh, this guy"

But instead the sun came, indeed it was seen

So he went for a ride to a place called "Palos Green"

Day two through nine, bike pedaling was done,

Some through and off on the PCH, LOL it sure was fun.

Climbing in the mountains, Maybe not as quick and sharp,

But he made sure to start every ride with at least two Pop Tarts.

 

 

Yum! Candy, snacks and treats

Stuffed his pockets, a pleasure to eat.

Snickers, Twix, or a gas station Apple fritter,

These powered him strong, made him post about it on Twitter:

 

So what did he get from this camp? (No, no tooth infection)

Let me explain to you what was accomplished, yes this is his reflection:

• Three beards grown
• At least ten cereal boxes consumed
• 36 hours of riding in 9 days
• A week of top 10 in Strava miles competition
• Two boxes of Pop Tarts
• Two emergency gels NEVER removed from pockets
• 8 episodes of Ridiculousness watched
• 43,000 feet of climbing
• One super tan, Hawaiian tropic Ian
• 650 miles
• 14.76 million kilojoules 
• Average power 498 watts.

• And one new amazing tv show to watch

This weekend is the first team camp of 2013 for Hagens Berman Cycling. It will be good to meet the new guys, see the new equipment, and make several jokes about the extremely large and weird-shaped mass of flesh and hair that makes up Cody's head.

This also means I will have something to write about, because the last three weeks I have done nothing but pedal, watch reruns of the Big Bang Theory, and read. This post also marks the first time I posted instead of doing school work for Winter Quarter. Big news people, I GRADUATE IN THREE MONTHS.

Ok.

Peace out you hooligans.

Your friend,

Ian

PS: I had the theme song from the movie "The Hurricane" stuck in my head at the beginning of this post. It goes a little something like "this is the story of the hurricane, the man the authorities came to blame". The rhyme makes more sense when you hear the song. And it's awesome, and the movie is awesome. Watch it.

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The greatest experiment of all time

What I am about to share with you is a true story. This truth comes from my heart and it follows my blood stream through my weak- toothpick-like in stature yet gorilla-like in hair- arms, into each one of my fingers and aggressively pounded out onto the keyboard which sends some sort of nerdy signal to the screen completing the truth cycle by making words.

For the past three months, I've been conducting which turned out to be the most near-death social and educational experiment that is possible within the realms of humanism. What I'm about to share is something I am very proud of, quite terrified by, and slightly (only slightly) amused by. What am I talking about. I am THOROUGHLY amused by this experiment.

This is the story about how I beat the entire college education system.

As background, my path towards a college degree has been ... labored. I did two and a third years of time at a facility in upstate Washington. Side note- this place is where I had THE BEST mugshot ID card of my existence.
 After being deemed "educated" I was paroled with the possibility of progression. They said "here's your AA degree, get out there and be somebody!". They did not give me a free suit when I left AND some of my personal belongings were missing. Thanks a lot Whatcom CC. However, soon (immediately after) I was back inside, my brief freedom halted in order to serve more time within this system. I began plotting my way to stand up for myself and for my people who were doing the same time that I was. Much like how Andy Dufrane locked himself in the Warden's office to play sweet, sweet Mozart over the speakers into the yard, I needed some form of hoorah. I needed to do something that could prove that although I was identification #869618, I was an individual. You might take my time, but you will never take my freeeeeeeeeddooooooommmmmm.

At Whatcom, I took some Spanish classes. I dominated these classes, so naturally since I (with previous experience in the language) could get A's in entry level classes, I probably have a future in the language. My last Spanish class at Whatcom was March-June of whatever year I was there. I finished up my AA that Fall, and didn't have room in my schedule for a Spanish class. That means that June-December I spoke absolutely zero Spanish.


I transferred to Western, where I took Spanish classes from January-June. The language that I had almost lost over the past 6 months of not speaking it was almost coming back to me. Two straight quarters of Spanish classes and just like that I was only TWO classes away from getting a Minor in Spanish.

Excellent news! I filled out the paperwork to get this minor. Then, I was all worried about taking classes for my Major (blogging) so after my three month Summer vacation I didn't take Spanish classes fall quarter. In January, I took my second to last Spanish class. This went quite poorly. The language was gone from my vocal chords, again, and now the classes that are required for the Minor are upper-division difficult classes. I struggled through January to March, slowly regaining some handle of the language and passing that class. Only ONE MORE class to go! I was going to get a Minor. The smart student would have taken a Spanish class spring quarter (March-June) and gotten it out of the way. Oops. This is not something that I did.

Finally, we are caught up to present day. I was entering my last two quarters at Western and I had to finish my Minor. I signed up for a Spanish class to take this past quarter (September-December). It had been since March since I even thought about the language.

Correct, everything was gone again.

The trouble here is that the only Spanish class that I could fit into my schedule was the highest level class available in the department. SPAN497, Cuban History and Film. I met with the teacher before the quarter started in March, and saw the syllabus. The class seemed relatively simple: Watch Cuban films, learn some stuff about Castro, do a presentation, and take two tests. Easy, right?

On the first day of class the Prof showed a short 30 minute film as a welcome to the class.  I listened as closely as I could and had no idea what was going on. At one point, there was apparently something funny said in the film, because everyone in the class laughed. Except me. I knew I was in trouble. However, in order for me to graduate in March I needed to take this class. I absolutely could not drop it for that reason, but I knew that if I waited another quarter the language would be even further away. I had to pass this class by any means necessary.


Here comes the experiment. Can someone with little grasp of the Spanish language successfully pass the hardest class in that department that a University has to offer? I was officially considering myself a poor Spanish speaker. I could understand maybe 60% of what the teacher was saying, and about 5% of what was happening in any of the movies we watched in class. Remember that this is a movie watching class.

Not only was the main point of the class to watch movies in a language that I didn't understand, but it was also a history class. That's right folks, while I was slowly trying to translate basic phrases in my head the teacher would throw out words like Bureaucracy and capitalism and Socioeconomic status. Good!


I'll ruin the ending. I PASSED THE CLASS AND I AM SO EXCITED AND UNBELIEVABLY SURPRISED AND I STILL DON'T KNOW SPANISH VERY WELL!

Here's how I did it.


First, it's important to know that this class had 17 people in it (counting myself). Of those 17, 5 were native Spanish speakers. They sat in the back of the class and hardly said anything, having side conversations which each other in Spanish.. When they did speak, it would be some rapid statement to the professor that no one else would catch, and the 5 native speakers and the professor would crack up laughing. Probably laughing at my Spanish-ignorance. Of the 12 students left, 6 of those studied abroad. These are the members of the class who always would raise their hands and compare the situations discussed in the movie to their time spent in Spain talking Spanish with locals doing all Spanish-languagy stuff while speaking in Spanish and only listening to Salsa music. Of the 6 students remaining, 4 of those were Spanish Majors. These are students who were taking full course loads of Spanish and felt all cool of themselves when they made a comment about something. I smelled the arrogance coming off of them whenever I stammered some form of statement.

So myself and one other student didn't fit in the categories mentioned above. I thought to myself, "thank goodness, I'm not alone!".

His last name was Gutierrez.


There were many ways that I blended in with the crowd. The teacher would ask "does everyone understand?". Of course I didn't, but I didn't need to be all special and alone. Once I asked the professor for help and he got so enthusiastic and spoke so rapidly that I didn't catch anything he said. So I tried to fit in. If the person in front of me shook their head up and down, I shook my head up and down. If the person next to me shook their head side to side, I shook my head side to side. When most of the class laughed, I had a good chuckle myself. I stayed under the radar. I went to class every day. I never once got called on. Great success!

• I took DILIGENT notes. In English. Whatever I understood, I wrote down in English so that I could look back on my notes and actually make sense of them.

• I read English summaries and reviews of every movie we watched. Every single one. Then, I at least knew what happened and could kind of put the pieces together on what their symbolic reference was to the Cuban revolution Wikipedia page that I had open in another tab.

• For my presentation, I teamed up with Gutierrez and let him do most of the talking. There was still a lot of speaking, so in order to make sure that I said important things and didn't freeze, I wrote an ENTIRE word for word script on notecards.
  

• Part of the reason why I was able to pass this class is that both of the exams were essay format. He would offer three prompts, you answered two of them. Now, I'm not saying this is easy, but since the essays were mostly about your personal opinion, there wasn't really a wrong answer. You just had to be able to explain yourself. Here comes the real fun. I would go to the tests, and choose the prompts with the movies that I knew most about. Then I wrote the entire essay in English. This way I knew that I at least had some sort of direction with my essay. Then I went about translating word for word the entire essay. This was an incredibly time consuming process. Trouble though- I'd get to a word that I'd have NO idea how to say. Let's use the word "smile" as an example. Since I couldn't remember how to say that, I'd instead say "the man did that thing with his mouth where he opens his lips a little and shows off his teeth when something amuses him". Words became conceptual definitions. Sentences became paragraphs. 
• When all else failed, I'd make up the word and just HOPE.

 Sometimes this would at least get my point across, other times not so much:

After a lot of stress, a fair amount of concern, and a whole lot of luck, I passed the class. College!

Este cuento es un chiste, si, pero hay mucho verdad en las palabras que yo escribi. Puedo hablar espanol un poquito, pero es la verdad que esta clase es mas dificil que yo podria entender. Estoy muy contento que termino mi Minor y creo que necesito practicar mi espanol mas para recordar en el futuro.

Lo siento por el duracion del este blog. Creo que nadie leo todo pero este cuento y experiencia es una que quiero recordar por todo mi vida, y la red es una mecanismo para hacerlo.

With joy,

Ian "Spanish Minor" Crane

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Forgotten Moments

Can a moment be forgotten if it was never known about in the first place? Is it still a moment?

Recently I got a new telephone. This was a pretty big experience for me because now I have a phone that is capable of making phone calls, as well as all that other fancy stuff. My old one didn't do much except check Twitter (which it was EXCELLENT at). Moving on, when I got my new phone I made it my non-exciting, lazy-life goal for the day to determine if any of the photos on my phone didn't need to be there. I'm all about saving space when I have a new phone with huge memory. I'm all about efficiency, and I'm a straight shooter.

Speaking of photos, with this new phone I finally was able to have the technological advance-ness to become an Instagram kid. This is something that I've mocked for as long as I had a phone that wasn't capable. However, when Tela told me that Instagram was going to be the next Friendster- sorry, the next Myspace, Facebook, Twitter, etc. -, I knew I had to join as to not get left in the dust of human advancement. Not having Instagram would be as shocking as Tela not having a PayPal account. What is this, the 1940s?  As soon as I entered the modern world, I jumped on the opportunity to take artistic photos of boring things:

I'm all confused with my direction of this post now. Let's summarize. Forgotten moments , new telephone, new capabilities, looking through photo galleries, Instagram, making fun of Winger, making fun of myself, making fun of Tela not having PayPal, artsy photo.

Oooooh I remember my direction now. It's pretty obvious when I look at it all separated by commas in one long sentence. What I discovered when I was looking through all the pictures on my phone is that I have a lot of spare time. That and I have several photos that were never tweeted or blogged because they just didn't fit with the mood at the time. Let me tell you folks, at this moment, the mood is right.

Introducing:

The cell phone pictures that weren't eligible to go into other posts but still hold special weight in understanding my life, my friends lives, bike racing and also other stuff.

This is what happens when you have a van that has lot of seats, but two of those rows of seats are filled up with ~8 bike boxes + luggage + Hornbeck's DJ gear. This also only happens when you are doing a 3+ hour drive when you could have just flown into another airport. This is a special picture because you may notice that Honest Gabe is sitting in a seat. This only lasted for about a minute because he would rather be in discomfort then have anyone else feel that discomfort.

Next, when traveling with THE Joe Holmes, road rules do not exist.  Please note that Joe is the driver of the black car next to our van. By that, I mean the white car that is in front of our van.

This is how you feast if you're name is David. This burrito place in Arkansas was excellent, and this double-sized burrito, with double-sized chips, and less-than-single-sized salsa was just the solution to a stage race. The greatest sadness of this trip was when David left the second half of the burrito in the fridge instead of taking it with him on the airplane. This caused a great pain in my chestal region (that and my broken sternum).

Another picture from Arkansas. Turns out that I was too busy feeling sorry for myself for crashing in every possible situation that I didn't share EXCELLENT photos (getting cocky here). In a desperate search for FroYo, HeeleySwag, David and I accomplished our goals. However, we had to walk there and that was the most tiring thing I had to do all season*. David was thirstayyyyy but this fraud of an establishment didn't have sippy cups. Please note that this is not yogurt in the bowl that David is sipping from like a dog, but instead crisp, cool water. Also funny that there was a place to get water from but no device for water transportation into your belly. Very strange.

Perhaps one of the most common scenes of the 2012 season. Kennett eating while his teammates struggled to do a task that they just needed one more guy for. Before you get all snobby and yell at me for documenting this moment instead of helping, this was also from Arkansas. Plus, everyone knows that I do my workouts with 6-8lb medicine balls and a van seat is WAY too heavy for me.

Another Arkansas. Perhaps the most fitting photo of @horndogbrocal ever captured. Although I don't really get the basketball reference, this was sign that was made for us by one of the host families. They had a huge fiesta on the crit course where Gabe got drunk off of one sip of beer immediately after finishing a very difficult race.

Kennett's bag never came and he was lucky because we were flying in the next day and were able to pick it up for him. He asked me to get it from the office, and this was waiting for me. 

In the photo gallery "KP gets angry while waiting for food" but also in the #CamoWaffleHouseHat category of life. Please note my finger over half of the camera lens. I didn't have Instagram yet so I was trying to add a fancy, homemade filter.

After a quite pleasing team victory at Tour De Delta, Heeleyswag, David and I went exploring (in search of FroYo (a weird, reoccurring theme with the three of us)) the White Rock area of Canada. We were the only people in this entire waterfront village that weren't on a date, so we sat and creeped on everyone else. A couple with matching crocs stays together.

*besides other stuff

There you go. Just some moments that never originally happened but now can happen and be considered moments because they can't be forgotten since now they exist.

I'm very angry at myself for having a lull in blog posts. I was supposed to be doing homework this morning, for the first time in a while, so naturally I wrote a blog up instead. Now I'm going to fail school because of all of you and you'll have to provide for me monetarily and foodetarily for the next 7-10 years while I try and redo this class that I didn't do the assignment for because I was putting pictures onto the internet.

<3,

Ian

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A Call for Action!

Finally! A way for you, the reader, to actively participate with me, the typist. Besides that thrilling moment when you got to decide whether or not I should shave my ape-arms or not, this is your chance for you to get out there and DO something!

To be brief, I go to school.

To be less brief, I am taking a class where one of the projects that we have is to design and build a website from scratch. Concept-publication, we're in charge. I decided that I didn't want to do a site that would be beneficial in any way, so what I'm doing is a collection of photos (sort of like an awkwardfamilyphoto site) of clunker cars.

After realizing just how much I adore the #swaggerwagon with all its beautiful flaws, I started to notice that lots of people felt the same way about their cars with more...character... than charisma and definitely more miles than most. This is where the site comes in.

Introducing:

The site for people who love their beat up cars to submit them for internet fame and glory. There will be more to the site, because I have requirements for grades and stuff, but the main feature is photos of cars.

THAT'S WHERE YOU COME IN!

If you drive (or have driven) a vehicle that fits your own personal description of clunker, I need you to submit it to me so that this site can have some content!

Please email a photo (or attach a link in the comments on this blog) along with a short description of why you like it or why it's a clunker to:

thisismyclunker at gmail dot com

Send photos! Chris Wingfield and Mike Hone, sorry you read this far. This does not apply to you.

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The Bracelet Affair part two

For those of you who aren't friends with me on Facebook or follow me on twitter (what's wrong with you?), I leaked this photo on Friday:

It's quite obvious- this is the cover for my novel. If you don't get the joke, this cover design was not inspired by anything.

Let's get right into it.

Lance Armstrong is/was a talented athlete. With his accomplishments you have to believe that he has a tremendous work ethic, fantastic genes, incredible skills and genius tactics. Steroids or no steroids, the man was a gifted bicycle racer and an dedicated athlete. Sure, all the above are greatly benefited by the use of performance enhancing drugs, but in order to see the truth behind his doping success you must accept all of these as facts.

Without going into too much history, I'll assume most of you know that Lance Armstrong had cancer that he overcame in 1996. When Armstrong won his first Tour in 1999, he did so clean. I mean clean in the sense of PEDs (performance enhancing drugs). However, the treatment from his cancer was still rushing through his body. As he recovered into superhuman like form, radiation from his chemotherapy fused with his natural bodily synapses. His body recovered from his cancer into a permanent radiation-like state.

He won the 1999 TDF by 7 minutes.

No big names raced the Tour that year- Jan Ullrich was injured and Marco Pantani was high somewhere. Armstrong knew that 2000 would mark the return of competition. The return of challenge. This is when he transforms into the dope-test passing cycling monster that came to define his reign throughout the early 00's.

Something had to be done. Armstrong, now full of endorsement deals from his Tour De France success, was rolling in money and resources. From a relatively unknown Texan to an international superstar, he had not only the funds but also all the newest technologies at his fingertips.

It was no secret throughout the Armstrong reign that he always strove to have the best equipment, the most scientifically proven training, and the most aerodynamically efficient position achievable. It's common knowledge that Armstrong put Trek stickers on a Litespeed time trial bike because that frame was more aerodynamic than Trek's model. It's not confidential information that Armstrong chose to have downtube shifters on a mountain stage because they weighed less, or had helmets specifically designed for the shape of his back. Armstrong was always willing to find that extra 2% and that transferred across to his mechanism of cheating.

With unlimited funds and resources, Armstrong contacted an unknown (at the time) doctor named Allen Lim. Allen was looking to make a name for himself and his new product- the red blood cell duplicator. This is where the science, cheating, and health defying behavior comes in.

Lim implanted Armstrong's left wrist with a transmitting device. This device serves as a miniature blender of sorts. When activated, it starts vibrating rapidly. Think of a paint shaker at the hardware store. This transmitter, hidden inside of his wrist at the location of the highest density of veins in your arm (the place where people cut themselves to bleed profusely) , shakes so violently that every individual red blood cell is temporarily split into two. Duplicated by force, the available red cells double, doubling hemoglobin and greatly increasing the amount of oxygen that gets to your muscles. When activated, this transmitter acts as a boost, a Nos type accelerant that temporarily increases your ability to bring oxygen to your muscles.

The genius part behind this idea? The part that made Allen Lim rich and Armstrong famous? The damaged red blood cells cannot survive in their smaller (but higher quantity) state. The broken off duplicates of the original cells die, making it virtually impossible to notice in any sort of drug screening.

Again, you must believe that Armstrong is an incredibly talented athlete. A fantastic bike racer. With the addition of this red blood cell duplicator, he was able to go past 100%. He had a trick up his sleeves in all sense of the phrase.

What was the transponder hidden in?

The band of his Nike wristwatch. When Armstrong pressed the Mode and Start/Stop button simultaneously, the duplicator was initiated. Activate turbo-attack.

Armstrong won the 2000 TDF by 6 minutes and 2 seconds.

In 2001, Armstrong won by 6 minutes and 44 seconds, and in 2002 he won by over 7 minutes.

Then disaster struck at the 2003 TDF. Armstrong won by the thinnest of margins- a slim 61 seconds separating Armstrong from second place. Something had to be done.

Pay attention to the left wrist:

1999-

2000-

2001-

2002-

The most famous moment of the 2003 TDF-

Every photo, every win and every race-changing attack, Armstrong was fueled by the red blood cell duplicator.

However, after the 2003 Tour De France it was obvious that the red blood cell duplicator was no longer as efficient- his attacks weren't as deadly and his time trialing wasn't as swift. Time to re-hire Allen Lim.

After several multi-billion dollar scientific studies and days of research collected, Lim found out the problem with his transponder. The metal in the watch strap and watch casing was delaying the signal to the wrist transmitter, and Armstrong's aging blood cells couldn't adapt to the delay. It was time for a change in transponder. Re-injecting a new carbon fiber cased transmitter (to replace the titanium model) into Armstrong's right wrist, it was deemed that in order for this to continue to work, the transponder must not have any metal interferences whatsoever.

In 2004, on the eve of the Tour De France, Lance Armstrong's cancer foundation, Livestrong, introduced a new way to show your support to the public. Lightweight, yellow, and all silicone, the Livestrong bracelets exploded in popularity. The perfect cover for blood cell duplicating masterminds like Lim and Armstrong.

The silicone in the bands did not interfere with the signal transmission, and their immediate popularity made Armstrong fit right in with the crowd. How could he be doing anything illegal? He's just like you and me.

With a very non-retail Livestrong bracelet, Armstrong was able to flex his right wrist twice to initiate the shaking.

Lance Armstrong won the 2004 TDF by 6 minutes and 19 seconds and the 2005 TDF by almost 5 minutes. Just like the good old days.

Check out the right wrist, and what's noticeably absent from the left:

In 2004-

 Finally, in 2005-

Armstrong's secret, CRACKED.

It might be hard for some of you to believe this. It might be hard to see past the fact that Armstrong was an incredibly talented athlete and won 7 Tour De Frances *mostly* on his skills and strengths. What you have learned today is that a rich man teamed with a brilliant mad scientist to uncover a new method of body manipulation. One with properties so advanced that even medical geniuses don't understand the possibilities. You may be questioning how a blood cell could split in two and survive, but what you should be asking yourself is what CAN'T a blood cell do when it just Live(s)Strong.

Hey Mr. Armstrong, did you cheat to win all those bike races?

Maybe thissss much

 Finally, no wonder he was good at bike pedaling. His head is TINY!

(note- this is a work of fiction and if this is true I expect job offers from the FBI, WADA, Encyclopedia Brown, and the Harvard School of Blood Shaking.)

(also important: in no way is this a reflection on the LiveStrong foundation)

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