Just to reaffirm that this is not the cute, family blog.

Tomorrow is the big day and we couldn't be more excited. I'll certainly keep blogging here about metal and cycling, though I've started a family blog to capture the changes in our growing family. No musings on black metal there.

If I commute by bike, I arrive to a near empty office at 6:30 am. There is one guy that beats me here, but he is on the far end of the building. My quiet half is only broken up by a lone clock radio humming away down the hallway, whose clarity only reveals itself when I walk by on the way to the bathroom to change into work clothes. A full-throated and excited pentecostal preacher rails away for souls from a tinny little plastic box deep in an office. Another employee arrives sometime after 7 and undoubtedly walks in and clicks off the championing voice, though this does nothing to stop the next morning's pre 6:30 am ritual to repeat. It certainly has a mood of a horror flick or an eery roadside store one stumbles into, but at this point it has descended into a small note in my morning ritual. I look forward to it.

Alaska is truly the last frontier. This means being aware of hypothermia when boating, having a break down kit and extra fuel when traveling in the winter, or just generally being more self sufficient than people in most parts of America. The climate and rugged country dictate this, though in Anchorage you can largely avoid these challenges. It's not the same as Chicago, but in most cases you can pick up the phone, whine, and soon have someone headed for your home to fix your problem.

I anticipate a frozen pipe someday, perhaps a malfunctioning boiler, or even a pesky septic. I did not plan for getting our water from a hose for 48 hours. It turns out a water main needed to be replaced in the parking lot and in order to have continuous water service throughout the repair we needed to have a hose mainlining water directly into our hot water heater. It worked out just fine, albeit with a slight dip in pressure. It just seems a little silly. The last frontier indeed.

Catching up...

The triathlon went better than I had expected. I shaved 13 minutes off of my previous time and placed 75th out of 128. I improved greatly on my transition times. In the future I believe my biggest gains will be found in the running portion. Considering I dislike running, 29:33 for a 5K is not terrible. I could probably focus on a better kick and finds some gains there, though running with cement legs from the bike will not change.

Overall I had a great time and loved the feeling of pushing myself beyond preconceived limits. I don't know if I'll participate next year, as I'm hoping for the Fireweed 200. Eh, maybe I'll do both.

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Getting older means slowly stripping away all of the little behaviors that I once thought made me cool. This usually happens years after everyone else in the world knows I should give it up. In high school my coolness told me that waiting for the bus in January without a hat was a good plan since only the uncool wear hats. Once I started commuting by bike to UIC I quickly got over any hangups on wearing a skull cap, though it took 7 or so years to complete that mental journey.

I have an aesthetic issue with too much crap on my bike. I like it lean and slick. However, I do not enjoy arriving at work with a mud racing stripe up my back. I've used a removable rear fender before, though it was marginal at best. I'm hoping to commute into the winter which means studded tires and some proper fenders for the cross bike. The Trek XO1 looks a little less sexy with its full Planet Bike fenders, but it was time for me to grow up. I commuted through a steady drizzle this morning and only arrived at work with wet hair. I'm a believer.

The Orbea will not be getting any fenders though.

Today is the culmination of Bike To Work week here in Anchorage (and in most cities I suspect). There are a total of 9 people at my gig that participated and we were lucky enough to receive t-shirts from the city (about a third of participants randomly get chosen for these freebies).

Given that today is the big, final day, the bike trails and major intersections become littered with the occasional comfort station. Most of these have free water, a cookie, or maybe some coffee. I gather that most of these were up and running by 6:45-7am, which is unfortunate because I am at work by 6:30. I can live without a free bottle of water, but it is harder to know that I missed this stop on my commuting route:

This year we are very excited to bring back the popular BCA Bacon Station. You can find us on the Chester Creek trail in the park just east of the tunnel under the Seward Highway. We’d like to thank Spenard Roadhouse for donating the bacon, Raven’s Brew Coffee for the coffee and Great Harvest Bread for the cookies!

The baby will need a rocking chair so the stripping and refinished has begun. It's a fun little project.

I've restarted my bike commuting and it is as fun as ever. I'd happily do it every day of the year, but the bike trails become ski trails and a snow bike becomes a necessity for 5 months. I haven't quite determined whether I want to make that purchase or not. If I had more room for a 3rd bike I suspect I'd jump on it.

I guess it is spring these days, though riding in at 26 degrees is a touch chilly. Riding home at 50 degrees in the same day is much nicer.

Riding in this morning in a 36 degree drizzle makes for a pretty filthy mud streak from my back to my ankles. My Chrome bag is pretty filthy right now and it is making me realize that I have never washed the thing. It is well over 8 years old and has who knows how many hours and miles on it. It's a trooper and I should probably show it some love. I'm guessing some oxy clean and a hand washing in the sink will do the trick. The bag seems like it will easily last another 10 years, if not longer. Chrome makes great stuff.

Once you post your resume on Monster or CareerBuilder it is on there forever. Head hunters must either download all resumes for safe keeping or scour the cached archives. I have not had an active resume on either place for quite a while, but I am now receiving calls for opportunities, this time in Madison. If that means that folks out there are hiring, then good for everyone. You'd think the Alaska phone number would tip them off though.

It appears that Halloween has come late for me. I've been burrowing into Bradbury tales at lunchtime, chipping away at the 900 page collection of short stories (I'm well into the second half). At home I've dug into some Poe stories I've needed to reread as well as started a fresh look into Lovecraft.

I have always enjoyed Lovecraft, though at times in my life I just wasn't in the mood to dig deeply into the mythos and plow into his often dense prose. (Oddly, I have never minded the denseness of Poe's sentences). The Rats in the Walls is just as great as ever and my Lovecraft interest is at a high these days. And I have started reading a few pages of The Colour Out of Space each night to Baby Turek. How that bodes for him, I have no clue.

I always attempt to enter the spring cycling season as strongly as possible, usually with mixed results. As much as I had more access to winter cycling in Madison due to their plowing of bike trails and ubiquitous salt usage (up here they only groom for skiing and rarely use salt anywhere), I often had to ramp up early in the season to break in my legs and lungs for longer rides. I believe the opportunity for intermittent winter cycling (I have never owned a snow bike) was just enough to keep me off the treadmill. Why run a 5k a few times a week if you'll be able to get on your bike a time or two?

When I moved up here I realized how much more difficult winter cycling is if you don't commit to a snow bike, so I quickly found myself jumping on the treadmill here and there during the winter. I decided to give a spring triathlon a try, which means swimming laps soon followed. As much as running and swimming definitely generates fitness, it doesn't necessarily feed into strong miles on a bike. The cardio strength is there, but the precise cycling muscles need to be rustled from the their slumber.

This winter I xc skied about 6 times per week (8-9 hours total) in hopes of staying in shape and embracing the winter, both of which happily worked. I had also read that the muscles involved were nearly identical to those used in cycling. Holy cow is that true. I've only been back on my bike for a week but I am amazed at how in cycling shape I am. It's a wonderful surprise. There is a very steep climb nearby (Stuckagain Heights), that I often use as a barometer of my strength on the bike. When will I be able to make it to the top without standing during the grinding climb? It usually takes a month or so, but this year it happened on day one (and I turned around and climbed it again immediately after the first attempt). I am very pleased and really looking forward to the triathlon in 7 weeks. The next challenge will be climbing Hiland Road in Eagle River. That is earmarked for this weekend, assuming the road is ice free.

It's also very exciting to come back from my ride at dusk and notice that the clock is just turning 10pm.

Aside from seeing more and more bikes cruising around town, I noticed a steel Colnago passing along one of the back roads near my place. I really enjoy that my dream bike is rolling around my immediate neighborhood somewhere. It just proves that in a small way the model is getting closer and closer to being in my home. That day will come.

It's still winter at higher elevations, but the snow is melting and the road is acceptable for road tires. Spring is coming.

Saturday and Sunday were the final, joyous XC Skiing outings. I hit Russian Jack on Saturday and the trails were mushy and ungroomed, but I completed my usual loop. Even though it was in the high 30's the hard packed trail has a long time to melt.

Sunday I opted for a drive out to Chugiak. Their trails are groomed more often than most and the hills are pretty fast, yet safe. It's a great blend. On Sunday the freeze/thaw cycle had generated a trail of crusted ice -- extremely fast and fairly unsafe. We still skied an hour as planned, but took the turns and twists with way more caution than we had the previous week.

By the time I returned to town on Sunday it was 40+ degrees with a clear, sunny sky overhead. I tore open the storage locker in the garage, filed away the skis, pulled the fishing gear to the fore, tuned up the bikes, swept out the garage, and then washed and cleaned both vehicles for the first time in months.

Which means that today's ongoing dump of snow is my fault.

Russian Jack

Above is the short but somewhat steep hill that has been the small learning experience for this, my first season on nordic skis. I've been zipping down it easily these past few months, though in November it was a bit intimidating. I love it now. Also, this picture was taken this evening at 8 pm. Spring is coming someday soon as shown by the longer days and my slightly improved skiing. Perhaps I'll be pedaling down this path in late April on pavement with a little luck.

I'm brainstorming on the wise things I need to do with my son while also trying to find a way to pursue my own hobbies and interests at the same time. If I don't spend a little bit of time on the things that spin the wheels in my head I won't be as interesting as I can be for the little guy. It's a balance, though it leans way towards him. Great.

The one constant in the literature I read is that the more you speak to your child the better. I think this primarily helps generate language skills as well as encourages general bonding. Sign me up. I'm sure I'll be reading plenty of children's books, but why not Ray Bradbury stories? There are plenty of stories I've been meaning to read so why not read them a little more slowly and out loud? There are no vulgarities in the stories.

It strikes me as no sillier an activity than the permutation of "googoo/gaga" aping parents indulge in. Sadly, Becky's kindergarten experience has shown me that many parents do not even have the inclination to consider reading to their children. So my impulse has me on the right side of the curve.

The question remains: If the lack of vulgarities is the primary qualification for a story being read, will Poe, Hemingway, and Lovecraft be far behind Bradbury?

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The NHL has the best commercials

I spent a lot of time in Gage Park while my aunt lived there and beyond. This is a sad story.

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On a happier topic, it will be a boy come mid July! Let the name suggestions begin.

If you are somewhat famous and see me walking near you, treat the sound of those steps as your death rattle.

Last summer we were in Girwood at the Double Musky when Uncle Ted walked in. We chuckled and elbowed each other at our small brush with fame. Ted was dead within 2 weeks.

This past weekend we were in Homer for a relaxing weekend and as we cruised down the spit I craned my head in hopes of finding the Time Bandit in port. There it was. I'm not the huge Deadliest Catch fan that I was when the show was new (the plotline is pretty repetitive at this point), though I still enjoy it. We snapped some pictures. Even cooler was watching the boat randomly tool around outside of our room Sunday afternoon.


(more pictures here)

The weekend was terrific all around and we were sorry to leave on Monday. However, a Time Bandit deckhand passed away later that night. He had to have been on the boat while we observed its 10 minute cruise just off the Homer spit.

We did see Tom Skilling at the Double Musky a few years ago, but he seems to have escaped unscathed. Maybe only the Alaskans have the mark of doom?