Stupid Hurts

Looking at my bike, it took the worse of it, but my eye is trying its best to swell shut.

I was leaving a store with Ben when we saw a group of messengers who knew me and told us about a bicycle race that was coming up in a few hours. The race was part of a benefit to raise money for a messenger who had been hit by a car and had his neck broken.  I think some people just need a small excuse to get drunk and some of us just need a small reason to race. Before the race had started some of the guys where already getting started drinking.

The race started with four people. There would have been five, but one of the guys popped both of his tires in the process of getting ready. (Probably a sign you need to stay home.) I was a little unfamiliar with Atlanta so I had a map drawn for me. We got moving and were holding a pretty fast pace. I didn’t feel really good and several times I thought about quitting, but I couldn’t just let myself quit. Somewhere shortly before the third stop I pulled out my manifest so I could check my map, and figure out where I was. I probably should have slowed to below twenty mph. I got hit by another bicyclist in the race who was going to cut through the parking lot I was in front of. I was moving fast enough to hit the ground and slid and have time to think “I hope I don’t slide into that curb.”  Once everything settled I was hoping I didn’t have a seizure on the side of the road, then I thought about my camera since it was in my bag. The other guy who crashed was one a brakeless fixed gear, so there were not a whole lot of moving parts. So once he got stretched out he was able to get moving again. We were both in first so I was hoping he would make, I found out he and someone else caught a flat tire later. So Ben won by default.

I picked up my bike, and was hoping to ride it to the next stop. It didn’t agree with me in the slightest bit. My bike looked like the back of a dress on prom night, There is no happy word it.  Even after adjusting the brakes and screwing with the drivetrain it was obviously not being pedaled anywhere. So I just threw it over my shoulder and started walking to the next stop. I stopped by a Krispy Kreme on the way when blood started getting into my eye, and I have learned people take their doughnuts pretty seriously in Atlanta, and you can get to the front of bathroom line pretty easily when you are dripping blood. It was swarming with people in the Krispy Kreme, and I had never seen someone sit down with the intention of eating an entire box of doughnuts. Apparently this is a fairly common thing.

The worst part of all of this, is the fact I spent a solid hour getting lectured by my dad about racing, crashing and hurting myself on my bicycle a few days ago.

Mostly…..

So I entered into Wonderkat yesterday. I made reference to it a few days back . Aside from a headache I felt amazing. So in an uncharacteristic move for me I popped an Advil and got prepped to raced.
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I was first off the line and carried the pace for the first half mile or so, but was soon forced to drop back and let several people in front of me who actually knew the way we needed to go. I was one of the first three people to the two check points I made it to. Even though I entered the Sopo parking lot on a sprint and off my brakes and over shot my mark. Unfortunately between the Freedom park stop and the High Museum, I don’t what happened. I am confident I had a had a seizure, passed, out and crashed my bicycle. Several people including the checkpoint worker told me they the heard sirens when I spoke to them later on that night. Unfortunately I have no clue when I went down or how long I was out for, but I was unconscious long enough for them to get me to the hospital and get an I.V. in.

When I woke up, I took stock of my situation, I was in a strange hospital……Again. I at least had my wallet and my cell phone, but I didn’t have my glasses. Looking around I could think of several better places to be. Lots of the people on the beds where wearing blue faces masks and so were several nurses. Considering that not everyone was wearing a mask the problem must have still been endemic, but still fairly infectious. So I made sure I could still walk, got up. And then read my name on the wall chart to see where I fell in the triage rotation. When I saw it was fairly fair down I pulled the I.V. and then walked out.

Looking at myself I saw was bleeding from both legs, my shoulder, and face. The large blood stain running down the front of my jersey came from mouth where I split my lip. Placing a few phone calls I was able to track down my bicycle and my glasses. Just the matter of riding the Marta a few miles and the walking a few more miles to pick them up.

Well happy birthday to me. Looks like a few days off my bike while I rest this time.

On a side note. Wonderoot’s grand opening was amazing. I really expect big things from them.

Wednesday was the weekly meeting of “Food not Bombs” to cook and feed people in Little Five Points. I try to help them when I can. Our personal ideology is a little different so I make it a point to learn from them as much as possible. It is also nice to be able to help out a decent cause thats helping out where others groups aren’t. Plus they work amazingly hard to make things happen. And I love the guys in the local group who work week after week to feed these people.
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Recently one of the stores they were getting donations from got a new produce manager and started refusing to help on the grounds they believed we were keeping the food just to eat instead of feeding others with it. So I was asked to take pictures this time. I have several from past weeks as well, so it will be nice to have a contrast to show them how big it has gotten.
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We spent several hours preparing dishes before heading out to pass out food. The food was well received, and went extremely quickly. Everyone was glad to see us come and liked everything we had to offer. For some reason there does seem to be a social stigma associated with accepting a free lunch for some people, so some seem insulted when we offer them food, but all in all things went really smoothly.
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Leaving “Food not Bombs” I ran into Rafael and several other of my friends practicing bicycle tricks in a parking lot where I was coerced into shooting a few more pictures. Luckily it was perfect lighting conditions for tracking shots. So he got in his zone and rode out a few leg over skids while I shot. I really enjoy the amount of movement that’s shown in some of these shots.
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Lots more can be found in the gallery here.
The Stupidhurts Gallery

Early Thursday someone asked me, “are you going to Elizabeth’s party Friday?”
“Who?”
“Elizabeth?”
“Who?”
“Besti….The mad Russian!”

Turns out I was, so were half of the other bicyclist I know and people who do volunteer work in east Atlanta went as well. One of the more interesting things of the night was the fact they had liberated a huge billboard from somewhere and turned it into a massive slip and slide using water and baby oil.
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I played it fairly calmly since I was still recovering from several seizures earlier in the the night, but still managed to have an all around good time. I also had to barter for a ride home in very broken German.

I think it officially became a party when I heard Jeremy utter the phrase, “Where are my pants?”
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The next day while doing volunteer work at Sopo, I had just taken a moment to eat lunch when a guy ran his motorcycle into the side of the building while attempting to exit the parking lot. I ran over to make sure he is ok, then checked to make sure he didn’t have a concussion, and what happened? I had a seizure. Pretty much like clock work. I checked the guy out before walking to the bathroom room and passing out. 6 seizures in 3 days while on my medicine, a new personal record, but it has left me a bit tired and in pain. But on a side note, I am getting a new Medic-Alert bracelet for my birthday

I ambled up to the registration point trying my best to affect my usual cocky swagger.
“Is this where I register for the Rwanda alleycat?“
”Yeah, but ummmm, you can’t walk.“ Pointing out the fact I had limped up to the place they were sitting, and that I was currently leaning all of my weight on my bike.
”It is ok this isn’t not a foot race.“
”Ok sign the waiver“
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At first I was going to pass on this race due to the torn leg muscle in my left leg thats been giving me grief for the past week or so. But when I got to the start point and started listening to people talk strategy I couldn’t pass on a chance to ride hard. I got out and soon got past the pain, and I was reminded why I love doing this. For the first three check points I paced the guys who would go on to place 1st and 2nd. I think I threw the race away for myself because the guy who came in first ran away from while I was getting my manifest signed at a check point and I passed the guy who came in 2nd when he crashed. I think I should have waited for him to get up. Instead I tried to pace someone else who turned out to not be fast enough for me his 16-17mph to my 20-23, which in the end resulted in me being lost by myself in Candler Park. [newline]

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The after party was pretty awesome. In fact that was one of the best burgers someone has grilled for me in a long time. The Octane coffee shop hosted us in their parking lot. My leg was thoroughly trashed by the time I found a chair, and I was lost from being in an unfamiliar part of town. But, I wouldn’t have changed it. [newline]

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Once it got too cold to hangout outside we saddled up and crashed several other parties before calling it a night. So much for proper post race recovery. I actually didn’t get off my bike till 4 a.m.

Now I just have to repair the damage I did to my road bike.
Looking back.

I basically broke my right shifter, and I can’t find one for less than $200

So everyone has been waiting for the blog post from the week with the stupid ass adventure. Well….here it is.

My dad and I were already running a little late for the airport when disaster struck. All four lanes of traffic were shut down right before the exit we needed to get off of for the airport. My flight was scheduled to leave the gate at 12:30, I stepped up to check-in at 12:31. “Oh well,” I sighed before putting a smile and asking a clerk what my other options were.

After a bit of thought, I took the fun one. Phoenix, Az. I wasn’t even away from the desk good before I was on my phone and making phone calls to assemble everyone. After a dozen or so calls, an idea was in play. A small meet-up in the parking lot. Since I wasn’t sure how long my lay-over was it added a since of excitement to the whole thing. After enjoying a 4 hour wait in the Oakland airport I had a fairly short flight over to Phoenix. Then things got really interesting.

My buddy Jake was waiting for me in the terminal of Phoenix Sky Harbor airport and we found out that my layover was for only 20 minutes. Once we decided that really wasn’t enough time to have any real fun, we walked down to the ticket counter to see if I had any other options for flights home. I spent a few moments shamelessly flirting with the girl at the kiosk as she worked the computer to see what she could do for me. She told me I could buy a ticket out for tomorrow for $300 some odd dollars or make my flight out in 20 minutes. I decided Jake was cute, but not that cute. But then she leaned in and said take your time going through security, you may miss your flight, and get to fly out tomorrow instead. So Jake and I rush over to Starbucks. Were we spent the next 20 minutes or so looking at the wall art and shooting the shit before I walked over to the security check point were it actually did take me about 10 minutes to get through (I had to turn my head and cough). Before ambling to the gate to find out I had just missed my flight. I went back down to the ticket counter to give my well practiced sob story to the girl at the counter were I put on a stand-by flight for 11:15 the next day. This actually didn’t go all that smoothly at one point we had 5 people trying to figure out how to work the computer to put me back in the system due to the number of flights I had missed already.
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On the way out of the airport and still riding my high from a small triumph over the system, I started calling other people. I managed to get a hold of Brandon and Windy. Two of my really close friends when I lived in phoenix last. I also chose to call Saebbe, it seemed a bit irresponsible to be in the same state as her and not call. I called a few other people, but everyone else had a good excuse for not hanging out with me, like that fact I had a habit of getting them arrested. We swung by Brandon’s apartment, this place has always been a cave of awesome, but it has just gotten crazier since I left. I only dawned on me in retrospect I should have gotten picture. He has taken to collecting vintage arcade machines has has them setup in his living room. that aside. It was a 20-30 year old guy’s wet dream place to live. We had windy meet up with us at a food place and ate a loud fun dinner. We jumped a fence back into Brandon’s apartment complex because it was the fastest way back in. Then Jake in I made the tough choice.
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It is 11pm. Saebbe and Stryder are in Heber which is 3 hours north of Phoenix. There is snow on the ground between here and there. And Jake had to be at work the next day. After a really tough internal battle, I decided to go see them. Quoting Jake “ He ending up in Az on a accident and stayed on a whim. And decided on a whim to visit an accident. Truer words had not been spoken in some time. So 200 some odd miles, 7000 feet of elevation change, and a 40 degree drop later, we found ourselves in Heber. Myself staring my son and my past in the eyes. We sat and talked about things for a bit, took a few pictures, and got to know each other some. This is one of the longer continuous conversations that Saebbe and I had in some time. Jake was polite enough to pretend to be sleep to make things a little less awkward. Since we had a three hour drive back south ahead of us and Jake had to work we didn’t stay very long. After a painful goodbye. I exited and we made our way back down south to the valley once again.
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Once back in the Valley I ate breakfast with Windy and one of the girls she went to nursing school with before making one more trip to the airport. After countless smooth security checkpoints in countless places. Including the fact I have done this one about 3 times in the past twelve hours. The time after I had just pulled an all nighter. I got bag checked, and the T.S.A completely emptied my bag on a table and swabbed it for explosives. Since it was right before her lunch break. Once my entire world for the past few weeks lay exposed on that table, she ran off. Leaving me in a pile of my belongings, clutching my socks in one hand and my silent rage in the other.
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I did eventually make it onto a plane headed home on stand by. The gate agent gave me the instructions, ”get on hope the don’t call your name your name to get off, and I hope you make it.“ That plane took off and landed twice in Missouri. But eventually I set it foot back in Alabama completely exhausted and in desperate need of a shower.

Thanks Jake.
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Alison and I rolled into [tag]Atlanta[/tag] on friday night and got to the first party and the [tag]tricks[/tag] competition. My first set of goals were to find Jes, get registered, and find a partner. I managed to get registered, but as it turned out Jes never made it to the party, and the guy who I thought would be my partner ended up not showing the next day for the [tag]race[/tag].

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The skids and tricks competition was a lot of fun to watch but in the end I think I value my [tag]bike[/tag] and my body a little to much to participate in something like that. Before it was over with someone ended up having to miss the race because they managed to break their collar bone, several ribs, and their bike in half from failing a trick. Walking through the parking lot was tricky due to the massive number of bikes stacked on top of each other. We ended up spending the night with Jay one of the race organizers and his dogs Carl and Emma.
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Fast forward to just before the race. I ran into another BikeForums Member James Dean who looked a little sick, I asked him were his partner was. He pointed to a guy completely passed out on the ground. Apparently they had started drinking when they woke up that morning and had only stopped minutes before. I took time to walk around and look at some of the other bicycles and costumes in the crowd. There were lots of people out milling around, but it wasn’t until much later I found out there were over 180 registered racers. (side note james threw up on someone’s car mid race and kept riding)

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As the start of the race drew closer I still didn’t have a partner so I climbed up onto the railing and basically called out to see who all was left without one. Bobby raised his hand and I walked over and introduced myself, we talked strategy for a few moments before the race marshal started calling things to order.

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It was a mass start, we all lined up our bikes on one side of the road and started on the other. With the tangle of bikes and blinking lights it looks like a Christmas light show and was mildly hypnotic. The race marshal called the start. The tense silence turned into a mad scramble, someone fell. I took of to my bike in a slow comfortable jog, since it was all the way in the back I knew once I got to it, I could make up time. Everything else was like riding a steel tidal wave.

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My partner and I did surprisingly well. We lost our map before the first stop. During a sprint I actually watched it go bouncing down the street. But in the heat of the moment there was nothing I could do. We placed tenth over all, and placed first for an out of town team. I got a pair of jeans and he got a coffee cup. All in a days race I think.

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One of the best features of living Alabama are the unexpectedly awesome warm days we get in the middle of the winter. So after several weeks of miserably cold weather I was blessed with a 70 degree day yesterday. So I lit another candle at my altar to the Madonna del Ghisallo and then grabbed my bike and and my camera. It seemed like everyone who was a member of the church of “Our blessed mother of the holy order of lyrca” was out partaking of the sunlight. I passed runners stretching at lights, joggers pushing strollers the size of small cars and out cyclist dripping sweat from every pore. I ran into a group of South American Bmx riders, once we got past the initial language barrier we rode together for a few minutes and I followed amazed by the fluidity of their bar spins and bunny hops.

Later on I ran into a guy named Jeremy on a mountain bike practicing manuals in an empty parking lot.
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I sat and talked while he tried that and a few other tricks. After finding out he had never ridden his bike down Vulcan trail I ran him up there to show him where the mountain bike trail connected Southside to George Ward park. In my entire time in Birmingham I have never seen the trail that crowded. We found ourselves weaving around playful dogs and happy couples. The entire ride a constant string of warm smiles and nods.

Finally after he split, I took advantage of the failing light to get a few pictures of the city I have been dying to get for some, here is Birmingham facing north from the the 23rd street bridge just north of Morris Ave.
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The [tag]trees[/tag] were high enough that they towered above me and I couldn’t see the road. The sun played lightly through the branches and painted patterns playfully across the road. The bird songs sounded like symphony. Every [tag]pedal[/tag] stroke rocketed me ahead and my [tag]bicycle[/tag] felt perfect between my legs. But no matter how amazing this scene was I had to accept one simple fact. I was now [tag]lost[/tag].

I was riding to a bicycle shop across town that I never go to because they were the only place in town that had the final parts I needed for my [tag]fixie[/tag]. Instead of sticking to the route I had plotted out on my [tag]map[/tag], I chose to follow the directions given to me by a guy I met on the side of the road on a gorgeous time trial [tag]bike[/tag]. The directions involved cutting across a parking lot and looking for a gate, several really fun hill climbs, and lots of great descents. It turned out to be loads more fun than the route I had originally planned. But unfortunately I had to stop several times and scratch my head while I consulted my map of the area.

I think that road is a secret gemstone among cyclist in the area. Heading back I realized all the signs mark it as a dead end and I think passed more people out on their bicycles on that one stretch than I have seen in the city total.

Eventually I did make my way to the bike shop and my fixed gear is finally built now. I think maybe I will go out and play with it instead of writing more.

My ears perk up and I look over to my co-worker Mike. He looks back and tells me “don’t worry it’s just a [tag]fire[/tag] [tag]engine[/tag].” I point at the flaming [tag]torch[/tag] in my hand before spitting one last ball of fire into the air and hissing the words, “did you forget we have been out here playing with fire!” He looks at me for a second before what was wrong with this picture clicks into place.

Mike and I were working [tag]security[/tag] on friday night and at about 2 a.m. and we had gotten bored. (It is funny how many of my stories involving the police start off that way.) We were out back trying to figure out a way to pass time when he pulls out a torch and some special sauce. And after a few minutes of practice we are having a good old time breathing fireballs up into the air.

And then the [tag]sirens[/tag] start.

First were the fire engine sirens. Since it was quickly getting closer we decided it was time to call an end to our [tag]fun[/tag] and games. I hand Mike the torch because I needed to get the special sauce off of my face and he begins to wave it in the air in an attempt to put it out. Note 1) that does not work. Note 2) if the guy standing next to you is highly flammable, don’t go waving around fire. Thankfully he had turned his back on me before waving the torch around, but it still freaked me out to hear the well known woosh of flames behind my back. I scream stop and show him the trick to putting it out and just in time to. The second we are done dousing the torch we see the all too familiar outline of a police Crown Victoria in the parking lot across the street. Its search light on obviously looking for the source of the disturbance.

Being that we were most definitely the source we decided it was time to make a hasty escape into the bar.