What's Wrong With Me?

After two solid work days with no riding since Monday's Hammerfest, Mongo was looking forward to an easy 30-40 to get my legs back under me.

I had planned on sleeping in a little and getting my ride started around ten. When I was jerked awake at around seven thirty, I knew the plans had changed...Apparently I was either about to give birth or my special Mexican bottled water wasn't really special.

Mongo often bemoans the fact that I'm being held back from my peak performance on the bike by the extra 15-20 that I can't seem to lose from around my waist. Yes, I have admitted to the B&J problem and eating late at night, but it wasn't until I did a mental checklist of the prior day's food that I understood the hows and whys of my gastrointestinal situation

This is exactly what I had to eat yesterday in order...

1. Baked crabcake w/remoulade sauce

2. Half a southwestern shrimp wrap /black bean salsa

3. Cup of lobster bisque

4. Spicy buffalo chicken tenders

5. Goat cheese bruschetta w/ sesame crackers

6. Met-Rx chocolate meal bar

7. Bowl of Raisin-Bran w/ skim milk(Ha,ha...really)

8. Pint of B&J Karmel Sutra

I think I need an intervention...but I did go riding!

Super Jaded Overrated

"Your own mind is a sacred enclosure into which nothing harmful can enter except by your permission."

(Ralph Waldo Emerson)

Donkey Punch

After a strong performance a week ago in the innagural stage of the Smyrna Bicycles 23/2300 Hammerfest Summer Series, Mongo had nothing to show for it. Against one of the strongest fields to date, Mongo pack filled and executed bad tactics...which resulted in no points.

Today, with 1-4 pretty much locked up by the usual suspects, Mongo battled about seven other guys for the crucial fifth place point. I didn't get it on the KOM (Climbin' ain't my strength), but I did manage to take fifth on the Sprint after my hellacious lead-out was swallowed up in the final meters.

I'm Gonna Git You Sucka

This is a Scott Plasma...With SRAM Red and Zipp wheels it costs about $8500.00.

The only people that ride this bike are sponsored, professional cyclists and triathletes...and rich douchebags.

If you're a pro, you ride the best bike you can...period.

Triathletes don't care enough about their bikes to drop this kind of jack. Oh, they'll lay two to four grand on a Cervelo or a Quintana Roo, but image is not usually a concern...just going fast in a straight line wearing a man-bra and some overly short shorts.

So all we have left are the rich douchebags. These guys are different than parking lot poseurs in that they actually have game. If you drop eight large on a bike, you're telling everyone around you that not only are you faster than they are...you're richer.

It was for this reason that Mongo almost killed himself Saturday morning in a showdown with an asiany-looking dude on the exact bike above. I won't go into the details, but I had to average over 22 mph for the last fifteen miles to catch and pass him. This included at least ten look-backs and two jumped traffic lights on his part.

When I finally rolled past him I said, "Nice run", though I really didn't mean it, and the first thing he said to me was, "Yeah, I'm on the tail end of forty miles. How far did you go?" I said, "Fifty", and kept going.

China White

There's this guy that rides where Mongo rides and he looks a great deal like the dude on the left. I affectionately, not to his face, but instead when laughing about him behind his back, call him..."Powder".(After the character in the movie of the same name...which sucked, by the way)

Anyway, pigment problems aside, Powder has always been a strange guy. I've ridden with him several times over the years and he's always been kind of a dick. What makes it even worse is that he's got at least six top of the line bikes, from steel to carbon, to choose from on any occasion...and, of course, the perfectly matching kit.

Today we passed each other going in opposite directions. I gave him the "wassup" head nod. He gave me the "two fingers off the hoods" reply. In true Powder fashion, he was riding a pink Masi or some other Italian steel bike...and rockin' the full Maglia Rosa kit with matching pink Sidi's.

If Lemmy Rode A Bike

Never Go Full Retard

It can't be denied any more. There have been too many occasions where the proof has unfolded before me. Mongo has incredible "Juice"!

A mere week ago, Mongo lampooned the demise of the man with the largest face in the peloton. He heard me...and today he responded by winning the opening TT of the Dauphine...despite the massive cheek drag.

It's quite chic right now to bag on Cadel. After all, he is a crybaby wheelsucker...but, the man with the jawbone of an ass can ride a bicycle.

(Photo:Graham Watson/VeloNews)

Free The Dolphins

Who is going to win the Dauphine Libere?

These are the guys who "can" win...Contador/Evans/ Basso/ Valverde/ Gesink/ DeVolder/ Nibali/ Dessel.

Mongo's prediction for who "will" win is...Valverde! (He's on good form and he probably ain't gonna be allowed to race in Le Tour) The old chip on the shoulder/ something to prove motivation.

I Bought A Ticket To The World

(Artwork:Steve Caballero)

Mongo's blog has never been about commerce. It has always been an outlet for my own self-inflated verbal spewing. Mixed in among the sarcasm and snarkiness, hopefully some humor and a grain or two of wisdom can be gleamed by my growing world-wide audience.(Yeah, Nigeria...thanks for coming!)

That being said, Mongo has a great deal of respect for those individuals who follow their own path through life. I will only listen to a sermon from the top of a mountain if the preacher has crawled there from the deepest, dirtiest gutter.

Truth is not always what we want to hear. But when it is presented, the seekers will listen and the oblivious will...well, be oblivious!

AK47 Update

"If the glove don't fit..."

Nothing's been proven and Kloden is still riding...for now.

AK, with his usual Eastern European goon-posse, has invaded Luxembourg for the Tour de. It's a pretty strong team, and will probably battle Saxo and "Da Schlecks" for the overall win.

Rza Gza

"If the machine of government is of such a nature that it requires you to be the agent of injustice to another, then, I say, break the law."

(Henry David Thoreau)

Nys

Knees tend to be the downfall of many athletes. Whether through repeated impact, twisting, wear and tear, or even a catastrophic injury, once you lose your knees...it's over!

Back in the day, when back in the day really was back in the day, Mongo used to be a pretty good athlete. Varsity letters in High-School, campus championships in college...all revolving around running.

When I hit my late twenties, I gave up most of my healthy physical fitness activities in order to focus on more important things like a career, binge drinking, bad relationships, and golf...with a cart.

Though my handicap dropped to a low of 3.4(Really!), my weight ballooned to 270 pounds(Really!). Then in my thirties, I quit drinking, changed jobs, dumped the soul-sucking girlfriend, and decided to get back into some sort of shape. Unfortunately, fat guys and jogging don't mix. My knees couldn't take the pounding. So I started cycling.

Here I am today... fifty pounds lighter, seven inches off my waist, and with a resting heart rate in the low fifties. If I am not the healthiest and fittest I've been in my whole life, then it's at least in the last twenty years...all because of cycling.

I found a way initially to exercise without impact on my weak and flabby joints. And it turned into an activity and lifestyle that has changed my entire life for the better. All of this leads me to this point.

On yesterday's Hammerfest, Mongo attacked some hills in too big of a gear. The transitions are so fast and dramatic that missing a shift can get you dropped. My tendency is to power through it. I paid the price and tweaked something in my right knee. When I woke up today, I flashed back to that fat guy years ago who was in constant pain. I remembered how far I'd come and what a decent job I'd done taking care of my body...and reminded myself not to f**k up a good thing.

Listen to your knees. They'll tell you what you need to know.

I'll Be On You Like Flop Sweat On Shaq

It seems that the Hatfield-McCoy style feud has carried over from the Spring Series. Snow Bunny has enlisted the help of his pal, Alp d'Huez Mike, incorporating team tactics in an effort to beat me...and today, unfortunately, it worked.

"Hear me now and understand me later, Snow Bunny...The train is coming and the rails are getting hot." (Dr. Mongo America)