Hoarders: Extreme Water Bottle Edition

The ones I could see, I counted.  2-4-6.  15-17-19.  28-30-32.  Wedged into the plastic bin on the pantry shelf, next to the liquor in the fridge-top cabinet, lined like stout soldiers in front of the cookbooks we possess enough water bottles to outfit a pro tour team for a Hors Category stage of the Tour De France.  44-46-48.  With 6 more in the dishwasher and 4 on the drying rack, I can’t believe what my wife said the other night after a teammate kiddingly scolded her for not having team water bottles on her bike.  Joe takes all the good water bottles.  Who me?

Granted, I do have a habit of leaving two or three rolling around the inside of my 4-Runner at any given moment.  Maybe there are 2 in the bedroom and another pair in my backpack.  On a hunch, I bet there’s a couple on the workbench in the garage.  Oh yeah, there might be 4 I left in the dumbwaiter…yes we have a tall house and a dumb waiter…and okay, I confess, she’s right.  We have 55 or more water bottles in the house and somehow we’re still short on “good bottles.”  WTF?

Having “good” bottles is as key to the bike outfit as a nice watch or matching shoes for a work dinner.  She’s right.  They’re not all “good” bottles.  Some are leaky.  However, I can never remember which ones.  The blue ones look too patriotic on the red and white bike.  A half dozen are still pristine, but not from our team sponsor shop BioWheels…can’t use those on group rides or we’ll get teased by teammates.  Others are lame with flimsy tops.  Small bottles are good for lap races, but not all-day rides.  At least a dozen have mis-matched tops.  The Hydrapak Gel-bot is cool and works fantastic, but if I ever start worrying about nutrition while riding the cruiser bike to the grocery store, please, hit me over the head with a garden shovel.

I’m on my tippy toes.  I know there’s some on that top shelf that I can’t see and that shelf is at least 2 ½ feed deep.  I’m up to 55.  Enough bottles that, for the next month or two on any day-to-day two hour group ride, I could toss them like a pro tour rider over the hedgerows when I empty one.  However, I don’t think property owners along Route 8 in Northern Kentucky would appreciate my souvenir. 

Click & Win A Road ID With Flat Joe Biker Pix Contest

Hoarders is on TV.  If you’ve seen one episode, you’ve seen them all.  Crazy old coot grows an emotional attachment to what appears to be garbage, crazy old coot’s family steps in and throws away the garbage, crazy old coot rebels but surrenders, crazy old coot and family cry and hug in the newly cleaned house.  Dear Oprah, Tom Cruise and little baby Jesus please help me from being a water bottle hoarder.  I’m still young.  In ten, twenty or thirty years I don’t want people to walk by our house and marvel at the multi colored objects stacked 3 feet high in our window sills. 

Still I can’t make myself part with them.  I won that one for placing 5th in my age group at a sport level mountain bike race eight years ago honey!  I’m protective about them.  With my trusty black Sharpie, I label them with our last name so teammates, friends and strangers named Joe at races and rides don’t mistakenly take them.  How absurd is that!  You probably have more than us.  No you say.  Count ‘em up!  Don’t be scared.  See.  See!  Hoarder hoarder new bottles on order!  

Win a Road ID! Enter the Flat Joe Biker Photo Contest

Click, Print and Win!

I’d love to go to Iron Man in Idaho, kayaking in da U.P. of Michigan, and mountain bike in Pisgah.  That’s a lot for three weeks, but not for Flat Joe Biker.  Even though he’s two dimensional and can’t swim, Flat Joe Biker floats, doesn’t require sunscreen or a passport, fits in a jersey pocket, doesn’t have a real job, doesn’t cry when he gets lost, and makes your Facebook adventure posting so much more fun!  Tell a friend to like us on Facebook and enter.

Enter the Flat Joe Biker Photo Contest and you could win a $35 Road ID e-gift card.  Here’s how it works:

PRINT your incredibly handsome Flat Joe Biker from this Flickr link or above image.  Click and print the page.

AFFIX Flat Joe Biker to a piece of cardboard with staples, glue, tape or chewed up hunks of energy bars.

CUT Flat Joe Biker out, leaving a handle at the bottom.  A triangle shape works best.  Lamination and wetsuits are optional.

Flat Joe Biker On Tour in Northern Kentucky

SNAP a photo with Flat Joe Biker on your next adventure.  It doesn’t have to be cycling related or far away.  Be a tourist in your own hometown.  

POST your Flat Joe Biker photo to The Best Bike Blog Ever’s Facebook page (link here) before Midnight, on Thursday June 30^th.

WIN! The Best Flat Joe Biker Photo EVER will be chosen on Friday, July 1^st and awarded the $35 Road ID Gift Card via email.

Pretty Swanky Prize eh?  Thanks Road ID!

In the meantime, visit the Road ID website and see all the great things you can get for $35.  From Firefly safety lights and laces to Road ID Wrist ID’s and accessories, you’ll find something you can use.  It’s more than an ID.  Your Road ID can list emergency contact information, even a note to take care of your pets if you get into trouble.  Now get out there and have some fun with Flat Joe Biker and Road ID.  Special thanks to James Billiter for Flat Joe Biker artwork.  

Trek Makes Credit Card In My Name

A credit card in my name?  Aww.  You shouldn't have!  Thank you Trek!  While I have yet to use this card, I have my eye on those carbon cyclocross bikes they had at a recent trade show.  I can't wait.  The three grand limit and no payments for six months will go a long way, at least long enough to race cross and have the bike repo'ed at the end of the season.

Some friends who race for the Trek Store in Cincinnati forwarded this to me.  Trek has a credit program for customers.  I'm just pickled they like this blog so much they made the first card in my nom de plume.  

Joe Biker

Riding With Axe Murderers

The first thing they say about axe murderers is, “He always just kept to himself.”  That’s precisely why I don’t train alone.  My goodness, what would my mom think if I turned into a crazed sociopath after knocking out a 2 hour solo interval.  Over the New Year’s week, like you, base training got in full swing for me.  Miles…core…blabidy blabidy blah.  Since one of the things I enjoy most about cycling is the social aspect, I’m not into Silence of the Lambs solo training.  I like to do well in races, but I’m not about to pass up a group ride with my buddies and risk becoming a chainsaw wielding maniac in order to appease the great gods of training like Joe Friel.  Sure riding alone can develop incredible focus or elicit a feeling of serenity, but it also allows thoughts to stew. 

Saying that, I’m now convinced I-pods were invented by someone who was exercising alone and lingered a tish too long on a nasty thought of what they would do if they ran into the three “yoots” driving the truck that just about nearly sent them into the ditch.  Instead of trading their helmet in for a “Scream” mask, that athletic geek at Apple said something like, “Dude, get a hold of yourself.  All you need to do is figure out a way to get a good solo workout in without your cauldron of evil thoughts slipping toward the Freddy Krueger side of the social scale.”  Then the lithium-ion powered LED light went off in his head.  "Ah ha!  I’ll pipe people singing about good relationships and social situations directly into my ears while I exercise.”  So now, when we can’t muster up a buddy to ride with, we turn to the I-pod.  It’s a good thing-Martha Stewart.

That said, let me introduce you to my non-axe murdering cyclist friends I rode with, in all or in part, over the past week.  I know they’re not currently plotting their own version of Scary Movie ‘09 because they, unlike flesh craving lunatics, don’t keep to themselves.  Instead of resorting to the solo ride, all you really need to do is pick the right riding partner for whatever your coach calls for.

The Purist

The Purist is my buddy whose depth of cycling knowledge and history astounds me.  He’s also very opinionated on every subject imaginable.  Unlike most Masters aged racers, in his youth, instead of Rolling Stone, he somehow managed to have European cycling magazines stashed under his bed along with all the naked stuff.  I like to ride with him because he does base training old school (Long Slow Miles) and since he’s got something to say about everything there’s never an awkward pause in the conversation.  The miles roll by like the scenery out of a train window.  Plus, since he’s sort of self employed, he has the time to bust out those 4-6 hour rides during the week.  So, when the bible calls for the long tempo ride, I call the Purist.

The Pounder

While it’s what I call our cats when they put their layer of fat on for the winter, The Pounder is always in decent shape year round and is just a little bit stronger than me…also all year round.  There are a few Pounders I ride with.  The Pounder also doesn’t have enough time for Long Slow Miles.  He has to make do with limited hours, slipping in a ride here and there.  Riding with The Pounder I have to stay on my toes.  With an errant thought provoked pause, you’ll quickly find yourself gapped by The Pounder.  On the flats or on the hills, The Pounder is always turning the screws like a spoke wrench, an eighth turn at a time, just a hair beyond my threshold.  While I love the company and riding with The Pounder, a little Pounder goes a long way in winter.

The Goal Setter

The Goal Setter isn’t one person.  From season to season, I’ve noticed that some rider’s patience or focus for training wanes.  However, there’s always at least one person I know who’s focused on a methodology of attaining specific goals.  It’s good to keep in touch with the Goal Setter, because throughout the week chances are that one of his ride plans will match yours.  Need to brush up on your mountain bike skills, your pedal stroke, or any number of cycling specific workouts…call the Goal Setter.

The Clubber

These guys don’t race, but have a real passion for cycling and beating up on their friends.  I call them The Clubbers, because I first met a few of them on a cycle club ride.  The great thing about being a racer type and riding with The Clubbers is that: they don’t ride enough during the week ensuring that the Saturday Clubber ride is chock full of pent up testosterone and secondly, one of them in any given situation wants to beat the rest into submission.  I never attack or push the pace with The Clubbers.  I usually make it a point not to attack on someone else’s ride.  Instead I try to ride second wheel.  It’s the perfect short-recovery interval workout.  Go with the attacks…get caught when the Clubbers sit up…repeat.  The other day I challenged myself to be “The Closer” of The Clubbers.  I spent the day closing every gap that developed.

Super Mega Mega Men

These guys, a few on my team, are into the Ultra Endurance events.  These are the guys that secretly do jumping jacks with a backpack of bricks, fill their 2^nd water bottle up with spare change, and ride only retro steel bikes in winter.  It’s like motor pacing riding with these guys.  Unlike The Pounder, these guys don’t attack, but their speed is unrelenting.  When you need the long ride, call the Purist.  When you need the long tempo ride, fill your jersey pockets with potatoes and call Super Mega Mega Man.

Deal With The Devil: An Open Letter To Frito Lay

As we continute to make "Out Of True" The Best Bike Blog Ever, enjoy this classic from AOL's Joe Biker Blog dated November 13th, 2006.

Dear Frito Lay,

This is pure evil…or, pure marketing genius. You must know how impossibly hard it is for cyclists to turn their back on an empty calorie laden powdered cheese covered crunchy snack, let alone one endorsed by the fastest animal in the world. But, alas, the cyclist is a hard nut to crack. We can resist. We can see past the initial yumminess of chowin’ on a Cheeto and envision ourselves being dropped by a pack of cyclists who were able to resist. It may not be easy being cheesy, but it’s even harder to be a weight conscious cyclist.

Congratulations. You have cracked the nut. You bastards. You’ll make ka-jillions!

By dressing up Chester Cheetah as a cyclist and taking a photo of him doing trick stunts on a mountain bike, my ability to resist what’s in the bag was overtook by what’s on the outside of the bag. You must know that cyclists by nature will buy anything with a picture of a bike on it. Damn you Cheetos. Personally I think the green "Smart Choice" label was a bit over the top, but it probably sealed the deal.

You dirty snakes! How did you find out? Did you pay off someone at the Fat Tire or Flying Dog beer companies? If you haven’t noticed both feature bikes on labels of their beer and I don’t know anyone who rides a bike who would choose a Bud Light over a beer with a bike on the label.

What’s your next evil plan for Chester Cheetah? Are you going to pin a Boston Marathon number to his fur in hopes of hoodwinking the finest runners in the world? Are you going to put him in some Speedos, mirrored goggles and take a picture of him in Honolulu in the hopes that Iron Man athletes wont see eating Cheetos as the equivalent of tying a cinder block around their bellies while jumping in the ocean?

Regardless of all this finger pointing, I think we can come to an agreement. I think this can be a win-win for the both of us. I’ve figured a way for you to make ka-jillions off selling Cheetos to salt hungry athletes while still keeping the cyclists happy. It’s called a team sponsorship. Hell Winston did it with NASCAR and you can do it with USCF.

Why not? Let’s takethis Cycling Chester Cheetah endorsement one step further. Why go fishing for cyclists at the supermarket, when you can entice them right on their bikes? Enclosed is a sponsorship agreement for the Joe Biker racing team. Just send a big fat check and we’ll be happy to sport Chester Cheetah jersey’s and bibs at all the races. Heck we’ll even slip coupons for free Cheetos under all the windshield wipers in the race parking lot.

Your fool for cycling marketing...and you know it...you rotten scoundrels.

Joe Biker

Ghost Dog: a Joe Biker Blog Classic

As we continue to make "Out Of True" The Best Bike Blog Ever, and make the transition from the Joe Biker Blog on AOL which is closing it's Journals, here's an updated version of a classic from the archive dated Thursday, October 10th, 2006.

The Myth: It’s not a ride in Northern Kentucky till a dog chases you

The Truth: It’s not a ride in Northern Kentucky till a dog chases you.

I’m sure no matter where you live you can substitute a different area where you live for Northern Kentucky, even if you live in LA or wherever. In that case, the slogan may go like this: it’s not a ride in Beverly Hills till the paparazzi chase you. Same difference. I’m sure they’re just as vicious.

There’s one dog in Northern Kentucky that is particularly stealthy and wicked fast. We call him Ghost Dog. We know the general area where he lives. The problem is where Ghost Dog lives and what he calls his territory are two entirely different things.

For those of you who live around Cincinnati, Ghost Dog’s territory is along Route 8 (the road that runs along the Ohio River) somewhere between Mentor and Silver Grove, KY. There’s only one dog that chases in that stretch…and that my friend is Ghost Dog.

I have no idea what breed or mix Ghost Dog is. I’m guessing’ he’s a mix of Usain Bolt, the Stealth Bomber and German Sheppard. He’s black with some gray mixed in, has a boxy build, doesn’t show up on radar and I’m sure has a few Olympic Gold medals hanging in his doghouse.

Not only does Ghost Dog have a kick like Lotto’s Robbie McEwen, he also knows how to hide and break out his sprint at just the right moment just like Lotto’s Robbie McEwen.

The stretch of road where Ghost Dog lives is protected by a steep little hill lined with tall scraggly bushes. So, Ghost Dog has the element of surprise on his side. Also, the fact that the other side of the road has no shoulder and a steep deep ditch along the Ohio River leaves the wayward cyclist no escape.

This is how ghost dog appears to a cyclist. You’re tooling along Route 8 at maybe 21mph. The sky is blue. The hills are a lush green. The river is peaceful. You’re likely watching a barge push it’s way up river. (Insert innocent happy whistle here) ALL OF A SUDDEN! There’s a beastly black dog 10 feet from you traveling at 35mph. Within .008 seconds he’s nipping’ at your Sidi’s and putting steak sauce on your sculptured calves. Your heart rates jacks to 102% asyou realize you are now the star of Scary Movie 5. He bounds in front, behind, to the left, to right…now dip baby dip. The hip-hop dance of death. And, you soon find yourself off your bike fending him off by trying to put your bike between your clean shaved legs and his drooling jowls.

Ghost Dog doesn’t want to eat you. He just wants to taste the fear in your sweat.

However, there are positive sides to Ghost Dog.

Number One: you get an accurate reading of your maximum heart rate.

Number Two: if you ever get strong enough to out-sprint Ghost Dog…it’s an automatic upgrade to a Category 2 USCF road-racing license.