Monday, September 27, 2010

Top O De Box

Well NECS loyalistas we come to you with the most exciting of news. Refining her skills through countless hours of training in the dojo, Mrs Dubs upholds the honors of the NECS, standing on the top of the box.
While the past racing has produced some great times for the NECS, the trophy bagging is about this bad over the past couple seasons
All that changed this weekend as Mrs. Cuds waded into her second tri of the season. The lake, sans snapping turtles and water mocossins, proved to be the hardest leg. Getting caught in the swiftfoot current along the banks of the lake Mrs. CDubs came out of the water a bit disadvantaged as the bikes rolled out of transition. Countless laps of training over the course paid off in a fast time and a close battle out of the transition to the run with Hairy Eye Ball Lisa who made countless attempts to body block the trail as they headed into the woods. Pacing like an expectant father as I fulfilled my role of bottle bitch, I scanned the trail for signs of Hairy and Mrs. C. Then out of the woods the Mrs. appear with the competition about 50 yards ahead. Suddenly vision of the Pancake and I feared that someone might get their lights punched out at the finish. A believer in karma the Mrs. did the right thing and held back crossing the line in honor.
Rumor has it she was heard to say "if that bitch is in my age class I'll kill myself. Alas she was in another class with the Mrs. taking home the hardware.The Mrs. and the infamous "Podium Dress"

Monday, September 20, 2010

Excitement Is In The Air - Beer Cross 2010

Truly devout loyalist of the New East Coast Syndicate, remember back to those days of youth and the excitement that came with finding Dad's secret hiding place for his stash of Playboys? Well we here at the NECS might not get quite as excited to see Playboy as we were in those days, but when it comes to a Non Race we get as excited as this frisky guy -

And for good reason - Cross season is underway which means only one thing BEER CROSS!!!!! With the season essentially ended by the Labor Day ribfest, attentions and energies have been turned toward making this the marquee event of the cycling year. (There are rumors that we can not confirm at this time that Phil Liggett, Bob Roll and the crew from Versus will be covering the event). What we can reveal is that in keeping with Beer Cross tradition, costumes are mandatory along with the consumption of alcohol. For those that are non drinkers and last year became connoisseurs of the dizzy bat, we have expanded the list of options to include the ingestion of any combination of the following on each lap - eggnog, sliders or the feared dizzy bat. Stay tuned for more details.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Gesundheit - Vermont 50 Is History

In Ancient Greece, sneezes were believed to be prophetic signs from the gods. In 410 BC, for instance, the Athenian general Xenophon gave a dramatic oration exhorting his fellow soldiers to follow him to liberty or to death against the Persians. He spoke for an hour motivating his army and assuring them of a safe return to Athens until a soldier underscored his conclusion with a sneeze. Thinking that this sneeze was a favorable sign from the gods, the soldiers bowed before Xenophon and followed his command. Another divine moment of sneezing for the Greeks occurs in the story of Odysseus. When Odysseus returns home disguised as a beggar and talks with his waiting wife Penelope, she says to Odysseus, not knowing to whom she speaks, that "[her husband] will return safely to challenge her suitors"". At that moment, their son sneezes loudly and Penelope laughs with joy, reassured that it is a sign from the gods.
In Europe, principally around the early Middle Ages, it was believed that one's life was in fact tied to one's breath - a belief reflected in the word "expire" (originally meaning "to exhale") gaining the additional meaning of "to come to an end" or "to die". This connection, coupled with the significant amount of breath expelled from the body during a sneeze, had likely led people to believe that sneezing could easily be fatal. This theory, if proven conclusively, could in turn explain the reasoning behind the traditional "God bless you" response to a sneeze, the origins of which are currently unclear. Sir Raymond Henry Payne Crawfurd, for instance, the late registrar of the Royal College of Physicians, in his 1909 book "The Last Days of Charles II", states that, when the controversial monarch was on his deathbed, his medical attendants administered a concoction of cowslips and extract of ammonia to promote sneezing. However, it is not known if this promotion of sneezing was done to hasten his death (as coup de grace), or as an ultimate attempt at treatment.
In certain parts of Eastern Asia, particularly in Chinese culture (and believe me we here at the New East Coast Syndicate are big fans of Chinese culture), Japanese culture and Vietnamese culture, a sneeze without an obvious cause was generally perceived as a sign that someone was talking about the sneezer at that very moment. This can be seen in the Book of Songs (a collection of Chinese poems) in ancient China as early as 1000 BC, and this belief is still depicted in present-day manga and anime. In China, Vietnam and Japan, for instance, there is a superstition that if talking behind someone's back causes the person being talked about to sneeze; as such, the sneezer can tell if something good is being said (one sneeze), something bad is being said (two sneezes in a row), even if someone is in love with them (three sneezes in a row) or if this is a sign that they are about to catch a cold (multiple sneezes).
All of you NECS loyalists might ask what does all of this have to do with the Vermont 50? Well, the healing of the BBQ ribs was coming along pretty well and having completed some excitingly mind numbing rides on the trainer, my fitness, while not ideal for the race, was still pretty good and I was looking forward to the Long Trail Brewey and 50 miles of VT single track. Having secured a registration slot that was as valuable as the golden ticket in a Wonka Bar, my spirits and hopes were up for making the race. Then came an event feared by anyone that has suffered this condition - the great big sneeze. When it was over I felt like my ribs had been blown through my side and I knew it was game, set and match. Much like Roberto Duran I bowed my head and muttered "No Mas". Time to sit back and suck down countless rounds of fine IPA.

Wednesday, September 8, 2010

BBQ Ribs

Once again I find myself in a narcotic induced haze recalling the better times of last weekend and where/why/how it all went so wrong.
Weeks earlier MacGyver had put out the word that Labor Day Friday would be a night ride and the response seemed to be positive. Despite fears of retribution from the Mayor, (you can equate this next move to a Hells Angel deciding to ride with the Mongols or a Crip hanging with a Blood), I set out for our cross town rival, Bicycle Depot to see what was in the cards. Since this would be a bandit ride the first order of business was to solve the mystery of the howling brake rotor. A few minutes on the stand, some quick adjustments and a new set of pads and I was ready to rock the trails.
The nights objective was a climb over both sides of the ridge riding the carriage roads and hiking trails of Mohonk. The riding was fast and right as we dropped into the technical sections it was getting late enough to hit the lights. Up to this point everything was going smoothly and then the planks showed up. Never having been to the North Shore, my skills at riding the planks are right up there with Lindsay Lohan's ability to drive sober - non existent. Sure enough there were a couple of endos and a knee into the shifter before blood was finally drawn. With blood running down my leg and a cleat that wasn't releasing, the next few approaches to bridges and planks was on the timid side.
On the climb up the backside of the ridge in the dark I met my maker. A misstep on an hike-a-bike section and I was down on my ass but not before my ribcage broke my fall on the edge of a pointed boulder. Feeling like I had just taken a round house kick to the side I gazed at the passing stars as I tried to get my wits together and stand up. The final insult was when that loose cleat turned out to be far more terminal and the carbon sole cried uncle from the massive power generated from my quads (Sparticus look out)as it was torn from the bottom of the shoe.
Feeling like a one legged man at an ass kicking contest I cautiously made my way to the end of the trails and back to the shop before slugging down a couple of IPAs and heading for home to some Chinese food and Oxycontin. Now to rest up and see if I can heal in time for the Vermont 50.