Faceplant

The Running Man

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sun, 27 May 2012 09:25:00 +0000

Arnie in TIGHT padded spandex. Not gay at all.

This was a cool movie. I know Arnie butchers any Sci-Fi movie he comes near but he just kicks so much ass in this movie that I can't help but giggle like a small school-girl.

It is only recently since I've taken up running as a regular form of exercise that I've stumbled upon the reason that subconsciously the main reason I like this movie so much is because I whole-heartedly identify with his character so much. No, I'm not a righteous do-gooder ex-cop who is seeking to destroy a corrupt system and give it to 'the man' (well, not during work hours anyway...) but I feel his pain. Here's why:

1. BIG GUYS DON'T RUN, WILLINGLY. Hell no, god put biggies on this earth for one reason and one reason only: to eat those smaller than us. The wee guys are built light for a reason, and that's so they can run fast and get the fuck out of the way of us biggies looking for something to eat. If you don't believe me, ask a dinosaur! It's millions and millions of years of genetics across all types of species that makes it so. The t-rex didn't need to run, it just ate EVERYTHING that got in it's way.

2. RUNNING IS PAINFUL. Whether it's a guy in an ice-skating rink shoulder-charging you into some razor wire or the sharp stabbing pain from 'the stitch' in your lower abdominal wall, the effect is the same. It's debilitating. You want to stop, but you can't. The guy in the ice-skating rink will chop your head off and stopping for 'the stitch' will cause you to die from embarrassment when you have to admit it to your nearest and dearest. You have to keep going, it sucks!

3. THE SYSTEM. Before Arnie unearthed the conspiracy that left him in his predicament, he was left asking himself "What is happening?", "Why am I here?", "Why is this fat fucker on four-wheels trying run me over?", "Why are they shooting at me?". When running through the ghettos of North D I often ask myself the EXACT same questions. There's no easy answers, the only thing that's certain is that someone is going to end up dead, seriously injured, maimed or with a very sore pinky toe by the end of it all.

That's running for me. I've been making an attempt to run at least three times a week for the past six months as part of operation kegs-be-gone. As I started I think I was very much like Arnie in that as much as it hurt, I was grumpy and I just wanted to kick some ass.

10km. Me. Pooped.

So that's what I've been doing in-between work and being a dad. Lunchtimes are for running, which is good, because I find it's a good way to shake out the grumpiness. I started out doing a couple of kilometres every couple of days and slowly built it up week-by-week. I'm now comfortably knocking out five kilometre runs without any drama and I recently cleaned out a ten kilometre run for the first time in nearly ten years. I'm pretty happy about it, as much as I dislike it as a recreational pursuit, there's something about the simplicity of being able to strap on a pair of shoes and get out without worrying if your bike is going to die.

So, here's some tips on running, from a non runner. It's what worked for me, it may work for you.

1. Warm up, warm down. Five minutes on a stationary bike either side of your run will do, beforehand it's great for waking up the legs, post workout it's good for getting the lactate out.
2. Stretch. Seriously? I have to explain this?
3. Start small. I started on 2km and worked myself up at half a kilometre a week until I could comfortable do 5km. It's a great way to get to your target without destroying your body.
4. Don't run if you are sore. There's tiredness and there's soreness, if you are genuinely in pain you need to stop before you make things worse. Take a few days off until t comes right and roll back the kilometres a bit until you get your fitness back.
5. Try to run every second day. At least, it allows you to build on what you are doing. Initially I ran only on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays. The days in-between allowed my legs to recover and on Fridays I'd extend my distance so as to give myself a couple of days over the weekend to recover and hang with the family.
6. Take it easy. What are you running for? Fun? A bit of Fitness? A marathon? If it's the latter: whoa - You're seriously in the wrong place.

That's it. Be like Arnie. Run, kick ass and make bad jokes.

I'm super! Thanks for asking!

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sat, 21 Apr 2012 09:39:00 +0000

A couple of years ago a few hardy souls have lined up at a bunch of poorly thought-out races with the sole aim of finishing so they can eat a sausage and drink a beer at the finish line. These were my first attempt at having a go at organising some sort of Dunedin Super D series, they went alright but I was terrible at letting people know what was going on.

Thank Jebus someone took up the torch and Thursday night was the first round of the semi-regular Dunners Super D series. Tristan. Anja and Kashi stepped up with a course that went down Signal hill. It was all fun and games until the fog closed in. Those of you out there who have been around a bit will know what happens when you get a light sprinkling of rain on baked-hard clay that hasn't seen rain for few weeks. For those of you who don't, the best way to describe it is to describe what would happen if Jack Frost had been piggy-backing a snot-monster down the track ten seconds beforehand.

That shit is slippery.

As it was I rocked up with my commuter tyres on, (which was dumb in the first place), I threw myself into the start straight with glee as it was the first time night-riding this season and my first singletrack session in a couple of weeks. The sledgehammer of reality smashed me about the head on the first corner as I soon realised my ability was outstripped by my enthusiasm and I became the the passenger on a bike that had very little going on in the way of cornering and braking.

After deciding straight-lining the corners was the best policy, I held on for dear life and managed to get myself most of the way down the top part of the course where I caught up with Scarlett. There's something reassuring about knowing an Ex-junior world downhill champ is having some grief on course as well, what's disconcerting is the fact she's keeping up with you on her cross-country hardtail while you are working your five-inch trail bike for all it's worth.

In the end I didn't have to worry too much about Scarlett running me over as I dropped her a few minutes later, or so I thought. I took a wrong turn and only worked out after seeing no marker for a minute that I'd probably gone the wrong way, then after hitting a small double I figured I was on the nationals downhill course.

That was fun, in a sick and twisted stuff-your-socks-in-my-mouth-and-spank-me kind of way. Nothing like smashing your trail bike down a full-on downhill track that you are unfamiliar with in the dark. I'd like to say I nearly died, but the reality is I just had a lot of fun.

I got disqualified but I didn't care, the shit talking and banter at the finish-line made it worthwhile. When it all boils down to it the reality is that's why I ride: for tall-tales and beer, the results have never been part of the equation.

When are you supposed to freak out?

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Mon, 09 Apr 2012 18:30:00 +0000

The two C's looking incredibly happy

Right now I'm sitting at the bottom of Signal Hill having dropped my wife and first-born at the top.

That's right, my kid is doing her first shuttle run, and she's only 16 months old.

Her mother and I often talk of her cycling future. Track cyclist, bmxer, cross country weenie, downhiller... Her mother doesn't like the idea of the last one, I may even point out to her at some stage that I think it's far more dangerous being strapped to the top tube of a bike being piloted by her mother, than hitting a rock-garden at ninety clicks while being fully in control of the bike she is riding herself.

As it is, I'm a tad nervous. Signal does not forgive easily, and every minute I wait for the two C's to pop out at the carpark the scenarios in my head get worse. It's just fatherly concern messing with me but there's something about having the two things you love the most setting out beyond your comfort zone.

One thing I have real trouble with is where does one draw the line? I think my wife and I are slightly over-protective if anything.

Boy-racers live fast and often die young, without giving much thought to risk management, and consequences in general aren't really at the front of their minds, so when you rock up to the of the hill and those same boy-racers freak out when you cheerily wave your wife and kid off down the hill, one does have doubts. You do wonder if you are slightly insane.

All is well, they've just shown up. Look at the photo, what was I worried about again?

Well, this is embarrassing...

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sun, 08 Apr 2012 22:30:00 +0000

You can't really have 'playing silly buggers since '97' as a sub-heading on your site unless you can prove it, right? So this weekend I've started some dredging of my old material. It's pretty awful, but hey, why not, there's the odd giggle in there.

Now, to find the old stuff from Geocities... Click here to see some of the stupidity (more to come)

Those Tallboy LT's look pretty hot.

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sun, 08 Apr 2012 21:32:00 +0000

So April Fool's rolled around and we ended up with the usual lame-fest where mainstream news agencies post up up their cutesy little articles that suggest it may be a joke, but maybe not. The best release for me was actually legit, the release of the new Santa Cruz Tallboy LT's.

aaaand BOOM! goes the dynamite.

I like these, a lot. It's no secret I'm big on SC's, and despite what many people think I'm not anti-29ers. I've owned 29ers since we had nothing but crappy-handling big-wheeled steel hardtails with rigid forks and no gears. I fortunately owned a good one for it's time, the Raleigh XXIX.

Proof. Still an awesome bike... wish I still had it.

Which brings me back to the Tallboy LT. I've ridden 29ers for long enough to now to react with a healthy dose of cynicism whenever someone comes out with something that it supposedly the 'next big thing'. Over the years as bike companies have slowly cottoned on to the fact that 29ers aren't just a freakish fad they've hurriedly rolled out bikes which had all the charm of an eighteen-wheeled Massey Ferguson - it looks kinda freakish and cool, but you try to drive the fucker.

It fulls my heart with hope that all is not lost in the bike industry when I see quotes like this from Joe Graney:

BB30 doesn’t allow for using ISCG tabs or using a chain guides or single rings. That’s the most significant problem of many that press-fit bottom brackets have. Making the tubes larger around the BB isn’t our goal. If the tubes are huge, the wall thickness becomes very thin, and is more susceptible to rock strike damage. This is an example of where road bike technology does not translate to mtb, some folks are still figuring that out…

That was from an interview on Bike Magic (who completely screwed up a fairly tasty interview by ending it with the whole "when are we going to see a downhill 29er?" thing - argh)

Bicycle Head Designers: not the most pragmatic bunch. When the head designer of a major bike company makes an objective statement about new technology my faith in humanity is somewhat restored. I tend to think of product designers as leaders in global laming, like a bunch of over-excited girls who latch onto the latest and greatest thing without thinking about the consequences.

This girl worked at Giant Bicycles, she designed all of the bikes with overdrive head-tubes. Headset manufacturers the world over hate her, she doesn't care because it looks pretty.

If Graney's exhibiting this sort of pragmatism I'm willing to bet that rather than just jumping on latest and greatest fad-wagon, the Tallboy LT could be a very cool bike with the kinks well worked out. Hopefully I'll find out for myself sometime this year.

Season. BEEP! BEEP!

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Wed, 28 Mar 2012 08:08:00 +0000

I want a season-bot 3000. He'd be great for prolonging summer and contradicting farmers who like to complain about the weather.

This time of year is always a strange one for me, a lot of it seems to revolve around looking backwards and lamenting the late hours of daylight I didn't take full advantage of. While looking forwards and spending the last week or so of daylight savings trying to squeeze the last few bits of primo riding out of the season.
Rather than moping about in dark corner of a room cutting myself like a bad teenage emo, I prefer to focus on the positives of Winter.

1. Cyclocross - no longer just for sado-masochistic freaks who love to ride the hurt train around a muddy feild in the middle of nowhere, cyclocross in New Zealand is slowly nudging itself across the line and into the mainstream. True, while it'll never be as popular as the fixie fad due to the fact it's more about how much hurt you can dish out rather than how tight your neon iGirlie jeans are wrapped around your be-spectacled tackle, it offers an interesting option for some people who want one bike for doing the majority of their riding on. Other reasons for buying a CX rig include:

An excellent option for people who have spent their life bagging road bikes but don't want to sell out by buying something with caliper brakes.
People who don't want to deal with the expense of owning a 29er AND a road bike. While some people out there in 29er land might bemoan the lack of trail capability of a CX rig you need to remember that you ride a 29er, ergo you have long given up on technical riding and have become focused on efficiently rolling across roots smoothly.
CX bikes make for kick-arse commuters, and now the propellor-heads at the UCI have allowed disc brakes into the fray you might have some effective braking to call on when some some cunzzor opens a car door on you.

In short, CX bikes are super, you should buy one. I know I'm going to. Current object of lust:

Cotic X - siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiqq. www.cotic.co.nz

2. Frosty mornings - In Dunedin a frosty morning not only freezes your nads off, it usually guarantees you a blue-bird day. It also saves on refrigeration costs as you can leave your beers outside.

3. Night-riding - There's something life-affirming about bombing down a track at a basquiilion miles an hour with little more than a couple of wires and a battery pack preventing you careening off the edge and into the eternal night with a broken body. The only thing about night-riding is you can be accosted by people who are WAY into building their own systems. You get a million googa-watts of power out of a single AA battery held together by blu-tak and paper mache?

NO-ONE CARES.

Buy an ay-up or some cheapies from deal extreme and move on with your lives. Seriously.

There's also those people who ignite some passive-aggressive streak deep in your soul by shining their lights directly into the back of your retinas when they stop to talk at you beside the track at night. I'm stoked you're willing to take time out of your ride to talk to me but please, turn your lights down/off or at least point them at my junk. It's okay, I won't laugh. much.

4. Time to groom your man-cave - Spend time indoors getting the bike prep done and making sure the fleet is running sweet. You can't do that in a crappy crap-hole where you can't find your tools, sort out your workshop feng shui so you can get your game on with maximum efficiency.

So long Summer, you were nice. Now bring on Winter.

Alright, let's do this.

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Fri, 16 Mar 2012 21:40:00 +0000

15 months since my last post. Yah. Kids will do that to you I'm told...

Quick run-down of where I'm at.

1. Despite being a Santa Cruz fanboy (and Stylie being a lovely man) I got myself a Trek fuel EX7 a few months ago. After putting it together I can honestly say I haven't done a single thing to it except for putting some lube on the chain. Without wanking on about it too much I can say the main reason I like it is that it rides like an uber-light downhill bike with five inches of travel. It's awesome.

2. Running. Yes, it's painful. Yes, if you're not good at it, it can make you look stupid. However, yes, it burns up so much energy you can eat like a little piggy most of the time and not pack on the pies. I did my first 10km run in ten years last week and I'm feeling pretty chuffed about it.

3. Lunchtimes. I am ALL about lunchtime. I can't do much before, after or during work but during lunchtime I can do whatever the hell I want. The beauty of Dunedin being that I can be on the single-track within 5 minutes of pedalling, or on a running path within one.

4. Did I mention I work at a shiny new building that is a hot-bed of recreation? Should I not feel like going outside I can do weights, shoot hoops or just pay general silly buggers on 5500m2 of floor space.

which leads me to number 5. Losing the pies. 15 kegs since November, now I'm back to pre-kiddie weight I'm going to try and chop things down to pre-university weight.

So that's where I'm at. Life is busy, and that's why I've done bugger-all around here, but that's about to change. :)

Cider: not longer just for getting shit-faced.

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Wed, 15 Feb 2012 02:24:00 +0000

Speights Cider: Good

So when I was going to University we used to descend into the bowels of the University Union to the Loaded Goblin in order to learn how to drink. Prior to the lowered drinking age, if you were over 18, you could buy a $3 meal-ticket and descend the stairs, free to imbibe whatever was on offer.

That was usually beer, and cider. Cider was available by the bucket-load, usually they tipped raspberry cordial in it to make it tasteokay. Not good stuff, cheap, nasty stuff that left you with a headache the next day.

But you could have a really good time on it, I remember watching Shihad with the sweat from the ceiling dripping into the cider jug I was holding one night. I still drank it.

Now I'm older and more refined, with my days of double-fisting 1.25 litres of scrumpy well behind me, I'm quite happy to see quality cider is starting to hit the market.

I'm no connoisseur but I love the Speights attempt at it. I wish it ran out of taps. The Macs Issac stuff isn't too bad either. It's good for summer, you should all try it.

Anticipation...

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Thu, 26 Jan 2012 02:27:00 +0000

After my singletrack commute a few days ago, I decided to go scope out some other options.

I'm not going to quite let the cat out of the bag yet as to it's location, but I've found another kilometer or two worth of technical goodness that weaves it's way through a bunch of native bush on it's way down the hill.

It's been there for a while, since my university days even, it's a bit like Deliverance in Welly but it's been neglected and needs some TLC, so my lunchtimes for the next couple of weeks will involve a set of secateurs and a handsaw. All legit and everyone knows about it, they just forgot about it, and it needs tended to.

Tell you about it when it's been done. :)

OMGASM: pleasure overload.

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Mon, 09 Jan 2012 02:26:00 +0000

Big easy. It's a new track in Dunedin. Designed as an easy climbing track to get to the top of Signal Hill, it's Dunedin's answer to Makara's Koru. A delightfully easy climb full of switchbacks which amble their way up the hill. You can easily pedal a seven-inch freeride rig to the top of the hill so you can blat back down the downhill tracks without feeling too knackered.

It's not quite finished yet, there's a few tonnes of gravel to be spread about in Autumn to bed in and make the base solid, but as it stands at the moment and with Dunedin's crazy-dry summer the track is dry and fast.

and fun.

So much fun that I thought it'd be good for a giggle to use it as my morning commute to get to work from my home up in the clouds on Signal. I set out at 8am, hoping to get to work by 8:30. Using the road I can get to the front door of work in seven-and-a-half minutes, but that's all down a very steep road in pretty much a straight line. The way I was going involved an initial grunt to the monument, which is a bit of a climb in itself before heading down a very long piece of single-track snaking down the side of the hill.

I hit the monument after 15 minutes and pretty much forgot about any work deadlines, I've always been stoked with the view at the top of the hill and this morning it was still and clear. The fact I live less than a kilometre away from it wasn't lost on me.

The the fun began, I swear I lost count at 23 the number of switch-backs and by the bottom of the hill I was railing each one like I was on rails. I was spat out onto the back of Logan park and then it was a leisurely five-miunte pedal to the front dorr of the new building I'm working at (more on that later).

I'd just managed to get in half-an-hours worth of riding and several kilometres of downhill signletrack before I'd even clocked in that morning. For some reason, today was just a very good day.

One day, I'll even take photos.

2012 - Quick! Jebus is coming!

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sun, 01 Jan 2012 19:54:00 +0000

...or an asteroid, or some angry Mayans. I'm personally of the opinion that the end of 2012 will bring the end of dumbass end-time predictions rather than the end of the world.

I could be wrong. It'd kinda suck if I was.

So 2012 will mean a few changes around here, namely I can finally get back in touch with my creative side and start winding into some awesome multimedia experiences I've had percolating in the background of my grey-matter over the past three or four years. I have an awesome house with a decent office area that leads off to the garage which lends itself to being a bit mischievous.

We'll see what happens. First task of the year is to keep this blog a'rockin'.

S.

The Archives: Crashing

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sat, 15 Jan 2011 22:07:00 +0000

Back in my scarfie days before Facebook, Myspace and Vorb, I made Faceplant on a crapped-out Celeron 433 from the PC company. It's all mildly embarrassing, but worth preserving for posterity.... I think.

Let’s face it, if you ride a mountain-bike, chances are that at some stage you’re gonna crash! Here at Faceplant, in the interests of being informative and showing some form of humanity wish to provide some helpful advice on the age-old tradition of crashing, because mountain-biking is a serious sport, and serious web-sites have hints and tips on riding....

Let it happen, it comes naturally and it's one of the few skills you'll ever have to try hard to learn, but how do you achieve that really special crash? Here’s a few pointers...

Remember, speed and height are your friends!
Ignore those cracks around your head tube, some will say it's a broken frame, we say it's an opportunity.
It's not a crash unless there's blood or bruises, bonus points for broken bones.
If at a popular event, look around for a camera crew or journalists to document your exploits, that way you can sit around with your friends later on with a few beers looking at what happened and remembering the fun times you had (before you ended up in that neckbrace...)
Body armour is for wimps, you want some decent scars to show off to girls at the bar. Nix that tip if you have a girlfriend or wife....
Having said that, an exception would be that you really should wear a full-face helmet, unless sucking mashed peas through a straw and paying for your dentist's new Mercedes appeals to you.

As the most hard-core and experienced rider may know, there’s about two seconds just before your body makes contact with the hard ground or tree, where your mind suddenly processes millions of thoughts. This is often referred to as “MY LIFE FLASHED BEFORE MY EYES!!!”, that may be true, but speaking from personal experience here’s what usually goes through my mind....

awwwwwwnononononononononononoaaaarrrrrgggghhhhhhh!
watch out for that tree, tree, tree, tree, TREE!!!
Go limp, don’t tense up.... yeah right, like that'll make much difference
Fluffing = tweaking, so why did that stem bolt come loose?
You are NOT Brian Lopes, You are NOT Bender, so what the F@#k was that you were trying to do back there?
How much damage will this do to my bike?
CAN I AFFORD WHAT THIS WILL DO TO MY BIKE !?!?
I remember this rock from last time....
This is the last time I try this double.
“oh yeah!” said the salesman, “dual suspension is so safe, you’ll hardly ever crash!” he said...

Why single pivots kick ass.

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 21:56:00 +0000

I did a wee rave about the bullit and it's ilk over at Stylie's.

Is it bad I really WANT this?

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Fri, 14 Jan 2011 01:38:00 +0000

Behold, BACON EXPLOSION!!! Here’s what you’ll need…

2 pounds thick cut bacon
2 pounds Italian sausage
1 jar of your favorite barbeque sauce
1 jar of your favorite barbeque rub

http://www.bbqaddicts.com/blog/recipes/bacon-explosion/

barred up.

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Wed, 12 Jan 2011 09:04:00 +0000

Oh god. The pie-sized spring for the Bullit's shock is here. Excitement abounds.

I must however, cork the enthusiasm, lest I end up like this guy...

Having said that, the thought of having a whole bunch of squishy travel with which to huck myself of small buildings really has me fizzing at the bung. Hopefully I'll have some evidence of the fun-making sometime soon.

The Archives: Injuries

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sun, 09 Jan 2011 00:35:00 +0000

Back in my scarfie days before Facebook, Myspace and Vorb, I made Faceplant on a crapped-out Celeron 433 from the PC company. It's all mildly embarrassing, but worth preserving for posterity.... I think.

Have you ever walked down the street and seen someone with a cycling top on looking like a complete punter on their $10000 lizzed-out super-slushee wondering if they've got the goods or are they just there for pose value? Well look no further fellow cynics! Use this page as a reference point, secure in the knowledge that when they look down their nose at you and your humble, faithful steed, you can look 'em straight in the eye and and say with confidence...POSER!

1. Bruised head while not easy to distinguish from outward appearances, be observant when speaking to subject of slurred speech, dribbling and an occasional glazed look in the person's eyes, this is usually an indicator of a head trauma from not wearing a helmet in the event of a crash, or it could be the fact that their attention is focused elsewhere because there's that attractive lycra-covered object from the club rides that you've been lusting after walking behind you.

2.Broken collarbone from being a silly bugger shoulder-charging trees on local downhill run without body armour. A most frequent injury occurring right across the mountainbiking demographic, from experienced downhillers and cross-country riders to beginners who just don't seem to understand the end result of applying too much front brake.

3.Multiple scars from using forearms/elbows as an improvised brake, this practice is not to be encouraged by those teaching learners how to brake. Be sure to apply the same principle to those pesky knees as well.

4. Downhillers: Flabby Gut from too much downhill, not enough uphill. Cross-country: Rock-hard abs from too much uphill, not enough nachos.

5. Perhaps one of the most painful experiences for men in mountainbiking is bruised testies, most often caused by skipped chains and/or jumping escapades gone horribly wrong. Once again it will not be outwardly obvious to distinguish this injury, so pay attention to the person's stance, check for eye dilation and if your mountain biking companion can sing a few octaves higher than your other male friends, be a pal and buy him a new chain. If your female riding partner is walking like she just stepped off riding a donkey for a month, do the same.

6. A sprained wrist can be attributed to using one's wrists as an improvised landing gear. Be aware that telling your friends that they're limp-wristed is not the best way to increase your popularity...

7. Twisted knees from continuous clipping in/out of clipless pedals, most common on riders taking part in cross-country, some downhillers actually aquire some skill and use bear-traps or flats on downhills, thereby avoiding this problem altogether.

8. Chainring gouges in calf muscle, most frequently occurs on slippery pedals while trying to jump in the middle chainring.

The Archives: Sifting

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Thu, 06 Jan 2011 19:11:00 +0000

Back in my scarfie days before Facebook, Myspace and Vorb, I made Faceplant on a crapped-out Celeron 433 from the PC company. It's all mildly embarrassing, but worth preserving for posterity.... I think.
I should also note that "sifting" used to refer to a somewhat dubious night out on the town trying to find a member of the opposite sex to keep you warm at night. These days its supposed meanings are far more innocent. Although after what I saw over the holidays, the first one seems far more appropriate.

You thought all of that riding would bring you success, you'd be the ultimate chick/stud-puller with your rock hard legs and wash-board abs from all the miles you were putting in the saddle. Then you discovered downhill, and all of a sudden riding uphill and getting fit became nothing more than a hassle...

Girls, you've got it made if you plan to meet a guy through your biking pursuits, rough statistics (and no way am I going to try and back this up, so don't ask me to...) show that around seventy-percent of mountain-bikers are male. Guys, put plainly, you're screwed, there's a lot of competition out there, best thing to do is spend your time on the bike concentrating on winning those races and spend your time off it in pubs and nightclubs with your mates searching for a prospective soul-mate to have a deep and meaningful relationship with, or your motives may be more dubious, in any case, enjoy!

True, wheelies may impress the girls, but somehow I don't think the bouncer is going to let you in with that bike you're riding...
Repeat after me: Talking gear does not make you attractive, the opposite sex isn't necessarily interested in your LX/XT/SRAM/ST-bloody-X groupset, nor are they interested in your titanium sphincter valve.
Guys, have you got shaved legs? Use them to your advantage, for some strange reason most women if they notice this just have to run their hands up and down them to see how smooth they are (or it could be some bizarre lesbian thing, I honestly don't know...)
Girls, let a guy know you could kick his arse on two-wheels, testosterone and male pride usually dictates that they'll challenge you to a race the next day, ensnaring himself in your venomous grip.
Avoid rugby-heads and rugby-head bars, on a Friday night before the game they'll be empty. Girls, you'll end up going home with a guy who'll go on about either his fantastic game or his favourite rugby team's chance in the NPC or Super12. Guys, you won't be going home with no-one, if you don't play the game, you're not a real man to rugby-head-chicks.
Don't try and meet partners through MTB chat-rooms, usually people behave with the mentality of five-year-olds in these places...oh, and that athletic, young 18 year old of the opposite sex you're talking to could quite well be a 41-year-old of the same sex who doesn't even ride...Ugh.
Thursday, Friday and Saturday nights are for sifting, not training rides.
You might think that wearing your body-armor into a nightclub under your clothes may make you look pumped-up like Arnie or Sly Stallone, then again it may make you look like a clown who doesn't know how to dress properly, in any case, it's incredibly bad dress-taste and should be avoided altogether.

See what happens when you say you're a sponsored rider, three possible outcomes:

They'll think you're incredibly vain...
They'll be terribly impressed, especially if they're MTB ignorant and have no idea that your local sponsor is Joe's Fish 'n Chip shop on the corner.
They'll act like they're terribly impressed, only because they're a keen member of the MTB fraternity and they're keen on scoring some free schwag.

Lines that you should never use while sifting out on the trail...

"Like a tire, I'm ribbed for your pleasure"
"Nice shorts, wanna shag?"
"Wanna lube my stanchion?"

Guys, don't go out and try to infiltrate a women's riding week, not only will you most likely be found out and beaten to a bloody pulp with and a pedal wrench, you'll also be horribly demoralised from having so many girls roosting you on the trail.

Remember, man (nor woman) cannot live on bikes alone. If he/she rides, cool, no doubt you've found your soul-mate, if they don't I wouldn't stress about it, they're the ones that keep you from doing really stupid things like blowing your next mortgage payment on a set of anodised purple quick-releases.

New bike! Back to the future!

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Wed, 05 Jan 2011 18:59:00 +0000

Stylie is a wonderful man. I've been taking my time in-between baby feeds and impromptu naps to build up this:

2010 Santa Cruz Bullit, seven inches of single-pivot travel wrapped up in a tasty red paint job. I spent a lot of last week hand-wringing over what I wanted to do with it, full-on gravity sled for doing shuttles or heavy-duty all-mountain rig? Given the parts I had lying around I went for the former, this sin't much of a problem in the long run because I remembered this:

My original 2003 Bullit, I bought this second-hand back in 2006 after waiting far too long for Santa Cruz to release the new version. I built this thing up in so many different configurations that by the time I moved it on I was trail-riding it every day. So maybe with a few component changes my current bike might end up the same way, who knows? That's part of the fun on owning a frame like this.

Much fun and merriment shall commence.

Weights room, how I missed you

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 18:38:00 +0000

First hit out in the weights room since bubs was born this morning, I'm not big on being indoors doing the whole 'exercise' thing but since I work somewhere that gives me access to use that sort of stuff I might as well make the most of it, right?

I thought I'd be ten-foot tall and bullet-proof and load up the bars with what I was doing before I had my break, turns out it wasn't that hard. Which leads me to the following conclusions:

I wasn't lifting enough initially.
My technique's pretty good.
NEED MORE WEIGHT ON THE BARS!

So in short, I need to stop arsing around.

Which brings me onto this picture, I found it while looking for a generic picture of a weights room in action that didn't look mildly homo-erotic but surprisingly enough, found this far more entertaining. This picture concerns me:

Who let her into a weights room wearing that? While I'm sure the boys would love it, the heels that no doubt go with something like this ensemble would be a major health and safety issue.
Standard issue Olympic bar is twenty kilograms, each of those weights plates is twenty kilograms, by my reckoning she's about to lift 140 kilograms. If she can lift that I need to seriously lift my game...
She may be a spotter, in which case the person lifting the weights must be feeling pretty stoked with themselves.

In short, picture contains much win and is entirely believable. Totally.

The Archives: Drinking

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Tue, 04 Jan 2011 01:00:00 +0000

Back in my scarfie days before Facebook, Myspace and Vorb, I made Faceplant on a crapped-out Celeron 433 from the PC company. It's all mildly embarrassing, but worth preserving for posterity.... I think. This was written by my mate, Ash.

There comes a time in every young mountain bikers life when he is faced with the prospect of indulging in a drop of the devils brew, or alcohol if you will. Sometimes it's a celebration; sometimes it is simply a response to the knocks and bumps of day to day life. And in a world where there are such things as broken bikes and temperamental girlfriends, walking-only tracks and Boyzone videos is it any wonder a bloke occasionally turns to the bottle?

Now this is not such a bad thing so long as a fellow maintains some kind of control. As long as, to put it simply, he drinks his fill but doesn't go on to make a complete and utter arsehole of himself. The following is a step-by-step guide to help you avoid the common pitfalls often overlooked by many a young bike- riding drinker.

The Scenario...

Let's assume that you have been invited to a friends 21st birthday bash. It is a major event on the social calendar of you and your friends that has been eagerly anticipated and looks set to be a huge occasion. In order to gain maximal enjoyment and make it a memorable event it is wise to take heed of the advice outlined below.

Preparation...

Preparation is the key to a successful evening. One should be well rested, hydrated and have a full stomach. This involves taking it easy during the day, drinking plenty of non-alcoholic beverages and eating a good solid meal before leaving for the party. A long afternoon at the mountain bike club annual break-up, drinking copious amounts of beer, playing cricket and eating only one half of a burnt sausage is not advised. And sitting on a boat fishing for five hours in the mid-afternoon sun consuming two dozen Speights and a packet of sea -sickness pills is simply asking for trouble.

What to drink...

Sticking to one thing is recommended. Beer is a good option as its alcohol content is fairly low. If you arrive at the party and find that your friends father has laid on a huge array of expensive liquor, you're in trouble, as one thing, and one thing only, will pass through your pea-sized brain - "All of this is free. As much as I can pour down my gullet, absolutely free!" But alas, as you will find out in the morning nothing is ever completely free.

Knowing your capacity...

If you possess documentary film evidence showing that after four light beers you will:

attempt to jump a car on your kid brothers' chopper, Hans Rey style.
Perform the Divinyls I Touch Myself to the accompaniment of the karaoke machine, then
attempt to remove your trousers over the top of head

would it therefore be wise to throw down 17 handles of Speights, a bottle of Southland Crème and three flaming Opal Neras?

Peer Pressure...

The lads may be terrific chums. Each of them in his own way, is a prince. Nevertheless, you should be aware that occasionally they do not have your best interests at heart. Sad but true. Late in the evening, when they promise you that you would be a hell of a great guy and chicks would really dig you if you were to take off all your clothes, ride the knee-high-flyer around the room and make motocross noises, they are, I'm afraid, not being helpful, nor are they instructing you in vital social skills for the future.

Judgement...

It is worth remembering here that the world will appear an entirely different place through the bottom of your 10th jug. You will labour under the misapprehension that all women are beautiful, and the delusion that they are sending out, to you and you alone, signals of sexual availability. "Don't be shy" they seem to be saying "just go for it big boy."
Similarly your hearing may become defective. Normally clear sentences such as, "If you don't stop that now I'm going to call my husband," tend to be heard as "Would you like to fondle my breasts?"
Conversation...

You must realise that once you begin to speak you will not be able to hide the fact that you are drunk. You will either a) Speak fluent Swahili, b) Spit, drool and dribble embarrassing strangers who will be unsure whether or not you are handicapped, or most likely c) Speak absurdly slowly and carefully, the way a drunk driver thinks no-one will notice if he hugs the gutter and drives at 15 kph.

If possible do not address anyone with your face half an inch from theirs. The majority of sane people find this disturbing and will either make a hasty retreat or punch you.

It is also prudent not to drunkenly inform a fellow that you recently enjoyed sexual congress with his wife.

Seduction...

There is, unfortunately, only a short period of time between the point when you've had enough to drink to allow you the courage and wit to front the girl, and the point where you've had so much to drink as to be barely coherent, and certain to make a nuisance of yourself. You must strike within that short period of time. If she laughs gaily and rubs provocatively against you, it is a sign that you have timed it correctly. On the other hand, if she tosses a drink in your face and her brother puts you in a headlock, I think you can safely assume that you left your run a tad late.

Generally speaking, if you are half cut, opening gambits such as referring to your genitalia as a "pump action love gun" or a "pulsating joystick", or introducing yourself with the song lyrics "I'm going to give you my love, every inch of my love" are unlikely to impress.

Departing...

Finally, it is important to make a timely and gracious exit. It can fairly be said that a) Collapsing face down into the intricately hand-crafted birthday cake, b) having to be carried out by frantic paramedics attempting to resuscitate you, or c) Being dragged out by police while screaming to horrified party goers that you'll return with a sawn-off shotgun in order to "Kill all youse f***in mongrel bastards" hardly fit this description.

Still, these lapses can be forgotten and laughed off in time. There is something worse. If you are that man who refuses to leave till dawn or till the last drink is downed, droning on pathetically about sexual failures and threatening to read his self-penned poetry. If you do this you are assured of never being invited back.

Time to back up on yesterday's effort

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Mon, 03 Jan 2011 00:01:00 +0000

After yesterday's ride my legs were a bit toasted, so today it was time to give them another throw up the hill and see how the body responded.

Again, I surprised myself, it was quite good. I chucked on the GPS on the phone just so I could show you guys where I'm going, you can check it out here.

Bring the pain

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Sat, 01 Jan 2011 23:53:00 +0000

So the first step in the kegs-be-gone plan is to shock my body into thinking "holy shit maing! WTF are you doing to me?!?!?", North Road hill climbs on the roadie should do it, a 6.5km climb over 343m.

I've been looking for something that I could approach in a brain-dead way that offered high-intensity without taking up heaps of time. Back when I was really into my roadies I did this for four weeks straight, slowly hauling my portly physique up the hill in a big gear. Funnily enough I wasn't so portly after doing it day-in-day-out.

Okay, it wasn't as much fun as shredding singletrack but it got results, so I might as well try it out again.

before the crank swap

Meet the slow one, a humorous take on my BMC's model designation (SL01) and an accurate reflection on the pilot's abilities. Over the years I've had to replace the frame and I've upgraded it to some 7800 Dura-ace, the latest upgrade was getting rid of the compact crankset. As long as there is cartilage in my knees I figure if you're going to do hills on a road bike you might as well do them hard, right?

Today's ride was a pleasant surprise, I thought I was going to DIE on the first pinch out of North East Valley but things seemed to go quite well and I managed a 35:00 flat to the lookout plaque. Not bad, I wonder what sort of time I can pull at the end of January?

Curse you, tasty treats!

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 22:54:00 +0000

Okay, So one of my goals for 2011 is to reduce the pies. Maybe become a little more whippet and a little less Clydesdale-class.

Putting that up here kinda sucks, because I now have to front up on that goal with everyone watching. All the motivational speakers out there say you should write your goals down, when you do that you give the goal some tangibility, solidity, a bit of purpose. The problem for me being that it's easy to lose that paper and forget it, finding it sometime later at the back of the sock-and-jock draw long after the deadline has passed.

I find broadcasting them on the internet is far more entertaining. I shall call it kegs-be-gone, and I will do it.

Back to the future

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 22:49:00 +0000

There's some things I want to do during 2011, this is one of them.

Yup, it seems a bit weird but I'm back at this old grindstone, resurrecting a relic of what seems like ages past. Faceplant was a web-zine I started off on Geocities (remember them?) during the late 90's, over the next few years it started getting quite a bit of traffic. Vorb then came along and I flagged the whole web-site thing to go waste time over there with Tama and co.

I'm no longer a bright-eyed, bushy-tailed scarfie with time to burn, these days I'm more a time-poor married father-of-one. However, I still like pies... and beer, riding bikes and talking about them.

Change happens, for better or worse I'm finding myself wanting to go back to expressing myself . So here we are.

Welcome to my own little corner of the internet.

Time to vent...

noreply@blogger.com (Scotty) — Wed, 08 Sep 2004 22:17:00 +0000

...it's gonna be messy, so buckle up.

We had a month of super dry conditions in January where the farmers were praying for a drop of rain, and then we had a month of rain in February where everyone just wanted it to stop. I’m living next to a flood bank and it makes me a bit nervous that all these hundred-year floods are happening every ten years. The clean-up begins and no-one has really been asking why mother nature decided to kick our butts so hard as they drive their cars up and down carbon-monoxide infested highways and byways around the country.

Walk, ride, or take public transportation everyone, it’s really not such a bad thing.

Then, just when you thought New Zealand was clean, green, and not for sale to exploitive over-development, some wanker wants to run a gondola right through the middle of the Greenstone valley, one of the most beautiful areas on earth.Skyline Enterprises and Ngai Tahu claim it’ll open up the area for more people to appreciate it. WRONG. It’ll destroy it, if some fat bastard tourist can’t be bothered walking in to earn his view, TOUGH. As for Ngai Tahu’s involvement in this debacle, I thought you guys were supposed to be the guardians of this place?

Oh well, the environment can take another one for the team, right?...

…and to top it all off, a night of glam and glory, Pete and company wipe the floor at the Oscars, only to have some tosser at home come up with the poll question “does the Oscars win make up for the World Cup loss?” WHO GIVES A TOSS! For god’s sake, why the hell do we have to keep measuring ourselves against a sport where fifteen guys chase a ball around a paddock? Nice work the news guy who thought that one up, give yourself an uppercut son because you thoroughly deserve it.

You kook.

So while we sit back, thinking the yanks have gotta be the stupidest nation on earth for letting Dubya run things, just ask yourself, are we that much better?