With the kiddiewinks having the week off because of Thanksgiving, we enjoyed a duel barrel sleepover last night. Maile and Jackson have friends that happen to be brother and sister, so we had them both over for the evening last night. As per usual at the GoFast household, we all sat down for dinner to enjoy each others company. I could tell right away that this would not be the typical repast. As it makes the wifeage uncomfortable, I asked one of the little guests to lead us in prayer before the meal. Something we don't do, but I like to whip it out there whenever we have somebody new to the table. The little boy guest said that they normally didn't do that ritual. So I said I'd do what we normally did and they could join in if they liked. At that point I stood up, waved my arms about my head and yelled, "meatballs on the ceiling!!" They giggled and immediately joined in. My kids, ever leery of the various ways I can embarrass them, were somewhat relieved when their guests didn't vomit in horror. They also jumped up and did the what will now become a nightly pagan ritual. The wifeage, in a rare show of solidarity joined right in.

Then we sat back down and started talking about the day. I asked the girl guest who her teacher was at school and she replied, "Mrs. Schmidt." I said, "oh, she's the one that can actually unlock her jaw and eat the head of any little kid who misbehaves...right?" She thought for a moment and then said, "no, I think you mean Mrs. Simmons. She ate a little boys head last week." And without missing a beat, the little boy guest added, "that's not entirely true. She only ate half and is saving the other half in her freezer for later." Which lead me to believe that the dinner conversation that happens at their table on a nightly basis maybe weirder than the one that my family engages in. No doubt, these two are welcome anytime as the belly laughs were coming fast and frequent.

And then, completely out of the blue (well not really as the stereo was on), the two little guests started belting out JBJ's Living on a Prayer in perfect rhythm with the song on the stereo. Shockingly not missing a word of the most prolific song of our time. My little ones looked at me and the wifeage as if to say, "how come we don't sing JBJ at the dinner table." It's only a matter of time now. My kids will be prepared for life like the little guests I had to the table last night. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

Clearly I have become some sort of go between in what is becoming a rather heated feud between two up to now seemingly mellow and friendly competitors. Recall that I received a piece of registered mail from Eric Bustos intended for Tim Watson. I was gracious enough to forward said letter on to is rightful and intended party. Now I have received a return response and again, I need to forward this doc to the intended party. Tim and Eric: I am neither of you and neither of you resides at my place of business or home. Please carefully address any future communications appropriately. Anyway, I couldn't help but post the rebut to yesterday's letter from Eric. Have a look below:

Dear Eric,
Before I get into the guts of my reply, please click here. Now that we've gotten that out of the way, allow me to retort. At no point will I accept any blame for your broken wheel. Recall that when I arrived on the scene, you were doing what looked like some sort of break dancing routine in the dirt. Because of the fast pace being hammered out by The Myrah somewhere up the trail, I was red lined and bleary eyed at the time. No doubt your antics were confusing to me, to say the least. It was at this point that I had to go into full brake mode to keep from joining you on the ground. My success was less than optimal, and as a result, I ended up getting off of my bike and onto your wheel. In a way, you saved me because we Lobsters take great pride in our bike handling skills. So much so that we have a running bet with each other regarding our ability to clean courses with minimal foot releases. More accurately, every time we have to get off the bike and actually touch dirt for something other than barriers or run-ups, we owe a case of beer to be brought to the next race. So though I did have to get off of the bike in a spot where otherwise it could have been ridden, I do not have to buy a case (as the visual evidence shows in your picture) because my foot never touched the dirt but rather your wheel. Though a technicality in nature, you saved me some sheckles, for which I owe you some thanks. As these are the facts, I feel that your request is outrageous in nature and have no intention of reimbursing you for your wheel. I consider this matter closed. I invite you by our tent this weekend to join me in a beer so we can put this thing to bed.

Sincerely,

Tim Watson
Rock Lobster Cyclocross Team

p.s. I like that Tumbleweed nickname for Mundelius. We actually call him The Tumblina because that hideous attempt at a mullet makes him look more like a girl than the Euro trash bike racer image he is shooting for. It's almost comical when he crashes what with those blond locks flying about all silly like.


Anyway, it's kind of fun to see this feud unfold. I don't know how I ended up getting bashed in the process of these two duking it out though. May be time for a haircut and a skills session based on the chatter. Hope you are well and see you on Saturday night in Brisbane. And stay off of Eric's wheel. Unless you're a Lobster, that is.

Johnny GoFast

So I'm sitting there at my office and one of those letters comes in that you have to sign for. I'm forever getting those things from the wifeage and the envelope usually contains the weekends "honeydo" list. The receipt verification is brilliant on her part as I can't claim ignorance though I still try. But this time the letter was something entirely different and though not intended for me, I couldn't help but read it. Clearly aimed for Tim Watson on Rock Lobster, I forwarded it accordingly. Have a look:

Dear Tim-
As you may recall, you lost control of your bicycle on Sunday November 8th at the CCCX bike race at Toro Park. As a result of your rather suspect bike handling, damage resulted to my rear Zipp wheel. The attached photo clearly shows you standing on my spokes. As a result of your clumsiness, one of the spokes let go and tore out of the carbon rim. This, in effect, destroyed my wheel. Complicating the matter, this wheel was brand new. I had recently received shipment of the wheel and this was, in fact, my first race on said wheel. I recognize that bike racing is an inherently dangerous sport and that at times, the discipline of cyclocross in particular, racing can be exceptionally harsh on equipment. At no time did I anticipate that a fellow competitor would resort to such lousy skills. This is the master A category after all. We are expected to know how to handle our rides with aplomb or else remain in one of the lower ranks. Sure, there are some outliers like John Mundelius (also known as the Tumbleweed in the Strawberry circles) who will fling himself on the ground for no reason, but the field, by and large knows how to handle themselves. As a result, I cannot help but think that you are 100% at fault for this egregious act to my wheel. I will await and expect full remediation in prompt fashion. I do get a steep discount on Zipp wheels because, as you may well know, I race on the deepest and most talented master’s cyclocross team in the nation. Your team is good too, just not as good as mine. I do not expect you to pay full retail to replace my wheel, just reimburse me for my cost. If you have any questions, we can discuss at any of the next upcoming races.


Kind Regards,

Eric Bustos
Cal Giant Strawberries Racing Team



No doubt a bold move by Bustos and I would love to be a fly on the wall when this thing comes to a boil. Not sure I like being called a Tumbleweed. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

So that's the boy rockin' the kids race at Toro Park yesterday. Unbeknownst to me, they make the tykes do a complete lap of the course, as opposed to one of those sissy type series/races where they set up a miniature lap around the parking lot. CCCX build racers with cajones! And he loved it. He also loved the strawberries they gave as well as the medal to all the finishers. A proud moment, to be sure, when he got to supply the family with the goods. He later asked me if the medal was real gold and I told him absolutely. He then told me that no matter how much it would fetch with one of those gold companies you hear on the radio that will buy gold, this medal was
not for sale. Beauty. He then asked me this morning whether the pictures were posted yet and so we looked. Apparently the DNA is hard coded in my lineage to obsessively look for results and photos of the weekends exploits. No luck at 7am this morning, but for sure we'd have something by the evening, I told him. True to form, Rick Rassmussen is Johnny On The Spot with the photo as pictured above, and one little boy will be a little bit happier as a result. Make that two. Anyway, hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

So how to beat Don Myrah? That's the question. The obvious answer is to work harder. But the season is here and that hard work should have happened six months ago. Had I known he was going to be this fast, and subsequently everyone else would be going harder, I wouldn't have skipped a workout in favor of a burrito. I wouldn't have had that night full of beer with the boys on multiple occasions. I wouldn't have taken a fishing trip to Northern Ontario. Okay, wait...I still would have gone to Ontario. A man does have his limits. But what to do now? The man is flying and I'm not. So I've been thinking and I've come up with a list of things I can do now to level the playing field a bit. Let's have a look:

1) You can tell that there has been some sort of dietary change that has occurred. And talking to my mole with inside information on The Myrah (Brock Dickie but don't tell anyone), tells me he's dropped like 30 pounds from last year. That's like dropping a piano off your back. Anyway, I can infer from the fact that he was lugging 30 extra pounds last year that the man likes to eat. So I've started ordering him pizza and it has been arriving at his house since Sunday night. It's Zach's stuffed pizza with extra pepperoni and sausage. Who can resist that? I've also taken the liberty of having it delivered with an ice cold pitcher of Sierra Nevada beer.

2) Item one above is great on a long term basis, but more immediate corrective action is necessary. So I've enlisted Griff to set up a food stand on course near one of the wheel pit areas. It will face both sides of the course offering Don, and only Don, a feed. The first stand option for Don will be the Apple Fritter donut. It is only the most perfect donut ever and should hit his stomach like a cinder block. Upon returning to the booth, I have instructed Griff to then hand up a deep fried leg of ham for The Myrah to munch on. It will be important for the rest of us to "let" Don have a bit of a lead off the front so he feels like he has time to partake in this noshfest.

3) I don't anticipate that this alone will slow down The Myrah enough so that any of us will now have a chance so that is why we are going to enact Operation Flying Wallenda Brothers. This will obviously be the most difficult to pull off as it will require precision unlike anything seen at a NorCal Cyclocross race ever. My plan is that we have Henry Kramer and Gannon Myall pedalling the bikes as seen in the picture, with Chris D'Alusio perched in the chair. As they come upon The Myrah munching on his leg of ham while the juices roll down his chin, we will have Chris leap from his post and onto the Myrah. Quickly, Chris will need to scurry into one of The Myrah's jersey pockets and hunker down. It is important that Chris perform this function as he is both a) small enough to fit in one of the pockets, and b) the only one I've met out of any of you that can be quiet for the any length of time.

4) At this point, The Myrah should be slowing. No doubt the confusion will be setting in as he notices that he hasn't lapped 3/4 of the field yet and that he can actually hear bikes clanging away behind him. If it looks like he isn't pedalling squares yet, we will need to resort to drastic measures. My plan is to ride off the back (I feel particularly well suited for this task), and as The Myrah approaches, I will veer off course and through the tape. With Oz or Bustos following, I will have them quickly retape the course to follow me. Once The Myrah is on my wheel, they will then switch the tape back to its regular position to mark the correct path. This will give those that were close enough, a bit of a gap before The Myrah knows he's been duped.

5) Once The Myrah is back on course, we're pretty much on our own. I did think about employing DeFiebre at this point to give The Myrah a rub or two. Keith likes to bang about as witnessed at the last Pilarcitos race when apparently he got into it with the Otis Guy guy. If Keith can get Otis Guy guy chirping (something I've been able to do as well but I don't think I have enough speed to catch The Myrah--Keith has it in him), maybe he can do the same with The Myrah. I also thought that we could get the lap card guy in our employ and give The Myrah false information with how many laps are left, but those officials are tough to bribe. Believe me, I've tried.

Anyway, short of actually doing the work, I thought we could try this. Does anyone else have any ideas? If we work together, certainly somebody can out duel this man.

Johnny GoFast

So I got to attend a speech that my little boy gave on Waste Managers. Waste Managers are what you call garbage men when your little boy is interested in becoming one. He is doing a unit in school where they have to study somebody that is directly working in our community. Of all the options he had to choose from, he went with Waste Manager. Apparently, being a cop or fireman is so our generation. So anyway, on Wednesday, we got up at oh dark thirty to greet the garbage...um...I mean waste manager truck driver. My boy was at the ready with his questions and we found out his name (Jose), his favorite part of the job (servicing the customer) and the special training required (operating the claw-hydraulic lift but the boy didn't get that so Jose called it the claw, how to operate the truck, and the various safety procedures required). Then on Saturday I took him to the landfill with girl and the Wifeage in tow. They happened to be having an open house that day and people actually came. I've heard of staycations but really...the dump? They had a jumpy house and a catered lunch. The kids both ate a hamburger. The Wifeage and I didn't really have the stomach for a meal at the landfill. Then we got to tour the actual land fill, via limobus (I'm not kidding) and watch the heavy equipment that smashed the garbage into the ground. As we all know, landfills kick off methane gas, and our landfill captures that gas and turns it into electricity. They sell the electricity to Los Altos and Alameda as those municipalities have a green energy policy and they like the fact that they are buying garbage gas. Anyway, the boy was able to recap all of that and did an excellent job on his speech. A couple of proud parents in the room to be sure. Hope you are well.

Johnny GoFast

Tomorrow we are back to business with my thoughts on how we can stop uber sensation Don Myrah in cyclocross. Hint: it does not involve me training harder as that wouldn't be enough even if I went at it full time.

Sliding into second base when playing baseball is: strategic, makes good fundamental sense, and when done correctly is an integral part of the game. Sliding into second base while riding your bike...not so much. So yesterday I was coming off the mountain and riding back to the rock pile at lunch when I mach'd through a corner like I've done 200 times before. At the apex of the turn, the front wheel decided to let go and the speed at which the ground came up was alarming. I hit the deck and slid 15 to 20 yards before I was able to stop myself by slamming into my bike that had arrested its forward progress by slamming into a curb. Shaken and stirred, I quickly stood up and assessed the damage. I had fallen on my left hip and that seemed to be the trouble area. The left elbow suffered some rash as well but was mostly superficial at best. My greatest concern was that the impact to the hip was the same as the impact I suffered last year at the night cyclocross race that effectively ended my season. I assured no less than 10 passing motorists (including one motorcycle cop) that I was okay. I remounted and started to pedal and things felt fine. I had a little stiffness last night but today the hip actually feels pretty good. I think I got lucky in that: 1) the impact was slightly lower on the hip than last year and 2) I was moving pretty fast when I hit so that the energy from the impact was spread out over a greater distance (though I'm no expert on such crash analysis). And before any of you ask I'll cut right to the chase, the mullet was not damaged in any way during the fall. Anyway, stay upright and I hope you are well.

Johnny GoFall