Big Mike In Oz

It starts.

Fri, 01 Aug 2008 09:47:33 GMT

I’m finally finding a routine again after a fairly tumultuous 6 months. Today was the final day of week 3 of my final 10 week teaching practicum. I’ll repeat that for those of you that are asleep at the wheel.

FINAL PRACTICUM.

Yes, this whole term I’m teaching. Actually I’m teaching at a high school 25km away. A nice 20 minute drive most days. Today was the sports carnival so since I didn’t have to haul a bunch of books down and back I decided to ride.

I decided yesterday. So yesterday I rode for 20km after work just to remind my legs what it’s like to pedal. They needed it. From the state championships mid-March until yesterday I have only ridden 905km. That’s 201km/mth. That sucks.

But as I sit here typing I’ve now ridden 70km in 2 days. And the first sentence of this post is key… I think I’m in a stable place now so it’s likely I’ll be riding to work and back at least a couple of times a week. That on top of hitting the velodrome one afternoon a week and riding with the junior development squad Saturday mornings and the regular club race Sunday should see me hitting 600+km/mth. Maybe even 800.

That’s not big numbers unless you remember that my 2 favourite events last 12 and 50 seconds respectively. So as long as I use my 600 carefully, I should gain hugely from the exposure to the bike and road. Quality not quantity.

I’m still buzzing on the phrase FINAL PRACTICUM. 3 weeks down out of 10. Week 10 is the week before spring holidays so it’s all throwing Frisbees and doing crosswords. Either week 8 or 9 will be my on the job interview where a teacher other than my mentor teacher will come in and watch me run several lessons and decide what rating I’ll achieve. That rating is the rank order for job placements next year for the state education department.

All I know is that this week both my mentor teachers have said “you’re doing fine”. Their only advice has been that my lessons are still a little too much of me doing all the work and the students being at best passive and at worst inactive. Apparently my lessons are very entertaining but very teacher centred.

Teacher centred. The kiss of death of modern pedagogy (look it up). So I have 4 weeks to increase my student engagement before my entire 4 year degree is boiled down to a single 1 digit rating number. Not that I’m worried. I’m flexible and confident so everything will be fine. And if it’s not fine then I’ve always got the old fall back… I’m a physics major and there is such an acute shortage of physics teachers that I really only need to have a pulse to qualify. Hopefully I don’t suck so much that I have to play that card.

Isn’t this supposed to be an amateur sport? For kids?

Mon, 21 Jul 2008 12:14:51 GMT

A couple of months ago my 2 boys competed in their first ever open cycling event; an event that can be contested by anyone with a current domestic racing licence. It was also an event specifically for juniors so the oldest riders competing turn 16 some time in 2008. It was a fantastic event with the kids racing a time trial in the morning and a criterium in the afternoon.

My boys, as new and inexperienced competitors were comfortably at the back of their respective age groups. They were excited just to be there and having a go and on the trip home the post race debriefing contained questions like “did you have fun” and “did you do your best”.

That’s all I expect. Endeavour and enjoyment. Achievement will come with time.

Tonight I was going through some of the photographs of that race and discovered the scourge of the junior peleton. It’s similar to the over-exuberance displayed by football parents fighting on the sidelines or abusing officials.

The only difference is that in cycling there are other ways to over compensate for your own shortcomings. While living vicariously through your child is a normal phase in adult life, cycling offers other ways to go to excess.

I have attached a photograph of the issue at hand. It’s the if you can’t fix it with a hammer get a bigger hammer syndrome. Like I said early on this was a junior carnival. These are just kids. Actual kids.

The original purpose of the photograph when I aimed the camera was to save for posterity the bizarre position my 13 year old occasionally assumes when pedalling – namely that pictured (he’s centre frame in orange) riding right on the nose of the saddle with the point of the seat under his right hip joint. Always the right. Who knows.

My 2 boys are very new to the sport so I’m not using them as a benchmark. In fact apart from the consumables (tyres, tubes, cables, bar tape) their bikes are both Frankenstein’s monster machines cobbled together using parts much closer to 20 years old than new.

On the other hand I don’t deny people the right to buy new stuff. In fact I’ve got a shopping list for my kid’s bikes as soon as I finish studying in 12 weeks and 4 days (tick tock). Very first on that list is to give them 10 gears to work with. Currently 1 runs 9, the other 8 and because of their ages they both have the bottom 2 locked out. Shimano make 10spd blocks starting at 14, 15, 16 so a couple of clusters, chains and 105 lever sets isn’t a big deal to move them from 6/7 to 10. But that’s about $300 per bike. Not a small amount but neither am I going out to buy them each a carbon fibre, full Dura-ace road bike and matching TT bike.

Where am I going with this? Let’s look at the photo now.

What I didn’t notice on the day was the level of equipment used by some of these competitors. I mentioned there was a TT. On the left of the photo is the tail section of a bike. Not just any bike though. It’s a Cervelo P3C. Just like Fabian Cancellara has ridden to multiple world TT championships. Click that first link and then down on the right margin click the pricing tab. That’s right, US$3300. Not for a bike, just a naked frame. Rules relating to juniors prevent the use of disc wheels or wheels with rim sections deeper than 45mm, otherwise I’m sure I’d be looking at a P3C with Zipp 808s.

The mountain of my discontent

Sun, 20 Jul 2008 06:09:32 GMT

Today I rode the mountain of my discontent (top left, click show then elevation profile) for only the 3rd time this year. Fortunately for my ego I didn’t have to ride against the clock today because I was chaperoning the juniors. My first visit this year was a solo 27:46. Next was as a junior chaperone in May when my 9 year old in sneakers managed a 33:57 for which I was thankful. The same day my 13 year old also in sneakers bailed after 3km of the almost 7km climb.

I’ve brought the boys into the 21st century and they are now riding Look Keo pedals and Vittoria shoes. Today Mr9 pulled the plug at just under 4km; probably because of a belly full of cake from a birthday party the day before. Mr13 took some coaxing but made it all the way under his own steam in 39:40. Again I was grateful because at a slightly grotesque 120kg, I’m running 12kg (27lb) heavier than March.

This is the same climb that was recently contested as stage 3 of the Tour de Sunshine Coast with the slowest Masters D grade competitor finishing in 28:11. Yes slowest. And that time includes a 1.5km lead up to the actual climb. The same climb that I consistently broke 17 minutes on as a teenager.

The names of the adults have been masked to protect the outcomes. If a real name appears, it’s a kid, and by definition reasonably young. There was one 16 year old, one 14 year old and the rest were under 13.

Dad 1	18:24
Michael	20:33
Dad 2	21:01
Seb	22:11
Rory	27:03
Emil	28:02
Liam	29:19
Aaron	32:16
Dad 3	32:17
Aidan	39:15
Dad 4	39:20
Mum 1	39:21

war wounds go wild

Wed, 02 Jul 2008 17:10:10 GMT

Here I was being a conscientious parent. And cyclist.

I wanted Mr13 back on the bike promptly before the reasonably minor physical trauma of his crash grew into a significant case of mental trauma. To that end I planned on taking him back to the velodrome tonight to exorcise his demons. During the day he complained consistently and persistently enough to his mother that she took him to the doctor.

Apparently that innocent looking friction burn on his backside has somehow become infected. And the good doctor gave him until Saturday off the bike. So I ventured south with Mr9 in the freezing cold to circulate intermittently for 2 hours in search of strength and fitness. I found something while I was out there but I'm not sure if it's even a distant cousin of my long lost fitness. But I feel better for having made the trip.

another inductee to the trackie war wounds hall of fame

Sun, 29 Jun 2008 09:11:41 GMT

I’ve started work on the next generation of trackies.

Mr9 and Mr13 both took their first outing to the velodrome today. Mr9 is still a bit wary of leaving and returning to the fence but is fine with the whole process of screaming around at 30+km/h. He rode about 15km without incident.

Mr13 was a little more focused than I expected and took to following one of the experienced youngsters on his flying 200m runs. He quickly learned the right line for diving off the fence to hit the timing line at full speed and successfully negotiated his first solo flying 200m in 19 seconds on a 76 inch gear. On his second attempt he committed the cardinal sin of track riding… he crossed the line and… and… and… stopped pedalling.

The initial tears were caused by the sweat in the grazes. But it continued for an irrational duration and when I got him talking it turns out mostly the crying was because he was angry at himself for making such a fundamental mistake. Of course there were more tears when he got in the bath, more tears when he dried himself, and the most tears of all when I applied the spray bandage.

Here’s a shot of the double elbow trauma and the right cheek. The bike doesn’t even need new handlebar tape.

Found and Lost… some more

Thu, 19 Jun 2008 06:28:52 GMT

Here was me thinking I was a cycling guru. Then I’m wheezing and puffing up the slightest incline cursing all the surplus calories I’ve inhaled at the campus cafeteria.

And worse than all that is my habits. All my good habits. Riding habits. Are gone. I was 5 minutes down the road yesterday when I realised I didn’t have gloves or glasses. I spent the whole miserable ride pondering the stupidity that caused me to have to squint into the glare and shaking the numbness out of alternating hands.

I hope I get smart again in a hurry.

Found and Lost

Mon, 16 Jun 2008 11:53:45 GMT

It is with a ponderous hand that I write this. It is with a shamed hand that I publicise this. It is with a resolute hand that I move beyond this.

Found:
12kg I neither wanted nor asked for.

Lost:
All semblance of cardiovascular fitness.
2/3 of my legendary leg strength.

Something happened this January which I wasn’t prepared for. I rode the track season hard. I haven’t ridden a full track season since 1989. It felt good. I got some strong results. One of my road trips even paid for itself. But at the end of the track season there was no reason to drive 50km each way to the velodrome 3 times a week – especially with petrol prices where they are. And there was university starting back.

The previous year, and the one before that, I’d used January as a big base for a good high (for me) mileage year. And the weight curve showed it.
Jan-May ‘06 14kg loss. Jun-Dec ’06 10kg gain.
Jan-May ‘07 12kg loss. Jun-Dec ’07 5kg gain.
Jan-May ‘08 9kg gain. Jun-Dec ’08 who knows.

All I know is that I didn’t gain anywhere near as much over winter/spring last year as I did the previous year. I’m going to aim to beat that plus take back some of what I didn’t do this summer/autumn. Last Tuesday was my final ever university exam. I’ve got half a dozen assignments to write in the next 10 days then I have 2 weeks of fulltime lectures followed by a 14 week practicum and that’s all she wrote. A fully qualified high school physics teacher will pop out the other end.

It should be easy. I’ve got all the confidence of my achievements from last track season and I’ll be starting very specific training in July after 2 weeks of just reacquainting my legs with the process of going around. The best part is that my prac is 25km down the reasonably flat highway so if I get the babysitting details sorted out I can pedal up and down thus saving some $30 a week in petrol and putting in a reasonable base on the bike. All that’s needed on top of that will be the regular Wednesday nights at the velodrome and probably a weekend visit as well.

After the escapades of Unholy-rouleur Jim last year, folding his chainring over doing intervals. Twice. I was given some hints (salt in the wound) by the mongrel who beat me out of the sprint bronze at the state titles that I should be doing standing starts with the sole aim of folding chainrings. Hi Jim. I wasn’t sure if it fell into the same category so I didn’t bother to tell him that I recently snapped my pedal axle on a standing start.

I also didn’t bother to tell him that all of my bikes have old crank sets on them. Why. Why would someone with limited time and money spend hours trawling eBay for 20 year old cranks. Simple. 144mm PCD. You can’t fold a chainwheel if the flimsy chainwheel doesn’t have to support itself. 144PCD means the big fat crank spider is taking all the strain and the chainwheel is just a circle. All these new cranks with 130mm or even 110mm PCD means that the flimsy chainwheel must reach down to attach to the crank arm, exposing the victim – ahem, owner – to unnecessary flex.

2 things.

1. Don’t come around here trying to tell me it’s BCD because as my good friend Dave at Daromi Cycles told me PCD is engineering speak for Pitch Centre Diameter. The fact that bike riders have claimed it and maimed it and twisted it to Bolt Centre Diameter doesn’t make it right.

2. If I can use 1800 watts to take almost 120kg from zero to 60km/h in 150 metres without folding a chainring, why would I spend money changing PCD to a less structurally sound item? Don’t answer that, it’s rhetorical. Plus I don’t want to hear you make a fool of yourself.

All I know is that today, day 168 of 2008, I rode only the ninth ride over 40km this year. There’s already 98 days with a zero against the mileage for the year. But my eyes are open now and I can smell the beginning of a good strong 9 month run to the state titles. It has to be. I’ll be in deep trouble at home if I’m not under 100kg and firing on all 8 cylinders (yes, of course my trackie legs are V8s) when I roll my new carbon fibre track bike out onto the launch pad in October.

Oh yeah, Dave from Daromi Cycles has already got all the measurements and specifications. Carbon grey with red highlights. I can’t wait. So we end on a brighter note.

Then there's Little Tommy tit sniffer

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 22:15:03 GMT

Nice work from Boonen. Hopefully the hooker told me she'd put icing sugar on her t!ts defence will work.

Big George

Thu, 12 Jun 2008 09:34:46 GMT

The permanent bridesmaid of Discovery/USPostal wins stage 2 of bridesmaid’s race. He’s a loyal domestique and an amazingly tough rider but he’s long overdue for something a little more meaningful than carrying bottles or winning stages of 2^nd tier races.

what is a normal life

Fri, 06 Jun 2008 04:17:49 GMT

I got challenged to consider what is a normal life and had to respond with this outpouring.

Dude, you picked the wrong guy on the wrong day for a “normal” discussion.

I went to bed last night at a time such that as I was in my twilight, drifting off, I was startled awake by my wifes alarm clock going off for her to go to work. Neither of us are shift workers.

because…

Yesterday daytime was 8 hours of revising quantum physics and relativity for a 3 hour end of semester exam today. Then home to referee the kids for a couple of hours before leaving for 5 hours to be the “logistics manager” at a $5000 criterium my club organises. Then home for a bit more physics revision before falling into bed at the aforementioned 4:45am. It’s now 8:20am and I’m up again and have already made 3 lots of school lunches, made 2 phone calls about the race and am now leaving to visit my mum (who had a knee replacement last week) before I dive into my physics exam at 10am.

At 4pm today I’m again the logistics manager (commonly mistaken for the race directors gopher), this time for the Tour de Sunshine Coast, 4 days of pain for which the term logistics manager must be considered interchangable with “general dog’s body” and/or “co-defendant” if the s&$t hits the fan.

All of which pales into insignificance compared to your “normal”.

I give thanks for my wife and 3 children who love me and each other.

I give heartfelt best wishes to the battling Nelsons and bow down before their ability to perform “normally” in the face of their current challenges.

Who am I?

Wed, 28 May 2008 10:15:17 GMT

Who am I? This is a very superficial question.

Elsewhere, like in some bike forums in my home state, I fly under the banner Big and Shiny - on the premise "Big, that's me. Shiny, that's my head" (look at my profile photo if you don't get it). That means that in the inherently lazy manner of many forum frequenters I sign off my posts with an abbreviation of my alias. Namely, B&S.

So, who am I?

B&S would be loosely described as an acronym of Big and Shiny.

B&S is also a homonym. Of itself… by definition.

But B&S is also an acronym of Bald and Smelly (thank you to my dear colleague for that one).

So my handle is an acronym of a homonym of an acronym of a duality of personal physical flaws.

Oh what a tangled web we weave through this spitefully complex language.

My babies are all grown up.

Fri, 23 May 2008 11:24:55 GMT

Ms 7 first… I was a couple of minutes late going to collect her from school this afternoon. Nothing unusual there except that for the first time her bike wasn’t locked (I didn’t notice the lock was missing until we had ridden all the way there this morning) so she had taken it upon herself to ride home. I met her just short of halfway riding side by side with another 7 year old from her class who lives in the next street to us. His parents were trailing along 50 metres behind fortunately. But she’s getting mighty independent all the same.

And the boys…I was excited at the start of the year when Mr 9 asked if he could start racing like me. That was January, and he went to a few skills sessions on the ride-to-school-beater accompanied by Mr 13 on a similar rig. When they stuck with it for more than a month I asked if they were going to keep it up and got 2 big smiles and nods.

So I started looking around for bikes. The junior development officer of the club sourced a 650c road bike that became ours for $300. I then set about Frankensteining my parts bin and an old frame into something decent for the second. That was late February and they’re still at it. Decent bikes but ridden in sneakers with old toe clips and toe straps.

So last week I took the next step and found some good pedals and second hand shoes. I set them all up on Tuesday while the boys were at school. When I got home from uni they were out riding around the street and after nearly 2 solid hours neither of them had had the awkward experience of failing to unclip and taking the slow-mo topple that usually accompanies a first exposure to this technology.

Now the garage has even less hope of fitting cars in it. Between my 4 bikes, the boys 3 each and my daughters 2 there’s barely room to store the lawn mower, let alone a pair of family sedans.

Fat man break bike, go boom

Mon, 05 May 2008 02:44:24 GMT

Here I sit in a pool of tears diluted with blood. There’s some pix at the bottom.

All I know is that I’m glad what happened didn’t happen Friday when I was doing standing starts. 0-55km/h in a 53x17 would not have ended well if it had coincided with shearing a pedal axle. I’m not sure when I bought the pedal but it’s around 2 years ago so I’m stuffed for warranty. I’ll send Look the pedal and a nice calm letter and see what happens. I would have hoped that when the pedals reached the end of their working life they could have signalled me with a rough bearing or a broken spring rather than breaking a chrome-moly axle.

Just as fortunate as not happening during an interval session is that it also didn’t happen on the Saturday group ride of 80+ that I was planning on doing. As luck would have it, it happened on the way to the big group when I was in the company of one other rider rather than 10 minutes later in the middle of the whole group.

As with all little accidents there’s expense beyond the pain and embarrassment. In this case I’m out over $1000.

Jersey $60

Pedals $150

Helmet $250

Shoes $250

Mobile phone $600 (I just got a new one in February on a 2 year contract so the replacement will need to be an outright purchase)

As a student, that hurts more than the elbow, knee and hip.

The biggest surprise, given the nature of the event, is that I didn’t rack the boys. There’s no scratches or bruising whatsoever on the inner thighs or groin. All in all the injuries are minimal but a bit weird. Here’s a list of actual issues with the associated WTF outcome

Jagged pedal axle stub… no gashed leg

Shredded jersey shoulder… no scratches on upper body

Perfect knicks… scratches, grazes, bruises on upper right hip

Shattered helmet… no head ache

Classic downward momentum crash… no crushed nuts

Fat man sprawled in middle of major intersection… no rednecks laughing out of car windows

The best part is now I’m a real bike rider again. I haven’t crashed in a decent manner since I did my collarbone in June 1990. Any crash that can be accurately describe using the work topple isn’t a real crash. Stupid stuff like stalling out in the driveway or touching a toe on a front wheel. But shattering a chrome-moly axle under acceleration and spearing over the handlebars is definitely on the radar.

These photos are shown in the order they would have occured on the road

Here's the dodgy component that started my spectacular involuntary dismount.

Here's the first thing to hit the ground. This shot was taken at t=crash + 3hr. Needless to say the shoe is stuffed and the toe, 48 hours later is still changing colour.

That's the fleshy part of my right hip. Strange that the knicks only have 2 pin holes.

Here's the most obvious of the cracks in the helmet (note the silver sticker is in 2 pieces). I've counted over 30 cracks as well as the compressed section that took the direct hit.

Needless to say, as a brain challenged trackie I went home and had a shower then straight to the bike shop to buy a new helmet and off to the races in the afternoon. The shave-legged equivalent of "when you fall off the horse, get straight back on." That was Saturday and I didn't end up racing. My 9 year old dropped me on the first hill of the warmup course.

I got back on the horse again Sunday for a light 30 minutes with the junior skills squad. A couple of short sprints using the same restricted gears as the kids. Man spinning isn't comfortable when you're bashed and bruised.

And I got back on again today. A public holiday signals a longer road ride with the junior squad. Today it was decided would be a hill climb which is just what an injured trackie wants to hear. So I ground my way up 7km of 6-10% switchbacks. I was chaperoning my 2 boys on their first trip up this monster climb. They were both climbing side by side in the beginning until Mr 13 bailed after about 2km of climbing. An honourable first attempt since he's had head aches all week and been sleeping 15 hours a day. When I stopped to help load him into a vehicle I told Mr9 to keep going and I'd catch up.

I was mobile again in about 2 minutes but it still took me over a kilometre to catch him. When I'd left him there was a 13 year old girl and her father about 100 metres up the road from him. When I caught him he was riding alongside the daughter and actively backing off to stay with her on the steeper bits. I rode up with her father chatting until the last kilometre when Mr9 said he couldn't pedal so slow anymore and accelerated... mean old dad hadn't considered providing a granny gear so he was slugging it out on a 39x25 bottom gear.

It took me while to catch him then he asked how far to the top. I wasn't exactly sure but guessed about 600m and said so. He sat down and had a drink then asked how he'd know the finish. I told him he could see the coloured jerseys of the others from about 150m back. At that moment we both caught a glimpse of red up the road, his bike went clunk-clunk-clunk as he got out of his seat and dropped halfway down his 8 speed cluster. And he was gone.

He smoked me by over 10 seconds, and his total time of 34 minutes flat is only 7 minutes slower than my fastest time over the past 3 years. All that from a 45kg 9 year old wearing unlaced sneakers. Yes, you heard right. I haven't spent money on fancy pedals and shoes for them yet. Yet. Here's a picture of the boys at home after the ride.

Sorry about that. After I posted the last photo I realised it's a bit hard to tell the difference between Mr9 and Mr13 based on size and stature. Mr13 is in the blue helmet.

Help is never far away

Fri, 02 May 2008 22:13:04 GMT

As helpful as he may or may not be, at least he’s prompt.

Unholyrouleur Jim (readily compared to Dr Phil, but overloaded with sarcasm and sporting a fetching set of shaved legs) has posted a response to my begging yesterday.

He writes as funny as he looks.

Open letter to Unholyrouleur-Jim

Wed, 30 Apr 2008 23:01:31 GMT

Unholyrouleur Jim posted a description of symptons of a cycling addict. My symptoms weren't listed so I'm asking for additional advice.

Dear Unholyrouleur

I think I may have a problem. Can I please get your expert opinion?

Sunday morning I raced the local criterium (poorly). As I was packing up a club member called out to me that someone had left a pair of gloves in the next parking area up. I promptly forgot. Later that afternoon I realised that I hadn't collected the gloves for lost and found. I was also still fuming about my disappointing race outcome.

So in an act of self flagellation I decided to ride the 42x18 fixie for the 30 mile round trip to pick up the gloves. When I got there I discovered that they had been collected already.

When I got home and surveyed the damage I cried. A rough tough trackie crying like a baby at the demise of a rear hub. Then I slowly turned the wheel and realised I'd killed a Suntour Superbe Pro 32 hole low flange road hub, a collector’s item, which caused the sobbing to deepen.

I undertook some therapeutic activity that mournful Sunday evening, lovingly dismantling the wheel and setting aside the battered remains of a hub to which I owed so much, with which I share so many memories – June 2008 would have been our 22^nd anniversary. I then rebuilt the wheel with a similarly configured Campagnolo Record (c. 1985) hub that I had been using as a chain keeper (which was an ongoing source of dismay for my LBS owner).

Last night at the velodrome I showed the corpse to a clubmate who is a precision fitter. He said he could repair it. I told him I didn’t want to ride a Frankenstein hub and he calmed me with words of confidence in his ability to make an “invisible” repair.

A trackie and a foundry worker share a brokeback moment.

I wait panting for the return of my beloved hub. The bike just doesn’t seem right somehow, Campag is nice, but it’s not the same. And that attitude permeates every ounce of my being. I have Suntour Superbe saved in my eBay profile as a favourite search.

Here's where I think my problem lies. Not that I rode 45 kilometres recovery in the afternoon after a hard race. Not that I rode a hilly route on a fixie for that recovery ride. Not that I launched with vigour from a red light near home and stripped the thread on the hub. Not even when I made the call of shame. The problem is that I love Suntour Superbe Pro to the exclusion of all others. I know I’m living in the ‘80s. I know that technology has moved a long way in 20 years. I know I’m worshipping a dead brand. I know my friends think I’m weird. But I love my Suntour.

Please help me
Big Mike

Time for some self flagellation.

Sun, 27 Apr 2008 05:02:23 GMT

I refer to myself as a competitive bike rider - nothing like a pro, but certainly competent.

What I discovered this week is that to qualify as a bike rider you need to ride your bike. Regularly. Sure, in the eyes of a non-cyclist I’ve ridden a lot. But 400km in 8 weeks is lame. Especially when that figure includes the Sunday club races and the Wednesday night velodrome sessions.

This weekend I got my wake up call when I raced the first open criterium of the road season and had a worse result than last year. Then today at the club race I barely made half distance. On top of that I’ve gained 7kg in the same timeframe.

University started late February and the state track titles were early March. The momentum really fell away from riding with that double whammy. So there’s the excuse wagon rolled out and dusted off for another lap around the block.

I’m pedalling so rough it’s uncomfortable to attempt anything over 55kph. So to kick start my wake up call I’ve removed the 42x17 from my fixie and setting myself up on a 39x18. I’ll either smooth out my pedal stroke or dislocate a hip trying.

Here’s to a new years resolution in late April.

It’s officially over.

Tue, 22 Apr 2008 09:56:30 GMT

For one of us.

My darling wife finished her final teaching prac late in March, then had an interview with a panel from the regional office of Education Queensland the following week. She then spent days filling in all the paperwork to gain provisional registration followed by a subsequent period of 3 weeks moping around the house waiting for confirmation. Once that arrived she started on the “I’m female and my English/SOSE qualification makes me a cliché” rant. After the mid-term holiday she called regional office to advise that she was available to work.

They didn’t ring her back!

Because they offered her a referral on the first call. Here’s an excerpt from the teacher orientation pack discussing the student demographic of the school where she was offered an interview.

XXX is one of the lowest socio-economic areas in Queensland. According to the most recent census, there are over 700 single parent families and other families (grandparents, extended families) residing on the island. The impact of this is that many of our students are from separated families, either living in single parent homes or with relatives, e.g. grandparents. 25% of the islands population are pensioners. Six of our students are currently in foster homes. There are over 700 housing commission homes on the island.

A number of students come from homes where their parents are 2nd and 3rd generation unemployed, and do not value education. Generally, the student population is not very academic, therefore, we have programs to cater for the non-academic stream of students. The unemployment rate for teenagers in the local region is quite high. Despite the school having a number of at risk student, destination studies indicate that rate of unemployment over the past three years has been 7% on average for our students.

So yesterday at 6am she drove away for her first day of fulltime work in nearly 14 years. Based on her confidence level and the description of the school I was prepared for tears last night.

Wrong.

It’s going to be great. Apart from the 170km round trip each day.

It's funny - if you're smart enough

Mon, 07 Apr 2008 05:35:31 GMT

One of my university lecturers suggested I have a look at this site. I've spent the last week or so trawling back through the archives and would now like to declare this site fit for referral to my highly intelligent audience.

Just so you know I'm not joking, here's an example of his work entitled "Cheap GPS".

I rest my case.

The future

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 03:21:53 GMT

Our cycling club has a membership of around 120 people. Last Sunday morning it looked like rain and we still managed to get 56 starters at the criterium. As the new publicity officer for the club I get to see a lot of photographs of cycling related stuff. Here’s one that made me quietly hopeful for the future of the sport and the future of the world in general.

And yes my offspring are represented in that photo. I own the two on the far right.

I don't usually subscribe to crude humour...

Thu, 27 Mar 2008 12:22:43 GMT

An old man goes into a chemist to buy some Viagra.

"Can I have 6 tablets, cut in quarters?"

"I can cut them for you" said the chemist "but a quarter tablet will not give you a full erection."

"I am 96." said the old man. " I don't want an erection. I just want it sticking out far enough so I don't pee on my slippers."

Photo Album: My wife makes cute babies

Thu, 31 Jul 2008 19:39:35 GMT

My wife makes cute babies

Blade man

Cute but dangerous

Jazzy G - the next spice girl

Photo Album: Ocularus Incognitus

Sun, 30 Mar 2008 11:18:49 GMT

Ocularus Incognitus

Ocularus Incognitus LOGO

Fatty (founding father)

BIG Mike (that's me)

nikared

Muse Monkey

Mr10

Mr7

Pink Princess

Mr StormCrowePrime

Mrs StormCrowePrime

More Photos...