Sometimes it pays to wander aimlessly along the Infobahn, turning over rocks just to see what’s underneath.
Don’t neglect those exit ramps, side streets and back alleys.
And for God’s sake, get the hell off of that L.A. Freeway.
• Bonus track: Robert Ellis on NPR’s “Tiny Desk.”
The 36th Mount Taylor Winter Quadradthlon is today.
Don’t look for me in results — it’s been years since I raced the Quad, but I was pretty OK at it a time or two. The bike and run legs, anyway.
Hal’s wife, Mary, and I used to race it as a mixed pair, and we won in 1990, 1992 and 1993.
I was usually in decent shape, being tanned, rested and ready following a long cyclocross season. And Mary was always tip-top, living at altitude up Weirdcliffe way and running around with jackasses, some of them four-legged (ho, ho).
Hal, of course, did the whole thing solo, which always looked a bit too much like work to me. I was only so-so on snowshoes and an outright hazard on cross-country skis.
This was and remains a toy-heavy pasatiempo, and Hal’s truck would be stuffed to the topper with bikes, wheels, tires, skis, shoes, snowshoes and a ridiculous amount of clothing suited to any and all weather conditions.
Running shoes were augmented with sheet-metal screws in the soles for traction, in case there was ice on the run leg (there usually was).
Clip-on aero bars? Sometimes. Once I used a set of Scott Rakes to good effect, aero bars giving me The Fear on the descent back to Grants.
The bike was usually standard road. In 1990 I was rocking an aluminum Trek 1500 with 53/39 rings and a 13-24 freewheel.
I know I’ve written about the Quad before, but whatever I cranked out is squirreled away on a Zip disk somewhere or in an actual magazine, and I don’t feel like diving down those rabbit holes this morning.
However, I did find a reference to my first Quad in my 1990 training diary, and that reads as follows:
“Big-time pain. I don’t think I’ve felt this bad since I got the shit kicked out of me at Alamogordo last year. Bike leg was slower than I’d hoped for … and my uphill run was fucking awful. Downhill run was better — but not much — and the downhill bike was spiked by the Headwind from Hell.”
Yeah, good times. The Quad will never be the new golf.
• Editor’s note: Hal “Mr. Awesome” Walter notes that I lifted his faux curse “Quadammit” from one of his own works. This explains why a Spotlight search failed to turn it up on any of my hard drives; that, and an admittedly casual approach to petty theft. Give it a read.
Jesus H. Christ. This fool could fuck up a steel ball.
I mean, a lot of us have voices in our heads. But we don’t let them all talk at once. Not where other people can hear them, anyway.
Anybody who didn’t see this coming hasn’t been paying attention. Dude telegraphed this shit like ol’ Sam’l Morse.
Sure, there are legal options to explore. But this dude likes getting sued. Especially when he’s spending other people’s money on both sides of the argument.
“‘Tool Disposal Notice?'” I said. “At long last, they’re impeaching him!”
Nope. Just a Harbor Freight Tools ad. Still, a fella can always use a bigger hammer for those delicate adjustments to this and that.
