Bikes in movies

Being sick gives one the opportunity to watch HEAPS of bad TV and movies (the names of which shall be withheld in the interest of my dignity). Yesterday I watched a show where someone died in a crash during the bike portion of a triathlon. Aside from the fact that he was riding a hybrid and wearing a helmet from the '80's (probably why he died when he crashed), he was riding like a six year old in a street race, and weaving through the 'peleton' like he was the only one capable of speed. Then today at the beginning of a movie there was a courier, riding what I believe was a two-sizes-too-small 1970's Schwinn, step through frame, with mountain bike tires (not to mention the computer bag dangling by his knees, and that he was riding on the sidewalk). I seriously question the quality of Hollywood's technical advisors. It shouldn't really be that hard; step 1, go to local bike shop, step 2, hire anyone who is there for $200 to take a quick look and sort out the details, step 3, no step 3, that was the end.
That's it really, I just wanted to complain, being sick is boring.
Also, I believe that I just sneezed out of my eyeball, so I think that I'm going to take the drugs now.

indoor day

I regressed into sloth-hood today. I thought about going for a ride, but the snow combined with that feeling on the verge of being sick, but possible to reverse, led to general laziness. After the internet failed to provide be with any entertainment (internet! how could you?!), I decided to watch whichever Indianna Jones movie it was that I had on tape (it turned out to be Temple of Doom, I like the other one that we had on tape better (Raiders of the Lost Ark), I'll have to get that next time I go home). After the movie, there is a significant bit of the 1988 Calgary Olympics, mainly the slalom portion of the women's combined event (slalom and DH). Square, fluorescent, Carrera goggles were in (for the first time), the skis were straight, and Czechoslovakia was a single country. One of the Canadian girls missed a gate, so she quickly edged back up the course to get a second run at it for practice for a later race. The top Canadian was Karen Percy, in fourth. There were bits of various other sports which I did not watch (SOME job search work has to be done on indoor days), including the women's 4x5km xc ski, ice dancing, hockey (Czechoslovakia vs U.S.S.R.), Brian Orser skating, speed skating, and skiing aerials. Feathered bangs and frosted lips were abundant, helmets were not (one woman fell doing aerials and knocked herself out). There was an advertisement by AmEx for bank machines, a new concept. I am wondering though about the possibility to overturn a scratchy throat, as my sinuses are feeling progressively more plugged up.

Winter Hills FTW!

I'm trying to stick to the training plan. So far it's been all outdoor riding. Who saw that coming? I didn't feel like riding today (or running, because I might be going to Quebec to ski this weekend, and I don't want to mess with that), so I thought that hill training would be a short and 'easy' way to tick off a day. Yeah right (logic much Tara?). Took the fixie/beater and did reps of all the hills in my hood (with a brief initial stop at La Bicicletta to see if any Rapha stuff was on sale, it wasn't, again, this should have been obvious). It was super painful, but I managed to make myself actually work on all of the hills. I almost didn't make it to Yonge, my legs were pretty full of lactic acid, but Yonge is barely a hill, so I did it anyway. A driver was actually nice to me, yes, it is worth mentioning when they don't try to kill you. I was passing a stopped bus that started again before I could get back to the curb lane. It decided to go at exactly the same speed as me so that I could neither pass it, nor easily get behind it. I scooted back behind the bus before a red light. The van in the left-hand lane stopped behind me, even though I was no longer in that lane, I think that he was afraid that I was going to try to move left again. So he was both aware, AND nice. I pinched myself.

My legs (and forearms (wtf?)) were sore enough to actually need stretching when I got home, although I didn't really have the energy for that right away. I love it when I feel like that after a ride, but can't seem to manage to make myself do it very often. Here's the map (which is basically why I wrote this post, because I has lazing at home, made a map, decided to share the map, and thus a blog post had to be written):

http://www.gmap-pedometer.com/?r=3386273

Now, can someone please pass me some cookies? Because I can't get up.

Thoughts about today.

Stayed up late reading Ansel Adam's book The Print. I love you Ansel, you and your crazy sharp, luminous photos. <3
Went for a ride with Dave, I was late. I attempted to sprint to the trail (and then through the ridge to cricket), I was winded by Mt Pleasant (4 blocks away). Sedentariness makes you fat, slow, and weak. Point taken. I will commence with the 'training' soon (possibly saturday, this Jew actually has a Christmas party to attend tomorrow).
Training plan redux: be active for five to six days a week (2 days outdoor riding, 2 days on trainer (yes, really, obviously it was very painful for those few moments of sprinting), 2 days running+crossfit, throw in some stretching and skiing here and there, badda bing, badda boom, rock solid, ass kicking body).
Crazy beautiful yellow ice waterfalls at runoff points.
Holy tons of runners batman! Holy legs on the cute one! (well, technically I'm unsure if his face was actually cute, I was busy objectifying his legs)
Ran into Jerome, very chill, and making the best of the weather, as usual.
Decided to ride through Mt. Pleasant cemetery on the way home, I thought that I had changed lanes onto the shoulder slowly enough, apparently not, down I went. I'm sure that it was very comical for all who watched.
Only fell twice while riding today, and twice while walking. Dave fell once or twice too, he managed to make his falls pretty spectacular, ripping a circa 1993 Selle Italia saddle.
Got home, changed my shoes and bike, went to the LCBO. There was a line through the entire grocery store, but it moved pretty fast, they were super efficient today. Thanks LCBO for planning for all of us procrastinators! Round trip, plus groceries was only 35 minutes!
I believe that the cashier was learning disabled. Loblaws, I thought that you only let them collect carts?
Got home and realized that my face was covered in dirt, which may have not been so striking, given that the rest of me was too.
I am now off to a Christmas eve party for neglected, orphaned cyclists. I put in some serious effort to do my hair for it. By effort I mean that I combed it after I washed it, and didn't put a toque on immediately afterwards. Someone had better damn well appreciate it!

Reading List 2009

A self-indulgent exercise, here is the list of books that I read in 2009. Sadly, it is fairly short for a 12 month period, but it took me awhile to get back on the horse after I graduated. I'm not going to review them here, as I am lazy, and don't feel like it. So here it is (in alphabetical order by author's last name, as I am anally retentive):

What We All Long For, Dionne Brand
Sleeping Naked is Green, Vanessa Farquharson
She's Shameless: Women Write About Growing Up, Rocking Out and Fighting Back, Eds Stacey May Fowles and Megan Griffith-Greene
The Face on Your Plate: The Truth About Food, Jeffrey Moussaieff Masson
Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
Nineteen Eighty-Four, George Orwell
Buying Cigarettes for the Dog, Stuart Ross (only 1/2 way through (I never read short story or poetry books all the way through at once)
The Love Poems of Rumi, Edited by Deepak Chopra
Imaginary Homelands: Essays and Criticism 1981-1991, Salman Rushdie
Midnight's Children, Salman Rushdie
Shopping Our Way to Safety: How We Changed from Protecting the Environment to Protecting Ourselves, Andrew Szasz
Selected Poems 1934-1952, Dylan Thomas (only 1/2 way through though)
The Age of Innocence, Edith Wharton (also only 1/2 way through, as I was reading it online, which apparently is not a medium suited for books for me)

I’ve gotten soft

Although I didn’t do anything resembling structured training last winter, I was still on my bike at least twice a week riding outside in the slush, powder, sheer ice, blizzards, and sub -15 days (note, I also occasionally ran, did some cross-training, and sat on the trainer (a total of 10 times)). I bundled up in layers of wool, nylon, and ski goggle. I hadn’t really put much thought into it this year, as I figured that I would just fall back in place, and I’d be out riding in conditions that others deemed insane again, as I would rather spoon out my own pancreas then even think about riding the trainer. However, it seems that putting yourself through frostbitten cheeks, and frozen-solid feet and hands (it’s a wonder that my neighbours didn’t call the police that one time that I went out to ride Brimley when it was -20, and came back to realize that not feeling your feet doesn’t mean that they’re warm) does not necessarily make you inclined to do it again, especially alone. Last winter it was easier, as I was going into my third season of racing, and first off-season that I had decided to do some winter mountain biking. I was blissfully ignorant towards just how cold and painful it can become. This year, I have yet to start any form of winter training, my arms have already atrophied, and my legs are slowly turning to jelly (there was previously no core to speak of). Perhaps there is a reason why the veteran cyclists tough it out, and ride indoors. I had thought about going for a ride today, however I just got off the phone with Wayne, who called just to tell me how cold his feet were. This did not provide me with the incentive that I was looking for. Today is shaping up to be another indoor day. Maybe I’ll try to go out for a run again, the pain is great, but the time is short, kind of like cyclocross.

So if you're thinking of going out for a ride, give me a call. Please. I need some help with the motivation.

Minolta f/1.8 50 mm

Sometime back in august, Liz and I went on a canoe trip. One day, we stopped at a cliff to have breakfast (yes, we really were that hard core, getting in some paddling time before breaky). It was an amazing breakfast of oatmeal and anti-pasta. We stood upon our cliff surveying the spectacularity that is Algonquin (pls note, that 'spectacularity' is not being underlined as a spelling mistake). We jumped into the water and swam around the twin islands that we had moored up along. Realizing the time (ish, judging by the sun), we decided to pack up and proceed into the heart of darkness (aka an overgrown river that we were eventually unable/unwilling to navigate, resulting in us having to u-turn back, and arrive at the same lake just as the sun was setting). After packing my own bag, I started on the communal dry bag, filling it with maps, snacks, a few pieces of clothing, and my camera, a circa 1975 Minolta XE7 (almost identical to the Leica R3), with steel encased glass lenses, a beautiful camera from the golden age of film-cameras (and thus arguably cameras, period). I rolled down the top of the dry bag, leaving a large amount of air inside to provide a cushion. I placed the bag at the edge of the cliff, so that I could reach it when i went down to the canoe, and went back to packing other things. Soon enough, a gust of wind came along, and blew the bag down. All I could do was stand at the edge of the cliff with outstretched arms, gasping for air, and looking on in absolute horror. I jumped off the cliff, and held the bag in my hands. I slowly opened the bag, and held my bundled up camera in my hands, eventually finding the nerve to unwrap it. It had fallen lens down, but the lens was intact. I was unable to check if the lens was scratched, I new that I would start crying if I took a closer look. The film wound, the shutter was working, I could adjust the aperture, but the focus was not turning. I taped the lens cap on (the lens body had bent, so the cap wouldn't fit on), and we silently got in the canoe and started paddling. I'm pretty sure that I was silent for at least an hour. Liz was very patient, waiting for me to stop pouting.

When I got home, I put the camera away, and was unable to look at it for four months. Finally, during a fit of productivity, I came across it again, and managed to suck it up, and peel off the lens cap. Looking at the lens under a bright light, I found that the lens itself had not been damaged, which meant that there was only structural damage to the casing. I took it down to Vistek to see what they could do about it. The guy at the repair booth was slightly at a loss, not having seen such a relic in a very long time. Apparently they only deal with electronic and data problems in house, and they would have to subcontract my lens out, and would call me at a later date. I asked if they sold such lenses there, just in case it was irreparable. He laughed at me, "not with a MANUAL focus we don't".

I went home and searched the internet. There were many similar lenses for sale on ebay, and craigslist. But I've seen how people treat their cameras, and I am very skeptical of buying used camera gear online (I am not interested in your lenses that only have 'a few little scratches', or your lenses that are in 'almost perfect condition'). When each shot takes me close to three hours to process, I don't want them to be ruined by bad gear.

Today Vistek called me back. They are able to fix my lens. For a small fortune. He asked if I still wanted to get it fixed. I do. "Really?" he said. Yes, really. I found his incredulity interesting, if slightly insulting, on two counts. First, because he was practically turning business away. And second, because it really speaks to the disposable nature of our society. When something breaks, or is worn out, or a barely-different new model comes out, we toss out the old one, and buy a new one. But what am I supposed to do with the old lens? The lenses are so beautiful (sharp, fast, clear, ground glass), that they impress even the most techno-geek photographer. Throwing it out would be disrespectful. So, yes, I would like to have it repaired. It's repairability is the primary reason that I started shooting with it. I mean, it was practically MADE to be fixed. Even the body is mainly made of steel (yes, I am incurring osteoporosis just by carrying it), there are just a few simple internal gears, and some wiring to run the light-meter. It is fully functional without batteries. It's parts can easily be repaired or recreated by a machinist (easily found while traveling in developing countries). I am pretty excited that it is repairable, as this has absolved me of my guilt, and I will not have to buy and use and be disappointed by an inferior lens. I hope that it will be repaired soon so that I can start shooting again, after all, winter is darkroom season for me.