San Francisco Day 4 (After The Race)

After a short nap, and a search for a decent sandwich on a Sunday afternoon, which was hard in San Francisco for some reason, a trip to Alcatraz was on the schedule.

We had bought tickets for the night tour of Alcatraz, which the guidebooks recommend, since it has extras as well as a sunset over the island. We hustled down to the wharf to grab a bite to eat before boarding the 6:30 boat. Along the way we passed the infamous Bushman, who scares unsuspecting tourists as the stroll down the sidewalk.


After a stop to a truly bad Johnny Rockets, where the service was exceptionally horrible, we had to scramble to make the boat. They boarded late, but we left on time. We sat outside where the wind was whipping around. Gulls traveled with the boat, one in particular hanging right above or behind us the entire trip. The view going to the island was fantastic! It was made even better by the knowledge that I didn't have to swim back this time, unless I fell off the boat or island, which I had no intention of doing.


The view facing back to San Francisco wasn't too bad either.


Once docked at Alcatraz, the tour guides split everybody into groups of 60, walking us to the prison and told us about the facility as we walk up. I won't go into all they told us, but I will mention they covered the islands history as a fort, a military prison, a federal prison and as a territory occupied by Indians.


Al Capone was covered heavily, as he is the most notorious prisoner, but there were other prisoners with interesting stories. I highly recommend the night tour to anybody interested in the prison. They give talks that cover much more detailed information than the standard audio tour. I do not want to short change the audio tour as it was fantastic and covered lots of history of the time the island as a prisoner, using audio of actual prisoners and guards.



We had time to roam parts of the island. The views are great, but most prisoners did not get to enjoy them. There are parts of the prison that are crumbling, since the military prisoners who built most of the concrete structures did not take much pride in their work. There needs to be a lot of restoration. Our guide told us of conservative visitors who said the prison needed to be repaired and reopened!





Night began to fall while we were on the island.



Then it was time to leave, as night fell on the island. The trip back to San Francisco was cold as the wind was really picking up. Luckily I was wearing my $15 Chinatown jacket I had purchased earlier.



More photos at Flickr.

The Race- Escape From Alcatraz!

Race morning is like being in the Army. You get up early and hurry up and wait.

I met Doug in the lobby and we rolled down to the transition area at 5:15. We set up in a few minutes and I figured Doug was right- we could have left later. We snapped a few pictures, double checked what stuff we had already doubled checked, and then I suggested we just get on a bus.

The race organizers had stressed getting on the bus early and getting to the boat. If you miss the boat, you miss the race. If you get to the boat late, you miss the boat. If you miss the last bus, better have taxi money. I did not want to be crowding onto the last bus trying to catch the boat. Funny, they ended up holding the boat because the buses were running late.

At the dock we hung out for almost an hour. We were sitting in the cold as the sun was rising. It was not that cold, but I knew jumping off the boat into the water would be. That is the moment I hate most about triathlons- getting into the cold water early in the morning. It is times like that when I think bowling would be a better hobby. We were carrying our wetsuits and dry bags delaying squeezing into neoprene. They loaded us onto the boat at 7:15 or so. That was a nice boat. I am not sure what I was expecting, but that was pretty nice. There were cameras all over the ceiling, so I figured it had to normally be a gambling ship, or a gambling paddleboat. Everything had been removed, and triathletes were sprawled all over the floor; stretching, sleeping, talking, or finding that place some go to before the start. The boat was delayed, as mentioned above. We started out before the 8 o’clock start.

All the announcers, at every venue and meeting, were Aussie. I have no idea why. I was waiting for the obligatory national anthem, which I find really silly and unnecessary at sporting events, and was wondering if we would hear the anthem with an accent. If we had I am sure some obsessive compulsive wingnut tri-geek would have blown a fuse. Doug had gone to the restroom when the singing began. We also had a prayer by an ultra-religious former pro triathlete, who I am sure used to believe God actually cared about how she finished. When Doug returned I inquired if he was peeing during the anthem or the prayer. I won’t give it away, but he was taking a leak when one of them cranked up.

As we approached Alcatraz everybody was zipping up their wetsuits, putting neoprene accessories like hoods and booties on, and spitting in their goggles. I grabbed Doug from the spot I had staked out near the stairs, and we went out the back door. We were on the second floor with the other “older” triathletes, and figured to be jumping off the boat rather late. I wanted to get into the water as early as possible. We were on the back stairs between the 1st and 2nd levels when the pros went. We went down to the first level and started to walk toward the side facing San Francisco, but were blocked by a race official. He directed us towards a door into a hallway. With the flow we went through another door, made a left, and suddenly Doug was crossing the timing mat at the side. We had somehow fumbled our way into going just a few minutes after the pros. I heard “1, 2, 3, go!” and Doug was gone. I adjusted my goggles and watched the guy in front of me jump. Doug would have a six second or so head start. I stepped over the timing mat to the side with the rail immediately on my left. “1, 2, 3, jump!”

The water was maybe 8 feet down. I aimed way to my left to make sure the guy behind me was not going to land on my head, and then I started swimming. The water was cold, but not too bad. I think the booties helped. They were cut low, and so the water ran in around my bony ankles, but it stayed there. I did not have cold water constantly streaming by my feet, leeching the precious heat from my skin. My goggles had a bit of water in them from the jump, but soon I did not even notice it. The huge electronics tower over the city, that we were supposed to site on, was obscured by fog. It had been sunny on the way out, and looked like a beautiful day, but about the time I jumped into the water a thick fog swept into the bay. I could, however, see the gold dome over some palace of fine arts- I had trouble the entire visit remembering just what the building was. I headed a bit to the left of that dome.

The bay was choppy, and I swallowed a lot of water. I found myself alone with a large pack on either side of me. I thought of the sandwich theorem from college calculus, and figured if I kept between the two groups I should hit the landing as I was supposed to. The swim from Alcatraz is not a straight line. There is a strong current as you near shore, basically there is a river running through the bay. You try to swim into the current towards the left of the landing, and while swimming towards the shore let the current carry you to the right. If you get to land too quick, you will hit some nasty water in front of some rocks. If you get there to late, well you might not get there and could end up being swept out under the Golden Gate to China or nearby parts. Usually officials are directing you to keep that from happening. They will grab you up and reset you if they feel the need. If you are too smart to listen to them, they will grab your stupid ass with a hook and reset you anyway.

The swim record is about 20 minutes. This year the first pro hit land at 28 minutes, slow because of the less than ideal conditions of the current and the chop. Doug was at 41 minutes and change and I made land at 42 minutes and change. I was not upset. My back had tightened during the swim and I was hoping it would not bother me later.

Watching a lot of triathletes trying to run out of the water and strip off wetsuits is probably like watching drunks trying to get home and strip off their clothes to have sex. They tend to lose their balance, have trouble finding zippers and you might smell the faint smell of urine. (Disclaimer: I really had to go to the bathroom on the swim, but just do not enjoy pissing on myself in a wetsuit, as many triathletes do. Sure I have, but I avoid it. Sometimes I strip off my wetsuit in the water and pretend I am neatly folding it while I pee, but the water was too cold for that today.) I stripped off my hood, swim cap and goggles and prepped my hair for the “Exiting The Water” tri picture. I was hoping the footies would not only keep my feet fairly warm, but would pad my feet for the mile run to the transition area over rocks and pavement. I ran by the wetsuit strippers- the most popular job for race volunteers- and headed for my bike.

The footies did help and my feet did hurt much during the run. After a half mile I was warming up and started reaching for my zipper on the back of my neck. I was fumbling with the zipper like the aforementioned drunks. I was really having trouble and this with an Aquaman wetsuit, which is one of the easiest to unzip. Finally I had the cord in my hand and I pulled, opening the zipper. As I ran into the transition I was peeling the wetsuit down. At my bike I peeled it down, stepped on it and pulled my feet out. I looked over and saw that I had beat Doug to transition, although I saw later he did have a faster swim but lost time looking for his shoes. As I was quickly putting on my helmet and stuff, Doug reached his bike. Them I watched as he beat me out of transition- damnit!

After weaving through and around triathletes who seem to have trouble actually getting on their bike, I was off. Everybody was drafting, as there were a bunch of us starting out. I picked up speed early and was passing bunches. A faster guy came by and I shadowed him. A few miles down, we turned left and headed up the hills.

This was a hilly course, but I am used to that. What I was not used to is how rough the roads were. All the road building corruption in Georgia usually leaves us Atlantans spoiled with very smooth roads- they are constantly getting repaved so somebody’s brother can make a fortune. This must not happen as much in San Francisco. We were bouncing along like toddlers suspended from a doorframe by a spring. I passed Doug on the first hill as I opened her up. Five miles into the ride I knew I had to stop and pee. Again, many triathletes have no problem pissing on themselves while riding, but I don’t mind losing a minute to stop and take a leisurely piss. I do not need that warm shower to warm me up after a cold swim. After my business was concluded, I remounted my dry bike in my dry cycling shorts and resumed my ride. Doug did a double take as I passed him a second time- I love doing that to people. The descents back into the city were not as fun as they should have been with all the bouncing around on the rough road. A minute or two after an hour, I hit the transition area for the bike to run transition.

I would like to point out that I am pretty quick in transitions, and I have won age groups and masters divisions by taking time out of people in transition. I beat Doug into the second transition, but damn if he did not beat me out yet again! He had about 50 feet on me and I was determined to catch him.

I kept Doug in site during the first half mile and pulled up next to him part of the way through Crissy field. As we ran we joined a very cute girl from Sweden who I proceeded to chat up- hey why not, it is only a race? She was very nice, was indeed from Sweden, as the silk screen across her rear end suggested, and had been in the US for about 3 weeks. I saw Doug pulling ahead of me again as we were being beaten by a strong headwind. I tucked in behind a guy and started drafting. Every now and then I would pass the person in front of me and bridge to the next person, keeping Doug in sight. I was safely tucked in behind him when the path turned upward.

Doug and I started training together in 1992 at a masters swim group. Eventually we started cycling and running together. We have been pretty much training together for 14 years, on and off. I do not feel the need to beat him, but it is a good goal for me to stay with him on the run. We train at similar paces and end up finishing with similar times. I have a better Ironman PR, and he has better PR at every other distance. As tired as I was from walking all over San Francisco the previous 3 days, I figured if I could keep his pace, I would be happy with my time.

So I was happy to be right behind Doug as we started up into the hills. We ran up a trail and then up a very narrow staircase. We ran more trails, through a low tunnel, and then down onto Baker Beach. I was a ways behind Doug on the beach, around the turnaround and then gained some time just as we hit the sand ladder.

The sand ladder is the most notorious section of the Escape run. Imagine round landscape timbers connected together by heavy cable and then dropped down a high sand dune. Now think 400 steps of this sand ladder. I had run hills getting ready for this. I was hoping to pick up a little time running up the steps- Yeah, I was a stud! I walked up the sand ladder.

We ran back across the coast trail, the tunnel, and then down the narrow staircase, which had traffic going in both directions and a long line waiting to ascend for those people still heading towards the beach. I, of course, started running my mouth. “Everybody relax, take a deep breath and go to that happy place. The line will move right along.”

I reeled Doug in running down the coast trail after the narrow steps and we started the last two miles of flat running. I looked at my watch and figured we could go under three hours. After a mile and a half, however, I had to back off. I was hurting and could not hold the pace. I told Doug to go and I would see him at the finish. I walked a little bit, listening to people tell me I was almost there which was pissing me off really bad, and then started back up. I did my Deon impersonation as I crossed the finish line in 2:57:56, just 22 seconds after Doug.

I was toast after I finished. My time was not great, but it was good and I had given it everything I had. Overall I finished 389 out of 1663, and 72 out of 223 for my age group. Compared to other racers, my bike was my strongest event, but I was not very happy with it. Of course I should not have expected better since I chose to play tourist and walk all over the city.

One funny note: I had borrowed a set of Spinergy race wheels for the race from a buddy. I was doing a short ride to make sure they worked well with my bike when they fell apart. I put my old race wheels on right before leaving. The morning after the race I had a flat tire. I checked the tires and saw that they were completely worn out and had cord showing through the tread. I was very lucky that I did not flat during the race. You figure a former bike mechanic might notice something like that.

The race was run well. The organization is fantastic. The volunteers were super. The course was the toughest non-ironman I have ever done. The only complaint was that so many people were trying to get to Whole Food’s after race meal, that the line was incredibly long and not moving fast. I was too tired to stand in line any longer than the 20 minutes that I did. The food coming out did look great, however. I do recommend the race for all. It is truly a race that everybody should do at least once.

Race picks of yours truly!

Doggie Blogging

I am behind on my race and San Francisco blogging, but I will offer up some Thursday Doggie Blogging for you enjoyment. Bennie and Hilda out for a walk today.

San Francisco Day 3!

I started the day with a nice 5-mile run with friend Doug and Simon of England. It was a nice jog along the waterfront. I could so live here!

Second on the days list of things to do was a swim in the bay. Doug and I squeezed into our wetsuits and hit the water near the Maritime Museum. A minute later we were back on the beach cussing. Talk about cold. 55 degrees and my feet were in agony! We went back in for about a 10-minute swim, and it was better. Added to the list of things to do was to get neoprene footies.


The race meeting was at 1 o'clock, so we headed down to the race expo after a visit to the hotel for hot showers. There were lines for various age groups. I got into the 40+, "A-M" line, behind a dozen people. Doug got into the 40+, "N-Z" line, which had nobody in the line. Everything went quick, and the meeting was very quick. They kept harping on "DO NOT MISS THE BOAT!" No refunds if you do. You are just SOL. Did I mention they kept saying not to miss the boat? We did hit all the expo merchants and nobody had neoprene footies. They all had sold out in a half hour after opening. Wow! They really missed the boat. They could have charged a fortune for those things.


Soon we were pedaling down the bay to go to Sports Basement. The store is huge! They, too, were out of footies. The girl explained they had sold out and the dealer was out. We went back later so Doug's wife Terri could shop, and I found neoprene footies for use under flippers. They only covered the foot to just below the ankle, but ended up working well.

Next was a drive up to Muir Woods to see redwoods. Words and pictures just cannot do these trees justice. As Neal Peart discussed in his book Ghost Rider, to think there are so few of these pockets of old growth trees left, after the logging companies raped the land, that they are all named! Once old growth covered most of the US, and the few remaining pockets all have names! How pathetic? I was in awe of the trees and the area around them. The trees are massive. The plants on the floor, which prefer shade and indirect light, are beautiful. Deer would let people walk right up to them as they grazed. It was really a treat. To think that Muir and his wife bought these 700 acres to preserve, and then corporations tried to take it from them by eminent domain so they could log it, dam it, and make a lake out of the area? Luckily Muir worked out a deal with the US government and Roosevelt. They donated the land and Roosevelt used the Antiquities Act to designate the area a national park, thus saving it. Every now and then, government does something right!




Leaving Muir Woods we drove to Muir Beach Overlook. Again, wow! They views were stunning. The land just plunged to the ocean. Luckily there was very little fog so we could see for a long distance. The guidebooks were right about seeing these views. In the distance you could see boats heading towards the bay.


Sausalito was next, but by then the sun was setting and we were getting tired. We buzzed through, drove up the hills, got some nice pictures and head to the hotel.


I love this place.

As usual, more pics are on my Flickr page.

San Francisco Day 2!

Wow, there is just so much to do! I am still a bit foggy headed from the trip out, but have been busy.

Got up yesterday and rode my bike down to the Marina, out to Point Hood, and over the hills and out to Ocean Beach. Some of those hills will be in the race. They are steep, but candy compared to some of the stuff I see in North Georgia. I enjoyed the ride. Ocean Beach was fogged in so I could not see any surfing, but one surfer told me it was small but clean. I met an English chap named Simon, and he tagged along. A very nice guy. He is joining us for a run tomorrow (today).


Back at the hotel my training partner Doug called the room. He had arrived. His family had arrived. His lugged had arrived. His bike was in Chicago.

Doug, Terri, Kenzie and I headed out for some sight seeing in his rented Grand Cherokee (Parking at the hotel $25 a day plus tax). Lombard Street was first on the list. Then we headed up to Coit Tower and saw some great views of the city. Seeing all the housing and businesses crammed together from above is pretty amazing. There is no wasted space. The land is far too valuable. The lady in the elevator going to the top of the tower was a wealth of information, but I could not understand a word she said. She was very nice and enthusiastic, however.


We drove down by the Marina, and then over the Golden Gate to see some of the views from the other side. Very windy to me, but locals said it was rather mild. I had trouble holding the camera still for some shots. People next to me were taking the same picture, but I just know mine are better. We drove through Golden Gate Recreation Area and meandered down to Rodeo Beach, where I had been in '99. Through the fog we saw a bunch of surfers who could not catch a wave. Military buildings dotted the hills inland.


After a short stop at the hotel we headed out for diner in Chinatown. We actually found a parking meter to park at. We loaded a bunch of quarters in, and got 17 minutes of parking. They should put dollar bill feeders on those. We ended up in a little place right by where we parked. After we looked over the menu the lady/manager/hostess came over and asked if we had eaten there before. We said not. She grabbed our menus and said "Don't you worry, I bring you out something good. What you like? Chicken, chicken, beef, shrimp? I bring you three dishes. You like. Trust me." the table behind us said, "Trust her." We did. It was good. I did ask specifically for pot stickers. They were good. Luckily, I did not visit the restroom until after we ate. It was right next to the kitchen. There were a few health code violations going on, but I bet it was the same in every little place.


We strolled through Chinatown. I did not see the entrance gates, but saw a bunch of cool shops. I bought a very cool fleece lined, reversible windbreaker for $15.99. It will probably fall apart the first time I wash it, but at that price does it matter? The proprietor of this Chinatown establishment was of Hispanic origin. Go figure. The kite shop was very cool, but who knew you could blow almost $200 on a single kite?


Back at the hotel Doug called the airline. His bike would be delivered between 2:00 and 6:30. Doug explained to the guy it was now actually 7, passed 6:30. The guy said his bike would be delivered between 2:00 and 6:30. They should have flown Frontier Airlines.

Back out we strolled to the marina. We visited the sea lions, which were even more noisy that yesterday, barking steadily. Street performers were out in force. I had seen the statue guy yesterday- he just stands on a box and does not move. Tonight we saw Bush man. He sits on a box holding some greenery he has probably stolen in front of him. He then cares people as they walk by. There was a crowd of people standing across the street watching him. Hi-jinks galore. Walking back by him Doug tried to scare him. Bush Man did not find that funny. The sun setting over the bay and Pier 39 was nice. It did get cold quickly.

Back at the hotel, still no bike. Thus, it was the end of Bike Watch 2006 Day 1.

As always, more pics on my Flickr account page.

I am beat. Will write tomorrow. Until then see tons pics at my Flickr account.

Getting to San Francisco.

I flew out of Atlanta Airport at the ungodly hour of 6:30 am. Bad planning! Take the 9:30 flight. I could not take MARTA since MARTA does not run until 6 am. The cost of parking made that a $60+ mistake. Baggage security and examinations didn't start until 30 minutes after airlines ticket counters opened and made a mess of things. Luckily I was near the front of the line.

It was $50 to fly my bike out to California, which was very reasonable. Frontier Airlines is great, reasonable and has nice, intelligent, earnest and sometimes very funny staff. Somewhere along the line, however, my new luggage came unzipped. Everything was there, but my luggage hit the carousel in San Francisco with a pair of Speedos hanging out. Some people thought that were very funny! I would have as well, except I had to claim them, the luggage and thus the Speedos. Wearing them at a swim workout is one thing, saying you wear them in an airport does not seem as cool. The bike arrived in perfect shape.


I have a love hate relationship with flying. I love to fly, but am scared of heights. Thus I always ask for a window seat to stare out. I flew to Denver, and then hopped a flight to San Francisco. Flying over the Rockies was very cool. Both flights were nice, but the flight attendants on the second leg of the trip were hilarious. "We have coffee, water, juice and Coke products for you to drink. Again, we have Coke products. We do not have Pepsi, Diet Pepsi, Cherry Pepsi, Lemon Pepsi or Diet Lemon Pepsi. We have Coke products. [In a deep whisper, that was rather sexy] We have no Pepsi products."

Later I asked that same attendant, "Do you have Pepsi?"

She answered, "I have Coke."

"How about Diet Pepsi?"

"Diet Coke."

"Cherry Pepsi or Lemon Pepsi? How about Diet Lemon Pepsi?"

She finally figured out I was pulling her leg, and unlike Delta flight attendants, she did not hit me with anything.

They have an in-flight map on the little TVs on the back of the seat in front of you, which would be very annoying except I wanted to know where we were flying. It also gave our speed and altitude. When we approached airports I would watch the speed and altitude drop. When the speed dropped to 300 mph and the altitude to 15,000 feet, I would think, well we are safer now if we crash- actually no, we would still all die. At one point I looked out the window and saw this huge round rock below the plane. It looked familiar to me. Suddenly it dawned on me that we had just flown over Half Dome, the monument made famous by Ansel Adams. That seemed very cool to me.


I arrived at the Comfort Inn On The Bay at noon, and the great people here had a room available for me. The shuttle I used to get here charged me $20 extra to carry my bike case. It was $50 to ship the damn thing across the country but $20 to drive it to the hotel from the airport. Even worse was that the shuttle had square wheels and bounced us all the way into town. I was in the room early, however, and was able to hit the marina area for the afternoon. There was guy stacking and balancing rocks that was very unusual. I had a great bowl of chowder, but it made my mouth swell and go numb. I am allergic to some seafood, but can usually eat shellfish. I think this was crab chowder. Perhaps it was the French roll it was served in?


I have been reading Neil Peart's book Ghost Rider while traveling. I am a big Rush fan (as a lady on the flight told me her son and husband were). What this guy went through, losing his only daughter in a car crash and then his wife 9 months later to cancer, or, as he says, a broken heart, is unimaginable. The book is about his travels on his motorcycle to try and stay moving and away from the darkness. During his travels he is told his dog has to be put down and then his close friend, who was supposed to meet him and ride part of trip, is busted for drug smuggling. When it rains... I am halfway through it now. I recommend it to everybody.

I am headed out to the Great Highway for a bike ride down Ocean Beach this morning. I am going to try and watch a sunset there one evening. I will be playing tourist for the next 5 days, as that interests me more than sitting around resting so I can have a semi-good race. I want to experience the race, but am not too concerned with my time. That may be a way of saying that I am not in good shape, but I really do want to see so much of this city.

I will post pics on my Flickr account, but remember these are all taken with a compact Olympus Stylus Verve digital. I had thoughts of buying a new Olympus digital SLR for the trip, but decided not too. Cartier-Bresson shot everything with a Leica rangefinder, so I should be able to get some good shots with the little camera that fits in the back of my jersey pocket.

Where am I?

Gull
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

Guess where me and my little buddy are?

Yes, I am in San Francisco.

I saw this truck on Monday, cruising up 400 north of Atlanta.




It has Bush/Cheney stickers, yellow ribbons and an American flag. It also has this bumpersticker on it.




It says "If ignorance was painful, there would be a lot of Democrats in pain." Below is the ignorant fuck's gas cap. Notice anything?




I get the feeling if ignorance was painful, he would be in agony.

This Is Why Email Is Cool.

Recently, I switched from XM to Sirius satellite radio- more on that later. One of the reason's I switched was to get Little Steven's Underground Garage 24/7. They have some of the coolest people playing the coolest songs ever recorded. I have just been grooving on the tunes, and getting to know the DJs a little, except for Joan Jett, who everybody knows.

Saturday morning I was listening and this DJ Andrew Loog Oldham was talking about an article he read. A group being interviewed included Ted Kennedy. When asked about one of his favorite times or things, my memory fades, Kennedy responded the drive home to Nantucket. Loog responded he thought that odd that Kennedy, sadly best known for Chappaquiddick, would use that as an answer. He then spoke a moment about that, in a very unflattering way.

I shot off an email to him; Sirius's display shows the email address for the shows. I mentioned how I am rather tired of Kennedy bashing about Chappaquiddick and explained some issues with cold water accidents and rescues, which is not what you see on Mannix or Starsky and Hutch. Surprisingly, I received an email back from him rather quickly. We have not changed each other's mind, but we have had a civil discussion and have agreed to keep an open mind. He seems to a nice guy, but probably leans a bit to the right politically.

To cut to the chase, why is this odd? Well, we had a civil discussion about a hot button issues for many, and both of us seem to be respectful and appear to be keeping an open mind. The other interesting thing is that this DJ, Andrew Loog Oldham, is The Rolling Stones' original manager and a record producer! How cool is that. This guy who is somebody in the world or Rock & Roll has taken a few minutes to exchange ideas with some guy. I find it very neat! Maybe I can get Joan Jett to answer an email!

Of course, my next conversation with a few buddies will begin with: "Loog, you know the original manager The Rolling Stones, sent me an email the other day....."

He Tried.

For a moment I got a chuckle over this:

FORKS, Wash. - A hunter mauled by a black bear had been chasing the animal on private timberland when the animal turned the tables on its pursuers, officials said Sunday.

...

It appeared the hunters had been pursuing the bear for some time, Fish and Wildlife Officer Brian Fairbanks said.

“It’s like, you have the fight or flight response. It ran for so long, and then decided, ‘We’re not going to run any more,”’ Fairbanks said.

At that point, the hunter and the bear were in heavy brush, the officer said. “He didn’t realize the bear was there, and when he got close enough the bear jumped out and grabbed him.”

It was not a surprise attack, he said.

“They knew it was there — they’d been chasing it,” Fairbanks said. “The guy got bit, but he was the one who put himself in position to get bit.”

The chuckle ended when I read the bear was shot and killed by another hunter. On the bright side, the first hunter required surgery to be put back together, and was probably in a lot of pain.

Fast Freddie Rodriguez

Fast Freddie Rodriguez
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

On Brasstown Bald Fast Freddie stops, gets off the bike and stretches. This is the second steepest climb in Georgia, I believe, and is quite a climb for a sprinter like Rodriguez.


More Photos.

Fast Freddie Rodriguez Rides Again!

Fast Freddie Rodriguez
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

Then he continues and finished with a very respectable time for a sprinter. As he said yesterday, he is the best climbing sprinter. He won the stage yesterday.


More Photos.

Peloton

Peloton
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

My second day watching the Tour de Georgia. The peloton on Craig's Gap road, out in the beautiful Georgia countryside. The views are incredible up there.


More Photos.

Tour de Georgia

Peloton
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

The peloton being led by Phonak coming up the back of Wolfpen Gap. Jason McCarthy was out on a break, held it up Wolfpen and did not get caught until after Woody Gap. Fast reddie Rodriguez won the sprint in Dahlonega.

More photos.

Hilda

Hilda
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

My wee one at the dog park. We call her my wee fury doggie.

Architecture of Density

A stiking photo exhibit "Architecture of Density." The scale of some of these is amazing. I think it is sometimes too big, and you can't really feel it. I believe this collection is showing in New York and San Francisco. I would love to see it in Atlanta.

Tour de Georgia Rewind.

In honor of the Tour de Georgia I am reposting an old blog entry for "Notes From Atlanta," which tells of watching the finish at Brasstown Bald in 2004. I still have not washed my hand!

I touched Mario Cipollini's ass.

The Tour de Georgia came to a conclusion yesterday in Alpharetta, Georgia. I was lucky enough to attend the stages contested on Saturday and Sunday. Big time bike racing has come to Georgia, and it was a blast watching the show.

On Saturday the plan was to leave R-Ranch and cycle up to Brasstown Bald to see the finish of Stage 6 as the cyclists climbed the freakishly steep final 5 kilometers. (Stage Profile.)

We first saw the peloton about 30 miles from the finish, as hundreds of people gathered at a small intersection to see the group ride by. First we saw one of Mario Cipollini's Domina Vacanze teammates cycle by alone, and behind him a minute or so the only other remaining survivor of the early breakaway. A few minutes behind them was Lance's group, which included most of the climbers. Perhaps seven or eight minutes after the first guy came the main pack including my favorite, Super Mario, the one and only Lion King, yes, Mario Cipollini! He was surrounded my his Domina Vacanze teammates, and looked rather fresh, enjoying a nice ride in the country.

We hustled over to Brasstown Bald joining thousands of people lining the steep road. As a decent cyclist who could climb well before all my Ironman training, I cannot make it up the road to the top of Brasstown Bald. It is just too hard. These professional cyclists were going to hit it after over 120 miles of mountain riding. We positioned ourselves about halfway up the mountain, right before a very steep section. Helicopters and caravan cars announced the arrival of the riders. First we got to see Cesar Grajales of Jittery Joe's cycling team, as he had attacked Lance and company, and was stealing the show. Following him was Lance, Chris Horner, Jens Voight, Bobby Julich and other climbers.

After the climbers and UCI officials went by, the rest of the peloton arrived strung out for miles along the road. We saw one cyclist, a professional road cyclist, just fall over on the steep part. Another picked his head up right in front of me, looked at the steep section, and said "This is just insane!" Soon the crowd was pushing the cyclists up the hill. Yes, this is illegal, but done at every race. The European cyclists would look over at the crowd beside them and say in a pitiful little voice the only English they probably knew: "Puuushh! Puuusshh me!" We did. I would push maybe 15 meters and somebody else would take over as we did a fireman brigade of sorts. After one long push of a very tired cyclist, I turned around and saw Cipollini right behind me! He was sitting up waving the crowd over to help puuusshh him up the hill. I knew I had to help puuusshh him. The problem, other than I was exhausted, was that about eight people were currently puuusshhing him up the insanely steep hill and I could not get my hand on him. I ran along side waiting for the really fat guy to run out of gas, which he did. After pushing a race official/volunteer out of the way, I finally had my shot to help push Super Mario up the hill. Yes, I touched Mario Cipollini's ass! Good times, good times!

Stage 7 was on Sunday, and I had been given some VIP USPS Sponsor Tent passes. I do not know what I did to deserve these, but the president of my company and our USPS account manager made sure I was on the list. My buddy and I were treated like royalty at the tent and trailer. We had free food, free drinks, a live television feed from one of the race motorcycles, and a viewing platform next to and above the finish line. I don't know what was better, seeing the race from the sponsor tent, or yelling out to buddies as they walked among the crowd below us trying to see the race.

Former professional cyclist. television announcer and Tour de France funny guy Bob Roll was walking around the tent, very close to the bar. My buddy was tempted to go up and talk to him, but did not know what to say that was not a cliche question he hears everyday. I knew what I would ask him: "Bob, yesterday I touched Mario Cipollini's ass. Can I touch yours today." I was not sure if he would see the humor, and did not wish to get tossed from the VIP area, so I kept my mouth shut. I should have done that more in my youth, like when getting arrested.

When the cyclists began the four lap circuit at the end of the stage we would watch the television feed inside, and when they approached the finish line, run outside to see them pass. Then back inside to see the live feed. It was not looking to good for Cipollini, as he seemed to be too far back, and his team was having trouble getting their train in gear, even with the USPS team helping to control the pace after a deal made yesterday for help reeling in the breakaway. (Yes, it appears Domina Vacanze helped reel the breakaway in even though their teammate was leading it.)

Some say that the final group sprint of a bike race is one of the greatest spectacles in sports. I agree. Seeing a group of 70 cyclists going close to 40 miles an hour as they hurl themselves towards the finish line with little thought for safety is like nothing else I have seen before. I like the strategy of the set up, the sight of a well-oiled team working to launch their sprinter, and the graceful dance of the sprinter on his pedals- which is what they show on TV. But the pure raw power you see at the live race overwhelms all of that. Wow! Cipollini lost the lead meters from the finish line, as Gordon Fraser of Health Net had the opportunity to come around the greatest sprinter in the sport and beat the Lion King fairly. What a sight!

The USPS team trailer was parked right next to the sponsor tent, and people mobbed the area trying to get a sight of, and maybe even an autograph from, Lance. I didn't bother, but went back for more food. George Hincapie made an appearance. On television he looks fairly big standing next to the other cyclists. In person he is not that tall, and has the upper body of a 8-year-old. His legs were rather gnarly looking, having huge, bulging, varicose looking veins. He did have a beautiful young lady sitting next to him wiping road grime off his face, however.

After the awards ceremony, we headed out. Our walk was interrupted when security came ushering Lance Armstrong by us. He was not four feet away from me. I could have touched his ass. I didn't. Instead while others were trying to get his autograph and shake his hand I was yelling: "Where is Sheryl?" Now that would be an ... nevermind.

Live On The Edge And You Can Fall Off.

Thrasher's were on the edge of making the playoffs for a while, and they fell. They are mathematically eliminated from the playoffs. Coach Hartley summed it best:

Garney pulls a groin, I guess we just finish the season the way we started.

Number 1 goalie Kari Lehtonen missed most of the season with a groin pull. Backup Dunham went out with a groin pull. They had another "name" goalie whose name I cannot remember who went out injured. (Steve shields assigned to a minor league team for conditioning after returning from injury.) We played most of the season with two minor league goalies, Michael Garnett and Adam Berkhoel, who battled but where not yet up to the task. Last years starter, Pasi Nurminen, was lost before the season even started to a knee injury.

I guess we will need more than 6 goalies for next year.

Bennie

Bennie
Originally uploaded by TimothyJ.

Playing at the dog park. It is hard work!