Photo: 10-mile run, 8 a.m., 60 degrees, Decorah, Iowa

Weekly activity log:

Swim: 4,600 yds (ytd 85,000 yds.)

Bike: 80 miles (ytd 1,268 mi.)

Run: 30 miles (ytd 488 mi.)

There...

 are... 

worse... 

 places...

to run.

Photo: 40-mile fixie ride, 1-mile run, 8 a.m., 60 degrees, Linn County, Iowa 

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,700 yds (ytd 80,600 yds.)
Bike: 98 miles (ytd 1,188 mi.)
Run: 31 miles (ytd 458 mi.)

Eggciting x4

Photo: 40-mile fixie ride, 1-mile run, 8 a.m., 50 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 6,300 yds (ytd 75,900 yds.)
Bike: 89 miles (ytd 1,090 mi.)
Run: 31 miles (ytd 427 mi.)

Eggciting

Photo: Somewhere over Arizona

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,500 yds (ytd 69,600 yds.)
Bike: 95 miles (ytd 1,001 mi.)
Run: 27 miles (ytd 396 mi.)

Commute

Photo: 3-mile color run, 11:00 a.m., 40 degrees, Decorah, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,000 yds (ytd 65,100 yds.)
Bike: 60 miles (ytd 906 mi.)
Run: 22 miles (ytd 368 mi.)

This isn’t about running.

I first made the left-hand turn onto Boylston St. in 2002, just months after 9/11. I was so overwhelmed by the crowds, the accomplishment, the moment, that I shed a tear mid-stride. It wasn't just a marathon. It was BOSTON. Hallowed ground. The ultimate. The culmination of years of work, training and a dream.

But this isn’t about running.

I qualified again a few years later, this time bringing along my children to witness the spectacle and see how their father's hard work, early mornings, and qualifying races had paid off. They were there on Boylston. They stood on that street at that finish line. They had seen their dad do it, and had cheered along with the thousands of spectators.

But this isn’t about running.

I didn’t cry when I heard the news. I was stunned. I saw the footage from every angle. Still, no tears. But when I heard about an 8-year-old boy who died welcoming his father to the finish line…

That could have been one of my kids. Or both. I could have been that father. We were in that same spot. So many people were. It kept me awake last night. A small punishment of ‘what ifs.’ What if I had decided to run Boston this year? What if I had run just the wrong finishing time? What if, what if, what if?

But this isn’t about running.

This weekend, I am driving to the small Iowa town where my daughter goes to college. We are going to run a 5k together benefiting the local fire department. It may be her first steps toward running a 10k, a marathon, or maybe even a trip someday to Boston.

But this isn’t about running.

There will be a Boston next year and the year after that and for years to come. And, mark my words, I will return there and cross that line again, maybe with my daughter. And we won’t be afraid. We will be surrounded by people a lot like us from all over the world. People who want to experience something overwhelming. People who want to spend time with the beautiful citizens who come out year after year on Patriot’s Day, to celebrate what’s good with the world, what’s right.

But this isn’t about running.

I cannot imagine the hurt in the family of that 8-year-old boy, Martin Richard. But I can imagine the love that’s headed their way, from everyone who has run Boston, who has finished, who has watched, who has volunteered, who has protected, who has lived. There are millions of us, all thinking of that child, his father, his family and an event that celebrates life year after year after year.

Because this isn’t about running.

Photo: 40-mile ride, one-mile run, 10:00 a.m., 45 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 5,900 yds (ytd 55,300 yds.)
Bike: 81 miles (ytd 778 mi.)
Run: 31 miles (ytd 314 mi.)

Dear Spring,

It's 'bout time.

Photo: 3-hour fixie ride, one-hour run, 15-minute snooze, 11:00 a.m., 37 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 5,200 yds (ytd 49,400 yds.)
Bike: 80 miles (ytd 697 mi.)
Run: 30 miles (ytd 283 mi.)

Photo: 90-minute ride, one-hour run, 8:00 a.m., 28 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 5,100 yds (ytd 44,200 yds.)
Bike: 58 miles (ytd 617 mi.)
Run: 28 miles (ytd 253 mi.)

Photo: one-mile run, one-hour ride, 9:00 a.m., 32 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 5,100 yds (ytd 39,100 yds.)
Bike: 59 miles (ytd 559 mi.)
Run: 26 miles (ytd 225 mi.)

The experiment begins.

Photo: one-hour run, one-hour ride, 9:00 a.m., 39 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 5,100 yds (ytd 34,000 yds.)
Bike: 54 miles (ytd 500 mi.)
Run: 27 miles (ytd 199 mi.)

Drear, the fifth season.

Photo: 7-mile run, 8:00 a.m., 55 degrees, Scottsdale, Arizona

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 3,500 yds (ytd 28,900 yds.)
Bike: 49 miles (ytd 446 mi.)
Run: 24 miles (ytd 172 mi.)

Photo: 16-mile ride, 8-mile run, 8:00 a.m., 22 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,800 yds (ytd 25,400 yds.)
Bike: 54 miles (ytd 397 mi.)
Run: 25 miles (ytd 148 mi.)

Photo: pre-workout, 6:00 a.m., Decorah, Iowa

Weekly activity log:

Swim: 4,800 yds (ytd 20,600 yds.)

Bike: 54 miles (ytd 343 mi.)

Run: 28 miles (ytd 123 mi.)

Words to live by.

Photo: 7-mile runs, 55 degrees and 28 degrees, 6:00 a.m. and 8:00 a.m., Scottsdale, Arizona and Decorah, Iowa

Weekly activity log:

Swim: 3,600 yds (ytd 15,800 yds.)

Bike: 48 miles (ytd 289 mi.)

Run: 24 miles (ytd 95 mi.)

What a difference a day makes. 

Photo: 1-hour ride, 1-hour run, 10 degrees, 8:00 a.m., Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,200 yds (ytd 12,200 yds.)
Bike: 55 miles (ytd 241 mi.)
Run: 23 miles (ytd 71 mi.)

30 degrees and ice one day, 60 degrees and rain the next, 10 degrees and snow the next...Iowa.

Photo: 5-mile run, 10 degrees, 8:00 a.m., Chicago, Illinois

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,100 yds (ytd 12,200 yds.) 
Bike: 57 miles (ytd 241 mi.)
Run: 20 miles (ytd 71 mi.) 

Why I don't live in the city.

Photo: 22-mile fixie ride, 6-mile run, 38 degrees, 8:00 a.m., Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log: 
Swim: 4,100 yds (ytd 8,100 yds.)
Bike: 72 miles (ytd 184 mi.) 
Run: 21 miles (ytd 51 mi.) 

Workout after the workout.

Photo: 60-minute run, 60-minute ride, 14 degrees, 8:00 a.m., Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,800 yds (ytd 4,000 yds.)
Bike: 61 miles (ytd 112 mi.)
Run: 20 miles (ytd 30 mi.)

RIP Johanna - long may you run

Run, Johanna, Run

Photo: A long, long time ago, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 1,200 yds (ytd 1,200 yds.)
Bike: 59 miles (ytd 51 mi.)
Run: 12 miles (ytd 10 mi.)

In memoriam

Photo: 0-minute run, 0-minute ride, 6:00 a.m., Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,600 yds (ytd 203,400 yds.)
Bike: 35 miles (ytd 4,860 mi.)
Run: 11 miles (ytd 1,187 mi.)

Dearest Viral Gastroenteritis, you win. I give.

Photo: 60-minute run, 60-minute ride, 8:00 a.m., 6 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,600 yds (ytd 200,800 yds.)
Bike: 60 miles (ytd 4,825 mi.)
Run: 17 miles (ytd 1,176 mi.)

Photo: 90-minute fixie ride, 40-minute run, 8:00 a.m., 26 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 3,600 yds (ytd 194,700 yds.)
Bike: 69 miles (ytd 4,706 mi.)
Run: 20 miles (ytd 1,139 mi.)

Photo: Christmas at Luther, 7:30 p.m., 50 degrees, Decorah, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,500 yds (ytd 191,100 yds.)
Bike: 41 miles (ytd 4,637 mi.)
Run: 21 miles (ytd 1,119 mi.)

Still thankful for dopes and dorks. Coming to PBS 12/23 7pm CST

Photo: 3-mile run, 9:00 a.m., 56 degrees, Minneapolis, Minnesota

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,700 yds (ytd 188,600 yds.)
Bike: 50 miles (ytd 4,596 mi.)
Run: 20 miles (ytd 1,098 mi.)

Thankful for dopes and dorks.

Photo: 6-mile run, 8:00 a.m., 34 degrees, Decorah, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 3,600 yds (ytd 185,900 yds.)
Bike: 35 miles (ytd 4,546 mi.)
Run: 17 miles (ytd 1,078 mi.)

Kids these days...love their video games, their downloads, their phones, their apps. As a child, I loved to take off for the woods, running out the back door of my childhood home, up a deer trail, into the woods. Every now and again, I visit home and find that same escape...no pause button necessary.

The saddest day of the year for any good Norwegian.

Photo: Shoot, 10:00 a.m., 70 degrees, Scottsdale, Arizona

Weekly activity log:

Swim: 1,500 yds (ytd 182,300 yds.)

Bike: 57 miles (ytd 4,511 mi.)

Run: 10 miles (ytd 1,061 mi.)

Photo: 28-mile gravel ride, 4-mile run, 9:00 a.m., 38 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 0 yds (ytd 180,800 yds.)
Bike: 68 miles (ytd 4,454 mi.)
Run: 20 miles (ytd 1,051 mi.)

Sometimes you need to share what friends send...

Greetings from a ravaged and powerless Jersey Shore. First, let me thank all of you who emailed, sent texts and called (repeatedly) throughout the storm and its aftermath. I was very touched and remain grateful for your friendships. Forgive me for sending this group email, but we've only just seen cell/Internet service restored and it remains spotty. I wanted to get to everyone as quickly as possible since many of you have been awaiting word from me for 3 days. I am quite humbled by your outpouring of support and concern and remained inspired, via technology, to keep the faith throughout the hurricane and the long days that have followed without power, water (some have no running water, others have only ice cold water, no pleasure to shower in I assure you), no access to gas to run generators or additional food and water. I took the warnings about the Hurricane seriously and stockpiled gasoline, water, food, candles, batteries and such to last for two weeks. Many of us who have generators are powering neighbors and friends who don't own one, and turning out meals while everyone charges up cell phones and laptops, comparing notes, boosting spirits and reminding each other that despite the widespread damage that will surely bring the state to its knees for some years to come, we have our health and the ability to start over.

We'll need it. For those of us in our 30s and older, Gov. Christie is correct. Everything from our youth is gone. There is an emotional and cultural pall hanging over us in the wake of this storm. It's a feeling I can't describe. While I have lived in Manhattan for the past 20-plus years and consider myself a New Yorker despite maintaining a home in Jersey, I, like everyone else who grew up on the Jersey shore, have this past that's hard to ditch. It's like being in a relationship that only you can understand. Well, you and everyone else from Jersey. It's the only place where when asked where you live, you say "Jersey" and before you can get the second syllable out, the person asks: "What exit?" (as in off the Garden State Parkway) and you simply respond "109" (Red Bank/Lincroft). It's our short hand—we know by exit what type of Jersey guy or girl you are, and, when dating as a kid, it's a GPS of sorts for determining how far you reside from that person of interest.

Long before the rest of the world worshipped The Boss, we knew him as Bruce (Springsteen), a local musician we thought was pretty talented. He played the Stone Pony, which, for anyone who was ever into music on the Jersey shore, was the place to see bands. And many, many decades before The Sopranos returned Asbury Park to the mainstream as a worthy destination, we had grandparents and parents who lived there and knew it was the shore town to visit. Every Easter, you dressed up and went to Asbury Park, or Atlantic City, or one of the many shore towns in between, walking the boardwalk, riding the amusements, buying salt water taffy and parading your Easter Sunday best (my sister and I were always made to wear matching plaid Easter coats over our dresses with white gloves). Yes, the Jersey shore culture has always been about beaches, bands, boardwalks and better days.

The devastation on the Jersey shore is overwhelming. While it's not Katrina, it's not something you're ever prepared to live through or see. My house sustained very little damage, mercifully, as none of the many 200-year-old oak trees on my property fell during the high winds. My 1988 Red Camaro with T Tops took the bullet for me, for which, at 6 am on Tuesday morning, I found myself grateful, if not a little saddened. It was the first car I ever bought and, while I haven't driven it in years (I'm not kidding), I haven't been able to part with it. Make all the jokes you want, but as a kid on the Jersey shore it was only natural to aspire to own a muscle car or a motorcycle, or date someone who did (or both). There was nothing like cruising Ocean Avenue from Sandy Hook down to Asbury Park and then back again and across the Sea Bright Bridge and down the long, winding streets of Rumson and Fair Haven in a 5 speed with the tops off. So with a shattered windshield, ripped off side mirror and plenty of body damage compliments of the storm, the Camaro and a piece of my youth were gone, but I felt pretty lucky and, by the looks of things on my street, my neighbors fared pretty well, too.

It was a short-lived illusion. By 9 am, I began to learn that the Camaro would be the smallest, least significant part of my childhood destroyed. Because cell and Internet service died for many of us during the height of the storm, we got news the next day by word of mouth—and each piece was more shocking than the last. Friends and neighbors on other streets and in nearby towns lost half or entire houses, every beach club on Ocean Avenue was smashed to pieces, every boardwalk from Long Branch down to Atlantic City was torn apart and strewn about, the amusement rides at Seaside Heights washed out to sea, including the roller coaster. Every bar and restaurant along the beach either largely or completely devastated or washed away, including most in Sea Bright, Long Branch, Belmar, Point Pleasant and Asbury Park, the famous shore town where my Dad was raised and which has spent the past 30-plus years rebuilding itself after terrible race riots in the late 60s ushered in a dark period of economic decay, corruption and abandonment. Only in recent years had the city finally risen from the ashes, thanks to the concerted efforts of many to restore the shore town to it former glory. Almost all of that rebuilding is now a pile of ruins. Ironically and as if a beacon of hope and a sign that we must rebuild, the Stone Pony, the musical venue made famous by Bruce and other local musicians, survived. But everywhere you look there is devastation. Boats tossed into the middle of parking lots and roads, stretches of beach that are no longer recognizable, rows of beach houses entirely gone. Long Beach Island—our version of the Hamptons—is completely underwater. Atlantic City is flooded and its casinos damaged.

The impact on the shore's businesses is hard to assess at this point, but suffice it to say that many establishments which we all frequented over our lifetimes—bars, restaurants, clubs, hot dog and concession stands on the boardwalks, and Mom-and-Pop small businesses—are gone for good. For most of us, a lifetime of memories has been washed out to sea. While we remain committed to rebuilding, it will be different...another new normal to which we must adjust.

With power expected to be out for at least another 5-10 days, I will remain on the shore. I am reachable via cell and email now. Again, many thanks for reaching out before, during and after the storm and for indulging my trip down memory lane in this note. I hope at some point you had a chance to experience the Jersey shore that I've always known. It was something, and I'm sure we'll do our best to make it something again.

Photo: 32-mile road ride, 8:00 a.m., 32 degrees, Mt Vernon, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,800 yds (ytd 180,800 yds.)
Bike: 68 miles (ytd 4,386 mi.)
Run: 16 miles (ytd 1,031 mi.)

32 miles, 32 degrees, brrrific

AGGI v3 Recap

Thanks again to everyone this year who arrived, who rode, who got lost (ahem), who conquered, and, in Jared’s words, who sucked.

The weather was Xtreme(ly beautiful) and the course Epic(ally perfect). Both sunshine and dogs were in abundance. Three cheers to Jeff Goldblum’s Fancy Banana Hammock for taking this year’s title, leading the way from nearly beginning to end. Thirty lashes to Jeff Goldblum’s Fancy Banana Hammock for turning down the Hamm’s Beer (there’s now a 12 in my garage…first come, first drunk).

In the tightly contested women’s division, Jenny (Jenny, who can I turn to?) brought her A-game (and a serious tan) from Kona to dominate the field.

To those of you who couldn’t make it, I hope you had as much fun answering phone calls from your favorite political pundits as we did riding the American Gothic Gravel Invitational v3.

Until next year when we promise more gravel, more weather and an even freer entry…

Photo: Team-building, 2:00 p.m., 55 degrees, Dubuque, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,100 yds (ytd 174,100 yds.)
Bike: 72 miles (ytd 4,229 mi.)
Run: 22 miles (ytd 1,000 mi.)

Photo: 7-mile run, 5:00 a.m., 28 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,100 yds (ytd 170,000 yds.)
Bike: 78 miles (ytd 4,157 mi.)
Run: 19 miles (ytd 978 mi.)

The best 50 minutes of your day...

Aaron James Draplin

from CreativeMornings/Portland.

The American Gothic Gravel Invitational™
Sunday, 21 October 2012, 12:00 pm – High Noon
A good-ol-timey, FREE-OF-CHARGE 60-mile bike race across the gravel roads of Linn County, Iowa. Yes, IOWA!

Everyone gets: A mouthful of dust, satisfaction, a nice view, camaraderie, the attached cue-sheet keepsake (makes a great re-gift just in time for the holidays), and grub at Zoey’s at 6 pm post-race (bring a few bucks if you're hungry and interested: http://zoeyspizza.com/ ). While I can’t guarantee romance, a flat tire or saddle-induced hemorrhoids, if the fates are with ya, you may leave with a story to tell (who said you can’t use ‘romance’ and ‘hemorrhoids’ in the same sentence?).

One person gets: The grand prize, IF:

1 He/she is indeed first,
2 He/she signs in when done with his/her finish time,
3 He/she also includes his/her email address and the phrase “I’m #1, you pathetic losers”.

This year’s grand prize includes the now-traditional 12-pack of Hamm’s (from the land of sky-blue waters), plus a Twin Six short-sleeve jersey of your choice (check ‘em out at TwinSix.com).

Rules: Sign the notebook before the start (just like last year). We roll out as a group at noon (just like last year). Once we hit gravel on the other side of Highway 13, the race is on. (You turds that jumped the gun in 2011 have each been given four demerits to be doled out when you least expect it.) Follow the cue sheets until you hit the finish. Once there, sign the notebook with your name and finish time (using the cheap Timex next to the notebook). No aid stations. No outside help. Don’t cheat. Ride safe. When you cross the highway(s), look and then look again. The roads are open and the farmers are working harder than you, yeah YOU. Stay outta their way. And don't, don't, don't litter.

Cue sheets: Attached. These are the only directions you’ll receive. No one is bringing extras… NO ONE. Print ‘em. Bring ‘em. Lose ‘em and you'd better find someone to ride with. If you bring a buddy, make a copy for him/her or make sure your pal doesn’t get lost.

Start/Finish: Indian Creek Elementary School parking lot (by the OLD football field), 2900 Indian Creek Road, Marion, IA.

Fine print: You’re receiving this because you’re one of a select group (okay, not select…just a friend of a friend of a friend…chances are, I don’t know you and we’ll never meet again). If you want to bring along a kindred spirit, great. In fact, I encourage it. If he/she is a jerk, you and only you will be held accountable in the court of public opinion, in which case I fear for you and your jerk friend.

Finer print: In the event of a tie, the 100-yd Grant Wood Dash of Death will be held at the adjacent track.

Finest print: YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN. There is no sag wagon (though I will again ride ceremonial DFL to chat it up with the slow-pokes). If you get a flat, fix it. If you break down, work some magic or start walking. No one is coming to save you (unless you have a very forgiving spouse, child, parent or domestic partner). You got into it, you get out of it. Offer a helping hand if someone needs it.

For more information: There is no more information. It’s all written above.

See you soon,

Photo: 3-mile run, 6:00 p.m., 100 degrees, Scottsdale, Arizona

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 1,000 yds (ytd 161,800 yds.)
Bike: 97 miles (ytd 4,079 mi.)
Run: 17 miles (ytd 959 mi.)

30 degrees for the morning run...100 degrees for the evening run...go figure.

Photo: 3-mile run, 30-mile ride, 9:00a.m., 50 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,200 yds (ytd 160,800 yds.)
Bike: 45 miles (ytd 3,982 mi.)
Run: 30 miles (ytd 942 mi.)

...which is why you're spray-painting backroads 15 miles from nowhere.

Photo: 6-mile run, 30-mile ride, 9:00a.m., 60 degrees, Linn County, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,100 yds (ytd 156,600 yds.)
Bike: 60 miles (ytd 3,937 mi.)
Run: 22 miles (ytd 912 mi.)

Photo: 2,400-yard swim, 60-mile bike, 12-mile trail run, 11 transitions, some cold, some wind, some rain, 8:00a.m., Up Nort'

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 4,800 yds (ytd 152,500 yds.)
Bike: 106 miles (ytd 3,877 mi.)
Run: 20 miles (ytd 890 mi.)

Swim, Bike, Run...
Swim, Bike, Run...
Swim, Bike, Run...
Swim, Bike, Run...
Dinner

Photo: post-run fetch, 80 degrees, 11:00a.m., Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,800 yds (ytd 147,700 yds.)
Bike: 103 miles (ytd 3,771 mi.)
Run: 35 miles (ytd 870 mi.)

Patience is a virtue, for dogs and humans. Staaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay.

Photo: 38-mile gravel ride, 3-mile run, 65 degrees, 8:00a.m., Bertram, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 0 yds (ytd 144,900 yds.)
Bike: 71 miles (ytd 3,668 mi.)
Run: 26 miles (ytd 835 mi.)

Photo: 12-mile run, 30-mile ride,  1-mile swim, 70 degrees, Marion, Iowa

Weekly activity log:
Swim: 2,200 yds (ytd 144,900 yds.)
Bike: 99 miles (ytd 3,597 mi.)
Run: 29 miles (ytd 809 mi.)

I’ve been wanting a new bike. A road bike. A brand-spanking-new-look-at-this-and-be-jealous-of-the-paint-job road bike. It’s been a while. My kids are grown and gone, I have a good job, I deserve it. Sure, I have a tri-specific bike I race on, but I’m one of those weenies who doesn’t want to spend all his hours training on, wearing down and dirtying up a bike that’s fast, clean and always race-ready.

I also have 12-year-old tri bike that takes a regular beating and has served me well, but also begs me daily for just a little chain lube. Really, I hear it begging, and so does everyone around me. Listen for a moment. Hear it?

I have an older fixie I take for shorter rides (no, I don’t own capri pants or a messenger bag, but I do love the workout that the one fixed gear provides) and a single-speed mountain bike I enjoy on gravel and dirt. There’s even a unicycle I ride occasionally. (I can also juggle, but not at the same time. Baby steps.)

But still, no road bike.

So I started shopping, combing the Web, grabbing magazines in checkout aisles (the ones with bikes on the cover, not celebrities and their makeovers), even talking to a manufacturer’s rep or two.

PUT-MY-WALLET-IN-THE-WASH-MACHINE-AND-HIT-RINSE! Upper four and even five figures for a road bike?

Now I know I’m old and it’s been 40 years since I bought my first bike in the back room of a gas station for a whopping $47 after five weeks of delivering newspapers, but I didn’t realize I was THAT outta touch.

So I started thinking.

What if I took that beat-up, tired tri bike, chipped off the bubbling paint, stripped away the aero bars and shifters, set aside the base bars for my fixie, chucked the cracked carbon aero seatpost, removed the tri-specific saddle, scrapped the bent derailleurs, took to the landfill both outta-true wheels (unless you want them or happen to be the local guy who makes lawn ornaments out of bike wheels)…

And then started asking around?

It turns out I’m not the only one with a home that’s full of bikes, parts, tools and grease.

So after tearing down and cleaning my bike (Simple Green, best stuff ever!), I took the wheels that came stock with my racing bike (but were immediately shelved right outta the box); drop bars that once belonged to a friend; STI shifters and derailleurs no longer used by a riding partner; a stem that has a story, I just don’t know what it is; a favorite saddle still with some miles left on it; and…

Loaded the whole mess into the car and headed to my LBS (Sugar Bottom Bikes, try ‘em if you’re in the Midwest).

Two days later and I have a road bike… one that isn’t “new” but new enough, one that fits, one that rolls true and shifts smooth, and one that cost me a whopping, wait for it…

$100.

Think our sport costs too much? Pffft, only if you let it. Open that shed, look in your garage or your neighbor’s, talk during the next group ride, and give the local shop some business. Your new bike is out there, waiting, and you CAN afford it.

Photo: After the workout, 72 degrees, Minneapolis, Minnesota
Weekly activity log:
Swim: 0 yds (ytd 142,700 yds.)
Bike: 103 miles (ytd 3,498 mi.)
Run: 37 miles (ytd 781 mi.)

There are worse places to bond with your father and son.

Photo: 6-mile run, 30-mile ride, 1-mile swim, 9 a.m., 80 degrees, Linn County, Iowa


Weekly activity log:
Swim: 6,100 yds (ytd 142,700 yds.)
Bike: 104 miles (ytd 3,395 mi.)
Run: 36 miles (ytd 744 mi.)

Not in race shape, but trying to look the part.