My Girl-Crush

I know you were expecting a man-crush post, but the truth is that a Y chromosome isn't a prerequisite for my respect. Indeed, there are a few women whose indomitable spirits and lack of utter vapidity more than make up for what can only be described as their gender's estrogen-induced psychosis. The very existence of these women, whose ranks include Ms. Joan of Arc, the perennially sexy Madeline Albright, and Dr. Pamela Anderson, Ph.D., suggests that there may be more to the female species than reproductive organs and a fondness for karaoke singers. They may actually have souls.

Alicia definitely has a soul. I mentioned a while back that my coach has a sugar-mama... well, Alicia's that lucky lady. She is so cool that her dissertation defense included the use of 3-D glasses. She is so badass that she races cyclocross (need I say more?).

You may wonder what has prompted this post. What has Alicia done that's so crush-worthy, since abandoning her team and absconding to another time zone in pursuit of sugar-mamahood?

She has gone to an oil rig off the coast of Africa. She has climbed to the very top of the tallest tower, hundreds of feet above shark-infested water. She has run thousands of laps on a helipad to stay in shape.

Alicia, you are my hero...
...even though your husband is trying to kill me

My White Whale

There is something awesome lurking outside my apartment. I'm not sure what this thing is, or for what purpose it is used. Is it good? Is it evil? Is it remote controlled?

It doesn't matter. I must have it.

And the winds whispered, "Ritacco"


While we're looking at pictures, here's photographic evidence that I have an artery on my Achilles tendon.

Superawesomedelicious Recipe

In the spirit of AngryMark and Jenksy, here's a recipe that I know will tickle your tastebuds and dazzle your duodenum.

Boil a bunch of water
Add 1/2 lb of dry pasta
Stir occasionally
Taste pasta for texture occasionally
Add butter


This quick and easy delicacy will turn you from a culinary klutz into a gifted gourmet, guaranteed.

Why We Blog, part 2

Back in January, my first post - like everyone else's - outlined some expectations for the blog. Join me in the wayback machine as I evaluate my progres...

I wrote:
"The plan for this blog is for a wide breadth of posts [I'll say "check"]. Some will, of course, be about bike racing [definitely check], but I'll try to limit those [sure, why not... check] . Others will cover experiments that I wish I could run [not so much anymore, but check], observations about everyday stuff [check], and perhaps some making fun of Mark [check plus] "


So, on the surface, I seem to have met my goals. Clearly I neglected to warn you that I'd be writing about my Karaoke-related exploits on a weekly basis, but this staple in my life has become a staple of the blog. Cycling has been somewhat pervasive, but who're we kidding? If anything, I've been pretty good about keeping a lid on it! Regrettably few posts have been about kittycats.

This process of review has inspired a meta-blog of sorts, an exploration of what it is that keeps me blogging.

I like to write. So sue me, I like to occasionally get the creative juices flowing. My research pretty much locks me into the concrete and pragmatic, and it's nice to escape once a day. This blog is the Title IX in my Left-vs-Right Brain battle.

I am awesome, and you need to realize that. If you were as awesome as I am, you would want to share that awesomeness with everyone. Short of taking my one-man play, entitled "NinjaDon is Totally Sweet; A Play in 3 Acts", on a nation-wide tour (which would never work, logistically speaking), this blog is the best way to spread the wealth. I guess what I'm saying is that it feels good to have people read what you've created, and why not do what feels good?

I am forgetful. A few years ago, when my grandfather wrote his memoirs, I immediately decided that my life thus far had been boring, too boring for memoirs. While I'm still not planning on writing memoirs, I'm realizing more and more that interesting things have happened to me... I've just forgotten about them. This blog has helped with that. For example, the story of the UVM urine, the karaoke world championships, and of course everything that happened in Mexico are all pretty good stories that get lost in the grand scheme, like "there was a race at Rutgers", "I used to go to Karaoke", or "I went to Mexico". (NB: each of the words in the Mexico clause are different links). The blog is like a diary, only it's not a "here's what I did today", it's a "here's what 24 year old Don does, thinks, and believes" in short chapters. It's Encyclopaedia Dontannica.

Going back to that first post, notice that I mentioned that I'd tested the waters of blogging by writing Notes in Facebook. I wrote, "It would seem that my ramblings were palatable to most of the people who read them, or at least that nobody was so bored or offended as to complain to me." So far, I think I've maintained that level of excellence, and I daresay that I've got the skillz to stay here in the hypernetoblogospherotubes for a little while longer.

Why We Blog, part 1

Everybody has a first post. Every first post is the same. "Well, I guess I have a blog now. I'm going to write about bicycles and politics and things that amuse me... maybe kittycats. I hope you like it."

We set out with such noble goals, but do we meet them? I suppose nobody's strayed so far from their first post that they aren't writing about training and elections and kittycats. Still, within each blog there is a subtle, traceable change over time. If you read carefully, if you really invest in that blog, you notice that trend. It's safe to say that most people don't invest that much in any blog but their own, and that's okay.

So, having written that first post just like everyone else, I'll dedicate the next post, the 159th post here at theninjadon, to trying to figure out where this blog has wound up.

That may have come across with an air of finality. Don't worry. You can't get rid of me that easily.

For now, my friends, it is time for sleep. Tomorrow morning I'll be waking up early to ride my bike. While I'd love to continue this train of thought while it's fresh, the priorities have not changed, and the blogging is still secondary to the bicycling.

Book Report

Yesterday was another one of those "I'm spending so much time with Will that if he was anybody else we'd probably stop speaking to each other" days. Along with Jenks, we rode easy to Princeton and drank coffee on Nassau St.

We debated the merits of the various Rocky movies in the afternoon... you'll be pleased to know that Rocky V was never mentioned in this conversation.

Last night, Will and I went to Barnes and Noble to get books and coffee. He got a book titled "Why God is Wrong" or "Religion is teh Sux0rz" or something blatant like that.

I had more trouble finding a book. It seems like renting a movie is easy, because you know what's out there... you watch commercials, you hear about blockbusters on the news, your friends talk about what's good and what's not. Books, on the other hand, can't be so easily parsed through. Unless you go in with a plan - which I didn't - you're basically reduced to judging a book by its cover.

Everything that caught my eye seemed to be written from a "woman coming to terms with sexuality/divorce/friendship/feminism" perspective. Which doesn't exactly speak to me. I'm sure I would've been entertained, but I wanted to read something written for me - I wasn't even sure a book like that exists, but damnit I feel entitled to literature that elicits a response of familiarity from me.

Then I found it. The Average American Male. I read it cover to cover last night.

Imagine a diary (or blog, I suppose) written by a guy who doesn't restrict his language and subject matter, a guy who is brutally honest about the thoughts running through his head, about sex and relationships and the frequency with which he thinks about them... but whose honesty is restricted to the diary/blog and makes no appearance in his interpersonal interactions. Imagine a guy who is spineless and lazy, whose decisions and discourse are guided by two questions, "what is the path of least resistance?" and "will this get me laid?"

I can't speak to whether this guy is Average or not. I won't speak to the extent to which I associated with him. I will only say that if you don't mind a little (okay, a lot of) NC-17 language and content, you should read this book.

It has a webpage.

I don't even like Harry Potter

but I totally stole this video from Cara. In general, I believe that posting a video is a cheap copout of a blog post - it affords no opportunities for cleverness, it shows no ingenuity, it basically screams 'I have no ideas, but I have the ability to recognize humor!' (no offense Cara, or anyone but Will)- but this one is funny. I recognized its humor.

Charlie's Crazyass New 'Cross Loop

I put a scouting report up on the Rutgers Cycling page. You should read it, because it took a lot of work.

It's not finalized yet, though, because Charlie and I disagree about the finale of the route. Charlie's finish would climb a long, not-too-steep hill, with a big-ring sprint at the top (and it would take us through a stop sign). Mine climbs the same hill parallel to Charlie's route, about a half a mile east, and it finishes on a rolling stretch of road with no stop signs.

I like the idea of having to push hard on flat/rolling roads after climbing... there aren't enough roads like that around here. Chaz and I will figure that out later.

The moral of this story is that Charlie came up with this great loop. Perhaps you don't realize how much creativity goes into something like this. I know that I usually take it for granted. But my friend Charlie has been coming up with hill loops like this for years. And I'm a faster rider because of it.

How can I describe Chaz? I suppose you could think of him as the mutant offspring of a mountain bike and a GPS system. Or of a Sherpa and a pickup truck. It is as easy to picture Charlie living as Magellan in a past life as it is to picture him as the Marquis de Sade.

Riding with Charlie makes you dig deep.

This is going to be a good cyclocross season.

Ohm me, oh my

I went to yoga tonight. It hurts to walk now. God, I love yoga. I was one of 5 guys in a class of 30. There was a hot girl in front of me, a hot girl behind me, a hot girl to my left, and a septuagenarian to my right... but to her right was a hot girl.

Also, every muscle from my eyebrows to my toenail-flexors got a good stretch, which I sorely needed. The core workout was really good, too. In summary, this was quite the training session.

The downside, along with seeing the old lady doing downward-facing dog, was hearing the granola-worshipping, overspiritualized hippie mumbo-jumbo that inevitably accompanies an otherwise awesome yoga session...

• Direct your breaths to your tension
• Put your heart-print on the ceiling
• Let the backs of the knees shine through
• There is no ego in yoga

The last one at least makes sense, even if it's totally false. The instructor, who I've known for years, said "if you're comfortable, you can try X"... and no matter what, I would try X... at which point she would suggest Y, and subsequently Z, and so on.

When we did headstands, I whipped out the scorpion.
This is not me. I am a dude
It's been a year since I last tried yoga, and I can still pull off the scorpion. Hell yes.

The strength to go slow

Repeat after me: "I trust my coach. I trust my coach. I trust my coach"

With 'cross season coming up this fall, it's definitely time for a rebuild period. I'm okay with that, I've read all the jibbajabba about periodization and rest and whatever. You know, the whole "you have to go slow to get fast" thing. It's just that I've never been able to get myself to actually follow a plan before... but now I've got a coach.

Last week was completely off the bike. I jogged (stupid), I swam (doublestupid), I even went for an obscenely long walk (words cannot describe how stupid that was).

Now I'm back to riding, but easy. There will be no sprinting in the month of August. August is a nancyboy month. This first week in particular is a way-too-easy nancyboy week. Tuesday's ride was textbook nancyboy, 90 minutes of flat riding with 30 minutes of "easy tempo" somewhere in the middle.

When the group met up in the park to do their "Man School" hill ride, it seemed like I could try hiding from the wind and get the best of both world... the recovery of a slow solo ride plus the socialization of a big group.

When the speedometer showed 28mph halfway down River Rd, it was clear that this would not be the case. In spite of everything - the friends, the competition, the safety - I had to leave the group.

There is absolutely nothing blogworthy about the ensuing 80 minutes.

Deep breath. A week ago I was starting to display the classic signs of burnout. The legs need August to be easy, the heart and lungs neeed August to be easy. By September, the body will be ready for some good ol'-fashioned suffering, and mind will be more than happy to oblige after a month of restraint.

Restraint. Discipline. Self-denial.

I trust my coach. I trust my coach. I trust my coach.