Castelli did good; buy their stuff from Indie Bike.

When the seams split on both my orange Castelli jersey and Castelli winter bib tights, I descended into a small spiral of anger from which only hateful correspondence emerges.

"Dearest Castelli, My first pair of bike shorts were a pair of hand-me-down Castellis, and I loved them. Still do. This pair of shorts I own has thousands of miles on them. Still holding up ok. The chamois is basically shot, but otherwise, they're serviceable. Well made. I'm thinking, OK...Castelli - I can't go wrong. So I buy a couple of garments. I bought a jersey I had been eyeing for a while - an orange Cambio jersey, as well as a pair of NIK bib tights. Both from legit bicycle retailers - Indie Bike and BikeTiresDirect. I had no concerns or reservations. Within months, both garments had come apart. And I'm hardly abusive on clothing. One of the side seams on the Cambio came apart, and one of the seams along the ankle of the bib tight came apart. Now well outside of my retailers' 30-day return window, I'm just pissed. This stuff was a lot of money, and it in no way met my expectations. It's disappointing, and I've let it stew inside long enough. I'm pissed off at you guys! I want to buy your stuff, but why would I even bother now? My Nike and my PI stuff has seemed to hold up just fine, why not yours? Was $80 not enough to spend on a jersey? I got the tights on sale, but new they were almost $200 - are you kidding me? Now I'm left to cobble together some kind of amateur sewing job, or just pitch them altogether. I shouldn't have to do this. This stuff should just work, like it's supposed to. Do you stand behind your product? If you do, lets work something out. I'm obviously a little upset."

To which Castelli responded:

"Thank you for contacting us. We’re very sorry to hear about your troubles with Castelli apparel, and yes, we stand behind our product. We also appreciate your feedback, as we are continually working to address quality issues, improve design, and technology for our customers. If you would like to send them back to us, we will repair or replace them under our warranty policy as soon as possible. I’m happy to help sort this out."

Well no sh*t. That rules.

A few weeks passed, and after polite follow-on conversation, a brand new jersey and a brand new pair of bibs arrived. Wow. After learning that the black jersey that was sent also came in pink, I worked out an exchange with Indie Bike, who was happy to oblige. Knowing there was a semi-obnoxious alternative color made it impossible to resist. So Castelli and Indie Bike. Good people.

February through April

See any trends? I might have an idea or two. Checking in with my doctor today to do some blood tests in order to rule out anything unusual.

Recovery day on Kearsarge

I don't what the hell I was thinking. I hadn't been on a road bike in a week and a half due to fatigue, had been sick since Tuesday night, rode Wednesday night in the woods anyway, and had basically written off the weekend. By some stroke of magic I woke up Sunday feeling halfway normal again, and decided that a good way to get back on track would be a leisurely, low-key ride from the Warner Park-n-Ride to the summit of Kearsarge.

It's a 6 mile ride to the toll gate at the bottom of the mountain, and I'd say by mile 2, Grampie and I were basically gassed. He was coming off of two straight days on his 42x16, and was near the end of his legs. I was no better off, having prepared the day prior by riding the couch, fueling up on triscuits, cheese, most of a huge bottle of V8, and half a box of Lindt chocolates.

A dog came out of the woods when we were in sight of the toll gate, and I begged it to bite my leg so I wouldn't have to climb the mountain. The dog came right up to me as I pedaled up the final grade before the gate and just sort of stared at me, watching me pass. Thanks dog.

A few hikers informed us that the road was clear all the way to the summit, so we embarked. I noodled along the best I could, wanting as easy a ride as possible. Yeah right. An easy ride straight up the side of a mountain. Kearsarge is never easy. Idiot.

While not clean, the road was clear of snow and the new pavement still very very sweet under the wheels. About halfway up, several small sections of snow greeted the both of us, but you could pick a line and ride through all of them. Barely. Even a week ago, I sincerely doubt that would have been possible. We may very well be the first this year to ride all the way up. Grampie gets the honor of the first nonstop ride. I totally screwed a line through the last snowpatch and hit the deck, landing in the mucky grass alongside the road. Probably the only time I will ever crash climbing Mt. Kearsarge. I'd say not too many have done that, so that would be my distinct honor of the day.

The day was gorgeous, the temperature was really nice, and the top of the auto road was exceptionally quiet. There's never a bad day up here. So I did a little showing off for Fat Cyclist.

hey....

It's been almost a month since I saw the orthopedic surgeon and was given my marching orders for physical therapy. I had flipped those orders over on my desk and hadn't looked at them once since then. This morning for some reason I felt like reading the prescription again; I'll admit, I never really read it too carefully.


I don't know what some of this stuff is, sure. But we determined I have a weak core and I need to strengthen it to help offset the symptoms of scoliosis. Along with the above, he noted "hamstring stretching" and "abdominal and paraspinal muscle strengthening" and some other thing. Fine. But why in the hell do I need "AEROBIC TRAINING"?

Whoa whoa whoa.

Wait a minute. Hold on now.

You have to be kidding me - do I look like I'm that out of shape?

please shut the f*ck up

This morning I was pumping gas, and on the opposite side of my pump there is a guy also pumping gas. He's speaking loudly; loud enough that I have to glance over and see what's up. It's of course Joe Business Class, this one with a bluetooth headset blinking away like a beacon of self-importance and while it occurs to me that there's a chance he could somehow catch fire and possibly endanger me, I welcome it nonetheless as I am forced to listen in on his overexuberant rant.

"WELL, MY CUSTOMERS..."

hoboy, here we go. this is going to be a good one. he's got the i-shoot-from-the-hip tone of voice going and everything. go on, go on.

"I'VE MADE MY NUMBERS FOR TWO STRAIGHT QUARTERS, AND MY CUSTOMERS ABSOLUTELY LOVE ME, I MEAN ABSOLUTELY LOVE ME, AND FOR TWO STRAIGHT QUARTERS I'VE MADE MY NUMBERS AND I HAVEN'T GOTTEN A BONUS. ALL THAT WORK AND FOR TWO QUARTERS IN A ROW NO BONUS."

I become so incensed at this idiot's gall - i mean, be lucky you even have a job. Now everyone within a block radius of Sunoco has to listen to your sob story about how you're still actually able to pay your bills. I'm left to wonder exactly what this poor bastard will be forced to sacrifice now that he's been subjected to economic turmoil. Maybe he'll barely make the mortgage payment on the lake house. Maybe this will be the first month ever that he'll go without a new suit. Or perhaps, worse yet, maybe he'll have to continue to suffer through existence with his meager, almost pathetic 60-inch flatscreen. I become so angry inside just listening to him that I just start participating in his conversation. Out loud. He has no absolutely no idea.

"SO I MADE MY NUMBERS TO QUARTERS IN A ROW"

"you actually have a job you douchebag"

"AND OF COURSE, I GET NO BONUS, AND I MEAN I'M NOT COMPLAINING"

"yes you are"

"BUT ITS TWO QUARTERS AND NO BONUS, AND MY CUSTOMERS ABSOLUTELY LOVE ME"

"that seems impossible because you're a huge asshole"

"BUT NO BONUS SO I'M GOING TO KEEP ON..."

I'm just tuning out now, and muttering things like "you are completely out of touch" and "you're lucky you even have a job" and "asshole" and such.

I finish pumping gas, and I glance over one last time just to see if he's acknowledged anything I've been saying, and of course no. Still blabbing away; he hasn't heard a thing.

I walk around the back of my car to the driver's side, and as I get in, I notice an older guy filling up his car at the pump to the left of me.

He heard everything. -cp