I remember sitting on Ryan’s floor, back when he lived in a second floor apartment just off of 10th and Ivy. His bike was up on a stand in the kitchen and we were trouble shooting his rear derailleur. It was some evening on the floor of that apartment that he told me he didn’t just want to go on bike tours, he wanted to build them. Build isn’t the right word, it’s not big enough.

The tour that left today was the third of its kind under for Wheeled Migration. The excitement this morning of the two dozen riders was contagious. Bikes just look awesome when they’re packed to the gills. Every time someone who knew me asked why I wasn’t riding my answer of, “Because I’ve got work” felt smaller and smaller, and the tour seemed bigger and greater.

Before he left the plaza at the head of the group, I told Ryan that I was proud. It felt strange to say at first, but it’s very true. He’s doing something very challenging, creative, inspiring and evidently fulfilling. I have great admiration for him. And it is certainly not only the efforts of Ryan that make me so glad; for certain the Wheeled Migration wouldn’t be happening without the dedication of many other dear friends.

I hope they have a safe trip.

On my third lap I got a pretty fast start into the BMX course, but only made it over the first ramp before crashing into the ground. I remembered the rear of my bike lifting up behind me as I started the descend from the first riser, and then the ground came rushing up into my face.

I say I remembered because I do not anymore. I know I told the people around me about what happened, but right now my memory from the moment of impact to maybe 10-15 minutes after is kind of, well, absent. I’m pretty sure I didn’t black out at any point.

My helmet was pretty thoroughly smashed, and I’ve got some healthy road rash along my right flank. I’ve been told that after I dragged myself out from under my back and off the course I started saying “my head feels really loud”. My brain and my skull had a little fight.

When I got home a few hours later my head felt a lot better, but it still seemed as if my skull was one or two sizes too small. I took a shower to wash the dirt out of my cuts and scrapes, and found them to hurt something awful. I’ve never had to scrub out such a large abrasion before, and I hope I never have to again.

When she heard that I was experiencing memory loss Xue, being a neuroscientist who likes me, told me that I needed to go to the hospital. I checked myself in and within an hour or two I was being carted down to Radiology for a CT scan.

MY BRAIN IS FINE THANKS

Now I just need to get myself a new helmet and for this damned road rash to heal up.

I left Chico before the sun had fully risen, and touched down after it finished setting in Boston, where it was bitterly wickedly cold. When I got to Xue’s apartment I was rewarded for braving the airports and the cold with a blindfold, sparkly party hat and the best belated birthday (pan)cake I’ve ever tasted. Also, kisses.

The next day we rode through the city on fendered and salty bikes. We went to museums and gawked at robots that ran, stuffed mammals, machines that moved like birds, and plants made of glass. We both got into MIT and Harvard, but only because they leave their doors unlocked.

When Xue had work I slept. Occasionally I would get up to eat or play with her tiny nylon-stringed guitar, only to fall back into blankets. Eventually I rose to explore the city a little, and to meet her at work.

Part of her job includes performing a variety of tests on patients, and for fun, I had her test me for color blindness. I’ve known for years that I see some deep blues and purples irregularly, but not how else my vision might be divergent from the norm. It turns out that I have common deutan color blindness, which mostly affects my perception of greens. Xue was very entertained “Hey Jono, what color is this?”

We spent most of Friday in bed reading sci-fi eating delicious bread and baked sweet potatoes. In the evening we rode to a potluck and enjoyed even more food and good company.

We took the Chinatown bus to New York on Saturday. All of the bare trees on the side of the highway that we passed were very familiar. and walked across the Manhattan bridge to my cousin’s apartment in Brooklyn.

As a late celebration of my cousin Alden’s birthday we went out with a group to a really fancy restaurant. I tried bacon and pork and steak, and they were all delicious, but I decided to continue my vegetarianism.

The next day my dad and Karen came up from Pennsylvania and we went out to breakfast. The place where we ate had a photo booth, but it stubbornly refused to accept our dollars. So, more iPhone photos of X & I.

That night Xue went to another birthday party in Williamsburg while my dad, Karen, Alden and I went to the home of one of my dad’s old friends from when he was young. More good food was eaten, and stories were told. Afterward I spend about three hours making what should have been a half hour trip to meet up with Xue. I still really don’t know how subways work, but I didn’t die. We made pancakes, danced and sang.

Xue took the bus back to Boston on Monday afternoon, and I flew out of JFK on Tuesday morning, arriving in a rain-soaked Chico in the early afternoon.

The past two Sundays I raced with Team Paul in Folsom and Sacramento, both times in the singlespeed category.

I did about as well as I expected in Folsom, just barely keeping up and only crashing once (dismounting in front of the very first barrier, of course). Lau also raced SS, instead of the B Masters category, and it was really encouraging to make my way around the course just in front of him or on his rear wheel. I ended up taking 7th place and Lau took 8th, owing to one of his brake levers slipping loose and grabbing his rim on the second to last lap.

Last Sunday’s race was at Disco Park in Sac., and was put on by Sacramento Cyclocross. The course was really flat and grass, featuring only one set of barriers and no runups. Of course I managed to crash again, I was coasting in to the corner on one pedal, ready to dismount, when I decided to burn off some speed and grabbed a handful of front brake. Ass over elbows.

(Photo by Jeff.)

I’m not really sure how it happened, but after 45 minutes and I don’t know how many laps, I came in 4th place. Team Paul had a pretty good showing with Paul, Lau, Jeff, Scott and myself racing. Scott and Jeff were racing B Masters, and put on a good show.

Jeff’s set up a Flickr group for Team Paul race photos, so I’ve dumped the rest of my shots from the past two races there.

In addition, there are some other things I’d like to do this weekend.

I’ve borrowed the fancy DSLR from work and hope to take as many photos with it as I can between now and Monday. I also hope to take some more polaroids.

I’m giving one of my bike to my brother, and I need to nail down what work needs to be done to it before I can send it off. I know the rear wheel needs to be brought into line every so slightly, but I’m sure there’s other things that wouldn’t hurt to fix.

On Sunday there’s a CX race in Folsom that I’m heading down to with two other members of “Team” Paul. It’s going to be my fourth race, and looks to be the largest and most legit thus far. I am very excited/intimidated. I hope I don’t fall over too embarassingly.

Last Sunday first CX race, and first time cross dressing. There’s a second or two of me exhausted out of my mind around 3:35. I’m the one in the yellow tank top with the tan skirt, striped socks, and shit-eating grin.

The first lap was terrible fun. I thought if I just held onto the rear wheel in front of me I’d probably be alright, and maybe I could pass some people. The third lap felt like I’d made a huge mistake. I thought if I just sat down and put my head between my knees I wouldn’t pass out, and maybe I wouldn’t vomit. The 4th and 5th lap actually felt alright. Then the 6th lap was finished and it was over. So soon?

I finished somewhere between 2nd and 4th from dead fucking last, which I consider quite a success. The Raleigh rode great for its inaugural ‘cross ride, and the wheels I finished building the night before didn’t explode underneath me. One issue was my gearing though. 46t in the front and 18t in the back is fine for riding around town, but is insufferable on the dirt and damn near impossible on run-ups. I guess that’s why they call them run-ups.

There’s a “TEAM” Paul meeting tomorrow. We’ll be discussing strategies for the rest of the season, and which races we’re going to be heading out to. My main strategy is to swap out to a more reasonable gearing, maybe something like 39tx16t.

Also, Xue’s coming to visit tomorrow. Whoah.

Catamount Cyclocross Day 2 Lap 1 from colin reuter on Vimeo.

I also got some film for myself. Pic related.

A little late night arts & crafts is okay from time to time, but one mustn’t make a habit of it.

Halfway through the evening I was confronted with this little alien, who somehow found its way into my home.

I placed it under a glass and watched it pace for a few minutes, before it settled into a shifting three-legged pose.

I tried to feed it a little bit of a medjool date, but it wouldn’t even look at it so I let it go outside.

Now I really need to start my homework. Good morning all.

So here we are. The last couple of months I’ve felt like I haven’t had the time to write here, but the things I’ve wanted to write about continue to flow in from one side and out of the other. For example, over Labor Day weekend Brad, Ryan and I rode north from Chico to Lassen National Park and back. We left Friday night after nine and weren’t back in town until at least ten on Monday night.

The first night we rode up to Inskip, taking full advantage of the full moon. It was bright enough that lights were rarely necessary to see the road. We climbed until maybe 2 or 3 in the morning, when I decided to quit. We pulled off the main road onto a small dirt stretch, made some dinner, and slept as the sun started to lighten the sky.

Saturday we hit the dirt seconday roads leading that wind between Inskip and Butte meadows. I was happy to be running 35c tires, but wish the Panaracers had a bit of shoulder tread to them.

We arrived by lunch, and happened upon a BBQ rib cook-off at the Bambi Inn clamper bar. Free meat, potatoes, and bread for all. Beers were bought for us. We rode on through the afternoon and another moonlit night until we reached a campground just south of the park entrance. Big fire that night, plenty of fuel.

We spent Sunday in the park, climbing, swimming, descending, eating.

It’s a beautiful stretch of road that snakes up and over those mountains. Traffic was forgiving on the way up, and completely absent from our descent to the Manzanita Lake campgrounds. We almost got booted from our unreserved campsite though, and I nearly froze to death, but we made it through the night.

The next day was long, fast, hot, downhill, and long. From the North entrance to the park on 44, we rode all the way back to Chico. There were some amazing views coming back into the valley, some wicked 15% grade descents followed immediately by 10mph turns, and a handful of flat tires. It was thrilling to wake up at the base of a mountain and watch it fade beyond view by late afternoon. What’s more exciting is the notion that this kind of trip is so easy to embark upon. I want more.

See the whole photo set here.