Hold Your Line, This Is Mine

“Back To Life, Back To Reality”

Fri, 18 May 2012 19:37:22 -0400

How many of you know that line, “Back to life, back to reality?”

After a very upside down, broken to pieces, down on my luck 2011, a mild winter 2012 has been a blessing. I fell in love with running again-Trail running!

I look forward to sharing some fun tales along the way.

Peace and Strength,

Jon Malone

Off Season

Sun, 13 Mar 2011 11:18:00 -0400

My “off season” was really OFF. Like, super-ridiculous Sarah Palin declining her NRA membership, giving back all the free clothes she was given, and joining the Peace Corp. ridiculous.

My best friends were all up at Sugarloaf, Maine and being an avid snowboarder, could not wait to get out and get some fresh snow. I got there late on Tuesday night to falling snow and knew that Wednesday, January 12th, was going to be a great day on the mountain. NOT!

I’ll cut to the chase as I’ve written about the accident in my “just talking“ section. I hit a tree going fast and fractured a total of 7 ribs on my front and back sides and broke 2 ribs, one on the front and one on the back.

With that said, I was moving around working and commuting via bike lightly, but couldn’t train at all. Nothing. Today I went for my first 6 mile run in 2 months and was slower than a slug on salt. My mouth felt like that as well. Dry, slimy, lethargic...kinda “what’s going on? Am I moving or not?” type of sensation. I digress.

I was slow.

The race schedule is coming up and I haven’t even received my 2011 USCF (cycling) license in the mail. When it comes to physical performance, everything is 2 months behind and the pre-season will be “don’t get dropped too badly” have fun season.

I do look forward to the hard work and camaraderie on the race courses and if all plays out like planned, some video taking and a new race mountain bike! I miss racing in the dirt.

Thanks for reading my quick, un-edited race blurbs.

To 2011!!

Peace and strength,

Jon Malone

Grand Prix Of Pain!

Sun, 3 Oct 2010 16:06:57 -0400

“On a scale of 1-10, how much does it hurt?”

I’ve heard that question a lot over the years. I’ve reserved the use of ten, even when getting hit and pinned under a truck while biking. I think I answered the EMTs in the ambulance with an “eight” before they injected me with liquid-life-lover, morphine. I was quickly floating into the clouds and saying the funniest stuff ever. Everyone was my friend, even the pimp drug dealer handcuffed to the gurney next to me at Boston Medical Center. I might have pissed him off talking about his gold tooth or teeth...I really don’t remember. But he smiled at me. Now sober, it was probably a smile of “If I weren’t handcuffed to this bed right now, I’d be introducing you to my pimp daddy cane.”

The Grand Prix Of Pain started a little more than a month ago. I was cruising to our morning Coffee Cadence Ride and started to rail a nice right hand turn onto Commonwealth Avenue in Back Bay. I was cruising 16+mph through the turn and suddenly, it seemed the road had turned to ice. A dump truck went through the same turn earlier in the morning and that toxic juice from the trash hold of the truck went all over the road. It had dried just enough that it didn’t look wet and it was status quo for me going into that turn.

Next thing I knew my bike went right out from underneath me. A quick bounce from my right hip flipped me onto my other side and I slid on a slip-and-slide of sludge for 20 feet.

Fast forward to the coffee shop, “Dude, you smell.”

Back to the fall. I lay there for a second wondering what caused the fall when my thought quickly changed to what the hell is that smell? My nostrils were trying to squeeze themselves shut as I lay on my side in a puddle of Back Bay’s finest putrefying cuisine and back alley chunks of cheese and rodent saliva. I tried not to think about the movie scene in Goonies when Chunk explains the worst thing he’d ever done in his life. “But the worst thing I ever done - I mixed a pot of fake puke at home and then I went to this movie theater, hid the puke in my jacket, climbed up to the balcony and then, t-t-then, I made a noise like this: hua-hua-hua-huaaaaaaa - and then I dumped it over the side, all over the people in the audience. And then, this was horrible, all the people started getting sick and throwing up all over each other. I never felt so bad in my entire life.”

I’d like to think that the driver of the dump truck would think this the worst thing he’d ever done. Taking out a nice Monday morning biker with liqueur de trash. A throwing up of massive proportions all over the intersection leaving me there feeling naked in front of drivers and pedestrians who were asking me if I was ok.

I peeled myself off the street and lifted the chain back onto my bike crank and slowly started pedaling towards the coffee shop. I got a whole block away and my back tired exploded. It sounded like ‘Ol Iron Sides cannon going off in the harbor; 8am sharp.

I didn’t hesitate, the gunshot blast of the tire popping didn’t phase me. I muttered some explicative to myself about Monday morning and how I would persevere and not let it get the better of me. That mutter turned quickly in to an out loud laughter of, “Who am I kidding? I freaking reek!”

I finally got to the coffee shop on a flat tire and I didn’t care about the cologne I was wearing, essence de Lo Tide. I didn’t care about the bike getting scratched up, or the bike rim I might have dinged. I didn’t care about the sewer sludge that was crawling its way into my body via road rash.

I just wanted my small coffee.

No pain entered my thoughts as I danced down the stairs into the Newbury Cafe. With ballerina grace in tap dance sounding bike shoes I got to the cafe counter and saw a familiar face serving me my coffee topped with a dollop of whipped humor, “Dude, you smell.” [insert I’m not awake yet, but working behind a cafe counter face]

The pain came a couple days later and started in my lower back. That faded a week later as it traveled up my spine and decided to reside under my right shoulder blade. Could it be the black sludge from the road?

Is it possible that something is growing in me right now and causing headaches, the inability to turn my head right and numbness in my right hand? Could it be a little sludge bug burrowing under my scapula waiting for the right moment to take complete control of all my motor skills? If you see me dumpster diving next week, know that it’s my co-pilot doing the driving.

This weekend I was registered to race at the Grand Prix Of Gloucester. Noted as one of the best cyclocross races in the U.S., I was all set to race and have fun. My lack of motor skills put some doubt in my head about racing and this thought was sealed as I inflated my cross tires to the sound of another tire exploding (see pic below). It seems there was a slit in my tire and the tube popped out and destroyed all remaining desire to go race. Omen? Maybe. With a useless right arm and impinged neck, I would probably injure myself more and possibly someone else if I crashed or didn’t see them in my “can’t turn my head right blind spot.” On a pain scale of 1-10 I’m feeling a 2.4 on the richter scale as my body is very keen at sending out massive quantities of endorphins. Years of taking tumbles and I’m the bad guy in Lethal Weapon with the lighter to his forearm. When some of my fingers go cold, I know I have a problem.

That’s my story about not racing this weekend.

By the way, I hate excuses, but if I’m coaching an indoor cycling class next week and start throwing sweaty towels at you, know that it’s my sewer slug co-pilot at the helm. That’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

Hub On Wheels 2010

Tue, 28 Sep 2010 10:58:34 -0400

It didn’t rain.

currently writing

Cross It UP!

Mon, 13 Sep 2010 10:18:25 -0400

Cross season is here. Some of my B2C2 teammates were racing over the weekend and had great results. They rock. Now time to see if I can get in rocking race shape. Grrrrrrrr. Right now I am in “I can go out and have fun-but going to hurl at the finish line” shape. Oh well. Cross is a lot of fun and I love the energy of the racers and spectators. They rock too.

What doesn’t rock? My bike. I need a new crank and BB asap. I put in the order about two weeks ago and there has been a lag in return time. I’m hoping I can install the SRAM Rival crank by Friday and am thinking of heading to VT for the start of the Verge cross series. I raced it last year and the course was my favorite. It’s a two day race and on day two there was a nice BMX’ish type area that made me smile every time I went through it.

I need to smile more when I race and ride?

How about you?

Peace and strength,

Jon Malone