Saturday, December 28, 2013

Goals . . . Old and New

By all accounts this was a pretty good season. I've officially shut down the 'Cross machine, and as the New Year approaches this seems like an obvious time to reflect while looking forward.

2012 was something of a train wreck. Mrs. Skinny and I moved into a new house two days after I co-promoted Critz Cross, and despite salvaging some late season form with the help of Pointway Performance, I just never felt like I was at 100%.

For 2013 I knew I'd have the same challenges we all have with the training/life balance, but this year it would be manageable and I'd have a full year of structured training under my belt. For 2013 I had one goal. I wanted to win a race. I didn't care if that race was the kids race at the smallest grass roots race. I would put a five year old through the tape for a glimpse at a win. Thankfully, in the words of Tim O'shea, "Preparation met opportunity." I'm something of a mudder. This season didn't present a lot of mud, but 5 minutes before the Masters race at Cobb's Hill, the skies opened up. The rain was torrential. It was raining frogs, but there were no locusts, so the race went off after a slight delay. No one really wants to hear someone recount a race victory, because no one like a braggart, but suffice it to say, being 135lbs with FMB Supermuds helped to pave the way. My power file from the race wasn't particularly spectacular, but good coaching and training met opportunity. It was the first time since 2009 that I was on the top step.

The following weekend I raced in Gloucester. That was a polite reminder that keeping things in perspective wouldn't be a problem. I didn't crack the top 60 of their Masters 35+ race. Good thing I live 6 hours from New Belgium. I love racing there, and often regret that I'm not closer, but racing in central New York is certainly better for my self esteem.

As luck would have it, I pulled off another late season win. This time in snow. Something about sliding around just feels right to me. Fast and dry just never works in my favor. That probably goes a long way to explaining why I don't particularly enjoy road racing.

Which leads me to my goals. Two things I know about goals are that they should be written down, and you should tell someone. It also helps if they are realistic to the extent that goals can be (get out of your comfort zone, but also realize that dunking a basketball at 5'9" and 41 years old is unlikely to happen). The goals should also mean something. You can have a goal of saving a million dollars, but what does that mean? Numbers don't mean much. What does the million dollars do for you, and once you have it how will your life be better, or more importantly, will it be better? Also, will the sacrifices you make to get there be worth the destination? Lastly, goals should be measurable.

So my 2014 cycling goals:
Do more Crits. Every time I do one, I have a blast. Almost every time anyway, getting blown off of the back isn't a blast. I also think that Crits will create a little more snap in the legs for 'cross, because at the end of the day it's really all about 'cross.

MTB more. It's fun, and really helps with my CX handing skills. Good goals require you to get out of your comfort zone, and MTBing gets me out of my comfort zone. Way out sometimes.

Gain some weight. Maybe 7 pounds. No less than 5. Muscle of course, most of it in my upper body. That may seem counter intuitive, and I don't expect anyone to feel bad for me, but being this skinny isn't usually an asset in CX. You'd think it would make me a good climber as well, but I've always excelled at repetitive bursts of speed more than the steady state efforts required in climbing. I need to get stronger for popping out of corners, carrying my bike, and to reach my next goal . . .

Learn how to bunny hop logs and other mid-sized obstacles confidently and without sacrificing speed. I can think of 3 races this year where my inability to consistently hop logs or steps was the difference between a decent result and a poor one. If you take a look at my results on crossresults, it won't take a rocket scientist to figure out which races had me out of my comfort zone. I'll save you the work though. Uncle Sam, Ellison, and Beth Cup. I was sick at Beth Cup, but my inability to bunny hop the log was as embarrassing as it was time consuming. Their log wasn't tucked away in the woods, it was right by the pavilion. Did anyone see me running the log and think less of me? Maybe, maybe not, but it definitely made me slower.

Lastly, I want to be able to dismount and remount confidently on my right hand side. There are courses where this would be a big advantage. A huge advantage? Probably not, but a worthwhile advantage when I'm chasing down Dave Faso! (Picture me shaking my fist angrily in the air as I type his name). Just kidding Dave, but I think you and I spent more time bumping into each other this season than we did with our wives

CX is a tough sport. I love it, but if you're reading this, you already know that. I love that someone with average genetics can hold their own against people who would otherwise be faster. If the only cycling discipline was time trail, I'd be basket weaving competitively. Years ago, I just wanted to learn how to eliminate my stutter step when remounting. Then I wanted to learn how to ride a downhill U-turn. Then I wanted to learn how to dismount closer to the barriers. Every season it's something new. For most of us, our genetic potential is probably in the rear view mirror, but that doesn't mean that we can't do more with what we have. Pointway Performance is in charge of maximizing the engine. The rest is up to me.

Goals. Write them down and tell someone. Feel free to leave them in the comments section. No one reads this blog anyway!

Monday, September 16, 2013

It Don't Get Much Better Than This (aka Sometimes, your cross bike punches you in the face…)

“Sometimes, your cross bike punches you in the face…"

 ... so went a tweet sent out by Justin Lindine after some kind of facial mishap on a stair run-up at the Catamount Grand Prix. 

The timing of this tweet hit a bit close to home knowing that both Skinny Phil & myself  are feeling the effects of a bit of arse kicking at the hands of the CX bikes.   I tried a remount using my ribs (bad idea) on Saturday at Critz 'Cross & Skinny upped the game on Sunday at Kirkland CX when he tested a corollary to a law of physics that goes something like a bike in motion tends to stay in motion unless you hit a stake.   And to our three followers, do not fret, we'll be fine and back at it next week. 

So after our respective Sunday races, Skinny & I found ourselves parked on the tailgate of buddy Wes' pickup talking cx, life, more cx, work and even more cx.   The sun had just poked through and the temperature seemed to rise just enough from sorta pleasant to September perfect ... oh yeah, should probably mention Wes' truck had a stash of cold Blue Lights in the back.   As we sat there, a few of our cx buds gathered to chat, trade a war story and a laugh or two & discuss where we would be racing next weekend. 

It was then that it occurred to me yet again, as it seems to at the start of each new cx season -- that this is why I love cx --  the fairly serious but not too serious competition, a cold beer, the fleeting warmth of the autumn sun and most importantly - the people.   As I was soaking it all in, one of our local buddies rides up with a big smile, a brew in his hand, and while clearly in the midst of a good post race glow gestures around the race area and says "Man, it don't get much better than this".  And by damn I think he was right.

Here we were - we were chillin with our people - the people - 'cross people.

Monday, July 15, 2013

I am not ignorant . . .

I am stupid. The two are often confused, but they are in fact quite different. My biggest fear is that, as Ron White says, "You can't fix stupid."

Let me take a step back though. Four years ago Dave Faso and I started a local training series called the Tuesday Night Training Series. I was in decent shape back then, and the fields were small so it was easy to look like I knew what I was doing. Fast forward a couple of seasons, and my summer time race form had . . . what's the word I'm looking for? Well as a stupid guy, I'll just say "form . . . bad." I spent most of the last two seasons dropping off early to "film the finish." By film the finish I mean I got popped on the first lap, chased like an idiot for a lap, rode a lap pedaling squares and then quit a lap early to film the finish. It became a running joke.

At some point in time last summer I started to feel like a fraud. Granted I'm 100% committed to CX and all things tarmac are an afterthought at best, but I'm co-running a series, racing with the A's, giving out pre-race instructions, and sending out weekly recaps to the local listserv. Getting popped every week is embarrassing. I started feeling like Milos from Seinfeld. Tennis instructor by day, horrible tennis player in my free time . . . here's a clip as a little reminder:
Man I miss Seinfeld, but I digress. Where was I? Oh yeah, stupid. So this season my fitness has come back around. Insert commercial: Tim O'Shea from Pointway Performance has really helped me to keep my season on the rails despite traveling for work more than I ever have. This season has been a fresh start so to speak. A little time crunched, but lots of structure, and lots of focus. In fact the Tuesday Night Training Series is now known as the Wednesday Night Worlds, so we're both off to a fresh start. We still hold the series on Tuesdays, but we needed to punch up the name. Ok, just kidding they are really on Wednesdays. If I wasn't so stupid I'd have come up with a wittier joke.

Where was I? Oh yeah, fresh start, new found form, thank you Pointway. Queue the first WNW of the season and my legs explode on the second lap. Second WNW and I hang on until the end. Third WNW and I blow up on the first lap. What separate races 1 & 3 from race 2? It wasn't ignorance, that much I know. It must be stupidity.

A smart person who races road as a Cat 4 would sit in with faster racers. That same person wouldn't cover many breaks. That same person wouldn't ride on the front unless it was at the beginning of a hill. That same person wouldn't average WAY more watts getting popped than they would staying in the race. What kind of Cat 4 racer covers breaks, sits on the front, and generally wastes watts? "This guy," that's who. Who has two thumbs and loves getting dropped? This guy!

A wiser man than I once said, the race is seldom won by the strongest racer, it's often won by the racer who puts out the fewest watts . . . until they need them, and then the watts are still there. So the bad news is that I'm an idiot and I may be destined to repeat myself week in and week out. It certainly beats being doomed to repeatedly push a giant boulder up a hill, Sisyphus style, but not by much. I have clearly angered the Road Cycling Gods with all of my smack talk and boasting of the greatness that is Cyclocross. I get it, I'm likely doomed to repeat myself. Occasionally I'll race intelligently for a week, but just like Charlie Brown falling for the Lucy with the football con, I'm doomed to end up on my back. I believe Aaugh was Charlie Brown's typical response. I have no idea what Sisyphus said as the boulder rolled back down the mountain, but it's probably closer in sentiment to what I say as I get popped.

Anyway, to quote another genius, "Stupid is a stupid does." The good news is that 'Cross is in the air and that's my kind of stupid. That said, if you see me in a road race, feel free to remind me not to be so stupid. Apparently I could use a constant reminder because knowing what to do, and actually doing it are two very different things with two very different outcomes.

Monday, April 29, 2013

I now know that I could never stand up to torture

If you're "Friend's" with me on Bookface, you know that I've been traveling a lot. A lot. Most of my travel is in the car, and most of that travel is in New England (where I am now as a matter of fact). After many weeks of travel, racing season was upon me. The first Albany races were on tap, and I felt somewhat obliged to head out on week 1. I returned from a week on the road on a Friday, packed my bike stuff, and woke up to snow. I left the house under something of a self imposed protest. See the video above, that's what it looked like when I hit the road.

As I headed east, the weather mellowed, and by mellowed I mean it stopped snowing. The temperatures were still less than ideal. Watching the Pro's in Europe battle the elements makes for entertaining reading and viewing. Being a Cat 4 with a day job . . . not so entertaining.

When I arrived I was less than pumped to race. Somehow my mind had blocked out the my previous Albany races and the furious pace at which they start. Either I blocked it out, or I'm an idiot. Probably the latter. Definitely the latter. Anyway, I skipped my warmup because the only place it was truly warm was in my car. 29-32 degrees for a 'cross race? You bet. For a road race? Wait what, I don't even like road racing.

Anyway, to lengthen the list of stupid things I did that day, I also wore a new pair of winter tights that I'd never worn before. Of all of the dumb things I did that day, this was the dumbest. Really dumb. Eating a Big Mac two minutes before the race would have been far less dumb. Poking Mike Tyson in the eye would have been less dumb. Poking Mike Tyson's wife while he was pulling into the driveway would have been less dumb.

So, the race starts and I immediately remember how hard these races are. I'm instantly aware of what a bad idea it was to skip a warm-up. Seven minutes in and the race goes hard, a dude crashes equally hard behind me, and 45 seconds later I'm off of the back. So much for a long winter on the trainer.

All isn't lost, I've been dropped before. I know what my future looks like. I'm doomed to ride with 8-10 other "dropped" riders for the rest of the race. No problem. Heck I'm an expert at that. I'll just try to ignore the guy screaming at everyone to pull. Ignore the fact that he keeps yelling which side we should rotate to. I'll ignore the jerk that dangles toward the back refusing to take a pull. I'll ignore the fact that this ain't 'cross! What is it that I can't ignore? Excellent question. If you're still reading, I'm glad you asked.

I like to think of myself as being pretty tough. I'm a little dude. Well, not little, but if I was standing next to Kate Moss, she wouldn't look unusually skinny. I spent my formative years lifting weights, consuming high calorie body building shakes, eating potato chips, bacon, and six packs of tacos from Taco Bell. I'm simply destined to be a scrawny dude. I don't exactly have a Napoleon complex, but I do tend of overcompensate, and being tougher than average and metabolizing pain is a point of pride.

When I watch a movie and some dude is being tortured, I like to think "I could take that." Well, that all changed for me in Albany. It's official, I can't hack it. Achilles had his Achilles, and I have mine. As it turns out, mine is . . . well, not my Achilles. How do I say this? It was my . . . tip of my junk? Weiner? Frank and beans? Hot dog? Johnson? I'm running out of euphemisms so I'll be blunt. Just after I completed the second lap, I started to notice that the cold in conjunction with my new tights had created what NASA described to Houston as "A Problem." The problem was that it felt as if someone was rubbing sandpaper on the tip of my . . . well I think I covered that already. Anyway, I tried to do some emergency rearranging. I started wondering if I had something in my jacket I could stuff down there to create a barrier. I started to wonder how long it would take to drive home if I turned around now. My first self induced DNF ever. It was then that I understood that I would never be able to keep our nations secrets to myself if I was tortured in that way. Waterboarding? Sounds like a ride at Disney! Cold weather, new kit and repeated scratching? I'll tell you everything I know. Heck if you need to see your target I'll drive. Pay for the gas? You bet.

Anyway, that's all I have to say about that. I've found my Achilles "insert euphemism here."

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Cyclocross, the Greatest Commute Ever

Bike commuters tend to use the phrase "You're not stuck in traffic, you are traffic. Ride a bike." Unfortunately for bicycle commuters, this post isn't going to be about commuting by bike. This is a blog about 'cross after all. It's no secret that I don't particularly enjoy road racing. I do it, but I do it for 'cross, or to be more specific to stay in shape for 'cross.

I've tried to enjoy road racing, but for the most part I can't do it. When it comes to 'cross I've always assumed that I preferred it for the obvious reasons. Some of the more obvious being the technique required, the camaraderie, the fact that I'm half decent at it, the "race within the race," and of course the mud the blood and the beer. Those are all indeed reasons that I love 'cross, but they still don't entirely explain why I love 'cross so much more than road racing.

I'm a first born. I would probably categorize myself as fairly Type A. I don't like being stuck behind people. In addition to inheriting my fathers rather sizable nose, I almost certainly inherited these traits from him. Well, I definitely inherited the nose, perhaps I learned the rest. In any event, I don't have time to explore the theories of nature vs. nurture, but this much I do know, my childhood was spent trying to "keep up"as my father weaved through people at the mall or darted through crowds looking for the quickest path when exiting a sporting event. As an adult I find myself looking for those same sweet lines.

I spend a fair amount of time in my car. Beyond the obvious commute to work, I spend time working around Boston, Long Island, and more glamorous places such as Buffalo and Albany. Given the time I spend in a car, I'm also no stranger to being stuck in traffic. 1st gear, 2nd gear, back to 1st gear, sweet I'm in 3rd gear, "come on man!" I'm back in 1st gear. There are also times I'm on the thruway and a driver feels compelled to hang out in the fast lane blocking traffic because  "I'm already going 68mph, and the speed limit is 65. It's my civic duty to slow everyone else down . . . and I need to check my makeup and text, so they can just wait." At some point one of two things happens. I get to my destination with angry looking creases on my forehead, or the road finally opens up and I ease into my comfort zone.

What I finally realized the other day is that for me, road racing is like a bad commute. My metaphorical VW TDI of an engine doesn't have the horsepower to break away, and I'm stuck with the rest of the commuters. "Slowing." "Yellow Line!!" "Bottle!" "Close that gap!" For me, road racing is the worst of both worlds. It's like being stuck in traffic during a commute, AND the drivers can actually communicate to each other verbally. At least in a car drivers are limited to using sign language from within the safety of a vehicle so you seldom have to actually listen to the other Cat 4 drivers yelling at you.

In a 'cross race there may be some argybargy in the first couple of laps, you might get taken to the tape, or you might even get yelled at, but at some point . . . at some sweet point, it becomes the best commute ever. The course opens in front of you and by and large you can travel as fast as your potential will carry you. Will people get in your way? Sure. Will you need to figure out how to pass people? Sure, but you'll almost never be stuck in traffic. The weekdays may leave you stuck in traffic but during 'cross season it's full gas. The perfect commute.

Will I stop road racing? Unlikely, it's still the best way for me to stay sharp for 'cross. Will I buy a Kawasaki Ninja for my commute? Highly unlikely, I survived doing that through my 20's and 30's and I'm not too keen on getting killed on my way to work or walking with a limp in perpetuity. I also don't need a ticket for going 168 mph. I know this for certain though, I will continue to love 'cross racing, the greatest commute ever.

Monday, February 4, 2013

When Sponsorship Leads to Entitlement

This post is going to be part rant and a little bit preachy. Maybe a lot preachy. I apologize in advance but these thoughts have been bouncing around in my head and an e-mail exchange with Drummroll today solidified them in my mind.

I've been very lucky to have some great team sponsors over the last six years. Six years ago Drummroll picked up the pieces of a team that had reached the brink of extinction. There were no sponsors and barely any racers. We were the Bad News Bears of cycling. His hard work, and more importantly our team's ability to provide actual value to the sponsors that he was able to secure, paved the way for the two great teams that I work with today.

Why do businesses sponsor amateur racers? I have news for you, it isn't for your results. They DO NOT care that you won the Cat 4 Binghamton Circuit race. They may be happy for you as an individual, but your victory will not sell a single piece of merchandise, widgets, hardware, software or other goods bought sold processed. They do not care that you dominated the local Wednesday Night Worlds, club ride, group ride, Strava segment, or time trial. They don't care if you are racing locally or in a land far far away. They don't care that you have the strongest group of regional Cat 3 racers, and they don't even care if you suck at racing for that matter. This isn't your day job, it's a hobby and a weird one at that.

It amazes me when a Cat 3/4 road racer thinks that they should get free equipment because they "race a lot." Until recently Jonathan Page was racing on frames with tape over the logos. If he doesn't have a bike sponsor, you don't get one either!

I'm currently racing for what would appear to be a fairly elite team. Are we elite? I guess it depends on your perspective. If you were to peruse the race results, I think you'd be hard pressed to convince anyone that we are particularly elite. My results certainly aren't "elite." Unless there's an elite category of mediocrity anyway. However, if you were to look at what we give back to our sponsors, I think an argument could be made that we are in fact bordering on elite.

I love to race my bike. Racing my bike is expensive. Buying clothing, bikes, and equipment is expensive. Race entries are expensive. Do I have the money to pay for these things? Yes. Do I want to part with all of that money? Not really. Would Mrs. Skinny be happy to see more money flying out the window? Definitely not. We have three mouths to feed, and although they are all dogs, they're still mouths. How can I offset at least some of these expenses? Sponsorship. How does one get a sponsor? You could race REALLY fast, but that's impractical for most of us. If you're a jerk, also take into account that you will need to race REALLY REALLY fast. So what is one to do if they have middling genetics but still want to find support for their hobby? Pay it back . . . or even better, pay it forward. Pay it forward meaning do good work and sponsors will ultimately find you.

I've told you what sponsors don't care about. Here's what I think they do care about. Note: some of these may seem obvious, but after witnessing all manner of bad behavior, I figure they are worth mentioning. Heck, there is a reason signs need to be posted in restaurant bathrooms telling employees to wash their hands.

Be friendly on group rides. Don't get into a fight at a race or on the road. Wave to other cyclists. If you can, even wave to triathletes. I know that's a hard one, but maybe they'll even wave back and in the process of removing an arm from their aero bars develop a little speed wobble, and that's always entertaining. Attend charity rides and be "normal." Normal meaning don't drop the hammer on the first climb. Be friendly and talk to the non-racers. If your sponsor gives you clothing, hats, etc. wear them out of the house. I realize that might mean that you need to be nice to people in the grocery store, but there's a price to pay for sponsorship! Volunteer at their events or at least attend them. Hold your own events. A clinic, race series, or bike rodeo perhaps. Be a customer of their products! Again, this sounds obvious, but if the kid at Taco Bell needs to be reminded to wash his hands after touching a toilet handle that has been touched by 1,000 other dudes who all touched their junk before flushing . . . well you get my point.

Special section:
If you are fortunate enough to be sponsored by a bike shop . . .

I recently spent some time with the owner of an out of town bike shop and he shared some thoughts regarding his sponsored racers. Your discount is a privilege. If the kid that rung up your $20 of gel packs forgets to give you your discount, let it go. Definitely don't ask the owner to give you a $2 credit at a later date! If your shop gives you discounted or accelerated service, don't abuse it. Give them plenty of lead time whenever possible. At the end of the day they are in business to service paying customers. Fixing your bike at a discounted rate one day before your event while you wait for it is pretty much two slaps in the face. Be a customer! Don't buy a bike off of the internet and then ask your shop to make tuning it up a priority. Also, just because you can save $5 on a pair of pedals on the internet, doesn't mean you should. Stand by your shop. You'll win some, you'll lose some, but you'll win more than you lose. Be a good partner.

I think that's pretty much the point of my ramblings. Be a good partner. If you're a good partner, you'll deserve some level of sponsorship and you'll get some level of sponsorship. Once you have it, don't take it for granted.

Wednesday, January 16, 2013

Structure is good

Forewarning:  This post might be boring, but I'll let you be the judge of that!  How's that for getting you excited to read?

I have had VERY little structure in my training the last couple of seasons.  After upgrading to a 2 in 'cross and then getting my head kicked in trying to race Elites, I may have lost some steam at a sub-conscious level.  Heck, it may have been at a conscious level.  Never underestimate your minds ability to protect you, or to at least try.

I think that a departure from structure was my minds way of making it ok to suck.  I did a lot of long rides, and was generally in decent shape, but my racing form was never quite there.  That was never more evident than during the entire 2012 road season.  Add to that the fact that Mrs. Skinny and I were trying to sell our house and then move and it was pretty much a recipe for disaster.

Late in the summer I remember vividly telling Tim O'Shea that my 'cross season would be fine.  Despite the fact that I'd be moving the first couple of weeks of racing season, I'd get it dialed in and wouldn't skip a beat.  Tim promptly told me I was nuts in only the way Tim can cut to the chase.  Fast forward to the first race of the season, and I was a mess.  Not only was I co-promoting the event, but I was moving the next week and was arguably in the worst shape I'd been in since 2007.

At that point I very seriously contemplated bailing on the whole season.  I love CX, but not when I'm gasping for air and way off the back.  CX will always involve suffering, but much like "naked," there's good suffering and bad suffering.  While riding with Tim we discussed two options.  Option A was to just let it go.  Give up a season and live to fight another year.  Option B was to admit that it was less than ideal, but to dial in the specificity with a laser focus and work on some late season success.  With a new "fixer upper" of a house and 92 acres of land to contend with, this needed to be a group decision and at the end of the day Mrs. Skinny suggested that I go with Option B.  With that said, I seriously considered Option A.

Despite having endorsed and promoted Pointway Performance, I had not been a client.  I'd seen my teammates and buddies get faster, but much like a drunk knows they should quit drinking but doesn't, I simply hadn't been ready to get right.

My first few workouts were terrible.  There's an art to suffering through a workout.  There's also an art to not blowing up after 7 minutes of a 20 minute interval.  My next bunch of races were terrible as well.  The only thing I had going for me was faith in a plan.  Suffering while training and getting your ass kicked in races isn't really suffering when it's a means to an end.  The end in this case was CX Nationals.

Fast forward, and the structure was starting to take hold.  Was it perfect?  No.  Were there distractions and set backs.  Yes.  Was I at 100% of my potential?  Not a chance, but we knew that going in.  During the late season local races, the form started coming together along with a decent result or two.  After that it was off to New Belgium to fill in the gap before Nats.  After getting my head kicked a few more times, it was time to work through the new year and head to Nats.  Long story longer, I started in the second to last row and finished 37th.  The USAC race predictor had me pegged for 61st place.  Only 60 people started, so I had a leg up on 61st from the get go.  Ironically had me predicted at 37th.  I'd like to think that had I lined up at 37th I'd have moved up a few spots, but no complaints, I'm very happy with the result.

What's the point of this blog?  I have no idea.  If I had to have a point, I guess it would be this:

1. Don't be afraid of structure.  It's really the only way to race well.
2. If you need structure, get a hold of Tim at Pointway Performance.  Having been on the receiving end of his coaching, I have a much greater appreciation for how he can help you to maximize your potential (even when life limits your potential . . . or especially when life limits your potential!)

If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

Sunday, January 13, 2013


Over the past year or so I've noticed a bit of a change.  Nothing earth shattering but more of a subtle creep that seemed to materialize in intensity for a few weeks and then kind of ebb or subside.   If I may, I enter the following into evidence: 

(1)  I have actually looked up and considered attending an alleycat;
(2)  I am starting to get the "Old Fat Cyclist" jersey;
(3)  I have looked into and considered doing a brevet,
(4)  I have spent way too much time looking and reading about steel frame building and the guys (or gals) who handcraft these. (I could also tell you about several options available for frame building classes.)
(5)  I see the commercial for the guys with "low T" and I think hmmm.....

After somewhat suppressing and ignoring the signs for months, formal recognition of my condition (or awakening) has recently occurred.  The trigger for my awakening was a chance visit I made to Cranx indoor bike park a few weeks ago.  I have now visited and rode there several times since and am now spending way too much time browsing BMX related web sites as I contemplate how to explain why I need yet another bike.   My brain is filled with 20", 24" 26" dirt jumper, cruiser, old school, new school, CrMo, Hi-ten, racing, Haro, Sunday Mirraco, 3 piece, double walled and so on. 

How did this happen or what the hell just happened? ... less than 10 yrs ago I was doing IronMan tris, then some CX, then some road racing and some MTBing .. and now .. it's sorta scary but I believe this evolution (or devolution perhaps) may be some sort or cycling mid-life crisis .... or as I am calling it, "male cycling menopause" or MCMp. I am still unsure if MCMp is treatable as this is all new to me.  Perhaps there are others of you out there with eyes wide open and nodding your heads right now .... if yes, I am here for you.   I will be facilitating a group session for MCMp in the near future (probably at Cranx) as soon as I'm done checking out and every other forum thread discussing the best bmx bike for a noob I can get my eyes on.