Boys' night

When your wife heads to a musical with her sister and mother, what's the best way to spend the night with your son? Ride around the neighborhood? Eat ice cream for supper and watch TV all night? Play outside until it's dark?

All fine choices, really. But, kind of on a whim, Jack and I headed to a baseball game instead. Behold, our view from the second row at Werner Park, the new home of the Omaha Storm Chasers (nee Omaha Royals).

While we were walking up to the park from the free parking lot ... which is way the hell out past deep left field, by the way ... a guy came up and said, "Hey, do you two have tickets yet?" If there's one thing I've learned after going to about a zillion baseball games, it's that you always say, "No, we don't have tickets." Because sometimes you end up in a really good situation — like in the second row for free.

But before we got to those seats, which were indeed great, Jack took advantage of the amenities common to most modern minor-league ballparks: the playground.

He hit the bouncy house, the bouncy obstacle course and the gigantic playground equipment. And then he picked up baseballs and chucked them toward a target. He used both hands at varying points, and to equal effectiveness. Still not sure if he's going to be a righty or lefty. He hits left-handed, but that's easy to teach. Throwing tends to be instinctual.

Finally, we got to our seats and watched the game. It was an interesting one — the Storm Chasers won 15-10. Lots of home runs, and if you ask Jack what home runs mean, you get this grin:

Fire. There are fire cannons in center field, and they light up when an Omaha player hits a home run. By the end of the night, Jack had his arms up screaming, "YES!!" when the fire started flying.

Oh, and we saw Shim, who was wearing sandals. His feet — like yours and mine, dear bike racer — are very white. I, for the record, was wearing argyle socks, like usual.

We got home pretty late, mostly because scoring 25 runs means the game isn't exactly going to be sprinting along. But Jack dutifully brushed his teeth, climbed into bed and probably fell asleep instantly.

It was a good night.

Bikey

For lack of a better word, this weekend — and I'm still in the weekend, by the way — has been a bit bikey.

• On Friday, I rode all day.
• On Saturday and Sunday, I worked all day. And on Sunday I rode to work, bought a new camera and lugged the thing home — all on two wheels.
• Monday, Chris and I rode a bit of pavement and a bit of gravel, then we cleaned the garage. Ostensibly, it was to create more storage space for the impending attack of kid No. 2, but really (from my perspective) it was to create more space for bikes. And after that, Jack and I headed to the shop to pick up a storage stand for the Madone.
  

And today, at some point here, I'm going to kit up and get a few hours in. After that, Jack wants to take off his training wheels. I'm not sure how long that's going to last, but he's pretty gung-ho about it, so I'll indulge him.

Chris is going to Wicked tonight with her mom and sister. I wonder if Jack and I will have any bike stories to tell?

A fine day

In years past, I celebrated my birthday by picking up a little something for myself from the bike shop — new socks or something like that — and getting on with the day. Because, really, it's just another day.

This year, though, I started planning well in advance. Things at the store this spring have been busier than in the past, and with various events being planned and executed — along with side projects — I'm feeling pretty worked over. Basically, I need a vacation in a bad, bad way.

So I started thinking about what I'd like to do on my birthday. Here's what I came up with: I just wanted to ride my bike all day. Get up, eat breakfast, jump on the bike. And whenever I get back is perfectly fine.

After taking Jack to daycare in the Burley, I kitted up and headed to Midtown to meet with EOB and KGil, who were ditching their various responsibilities in order to spend a day on the bike. Despite a splotchy radar, we got only a few random sprinkles the entire time.

Down through Bellevue, across the toll bridge and then down the Glenwood. Then back north on the west side of the bluff and up to Council Bluffs, then across the bridge and through town. It was a nice, long, steady burn.

With jobs and kids and other responsibilities, most of us don't have many days where the only task at hand is to get lost in whatever we're doing. And don't get me wrong — I love the family/job/responsibility thing.

But it was so nice to be able to worry only about turning the cranks. I needed a day like that.

Thanks to Eric and Kevin for joining me. I ended up with 93 miles (not counting the daycare/Burley trip) in just over 5 hours.

And thanks to Chris and Jack for putting up with me. And thanks to Chris' uncle, who didn't get bummed when I had three plates of BBQ at his house later that night.

And now, back to work.

They got me

For as long as I can remember (at least as long as I can remember while being a bike guy), people have been saying, "We have to get you out there on a 'cross bike." Out where, exactly? Same thing with mountain bikes. Why the need to "get people out there?"

Anyway, a 'cross bike is something I've been thinking about for quite some time. The problem was the lack of really compelling choices. Sure, there are lots of bikes out there, but not a ton that are really appealing to me. Trek XO-1? Nice bike, but I'd have to swap wheels at the very least. XO-2? Kind of expensive for an aluminum Rival bike, though still pretty nice. Ibis? It's becoming the official bike of Omaha CX.

But then there's this:

I first saw the Cronus CX at Trek World last August, and I remember thinking, "Hey, cool bike." But then I moved on to something else and didn't think much about it — mostly because they simply weren't going to be available anytime soon. Besides, I had Madones on the brain, anyway.

Well, the Cronus CX is available now. And it's AWESOME. It is, essentially, a Madone with better tire clearance. With the exception of the bar, which is probably a little wide, it's dialed in and feels exactly like my road bike.

The stock build is pretty much what I would have put on it — SRAM Force and Avid Shorty Ultimate brakes. The Bontrager Race Lite wheels are, if nothing else, good enough. I have a few tricks up my sleeve, anyway.

And that leads into the next question: Am I going to race this thing?

Yeah, probably. A few times, at least. More than likely, I'll be a fair-weather, local-race-only 'cross guy. Considering the impending arrival of Kid No. 2 (aka Baby Jack, which is different than Medium-Sized Jack), I probably won't have a ton of time to commit to a 'cross schedule. But I want to check it out. And with a bike like this in the garage, it would be silly not to give it a crack.

Now I just need those new shoes to get here ...

Racing the rain

Tuesdays are usually one of my days off, and as such I spend a good chunk of it on the bike in the eternal struggle to be fast. Also, I play a healthy amount of PlayStation.

Yesterday, though, found me at home with Jack, who's "sick." There are quotes there because he acts perfectly fine but is on an antibiotic. And that means no daycare. I still wanted to ride, though, and since it was a nice morning, we went.

We rode to a playground near Jack's daycare, which is just a couple of miles away. Every day he says we should ride bikes to the playground and stop for a while. So we did.


As you can see in the background, the clouds looked like rain. Armed with a little pocket radar via my Blackberry, I was trying to give Jack plenty of play time while keeping an eye on the sky. Also, we had to stop at Target on the way home.

The digger ... kids love this thing. Maybe it's pretending that they're at the helm of a backhoe or something, but Jack spent a lot of time wrestling with it.

When we finally loaded up, I was pretty sure we'd be getting wet on the way back from Target. Or, rather, I'd be getting wet — Jack has a rain cover on the Burley. But we made it to and from Target without precipitation. It was only when we sat down for lunch about 30 minutes later that it started raining.

And after that, Jack got to drift off to sleep with the sound of rain on the roof. I got my PlayStation time in, and by the way the game went, I probably should have taken a nap, too.

Back to business

For whatever reason, I finally started feeling really good on the bike last week. I've yet to figure out why, but something just clicked — both mentally and physically.

And that's good timing, really, since there were races coming up and all. Here's how it went down:

Saturday — Capital City Criterium
There's a certain boost of confidence you get when you roll to the starting line with five other teammates. It's an added bonus when we're all working on the same page. The goal was simple: win the race. And we had plenty of cards to play.

I felt pretty awesome from the start and whipped up the pace through the first two laps or so. After that came the typical flurry of little jumps and surges, mainly for the sake of making little jumps and surges.

A few other teams attacked, we covered it. A few of us floated off the front, dangled and were pulled back in. Halfway through the race, the field was still pretty much all together. With the teams present — Midwest Cycling Community, Team Kaos and Zealous (from Des Moines) — we knew a move that had riders from each team would stick.

When Brady rolled away seemingly easily after a flurry of attacks, I had a feeling that was going to be it. Two others jumped across, then Vaughn Pierce (Kaos) went, too. Using our numbers, we set a bit of a false tempo at the front and let it go.

As the gap grew and grew we just hung out near the front, pulling back any attempts to bridge and resting up for the last couple of laps. With about seven laps to go, we had four guys on the front just cruising. Surprisingly, nobody came around us for about two laps. It was pretty awesome knowing that the bunch had basically given up trying to pull the break back.

After that, we got our guys to the front so Ryan, Lucas and Matt could wind it up for the field sprint. And at the end of it all, Brady won the race, Ryan won the field sprint and Lucas was eighth. In between, we took both cash premes. I was 16th, I think. After directing Ryan to the front, I probably should have gone with him. Instead I started too far back to move up much in the sprint.

As a team, we rode pretty spot-on. Our various attacks — early and often — softened up the field and allowed Brady to get away with ease. It was awesome to finally be a part of such an effort, and even better to pull off the course together and celebrate. And that was pretty much the first time we rode together as a team.

Sunday — Pioneers Park Grand Prix
Hey, why not win another one?

After Saturday, we were aiming to sweep the weekend with another win on Sunday. All of us felt OK, but none of us had too much extra. As a team, we kept it pretty low-key through the first few laps, letting the others duke it out up front.

I felt pretty solid going up the hill, and felt like I could pick up a half-dozen places every time around. So when Jordan Ross of Team Kaos slipped away, I jumped with him and we were off ... for about a mile.

A lap or so later, Brady and Lucas slipped away, along with Kyle McClellan (Kaos) and a Zealous guy. There's the move, folks. A bit later, a second group of four slipped away in slow motion. At the top of the hill, a little gap formed and those guys kind of rolled off. Since I now had three teammates up ahead, I didn't do anything. Vaughn didn't either. We figured those who wanted to stay in the money — I'm looking at you, solo riders — would want to close down the gap.

Turns out, they didn't. And by the time I realized they wouldn't, it was a pretty inopportune time to get across: uphill with a headwind. Ugh.

The next time up the hill, I rode free and tried to bridge across, hoping that when my boys saw me coming, they'd slow down just a bit so I could join the lead group. Good theory, but I doubt the rest of the bunch would have let that fly. So I did a couple of solo laps in vain. And that really, really sucked.

When I finally sat up and rejoined the chase group, I had thoughts of winning the field sprint — for pride, if nothing else.

With two laps to go, Brian Jensen, the Pro/1/2 leader, was about to catch us. He passed us on the bottom and we saw him winning his race as we neared the top of the hill coming up to one lap left. The lap counter had zeroes all the way across. "I bet they're going to stop us here," I thought. I just heard John Lefler, the announcer, say, "This group is finishing right here," and I moved to the outside to try to grab the sprint.

I ended up 10th, but probably only because nobody else even twitched when Lefler said we were done. It made sense, though — why do another lap when we're so far behind? Nothing's going to change there. So I almost got 9th, probably missing it by an inch or two. Oh well.

And what of the first group? Lucas won, Matt was second, Brady was sixth. We win again. And it was awesome again, too.

In two weeks we line it up again, for both the Nebraska state road and crit championships in Norfolk. It's a big motivator for the next bit of training knowing you've got guys to work for. Hopefully one of these times I'll be able to take advantage of the team and get a result for myself, but right now I'm having a blast.

Good enough for me.

What does it mean? Beats me.

A few weeks ago, I wrote of the four stages of the Wednesday Night Worlds route. From the opening salvo to the halting of hostilities, being able to ace all of the sections means you're pretty much on top form.

Last night, I was close. Whether that means I'm on top form or not, I have no idea. Here's how it went down:

Section 1: 108th Street to 72nd Street
I've never really had problems on the first hill. For one, it's not that big. Second, the group is usually big enough that you can find a wheel and fly up the thing. Last night was no different, really.

Where I've struggled, though, is on Highway 36. That long grinder usually sees an attack halfway up, which shatters the bunch. My goal for the evening was to ride aggressively and jump on anything that threatened to break the group.

I was reasonably near the front when Shim and Kevin stood up to make a move. Feagan and I both jumped, grabbed their wheels and rolled. For the first time in a long time, I felt good and strong up that hill. Not too much stress, easily able to pull through on the top. Nice.

I didn't have much of a sprint up the last hill, but I usually don't, so ... pretty standard, there.

Section 2: 72nd Street to Omaha Trace Road
Most of the time, after that last little hill, we sit up for a minute or so to let the lead group get back together. Last night, we did not. Shim says we don't wait once the B group starts, but we did pretty much every week last summer. That would explain why everybody was asking why the first guys didn't at least sit up and wait.

I didn't really push it because I was expecting business as usual — a quick regroup and then the fireworks. Instead, it was full throttle the whole way through. In the end, regrouping probably didn't matter, since every little hill produced another attack, another surge. I'm not sure I would have been able to hold on anyway. Regardless, I felt strong and fast ... just a bit behind with a couple of others.

Section 3: Boyer Chute to the Ponca climb
For whatever reason, most of the WNW rules were tossed out last night. We rotated well in the group for the first half of Boyer Chute, but once we got into Ponca Hills, with the bluff to the right, the rotation turned into a bit of a mob. I sat on the right, expecting to cycle through to the front. Uh, nope. It was just a big, fast group — which is a lot more like a race than a rotating paceline anyway.

When we got to the first climb, I again played a more aggressive card and ... for some reason ... stood up and got things started. Regardless, it worked. I couldn't, however, match the next surge up the second climb. If nothing else, I was closer than I've been in a while.

Section 4: Ponca descent to Mormon Bridge
On a normal night, with optimal road conditions, I probably could have bridged back to the lead group on the descent. It's a fast, curvy drop but it's pretty easy. But because of road (and trail) construction on the hill, the surface is a bit sketchy. Also, there have been dump trucks on it lately.

Seems like a good idea to maybe ease up a bit, huh?

Once at the bottom, myself and a few others regrouped and almost pulled the lead group back. We lost them in the end, though. Again, I felt strong and comfortable and everything. It's been a long time.

Of course, I have no idea what that means in the grand scheme of things. It could mean that I've been resting a bit more or that I'm finally coming into some form. Or it could mean that I've been riding like a wussy this entire time and I had the form to begin with. Hard to say, really.

Regardless, I'm ready to roll for the weekend. Let's just keep the rain away, huh?

New guy

After we moved to Omaha almost seven years ago ... which seems like a lifetime ago, really ... my mom surveyed our barren backyard and said she'd buy us a tree once we figured out where to put it.

Well, we finally figured it out. In the meantime, we've ditched a playset, acquired a new one, chopped down a crabapple tree that looked nice but produced prodigious amounts of really stinky little apples and then moved that second playset about 15 feet.

Finally, we figured out where to put a tree.

Jack named it Wilson. Not in the Tom Hanks-on-an-island way, but because there's a train called Wilson on Chuggington. Yeah, I don't get it, either.

Omaha: Overdressed, overgeared

Hey Omaha,

How's it going? It's been great to see you out on the bike lately, but I have some concerns. I hope you don't mind.

First, let's talk about the weather. Winter is long gone, despite that bit of chill that was around last week. As such, you can probably ditch those full-length tights, the neoprene shoe covers and balaclava. While you're at it, that thermal base layer and lined windbreaker is probably a bit much, too.

When it boils down to it, anything above 50 degrees is too much for any one of those items, let alone all of those items. Yes, yes - I know. I dress lighter than most people. But you should dress to comfortable while riding, not while standing around before the ride rolls out.

And - let's be honest - it can't be too comfortable being swaddled in multiple layers of fleece, climbing a hill in the blazing sun - even if it's only 50 degrees.

Here's what you need: a windfront baselayer or a packable vest (or both!) and arm warmers. On the bottom, go with some knee warmers. Why not leg warmers? Because that six inches of exposed skin doesn't matter. Your knees are covered, right? Call it good.

It's borderline summertime. Stop dressing like it's going to snow tomorrow.

Thanks. See you on the road (or the Keystone, most likely).

bryan

PS: Your bike has (probably) 21 gears. Use more than the one that makes it look like your knees are going to explode. And for Christ's sake, lube your damn chain! Use 10W-30 if you have to.

Rise of the machines

Truth be told, I wanted to ditch cable/dish television a couple of years ago. There was this "internet content" thing firing up. Seemed interesting.

But, like most early adopters, I figured the headaches that would come out of the possibly premature switch would make it more of a pain than a bonus. I was probably right. So we waited.

As I wrote in January, our plan was heavily dependent upon Sony's PlayStation 3, a delightful little black box of gaming, streaming and ass-kicking power. TV, movies, baseball — it's all there. With the PlayStation Network on our side, how could we go wrong?

Oops.

(It should be noted that all of the services we use on PS3 are available through a web browser as well, which means our iMac-tethered downstairs TV had all of the content available, though with a little more work involved.)

It's amazing how quickly we came to depend upon the PS3 — especially for baseball. The season was three weeks old when the PSN was hacked, and both Chris and I went into a spiral of despair because we couldn't punch a couple of buttons and have the entire slate of games at our fingertips.

This is after we hadn't had access to that capability at any time during the previous 12 baseball seasons we've spent together.

So you can imagine my joy — elation, actually — when Sony turned on the network again on Saturday. And by Sunday night we were ready to log on again. Apparently, 50 million other people had the same idea — I couldn't log in.

But this morning, just after 7 a.m., that accursed "PlayStation Network is undergoing maintenance" message was nowhere to be found. Finally.

The Cubs are on at 6.

So ... there's this.

ETA: November 19. Probably gonna need a Cranksgiving deputy this time around.

Heat wave

Wasn't it just last week that I left for a Tuesday morning ride clad in arm warmers and a thin coat of embrocation? This time around, it was 82 at 9 a.m., with a forecast high in the mid-90s. Oof.

After meeting up with EOB, we headed north, hit a few hills and rolled toward Fort Calhoun. Last week, I was sung by a bee. This week, near the top of the Ponca Fire Department climb, I heard a "tss, tss, tss, tss" sound for a few seconds. I looked at both tires, saw nothing amiss and rolled on. Must have been a noisy bug or something.

When we got to Fort Calhoun for a bottle refill, I noticed this all over my seatstay and seatpost:

It was in liquid form when we saw it at first — this is what it looks like dry. Any guesses, anybody? Yeah, that would be Caffelatex, the sealant in my tubeless setup. That "tss, tss, tss, tss" was a cut, and it went away after the sealant did its thing.

We stopped a couple of times to put a little more air in it (yes, with a pump) and continued on our way. When I got home, it had about 50psi in it, which was plenty. Here's what it looked like at the end of it all:

I pulled off the excess rubber and topped it off with air. When I checked on it later, it was fine — no leakage or anything. Had I not seen the spray all over the place, I never would have noticed anything was wrong.

That was the first cut I've had on road tubeless — it took almost 5,000 miles on a couple of setups to do it. Not too shabby. I'll probably let all the air out today, add a bit more sealant and get on with it tonight ... assuming it's not raining later.

Six days

Deep breath ... readysetgo!

It's going to be a busy, busy, busy week in these parts. Somehow, I never remember that life in and around the shop is like this in May. It's the first bit of consistently good weather, and issues come out of the woodwork.

Today is the easy day — I merely have a conference call and organizational work for events later in the month.

Tomorrow is my day off, which will feature a ride, work on a freelance story and lining things up for Italian Night (which you should attend because it's going to be AWESOME).

Wednesday? A product clinic, more staffing/planning stuff and then Wednesday Night Worlds

Thursday is a day in the store, supper at home and back to the store for another product clinic.

Friday (the 13th) will be a long one. Mayor's ride in the morning (which includes rounding up bikes and helmets for the mayor and a couple of councilmen, I think), running around town procuring wine, a meat slicer and other essentials during the afternoon, then Italian Night.

Saturday ... still going ... Capo clinic, Capo ride, return the meat slicer, possibly work on the sales floor for a couple of hours ... and exhausted.

I'm gonna need coffee.

Expansion/contraction

Midway through my Tuesday ride with EOB, just south of Fort Calhoun, I felt the "THWAP" of a bug on my forehead and a pretty sharp sting.

We were passing Super Bee Orchards. Yes, really.

All of my research on bee stings let me know that it's best to get that stinger out, pronto. I had it out within five minutes, washed the area, put my helmet on and got rolling again. No problem, right?

The spot kept swelling on Wednesday — getting bigger as the day rolled on — and was threatening to keep me off the bike that night. Putting a helmet on was uncomfortable.

And then we got to Thursday morning:

I wore a hat all day. It was for the best.

Right now the swelling appears to be traveling down toward my eyebrow, which is probably going to result in a slightly closed eye by the end of the day. That'll be great.

My continuing research on the matter leads me to a conclusion that I've long held: Despite their value to the food chain and everything, bees are assholes.

Hot and cold

Within a few minutes of the ramping up of things last night, I was ready to pack it in and head home.

"I don't need this crap," was the thought running through my head. It could have been because we were doing 30 before we even hit the hill, or because I felt like hell from working all day. Who knows, really?

But whatever little bit of hop, jump or sizzle is required to fly up that stupid hill and stay with the lead group is, I didn't have it. And, honestly, I didn't care.

I stayed in the second bunch and merged with another and fought the cross-headwinds on Highway 36. Then we fired it all up again with a tailwind on Omaha Trace Road. And again, I just didn't have it. I sat up, rode with Ryan Atkinson for a bit and then we chased onto another group. (And we both went for the sprint pretty much immediately after bridging on.)

In case you hadn't noticed, the wind yesterday was pretty stupid. South-southeast, about 900 mph, like normal. And so we headed into Boyer Chute. No matter how crappy I felt (and that's the thing — I just felt slow, not crappy), I knew it would be worse if I fell out of the rotation. And I knew it would be horrible getting gapped on the corners.

So I stayed as tight as a could, took my pulls and made it to the base of the Ponca climb ... where the group rode away from me. Actually, it didn't really get away until the second half, when it went up and over the top pretty hard.

So of the four sections of the ride — the first shots, Omaha Trace, Boyer Chute and the hill/flat by the river — I aced one of them.

The rest? Ugh. Some days I can't tell if I'm a reasonably fast guy who likes to ride a lot or just a slow racer. Depending upon when you would have asked last night, I might have answered either way.

Last time around

In the waning miles of yesterday's ride — a nice couple of hours with EOB, by the way — I started thinking ahead to tonight's Wednesday Night Worlds ride.

"Gonna be tough," I thought. "Supposed to be pretty windy from the southeast. Gonna have to keep the gaps closed down in the crosswinds."

On most Wednesdays for the better part of a year or more, I've headed to WNW, gotten my ass kicked and headed home. After some rides I'm more satisfied with the outcome than I was with previous weeks, but mostly it's just an ass-kicking.

And after thinking about the wind and the group and what awaits, I started thinking about the last time I was actually good at this — actually good at racing. As in, going into a race (or even a ride) at 100 percent with very specific goals and knowing that if I just execute the plan, things are going to end well.

It's been a while. More than two years, I think. Last year was a bust, and my lone top-five place was luck and a gift more than anything else. I just happened to be there at the right time. And the crit the next day? I was hanging on for dear life, with no hope of actually doing anything.

I only raced once more after that, at least locally. I got caught out at the gran fondo in August and had to chase for a long time. Then came the wet, winding, sketchy downhills — and if that doesn't make you feel like a sub-par racer, nothing will. I finished by myself, behind the guys I should have been riding with and ahead of everybody else.

If I had to nail it down, the last race I felt truly, fully prepared for was that Tractor Test Loop race in Lincoln — more than two years ago now. Everything felt easy that day. The next day I crashed out.

And the last time I felt fast, in general? There was a Wednesday-night ride at Bike Masters the week before the Norfolk Classic in 2009. Pretty much everybody from Team Kaos was there — Marco was back in town, and so was Ian Gray. Spence, Brackenbury, Vaughn (he wasn't on Kaos yet) ... it was a huge group. We went farther north that night than normal — farther by a few miles, even. We knew that with the coming tailwind, we'd be absolutely ripping on the way back.

After we turned around, the pace just kept getting higher and higher. There's a little hill just north of Elk City where everybody knew things would blow up. It has a long downhill from the north, making the uphill just a quick little kicker. I moved toward the front and when Ian stood up, I went along with him.

I got to the top on his wheel and Spence came around, followed by Vaughn. And I was the last guy — we were clear of the group. On the next kicker, Vaughn fell off. And then it was Spence, Ian and me. A mile or two later I was at my limit, but I stayed in after the other two told me to sit in for a turn or two. I recovered and started feeling good again.

Short of that little bobble (the "I'm going to die on Spence's wheel" moment), I felt faster than I've ever been since.

Two weeks later I broke my back. And almost two years later, here I sit.

I wonder if I'll ever feel that way again? I wonder if all of this work I've done will pay off with a race that feels effortless? Well, not effortless, but one that's stress-free. One that comes with knowing you have the legs and lungs to make it happen.

At this point, I'd settle even for a Wednesday Night Worlds session that doesn't include me watching the group roll away.

Maybe it's tonight? (Or maybe it's not.)

Saturday

For the better part of my adult life, I've worked on Saturdays.

First it was on the sports section of the Waterloo/Cedar Falls Courier. Then it was the World-Herald. And then, for about nine months or so, I didn't have to work on Saturdays anymore — I was a reporter.

That was strange. Two full days off? In a row? Crazy.

We all know what happened next, and I've been back on Saturdays again for two years now. Running the store, I feel like I need to be there on Saturdays — it's the busiest day of the week, with the highest traffic count, the best opportunity to bring in the dollars, etc.

But after Chris (Wolff) left and headed into the mountains, someone needed to work on Sundays. Because of various scheduling issues, that somebody is me.

And I do not like it.

It's not about working on Sunday — that's not a big deal. And it's not like I don't want to be home with Chris and Jack on Saturday. But I spent all day Saturday wondering how things were going at the store. Were they taking care of everybody? Were we missing any opportunities? Would we do better if I was there?

This is fairly needless worrying. I have an excellent staff, and we hit all of the numbers we needed to hit. But after being programmed to enter Saturday ready to take care of business ... wow, it's a big change.

That said, I got a good ride in Saturday morning, got stuff done around the house and managed — over the course of the weekend — to not take my car out of the garage. Not bad, really.

And now, back to the week. We're finally heading for nice weather — and by nice I mean we won't have to pack a vest or arm warmers in our pockets. See? Nice.