What's up, Sucka?

This will show the post-race photo of the Mount Diablo Challenge. Did the Mofo in 1:09.36. Hit my limit over and over. Could not have done it faster.


The winner did the 10.4-mile base-to-summit trek in 43 minutes. That's 14.5 mph! Uphill!!!!?? Don't think I hit 14.5 mph once. Damn.

A hellish ride

Another horizon photo from on high. This is from the summit of the 3,849-foot Mount Diablo that looms above the basin just east of the East Bay. ROAD MY F-IN' BIKE TO THE TOP FROM THE VALLEY BELOW.

And in the process realized that I'm maybe not a road-biker. Been doing it for several months and getting pre-proud I think. This was a test-run for the Mount Diablo Challenge on Oct. 2, where you have to do the 11.2-mile course from the base to the summit in an hour or less to get a T-shirt. That's AVERAGING 11.2 MPH UPHILL. I think it's impossible. I busted my a$$ today and did it in 1:15. There's no way I'm shaving off 15 minutes in three weeks, 'specially after eating some post-grueling-ride organic vanilla locally-made ice cream. The bomb. Anyhow, it will be humiliating to see people do the climb in an hour on Oct. 2 while I go dizzy, cross-eyed just trying to finish.

Mount Diablo is a scrubby, sunburned place. Don't know why it's a destination. The shaved mountain in the bottom-right of the photo above is a mine operation of diabase. Diabase is used, apparently, in roadbeds and concrete house foundations. Now you know.

Mount Diablo Challenge challenge

A byproduct of pain.

Doing the Mount Diablo Challenge on Oct. 2 and training for it. If you do the 11.2-, 3,000-plus-foot climb in less than an hour you get a T-shirt. I want that f@#%in' shirt.

The above photo was from today's ride on the Berkeley Hills' ridgeline. Grizzly Peak Rd. runs along its length. On the 18-mile ride I averaged 13.8 mph, but monitoring the uphill sections I don't know how averaging 11.2 mph UPhill for ONE hour straight is going to happen. That's fast, that's tough. If I had to guess, I'm averaging about 8 mph uphill, and I'm moving. My quads are burning and my left lower back is twitching. So, eff you Mount Diablo. Doing a dry run on the course on Sunday to even see if it's possible. Very curious.

Fading America and Basketball in San Francisco

The New Yorker's 9/11 edition was surprisingly macabre and navel-gazing. Maybe the naval-gazing wasn't so surprising; 9/11's tenth anniversary called for us to take stock. Is America in decline? In the bittersweet, twilight-filled "Coming Apart," George Packer recounts most of what reasonable Americans found so frustrating and painful in the last 10 years. The reasoning for the Iraq War was a complete joke. I remember, I was a student at St. Edward's University in Austin, Texas, then. The buildup to the Iraq War was mystifying to me. The whole thing felt trumped up, a complete reach, absurd. I thought the whole city of Austin would shut down with people pouring into the streets when America first invaded. I walked downtown to just be with the other mesmerized shellshocked masses and as I arrived, I sunk into a daze. Traffic was moving normally, life was going on as normal. I was heartbroken, sad, and something deep welled up that dealt with an understanding of what America was/is. It's still sad now.

Today I BART-ed into SF to play some outdoor basketball on the courts between Fell and Grove just west of Golden Gate Park. It's always nice to be in the city. And it's pretty sweet to not lose any of the two-on-two games, or games of 21. One other guy was pretty good. So there.


Post-bball view on top of Lombard Street, Alcatraz Island peaking through in the Bay. Touristic!

Horizons and a bridge

Went north last week, which means north on HWY 101. The drive was in an SUV, which gave a remarkably different view than compared to the low-to-the-ground vehicles I usually drive up in. One of the most iconic parts of the drive up is the bridge seen from HWY 101 just south of Leggett. Check it out:



Also went to Harbin Hot Springs, just northeast of Napa Valley. On both drives, I made the transition from city to country; the transition crosses a fine, diffuse line, but you know you're in the country when you're there. At Middletown, just outside of Harbin Hot Springs, we pulled up to the town's grocery store and two country characters, youngish, standing by a truck, stood outside. We were in the country.


Harbin is tucked into the dead-end of a valley, encircled on all sides by mountain. And it's a bunch of crazies; enter the "spiritual" realm. People semi-had sex, made out in the luke-warm pool; the hot and cold pools were pretty much solo endeavors.



Mt. Tam is a lot closer to home and quite mysterious.

Oakland's Dirty Islands

Oakland's Lake Merritt and its dirty islands, its beautiful Bay-edged skyline.

What I've been up to: Stuck on another project, plus full-time writing and advertising managing for the Berkeley Times. Let ... Me ... Tell ... You ... About ... City ... Council. Mind-blowing.

At the beginning of a recent City Council meeting where, like all meetings, five public speakers were chosen at random and spoke to anything under the sun, Marcus Gerard Robinson honored himself as co-founder of Teach For America. Competent and well-spoken, though a little loony, Robinson inspired councilmembers to look this way and that with slight, knowing smiles. Noone commented on Robinson's comments. He honored himself and then left the building. I, for one, believe him.

City Council crazies lining up to talk.

Yosemite entré.

Rachel, wearing my backpack, contemplates the Mt. Tam rainforest trail, pissed that we're not power walking.

Walks in Yosemite and Mt. Tam. Went hiking with my Stanford-bound (her new ID) sister a couple of Saturdays ago; will never live down the slow start - three breakfasts. Mt. Tam is far from the East Bay! And, oven-fresh scones and poor coffee at the inn overlooking the Bay at the crossroads between Muir Woods and the sprawling mountain was just too good to not linger for an hour. If you want a workout, hit the Stair Master!

Working for a startup, a startup newspaper at that, is a challenge. The background to my published stories are endless. My own blog site will happen, but in the meantime, I will write all the stories I should be writing in the paper here. It's tough to not write (do anything) the way you feel necessary, but it's the nature of our mercenary American lifestyles. My soul for an HD TV, the weekend, cappuccino, a beer every now and then, sex, basketball. A good trade? Ha!

The lonely lightbulb of the soul.

Walked into the newspaper office today. The layout computer, the office fish, Berkeley, and the potted poppies all died this week. Damn.

Went balling at Mosswood Regional Park, the home of Gary Payton and others, in Oakland on Wednesday. Had a shorter version of LeBron James on my team. Nobody could stop him. Had few basketball skills but was somewhat coordinated and was massively strong. I'd get a defensive rebound and then just throw it the length of the court without looking to where he was sprinting (he never rebounded after the first game and ran straight for our hoop on any shot by the other team). He caught the ball each time. No matter who was one him, even three guys. Was amazing. We lost the last game, though, when this chunky, big-body dude with dreds kept hitting threes and LeBron refused to go beyond the three-point line on either side of the court. Wish I had a photo.

Playing in the Oakland YMCA men's basketball league. Was 10 for 25 shooting last game. 25 shots! Embarrassing with a capital E. I know how Kobe must feel now - horrible.

Photographer friend Karin on the draw.

New site

See the new site for the blog: tamalpais.paulhagey.com.

It's being smoothed out, but it's the new spot.

And the posts will keep coming.

Peace.

Paul