At altitude

First rule of altitude tent: No farting
Second rule of altitude tent: NO FARTING.
Third rule: If someone taps out or goes limp, you must wake yourself up and get out before you suffocate.
Fourth rule: Only one person in the altitude tent at any time.  Unless you get really lucky and somehow get an “OK, sure” to the question: “So hey, you want to get out of here and go back to my place…to my altitude tent?”  She’s out there somewhere.  Just probably not sane.
Fifth rule: One gasping breath at a time.
Sixth rule: No shirts, no shoes.
Seventh rule: Altitude sessions will go on as long as they have to.
Eighth rule: If this is your first night in the altitude tent, you HAVE to fart.

Photo 38

The end is near for Kennettron 5000

Top searches for the blog today were :  seabiscuit,  zorro,  fabian cancellara,  snot,  chicken eating baby.

Speaking of chickens, I’m going to build a chicken coup for our backyard and supply said coup with baby chickens that I will one day enjoy eating.  Amazing that somebody in the past knew that the future me was going to write that last sentence and use those key words “chicken”  “eating” and “baby.”  Strange. There could be a number of different reasons why that person typed those words in that order into a search engine, crossed their fingers, and hit “I’m feeling lucky.”  I’ve never been brave enough to hit that button.  But this person(s) did, and for some reason ended up here.  I personally would have suggested You Tube for that kind of search, but maybe they were a bit more distinguished than I, preferring to read about a baby being devoured by a ravenous chicken instead of seeing it.  Because with reading, you get to make up the scenes in your head, as opposed to TV or you tube, where you’re stuck with reality or whatever someone thought reality should look like.  Yes, the mystery person must be one of those highbrows who listen to NPR  and read the newspaper, creating beautiful mind images of babies being torn tiny limb from tiny limb as a pack of screeching, clucking chickens kick and stab with their beaks at their squirming meal, all trying to get a piece of the action as this bloody tornado of furry, flying feathers, and infant intestine, blows through someone’s backyard.

I’ve decided to quit writing in this blog because it is inappropriate–not me, the content.  I have plenty of normal, nice thoughts, but when I start writing on this site, they turn sour.  And it looks very un-pro.  So with that said, this may be my last entry.  This was my idea and was not suggested by anyone else.  I’ll start another blog, but I warn you: it will be much dryer and more boring.  I’ve had to hold back on this blog as it is, so writing even dryer will be tough.  But it has to be done.  The next blog will be about racing and training only.  There will be no crap talking or anything negative, because that only gets me in trouble (even though I’m just about always being sarcastic but not everyone gets that and feelings get hurt and/or I look like a jerk).  All the good stuff will have to wait until my book comes out–which will have to wait until I write one. Here are a few names for the new blog that I’m thinking about:

Kennett Peterson’s Blog
A blog about Kennett Peterson
Kennett Peterson
Kennett Peterson’s Racing Blog
Kennett Peterson’s Racist Blog
Kennett Peterson’s Racing and Training Blog

They are all pretty neutral. Not sure which one I like best, though.

Other news: the core logging is going well. I’d say I’m about 1/4th of the way done. Maybe more like one third actually. I should be done before December.

My biggest news is that I’ll be riding for Hagen’s Berman next year, one of the best elite amateur teams in the country. I’m very happy to be on it and we’ll be doing quite a bit of national racing. A Boo yeah is in order: BOO YEAH!

I saw the dentist last week and they told me to start flossing, like they always do every time I see them. I can’t remember if I wrote about this in the last post, but I will again because I already started. Anyways, they told me to start flossing, but it’s already been a week and I haven’t started yet. I told myself I was going to wait a few days to let my gums recover from all the bleeding they did when I got my teeth cleaned, because it was definitely a hard workout for them and they needed a rest afterwards. I took a sugary recovery drink to heel ’em up quick, but rest is the best. But like I said, it’s been a week and I’m not sure I have the motivation to start anymore. They gave me a thing of floss at the dentist’s office, but each time I go to grab for it in the bathroom drawer it’s not there. I left it in my room. It’s not lost or anything, but when I’m in the bathroom making an effort to floss by looking in the drawer for the floss thing, that’s already a good effort. I don’t want to have to walk all the way to my room and grab it, that’s asking too much. And I keep forgetting to put it in the bathroom when I walk by it. I guess I’m being a little lazy, but flossing is kind of a lot for my teeth and gums to be asking of my anyways. Back in the day, cavepeople didn’t brush their teeth or floss and they were fine. I brush my teeth twice a day and take a sugar recovery drink for my gums afterwards every time too. In my opinion, that should be enough. If my gums bleed at the dentist, then that’s their own problem and they should deal with it by either toughening up or learning to live with a little blood like the rest of us:

Estimated 1.3 million deaths.

“Over one million Iraqis have met violent deaths as a result of the 2003 invasion, according to a study conducted by the prestigious British polling group, Opinion Research Business (ORB). These numbers suggest that the invasion and occupation of Iraq rivals the mass killings of the last century -the human toll exceeds the 800,000 to 900,000 believed killed in the Rwandan genocide in 1994, and is approaching the number (1.7 million) who died in Cambodia’s infamous “Killing Fields” during the Khmer Rouge era of the 1970s.”

“Even with the lower confirmed figures, by the end of 2006, an average of 5,000 Iraqis had been killed every month by US forces since the beginning of the occupation. However, the rate of fatalities in 2006 was twice as high as the overall average, meaning that the American average in 2006 was well over 10,000 per month, or over 300 Iraqis every day. With the surge that began in 2007, the current figure is likely even higher.”

“for the first four years of the occupation the American military sent over 1,000 patrols each day into hostile neighborhoods, looking to capture or kill “insurgents” and “terrorists.” (Since February 2007, the number has increased to nearly 5,000 patrols a day, if we include the Iraqi troops participating in the American surge.) Each patrol invades an average of thirty Iraqi homes a day, with the mission to interrogate, arrest, or kill suspects. In this context, any fighting age man is not just a suspect, but a potentially lethal adversary. Our soldiers are told not to take any chances.”

“these patrols currently result in just under 3,000 firefights every month, or just under an average of one hundred per day (not counting the additional twenty-five or so involving our Iraqi allies). Thousands of patrols result in thousands of innocent Iraqi deaths and unconscionably brutal detentions.”

“Iraqis’ attempts to escape the violence have resulted in a refugee crisis of mammoth proportion. According to the United Nations Refugee Agency and the International Organization for Migration, in 2007 almost 5 million Iraqis had been displaced by violence in their country, the vast majority of which had fled since 2003”

“Iraq’s refugees, increasing by an average of almost 100,000 every month, have no legal work options in most host states and provinces and are increasingly desperate.”

“Maki al-Nazzal and Dahr Jamail quote an Iraqi engineer now working at a restaurant in Damascus, ‘Return to Iraq? There is no Iraq to return to, my friend. Iraq only exists in our dreams and memories.’ ”

“Another refugee from Baghdad said, “I took my family back home in January. The first night we arrived, Americans raided our house and kept us all in one room while their snipers used our rooftop to shoot at people. I decided to come back here [Damascus] the next morning after a horrifying night that we will never forget.’ ”

Read the whole thing here.

JFK video worth watching. I promise it’s not Rick Astley.

Oh, I just checked and there were three people that searched for “chicken eating baby.”

Present (well, past now) and future things (still future)

The coring ended on Monday and me and  Kendra (the head archaeologist) will continue core logging like we were the week before last week.  But it only lasts until Friday.  It isn’t certain yet, but I’ll either be helping her on a separate dig project (also for the Columbia River Crossing) or I’ll be starting up another series of drilling on the Warshington side.  With all this work, and living at home, I have already saved up for something pretty cool that I’ll show you when it arrives.  Plus I’ll actually have a little money to live on and to travel to races next year.


I’m waiting to hear back from some teams for 2010.  I should know the final decisions by the end of the week. I’m pretty damn excited. I think my chances are good.  I’m trying not to get my hopes up, but I have anyways. Although if none of that works out, it sounds like Team Oregon will be a good alternative, with a lot more funding than last year and a small squad going to a number of NRC races throughout the year. Either way, I’m going to win an NRC race.

As far as training is going, I’ve been commuting and doing some rides on the weekends as well as ramping up the gym workouts.  Lots of core, some squats (up to 185 today Eli), a little plyometrics and a lot of stretching to build up those nerve connections.  A new aspect of recovery I’ve been incorporating is the foam roller.  My plan is to get in the habit of using it after every ride/workout.  The YMCA has three big black foam rollers that no one ever uses except for me.  They wouldn’t miss one if it snuck out the door somehow.

“Oh don’t mind me. I’m just really excited to be finished with a good hard lifting sesh,” I’ll say as I walk out the gym with a raging ‘roller’ hidden in my shorts.

Next week is the beginning of on-the-bike strength training; I’ll start base in November, and head down to Tucson at the beginning of December. I can already tell that I’ll be starting off this season much stronger than I did last season. The rest I’ve had so far has been good–a little over three weeks off in August, some more racing and long rides through most of September, and a few weeks of light riding and lifting up until now and the next week or two. I think I’ll be starting off the year with my threshold 15 or 20 watts higher than I started last year. If I can raise it another 20…look the f out.  The key to 2010 for me will be staying healthy. Just about every two months, I’d get sick and have to take time off the bike and then slowly start back up again, finally getting fast for a month before getting another damn cold. Quinn suggested I take “sick” days instead of rest days. With the idea of calling it a sick day because I’ll treat it just like I would if I was getting sick–not doing anything except eating and resting. Rest days, which can and do include riding up to an hour, can easily turn into 1 and a half hours, which can turn into 2 hours, which can turn into a three hour ride, which can turn into five hour including intervals up Mt. Lemon. Not that I normally did this, but I guess on occasion (before I was being coached by Jeannette this spring) it did happen. Also, I will be taking sick ‘weeks’ as well. My rest weeks this year were pitiful, sometimes including multiple races and interval days. Stupid of me. It won’t happen next year. I’m going to take real rest weeks and if I do get sick, I’m going to pull the plug on any current training or racing plans and spend a whole week getting better instead of continuing to ride and race, which always ends up making me sick for a month. In the future if you read that I’m getting a cold sometime this next season, please remind me of what I just wrote.

I’ve noticed that the end of the race season and beginning of the next year is when people start talking about how they’re going to change and improve for next season. “Dude, next year I’m gonna drop another 6 pounds and increase my threshold by 17 watts. That’ll put me way up there at intermediate domestic pro, man. I’ll be flying so efing fast…next year.” I think most people get this mentality as their past season comes to an end with results that never happened, a list of DNF’s larger than planned for, and goal wattage numbers that their power meters never saw. I always set my goals ridiculously high, which I think is a good thing. But it does mean that I’m always a year or two off of when they actually happen. I think a lot of us are like that, and for those that aren’t, you should try it. It’s impossible to face an impossible situation if you think it’s impossible, but not if you don’t. Anyways, this time of year is exciting if you have big plans for 2010. For cyclists, the end of September is like New Years is for everyone else. Didn’t succeed in last year’s racing resolutions? Don’t worry, it’s October and time for the smack talk to begin. I don’t know about you, but I’m planning again on a 60 watt threshold improvement for ‘o ten. Seriously.

Got spat on today

While riding to Vancouver to “the facility” where I cut open cores and stuff, I got spat on by a homeless woman. She was walking towards me on the sidewalk as I rode in the street. I usually give a half smile to the homeless if they make eye contact with me while riding, because I feel sympathetic towards them. Not hugely sympathetic, like giving them change or anything, but sympathetic enough to give them a half-smile. I give quarter smiles to other pedestrians I make eye contact with while riding, because I can relate to them being outside on the streets with me, but I don’t feel bad for them. So they only get quarter smiles at most. A lot of the time, if I’m not in a good mood, they get a grimace–just because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. Anyways, like I was saying, I was riding up to Vancouver to cut up some cores. Actually I was already in Vancouver, which always seems to be under a rain cloud. Portland could be sunny and dry, but if you’re in Vancouver, it’s most likely raining or about to start. But on the bright side, Vancouver is much smaller than Portland, but practically touching, which makes for a short commute without having to live in a big city. I think a lot of people like this idea, but don’t end up doing it, as you can see because Vancouver doesn’t have that many people in it. If everyone had this idea then carried it out, Vancouver would be large and therefore wouldn’t work for that little city short commute plan. And then if it was big, that would mean that no one would have had that plan in the first place, and no one would have moved there. But then that would mean it was small, and would work for the little city short commute plan. But then people would move there and make it big again. The cycle is never ending…Basically the logic becomes illogical if a large number of people did the little city big commute plan, so very few people do it. Instead, they live in suburbs 15 miles away and drive 45 minutes to work each way.

So back on topic, I was riding my bike last week and I felt like doing some big rides on the weekend. I know it’s a little early to start base, but that’s not what I was planning on doing. Nothing wrong with doing a little riding on the weekend to stay in shape and focused. Later in the week, I did a 3.5 hour ride on Friday and a 3 hour ride the following day–both shorter than I had wanted because my legs were super sore and aching from lifting for the first time on Thursday. DOMS always gets me even if I lift light the first couple times. I could lift the bar only and my legs would still be sore the next day.

But I still did want to go big on Sunday. But I didn’t. But, I did just start three sentences in a row with the word “but.” That’s way too many times. Quinn, Jim, Gavin, and I went to Lost Lake out by Hood River instead. I had tried to convince Quinn to ride to the top of Mount Saint Hellens with me on Sunday, which is something like 150 miles or more, but he thought it would be a better idea to go free diving in a lake instead.

Quinn used to do a little competitive free diving back when he was living in Hawaii, and built up to over 100 feet. And I have been diving a bunch, especially this year, so we were set on going big in a different way.

All four of us drove up there and Quinn, Jim, and I got in the water with wet suits, masks, weight belts, and fins. Cool things we found were: a sunken boat, lots of beer and soda cans, newts, fishing lures, and…..CRAWDADS. BOO YEAH we found lots of them. After going down below 25 or 30 feet a couple times, Quinn and I decided to stick to shallower water instead, because at that depth the water dropped to slightly above freezing, plus there wasn’t anything to see down there anyways except mud.

Sticking closer to the shore lead us to collecting almost 100 crawdads. The rest of that day was spent talking with southern accents, as well as the next night when we made a huge pot of Jumbalaya/gumbo–not sure which name to call it by, but I think Gumbo is the correct one.


Shucking the poor guys.


The carcasses.


Now this heaaahhh crawooodady dun had himself a heck of a hard taahhm, I do reckin. But the looks of him do give me a heavy hankerin for some bug gumbo ifn’ I evaahhh did haveaahhh one.

As I passed the homeless woman, she stopped walking, glared at me and spat as I passed. I think it was a direct hit. I was shocked. To her, does this mean I’m the man? I was still wondering why she was so pissed off at me as I got to the facility a few minutes later and got off my something thousand dollar bike and inspected my something hundred dollar rain cape. No spit on it. Luckily I was in Vancouver and it had been raining.