Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Where you been?

It's been a while since I wandered around here. Turns out I came home from Breck, got sick, had to travel, stayed sick, and spend 3 weeks off the bike. That zapped some enthusiasm.

Feeling better now.

But then I see stuff like this:

Thursday, July 9, 2009

Breck Day 5 -- Wheeler Trail

Today wasn't our day. I also learned that the race organizer is a sadist. I generally don't mind hike-a-bike sections, but after 45 minutes of walking, I'd had enough. At one point, I looked at my computer, which reads to the tenth of an MPH, and it was showing 0.0. I swear I was moving, but maybe not.

And then after finishing the final hike-a-bike, and having the 50mph wind almost blow me back down the mountain, I managed to ride for about 10 seconds before going over the bars and smashing the hell out of my head and lower legs. My right shin now looks like it has a golf ball stuck between the skin and bone. That didn't really set me up well for the next 2,500 feet of descending. There was a silver lining: the guy with the helmet cam was behind me and thinks he got my crash.

But the day wasn't all bad. I think I managed to have fun a few times. I rode with Allison Dunlap for a while and asked her what it was like to stay with the Reddingtons. She was too nice to be honest I think. And my legs felt surprisingly good at the end of the race on the final singletrack, which was pretty fun. And most importantly, I got yelled at by a lady on the bike path for not calling out "on your left." I wanted to stop and tell her that at more than double her speed into a headwind, she wouldn't have heard me anyway, and besides, I was 8 feet away from her. But I didn't.

Our start and finish photos. You might notice we look a bit happier at the start. You can also see some of the blood on my leg from my short flight.



Wednesday, July 8, 2009

Breck Day 4 -- Around Mt. Guyot

It's a bit hard to describe today's stage. First things first though, I suppose: we won! We finally broke the 2nd place trend, and in the correct direction. We gained almost 7 minutes and now sit 2:19 back in the overall.

The stage started by climbing some of yesterday's final descent. It wasn't consistent climbing, but it still hurt. Lots of short, steep, rocky climbs until we finally hit the top of the first obstacle. But that was nothing compared to what was waiting for us. After some fast contouring on very narrow single track, we hit an extremely fast, extremely rocky descent. At the bottom we saw the race leaders at the side fixing another flat. A quick stop in the aid station, and we started up.

I don't know why, but I absolutely loved this climb. It started out gradually, but then got increasingly steeper as we passed through the forest and broke out above tree line. As we looked up, we could see a steep pitch with about 10 guys walking. We walked for about 5 minutes before we saw the real top of the climb. I was able to ride for a bit, but then it was off and walking again. I don't know how long we walked, maybe 15 or 20 minutes, but it was actually enjoyable, at least relatively so. It was just so crazy beautiful up there. I got to the top a bit before Ryan and was able to look around a bit. The view from 12,000 feet is impressive. I couldn't see our race leaders down the mountain, so I figured we had at least 5 minutes on them.

Ryan got to the top and we headed down. Well, we did eventually. First we had to cross a snow field. The guy in front of me tried to ride it, and ended up sliding on his stomach for about 50 meters before stopping just before the bottom. I ran down it before sliding the last 20 meters on both feet realizing that I either had to pull off my best 'cross remount ever, or I'd be bouncing around the rocks for a while. I don't remember what I did, but I rolled out of it.

Then we had 20 minutes of the some of the best riding I've ever done. Save for one moment when I was way over the back of my seat staring at a 3 foot drop with nothing to do (but roll it and pray), it was super fast, ripping single track. And then we climbed a bit and guess what? 30 minutes of more absolutely incredible single track. It went from blazingly fast to crazy rocky, but was an absolute blast.

I love this race!

And then we hit the final climb and I absolutely hate this race. We survived, barely, and were faced with 8 more miles of rolling and rocky forest road and some single track.

That's when Ryan said he heard a leak in his front tire. With a few miles of crazy fast rocky descending, a low front tire wasn't really going to help us much. We tried my CO2, but it wasn't working. We tried Ryan's, and it worked, but the tire didn't seal. We rode it for a while, stopped to fill it again, then kept going. We could hear the finish, but didn't know how long we had. Finally we crossed a road and the marshals said we had 2 minutes left. Ryan cruised it on 10psi and we finally crossed the finish in 4 hours, 14 minutes and 33 seconds.

Then we just had to wait. We needed 9 minutes, 2 seconds to take over the lead. We didn't get there, but it was still a blast.

Tomorrow takes us up to 12,400, so it'll be another sufferfest.

Breck Day 3 -- Pennsylvania Gulch

Today went both better and worse. After a "neutral" roll out up a steep road climb that shattered the field, we dropped down some single track for about 10 minutes before beginning the day's biggest climb. Just a minute or so into the single track we passed the Kappius boys at the side of the trail fixing a flat, so we were finally leading the race. We were both feeling pretty good, and managed to pick up quite a few spots up both of the first two climbs. We looked back in an open field at the bottom of the second climb and could see them about 30 seconds back, but we held that gap over the top. We had an unfortunately slow stop at the aid station, but were still doing ok.

But with about 8 miles to go, I lost a contact in my right eye. This is getting to be really annoying. We stopped for a moment to see if we could find it but had no luck. By the time we got rolling again and into the single track, they were 10 seconds behind us. I was riding well, but at the bottom of the single track were we hit a road section, there was a fence across the trail that hadn't been there when we road up this section of trail during the prologue. My depth perception was a bit messed up, and I slid into it pretty hard with my right side. I didn't think much of it at the time, and we took off down the road toward the final climb.

The Kappius boys caught us on the road and we sucked wheel until the aid station, they stopped, but we kept going and got a gap as we started the climb. That's when I found out that I had smashed my derailleur and could only use the bottom 4 or 5 cogs. On the steeper sections of the climb, I was pushing about 20 rpm and my legs finally blew up. They came by and Ryan rode the climb with them, but I had to walk. They ended up finishing 1:09 ahead of us.

I'm afraid this was our best shot at a win, and it's pretty annoying to blow it like that.

Today (Wednesday) is the 'queen' stage. 43 miles with 4 big climbs. French pass is over 12,000 feet, and Georgia pass is just shy of 12. Depending on how everyone feels, that 1:09 might not be a big deal.

(Rolling into the final aid station with Russ and Brady)

Monday, July 6, 2009

Breck Day 2 -- Colorado Trail

I sucked today. Couldn't breathe and couldn't climb. I think I had to tell Ryan to slow down about 50 times. Luckily I can still descend and managed to make up for some of my suckiness.

I think we finished second in our group, not sure how far back. I hope it was just a bad day.

Oh yeah, Ryan almost died today. It was crazy. We were stuck behind some guys on a rocky mining road descent. I yelled at him that we needed to go faster, and he took off like a freaking rocket. It was insane. We must have been doing 40mph down this steep rocky road. I have no idea what the guys thought when we blew by them.

But there was a hard right turn at the bottom, with nothing but air below. Ryan blew the turn a bit and was out in the bushes, just a few feet from the drop. I thought he was going for a little flight, but he pulled it back together.

Sunday, July 5, 2009

I forgot...

A huge thanks to a bunch of people:

Mark Meier, the Godfather of the Baraboo Sharks, who rolled up with the family from Wisco to help us out (and thanks to Kristy, Erik and Tori who tagged along for the ride);

My brother Paul, who came up today from Golden, and with Mark drove to the top of the hill climb to make sure we had warm clothes and food (which were absolutely necessary since it started raining as we finished);

and most of all,

To Jess, Kieran and Kelton, who keep me rolling, happy, and are always there to help out. It was awesome to see them as we rolled out and then waiting for us when we got back to the bottom.

Breck Day 1 -- Mt Baldy TT

The Breck Epic started somewhat ominously. A couple hours before our 3:52pm start time, it turned very black and started pouring. I kept checking the radar and hoping that it would pass over in time, and luckily it did, leaving sunny skies but a fairly wet and muddy course.

For some reason, about 90 minutes before our start, I got crazy nervous. I don't know why, after all, according to one of our neighbors in our condo, "it's just a hill climb." Ryan wasn't too happy about my nerves, as I started way too fast. But then we got into a rhythm and rolled pretty well. We had four teams in front of us, and we passed three of them fairly quickly. We could see the guys who started 30 seconds in front of us just up the road. Every time I checked we were about 20 seconds back, and it looked like we'd catch them. Unfortunately, the lightning and rain forced them to shorten the stage a bit, so it ended right at the top of an ugly hike-a-bike. They hit it really hard and put 25 seconds into us in the last few minutes of the climb.

So that's how it ended. We finished in 2nd place, 25 seconds of first place, and 7 minutes or so ahead of third. Quote of the day? After we hit the top, we didn't get a "nice race" or "good job" from the guys ahead of us. No, we got a "you guys kept us honest," like they were just cruising and only worked hard enough to beat us. A bit of motivation for the rest of the week.

Tomorrow is the Colorado Trail, 47 miles and 5k feet of climbing.

Oh yeah, one final point. I put the cycling cap on when I thought it would rain, but quickly realized it wasn't a great idea for a technical, singletrack hill climb. I couldn't see far enough up the hill to take good lines and had to flip it up to see. It wasn't a big deal, but annoying. And it looks kind of funny.


Saturday, July 4, 2009

Where'd the air go?

We got to Breck last night and Ryan drug me out for a ride on the Prologue. My goal has changed to merely surviving this thing (and having fun). The first day will hurt. We aren't sure where the finish is, but when we got to 12,000 feet and Ryan said, "I think we have to go up there," I said not today. I'd had enough by that point. When race time comes I'll be ok, but at that point I wanted nothing to do with 500 feet more climbing up 20% loose rock.

Luckily I still know how to go downhill.
(edited for Mr. Krayer's benefit)

Wednesday, July 1, 2009

Best ride of the year

Got out again with my favorite riding partner. After a little hike with the monkeys, we busted out a 1,000 foot climb then rolled the 3,000 feet down to the house (ok, I admit, a short shuttle was involved, but the monkeys weren't interested in riding up the hill).




Tuesday, June 30, 2009

Not quite high enough

This is my high point for my (low) altitude camp. About 9k before I ran out of rideable road.

Monday, June 29, 2009

Ok, I lied...

...I can post video.

My cleat was seriously loose; like almost ready to fall off loose. Seriously.

(Low) altitude camp

We've been at "altitude" for a week now in preparation for the Breck Epic. I'm not sure it's going to be enough. On Saturday, I climbed for almost 3,000 feet until I hit too much snow to proceed, and I was still 600 feet below where I'll be sleeping in Breck. I dropped back down and rode up the ski hill road to meet the boys and Jess for a hike. About 4k in climbing, with big chunks of it over 15%, but I get the feeling there's much worse to come.

I have some helmet cam footage, but since my Mac is at home and I'm too stupid to figure out how to edit video on my work computer, I'll just have to share some random photos of the monkeys...


Thursday, June 25, 2009

20th Annual Idaho City Excellent Adventure

Last Saturday we started our summer road trip with the drive south to Boise before Sunday's mountain bike race up in Idaho City. I haven't raced the mountain bike since April, which might have contributed to an above average case of nerves and "that guy looks fast"-ness. The race begins with a mass start Le Mans, and then rolls for about 1.5 miles before funneling into a steep, rutted moto trail at the bottom of a ~4-mile climb. I figured the entrance to the moto trail could matter a bit, so I hoped to hit it near the front and then climb as best I could. Including the road at the bottom, the climb covered ~1200 feet in 6 miles. It was mostly gradual, but had some steep sections.

I set the bike up well for the Le Mans and got myself in the front row. I got on the bike pretty easily in 2nd. The road section was somewhat chaotic, but I stayed in decent position and hit the moto trail in 5th. I immediately passed the guy in front of me, then the next guy got stuck in a rut and went down. I got around him ok, but the two leaders had a 20m gap by that point that I couldn't close down. I chased as best I could for a few miles, but the gap stayed about the same. Then my brain played a trick on me and convinced me that I had gone off course. I got confused and slowed down for a minute and the guy behind me caught up and went by.

As it turns out, this was a good thing. He was much better at the steady climbs than I am, and I had to completely bury myself to hold his wheel. I doubt I would have climbed that well on my own. After 15 minutes, we caught the guy in 2nd (who had lost the leader) and the three of us road together for a while. I yoyo-ed a bit, and almost lost them when I nearly crashed while trying to take a drink. But I noticed that I was doing better on the steep climbs than they were, so at the next steep singletrack section, I went by both of them and got a bit of a gap. I had 5 miles to go at that point, and managed to keep it together to finished 2nd overall, about 5-10 seconds up on 3rd, who had ridden just behind me the final 5 miles of the race. The winner finished 60 seconds ahead of me. It turned out it was Zach Vestal, who was Trek/VW team manager and is now tech editor at Velonews.

But since I was "just" an Expert, I got no love for finishing 2nd overall. I hate to criticize race promoters, and I do this knowing that I sound like an ungrateful and whiny prima donna, but why does the fact that some guy pays $150 for a license make a difference in how you treat them? The "pro" podium got cash; I got a water bottle and pair of size small gloves. And he didn't mention that I was 2nd overall. Well, he did eventually after I corrected him for saying I was 4th overall. I don't need the money or even a nice prize, but a bit of respect wouldn't hurt.

Case in point: they issued a little press release after the race which you can find at this link -- Idaho City Results

The section that discusses the winner says: "Although a solid pack chased him the entire race, Vestal broke away early and decisively and cruised in over one minute ahead of Josh Oppenheimer." That's true, he was over one minute ahead of Josh Oppenheimer. But Josh was 5 seconds behind me. It's not enough to be fast I guess.

Ok, whining mode off. It was a great race, and I had a blast.

Wednesday, June 17, 2009

North Contour

This is an old skid road that has been sitting unused for several decades. It's really fast, and has a few surprising turns that always catch me off guard. And there's one little rock drop that I always mess up; I usually roll out of it with my rear wheel somewhere up near my right ear.

I definitely need to find someone to ride in front of my for these videos, as you can't really tell what the terrain does with no one there.

And I do know that I'm a dork.

Friday, June 12, 2009

One more

Please let me know if one version of the vids works best

Top of Headwaters:

Thursday, June 11, 2009

I got a new toy

I've been debating getting this toy for a long time, but the reasons not to always outweighed the reasons to. But the longer you ride, and the longer you live, the more you want to share your rides. So that's what I hope to be doing. You won't see anything very impressive. I'll mostly ride around the jumps and fall off the log rides. And I'm not much for music, so until I figure out a better mic system, it'll be a lot of wind noise and a few grunts.

I haven't figured out the best way to share them yet, and I'll work on the wind noise.

But these are my rides.

Deep V to Switchblade



Bottom of Headwaters

Monday, June 8, 2009

Crit photos

Jess got some pretty good photos of the crit. Unfortunately, the one I most want to show turned out blurry as it was somewhat hurried (but I'll probably post it anyway).

The first photo is actually the finish of the first stage. You can just barely see my right shoe and shoulder behind the guy that's in second. I started too far back to do much more than this, but I was happy with how it went. I passed 5 or 6 people in the sprint, and just managed to get the guy on the far right at the end.



This is the infamous corner on the crit course. This actually isn't a great line, but it was hard to roll it cleanly if I didn't have a clean road.



Entering the corner. I probably wasted too much energy doing this, but I tried to hit it first whenever I was near the front. Unfortunately that meant some work into the wind at the top of the front stretch, but I had last year's crash etched sufficiently into my brain that I preferred that to trusting someone else's line. The only crash of the day happened behind me with 3 laps to go.



This is the top of the front stretch with one to go. I had about 30 meters at this point and took it as hard as I could. The position of my chain on rear cogs is an indication of how hard the wind was blowing, because it really isn't that steep of a climb.



Just after the finish. Cooked, but happy.



And finally, even though this is really blurry, I can't brag about my cornering skills without some proof. I'm still a cocky SoB, but every once in a while (ok, every once in a long while), there's a reason. Any time I hit the corner first, I could open up gaps like this without really pushing it too hard. Sometimes I'd give it down the back stretch, other times I'd sit up and wait, but mostly I was just having fun. You can't quite tell, but if you finished the turn too wide, it got really off camber and pinched right as you exited the turn. I was able to avoid that on every lap. Everyone behind me in this photo is exiting too wide and is going to have to brake before then can start accelerating again.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

I feel better now

Last night I woke up at 12:30 or so and couldn't get back to sleep for another hour. By the time I got back to sleep, I had decided I was never going to race bikes again.

But I changed my mind today.

Last year at this crit, I got taken out with a few laps to go and busted up both bike and body. My goals for today were to have fun and stay in one piece. I did both. Before the race we had about 30 minutes with the course open. I felt after Thursday's race that I could corner better than anyone else in the field, so I used the 30 minutes to get the nasty corner wired, hoping I might find it useful. There was a storm drain very deep in the corner on the outside that marked what I figured was the best spot to initiate the turn. It was really deep, and somewhat uncomfortable, but the rest of the field generally apexed too early and had to brake late in the turn. If I hit the first part of the turn hard and made it all the way to the curb, I was able to exit with a lot of speed right as most everyone else was slowing down to avoid the hay bales. Any time I had a open line through the turn, I was able to make up time or open up gaps on the people behind me. I used it to initiate a couple of moves, and join a few others, but nothing stuck.

With 2 laps to go, I found myself near the front as we rode through the start/finish. I decided to roll to the front and see how it worked out. I got through the sketchy turn with about 5 meters and put my head down and went with it. No one chased, so I heard the bell with about a 30 meter gap. I survived the backstretch, but the field finally caught me just as I finished the last turn and started up the finish stretch. I rolled through with the group in 17th.

Jess took a photo of me yesterday at the end of my race and another one today. I'll post them up when we get home, but today's photo was a lot happier. I had a blast in the crit, rode my legs off, kept it upright, and proved to myself that I can enjoy riding my bike. And I clipped a pedal in a turn and rolled out of it clean with no worries, so that's always nice too.

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Like an egg

I used to think I was a relatively smart racer. And that I was something of a climber. Wrong on both. I felt great at the start of the race, but I wasted a ton of energy for no reason, and by mile 70 I realized I was done. Got popped with 6 miles to go, chased back on then got popped again. At least I dropped the three guys that wouldn't pull through for the 3 miles before the steep part of the climb. Came in somewhere between 15 and 20, and probably lost a top 10.

In my defense, most of my wasted energy was marking the guy that eventually got away and won. Were it not for the 20mph headwind, it might not have hurt so much.

My pre-race analysis was that my best chance to do well was the first stage. Turns out I was right.

Friday, June 5, 2009

Scenic (and windy) Gorge TT

We woke up to steady 20mph winds today. I guess there's a reason this is the wind surfing capital of North America. Must be payback for the tailwind we had last year. I knew I'd lose a fair amount of time, but I was hoping to keep it under 2 minutes. I didn't quite get there. I finished in the top 10, but a ways back. The winner was about 2:50 up on me, although second place was over a minute behind him. The winner lost almost 2 minutes yesterday, so hopefully he isn't a threat tomorrow. I'm not feeling like I'll be much of a threat either, so I'm not sure it matters.

It was a fun TT, whatever the result. The guy starting in front of me didn't show, so I had a full minute to the next guy. I caught him about 4 miles in, before the first climb. He passed me and got about 10 seconds going up the climb, but I passed him again a few minutes later and never saw him again. Right after I passed him, the guy 30 seconds back came flying by me. I managed to stay about 10 seconds behind him until the last few miles when he opened it up a bit. I did catch 3 guys, so at least I made up a minute or so on a few of the guys that finished around me yesterday.

The wind was nuts. The course winds enough that we had quite a few sections with stiff cross winds. I tried to stay on the right side of the road to get some protection from the fence and trees, but any opening would send me halfway across the road. It's still about the coolest TT course I can imagine.

I did learn this year that you can get more aero when you don't care if you are having kids ever again. I got way up front and friendly with my saddle, and noticed a big difference.

GC isn't posted yet, but I'm hoping to still be in the top 10, within a couple of minutes of everyone. If I have a good day tomorrow, I can make up 2 minutes. Or I can lose 10.

Cooper Spur -- Mt. Hood Day 1

Unlike last year, I came in here with expectations. Until I saw the other guys I was racing against. Then I returned to my old habits and convinced myself that I didn't have a chance. At least I had Tony to hang out with.

We started out hot on the mellow climb, but then when we hit the steeper sections at the top, the pace dropped off a lot. I was stuck in the pack and couldn't do anything about it. But of course, even after telling Brian 20 times not to do anything on the first lap (and telling myself the same), I squeezed out the side and went up the road. I got about 400m by the top with a guy on me wheel and decided to keep going. By the bottom of the hill, it was clear we weren't going anywhere, so I sat up.

Lap two I tried to get away twice, but nothing happened, so I decided I wasn't going to do anything until the end of the race.

Then we got hit by a thunderstorm. The temp dropped about 20 degrees, it started hailing a bit and raining really hard, and I got really cold. I decided I wouldn't do anything on the climb, but I had no intention of riding in the group on the decent. I got off the front of the group over the top and was able to ride the decent at the speed I wanted, which apparently was faster than anyone else wanted to. But I had no plans of going anywhere, so I sat up every time I got a gap.

Ok, last lap. I forgot to mention that there were three teams in the race with some numbers. We had a guy off the front for all of the third lap. We caught him with about 12k to go in the race. His teammate immediately attacked, and no one responded. Cutting to the chase, he soloed it and won by 18 seconds. A few guys made late attempts to bridge, but nothing happened. I hit the final climb in about 4th wheel, and a guy went to the front to set up his teammates. But they weren't there. He spend most of the first part of the climb turning around and yelling at them to move up, but they didn't do anything. It wasn't a big pace, but no one was coming by. I didn't want to hit the finish with 20 guys, so I gave it a shot. I got a bit of a gap with one guy, but no one pulled through. I went for 15 seconds more, but had done nothing but string it out, so I sat up.

So we hit the finish in a big group. Some jackass went around up the wrong side of the road, and I got boxed in a bit, so I started the sprint from about 8th wheel. I didn't have much, but neither did anyone else, and I was able to move up to 3rd in the field sprint and 4th overall. For some reason, they gave the entire group of 19 guys the same time, which is complete crap but there's nothing I can do about it. There were big gaps at the finish, but I think they were just lazy.

I learned today that Masters fields are really fast, but they are also crazy sketchy. It was the worst field I've ever raced in. I don't know what the hell they're thinking, but there is more nonsense than I've seen in any other race.

The craziest story of the day happened after my race. My friend Matt was in our field and got dropped fairly early. He's a really small guy, about 120 lbs with no body fat. We were sitting in the pasta feed about 33 minutes after I finished. He was shivering uncontrollably and could barely talk. Lucking his son was there, and I grabbed Matt and put him in there car and put a sleeping bag on him. 20 minutes later he was still crazy cold and shivering, but was talking more coherently. He finally recovered, but I don't know how he's doing now. I don't know how he finished, but he said he didn't want to quit.

TT today. Forecast is for 15 mph headwinds, chance of T-storms, gusts to 25. Not my thing.

Monday, June 1, 2009

a bit of a lull

No races in the month of May. After racing every weekend in April, my plans all fell apart for this month. The one mountain bike race I wanted to do changed its date to conflict with graduation, and I ended up unwilling to spend $130 and three nights in a hotel for a three-race stage race against 8 other guys.

But I did get a ton of riding in. I don't think I've ever had that much time with good weather, an easy work schedule, and no racing to worry about. My biggest three-day block was over 14 hours with a bunch of intensity. And I napped a lot.

But June has more going on. Mt. Hood next week. Then state roads. Then finally another mountain bike race.

And then off to Breck.

(photos from a "work" trip to Montana last week. with my cell phone)



Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Last night at the track

photos courtesy of Matt Morra



Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Picking the right battles

Granted, it's been an Expert age group thing, and now a "practice race" thing, but I've actually won two races this year. Today was even some of that panache BS that the euro-types get all worked up about. Attack a few times, finally get in a break, drive the break, attack the break, solo home, sit up and enjoy it a little bit. I didn't really know what to do. No complaints though, even if it was just practice.

Tuesday, April 28, 2009

Rage in the Sage

What I learned this weekend:

Sitting in a car for 6 hours then showing up 15 minutes before the start of a short track is a sure path toward suffering.

I'm starting to believe in Kelson's old-man power theory.

140mm of travel isn't terribly helpful if you have the fork running at 467 psi.

I need to do more push ups. And sit ups.

I'm faster than last year, or at least relatively faster. I didn't get lapped in the short track, and I was 3 minutes closer to the winner in the XC. 6th in ST, 4th in XC, 5th overall.

K2 likes beer bottles even more than K1 did.

The Ephrata mountain bike scene is a lot of fun. The Beezley Burn is one of the toughest and most enjoyable events I've ever done.





Monday, April 27, 2009

WaWWaW

(Or Wandering around Walla Walla and Waitsburg)

It's already been a week, but I suppose I should say something about the last race before I move on to the next race. Last week was the Tour of Walla Walla, which was my first real foray into the sharp end of racing with guys that are a lot stronger than me. For some reason, Walla Walla brings in all of the powerhouses from the PNW, including several teams from north of the border that are set on proving that Canucks are tougher than we are. I suppose they are.

The schedule included a 65-mile road race on Friday, a 9.3 mile TT and 50 minute crit (in the dark) on Saturday, and a 95-mile road race on Sunday. I'd had the a minor cold all week, so I went into the race just hoping not to get dropped in the first 5 miles on Friday. I hadn't felt so under-prepared for a race in a long time.

Friday afternoon was cool and windy, with the threat of rain. We were racing a lollipop course, with two hilly laps and then the finish back the stem of the lollipop. We didn't even make it 1/4 mile into the "neutral" 400-watt roll out before I heard the first crash behind me. After that it was an hour of mostly blurry pain, as I did every thing I could to stay near the front and not let gaps open in the wind. The most enjoyable stretch of road was a long, very gradual downwind climb that we rode up at just above 30mph. That hurt, but I managed to make it over the top with the group and my lunch still in my stomach. So the first lap went ok, and I was still hanging on.

The second lap wasn't so much fun. I was doing ok near the front when we hit the feed zone hill. Why everyone thinks you have to attach through the feed zone is beyond me, but next thing I know, most of the field is riding by me. I make it over the top about 30m off the back of the front group and manage to latch back on right as we turn left to climb the aforementioned gradual, down-wind, 30mph climb. I don't do very well on this climb. The lead group splits in two, and I drop off the back of the second group. I figure that's the race for me, but then 6 or 7 guys catch me who are motivated to catch back up. We manage a semi-reasonable double pace line, I only have the F-bomb thrown at me once (by a junior on Sir Lance's U23 team), and after 10 minutes of chasing, we catch on at the base of the next climb.

And I get dropped again. But someone likes me, and on the descent it starts raining very hard, and the pack slows down. I'm able to ride through the detritus falling off the back and make it back to the front of the group by the next climb. This climb is a bit easier and into the wind, and I don't have a problem staying with the group. So all we have left is 6 miles of downhill and flat until the finish.

At this point, despite having been dropped 3 times and having no legs, I somehow convince myself that if I'm in the front group, I might as well have a go at it. So I spend the next few miles squirming through gaps and finding wheels to pull me to the front. With about 1k to go, I almost get pushed off the road, but squeeze by on a spare inch of pavement, and find myself in about 10th wheel as the pace picks up for the sprint. I have nothing at all in the tank, so I pick a big guy and hope he'll pull me to the finish. I try to sprint, but have to sit down after about 10 seconds. Then I get mad at myself for being weak, and manage to stand up and finish the sprint. I even do a bike throw at the end just for the hell of it. I look up and start counting and only get to 8. I'm not sure I counted right, but by the time I try to count again, the field has caught us and there are people everywhere. I make the mistake of telling my teammate that I got 8th, and then spend the rest of the day stressing that I actually got 10th or 15th or something and will look stupid for saying 8th.

Turns out I got 7th, out of 119 starters, with some of the very strongest guys in our part of the world in the race.

So if you're wondering why I spent all of that time talking about the first day of a 4-stage race, that's why. The TT was mediocre, the crit scary and dark (with my only goal being to finish in the group and in one piece), and I was the last guy dropped from the lead group on the final climb of the final stage. Other than surviving to a 29th place on the GC, there's not much more to talk about. But I'm happy with the 7th.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

Can you see that? -- the partially blind Barking Spider Bash

Every race scene has its own personality. Saturday was our first trip to the greater-Boise scene at the Barking Spider Bash, held at an OHV park somewhere south of Canyon County sprawlness. The motorheads and complete lack of any vegetation taller than 2 feet were a bit different than recent experience; the posturing on the start line was about the same. I guess that's not entirely true. This year with the new race categories, there was a new flavor to the posturing. The guy next to me spent the 10 minutes or so that we were lined up prior to the start talking loudly about how he didn't want to spend $150 on a license, which I guess was his explanation for why he wasn't lining up with the 7 or so "pro" riders like he really should have been, of course, were this all based on talent and not how much you are willing to spend on your license. Nice $5k bike by the way. And where did you spend the rest of the race?

In any event, my "wow, these guys look fast" paranoia was turned up to 11 (you'd think that would dissipate with time and several hundred races), and I am impressed by the nearly 40 guys lined up in the Expert field. Luckily, I had run into fellow GT DC rider Ivan Anderholm before the start, so I at least feel like there is one friendly face in the field. After a completely unnecessary 50m neutral start (to make it around an apparently dangerous first corner), we are off. The first 1/2 mile or so roll into a stiff wind, so I sit in near the front until we turn away from the wind. At that point, I can't ignore my Wisco training and fear of getting blocked up at the turn into the first tight area, so I move to the front and hit it (not knowing anything about the course, of course). I hear a rider behind me, so I figure I'm pulling the field. But it is a cross wind and I have the proper side of the trail, so I don't stress too much.

Then we turn right, I look back, and two of us already have about 100m on the field. It's hard to say this after only 4 minutes of a 2 hour race, but that was the race.

Ok, that's a lie. We ride away from the rest of the boys (at least a little bit), cross the road, and then begin the fairly long climb up to the top of the course. I'm feeling ok, he's sucking wheel, and I'm successfully ignoring the impulse to see what our gap is. But then we hit the top, turn back around into the wind to begin the decent and my left contact comes out of my eye.

This wasn't a great course to roll one eyed. I try for a while, but finally tell the guy to pass me and get a rollin'. I stop to grab the contact off my sunglasses and try to put it back in my eye, but after a couple of failed attempts, the wind blows it away. By this time, I've obviously lost the leader and the guy in third has caught me, but I figure there's nothing else to do but ride.

And that's pretty much it. I drop the guy in third and spend the next 25 miles dangling about 45 seconds off the leader. I close a bit on the climbs, and then he opens it back up on the decent. We had already caught 4 of the 7 pros half way through the first lap, so there wasn't anything else to chase, and I ride home solo and happy not to have addressed the sand in a more personal way.



Of course, after finishing the race, I go back to the car and spend the next 20 minutes trying to coax a 3 year old into letting me remove a bunch of stickers from his palm. He was proud of me though.

First in age, 2nd overall Expert, 5th overall (about 2 min. 14 seconds off the pro winner). Not a bad day for my first day on a mountain bike this year.

And we got to spend Sunday at the zoo. The monkey liked the tigers and the gibbons the best. I agree about the gibbons.

Monday, April 6, 2009

I lost my first mountain bike race this year

Another day older...

We lost the omnium by a couple of points, but at least suffered like idiots while we did it. I managed to make it into two "perfect" moves that would have soaked up all the points and kept us in the lead, but there's always someone who can't handle missing the move. I almost got towed to a win in the last lap, but that would have been too easy.

Here's the "pave" section; that's me in the back.

Sunday, April 5, 2009

Roadie (lack of) skills

I finally got out to turn the pedals in anger a bit. 30 minute TT and then a 70 mile road race. Given that I haven't been above 350 watts for more than 2.3 seconds this year, it was a bit of a sufferfest. I had no expectations for the TT, and it showed. Not last, but not not last either.

The road race was a bit more fun. I helped spring a guy into the first break, and then patrolled the front until they came back when we got another guy into the second break. Then I patrolled the front again until blowing up spectacularly about 6 miles from the finish. Spending 2.5 hours marking everyone who twitched was a difficult baptism into the Pro/1/2 community. I found myself wishing repeatedly that I hadn't upgraded this year.

We have a 70-minute circuit race this afternoon. I'm not sure how that'll go.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

I still hate winter

It's been snowing all week. Last night the weather was nice for about 17 minutes, so I ran out for a quick ride. Finished up in some driving sleet and rain, and a sudden darkness that apparently made me invisible to cars traveling the other direction. Why can't we DQ cars that don't follow the center-line rule?

Sunday, March 29, 2009

Making the trainer more bearable

I hate winter

It snowed 3 inches last night. I have a mountain bike race in two weeks, and it might be the first time I get on the trails.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Lost

I got lost. Damn cue sheets. He said right when he meant left, so I was stuck out in the middle of nowhere with no cell phone or GPS coverage. Best freaking road ride in my life. Almost no cars, a bunch of little one-lane roads at almost 20% (at one point, I looked down and saw 400 watts and 5 mph), the best of central California happy cow and vineyard country, and even a stream crossing (and a Hostess fruit pie at a little general store that wasn't used to men with shaved legs).

Seriously, it's hard to explain how cool it was. I got back to the car
at 99.19 miles (after 6.5 hours) and didn't feel like it was appropriate
to ride down the road a half mile to get to 100.

Unfortunately, my camera battery ran out before some of the coolest
stuff (or I couldn't stop to take photos because it was too steep), so
the photos aren't that great (and my phone takes crappy pictures for
some reason). You'll just have to imagine.





Wednesday, March 11, 2009

I have nothing to say...

So I'll steal from someone else:

He'd been innovating extensively. He'd been having trouble with students who had nothing to say. At first he thought it was laziness but later it became apparent that it wasn't. They just couldn't think of anything to say.

One of them, a girl with strong-lensed glasses, wanted to write a five-hundred-word essay about the United States. He was used to the sinking feeling that comes from statements like this, and suggested without disparagement that she narrow it down to just Bozeman.

When the paper came due she didn't have it and was quite upset. She had tried and tried but she just couldn't think of anything to say.

He had already discussed her with her previous instructors and they'd confirmed his impressions of her. She was very serious, disciplined and hardworking, but extremely dull. Not a spark of creativity in her anywhere. Her eyes, behind the thick-lensed glasses, were the eyes of a drudge. She wasn't bluffing him, she really couldn't think of anything to say, and was upset by her inability to do as she was told.

It just stumped him. Now he couldn't think of anything to say. A silence occurred, and then a peculiar answer: "Narrow it down to the main street of Bozeman." It was a stroke of insight.

She nodded dutifully and went out. But just before her next class she came back in real distress, tears this time, distress that had obviously been there for a long time. She still couldn't think of anything to say, and couldn't understand why, if she couldn't think of anything about all of Bozeman, she should be able to think of something about just one street.

He was furious. "You're not looking!" he said. A memory came back of his own dismissal from the University for having too much to say. For every fact there is an infinity of hypotheses. The more you look the more you see. She really wasn't looking and yet somehow didn't understand this.

He told her angrily, "Narrow it down to the front of one building on the main street of Bozeman. The Opera House. Start with the upper left-hand brick."

Her eyes, behind the thick-lensed glasses, opened wide. She came in the next class with a puzzled look and handed him a five-thousand-word essay on the front of the Opera House on the main street of Bozeman, Montana. "I sat in the hamburger stand across the street," she said, "and started writing about the first brick, and the second brick, and then by the third brick it all started to come and I couldn't stop. They thought I was crazy, and they kept kidding me, but here it all is. I don't understand it."

Neither did he, but on long walks through the streets of town he thought about it and concluded she was evidently stopped with the same kind of blockage that had paralyzed him on his first day of teaching. She was blocked because she was trying to repeat, in her writing, things she had already heard, just as on the first day he had tried to repeat things he had already decided to say. She couldn't think of anything to write about Bozeman because she couldn't recall anything she had heard worth repeating. She was strangely unaware that she could look and see freshly for herself, as she wrote, without primary regard for what had been said before. The narrowing down to one brick destroyed the blockage because it was so obvious she had to do some original and direct seeing.

Tuesday, March 10, 2009

I couldn't decide....

what I wanted to be when I grew up, so I picked everything. Now I'm on bike racing.