CYCLIST @ LAW

Winter Duldrums-- The Ick

2012-01-23T14:41:00.002-06:00

The common enemy of all bike racers, aside from roller bladers and taxis, has to be illness and injury. Nothing interrupts training cycles of the determined more than being sick. When we get sick or even feel illness coming on we should of course do what is good for everyone else-- rest, see a doctor, get the right medicine, etc... So when I started feeling a little less than perfect on Thursday of last week you know exactly what I did . . . that's right, absolutely nothing. I ignored those first twinges of a sore throat and a head ache that wouldn't go away until I was full blown sick with a chest cold this morning.

As a bike racer I fall victim to the same sense of invincibility many endurance athletes feel. For most people in the United States, that sense of invincibility diminishes somewhere after pledging a fraternity or getting arrested for disorderly conduct. But for a lot of athletes it never completely seems to go away. We take risks and push limits well beyond what most would consider prudent. Why else would we roll down a mountainside at 75km/h protected by spandex and a helmet made of foam? And then ride back up it to do the same thing again, just this time faster.

Being a bike racer is about calculated risks. Knowing when to put in an effort or when to let the break go. Knowing when to push it through a corner or when the outside line is really faster. However, listening to your body is equally important. We run our bodies at such high levels, between training intensity, fatigue and then just every day life. There is a class of us out there who try to train like pro's just without the support of a team soigneur and masseuse to help us bring it back to reality. Those folks are left to their own device to try and make sure they don't over do it all.

However, you take all of the above and toss in a little extra drama in life, a touch of extra stress at work or just a bad day stuck on a plane or bus next to the guy whose coughing up a lung and voila...you are sick. It's definitely time for me to start listening to my body just that much more. Another nap is my near future.

Winter Duldrum-- Picking the Right Clothes

2012-01-17T20:20:00.001-06:00

I keep looking at the temperature hoping it creeps above freezing so I can encourage myself enough to go outside and spin for an hour on this recovery day; but alas, that just doesn't seem to be happening just yet. We have arrived at the unpleasant time of year after Christmas and before it gets warm that tries my soul. I realize I am from Chicago and should be "used" to winter; but that doesn't mean I like it. All it means is that I own more winter clothes than people from Florida

One of the things about this time of year I enjoy are long team rides. I get over scheduled during the season with races every weekend and on the rare occasion I am not racing, others I typically ride with are racing. Sunday, while out on the District Velocity team ride we paused at the little convenience store on Travilah. Just a quick stop to rehydrate and plan out the remainder of the route. In the brief time we sat there talking I saw at least 4 other team rides go by us. It was a huge breadth of fresh, albeit cold, air that made me feel good.

I've been pushing lately to break old habits in winter clothing choices. I've started wearing fewer layers but increasing each layer's heaviness. In the past I've worn so many different layers that I felt I was cutting off circulation or that I couldn't bend my arms. This year I have made the transition to long-sleeve jerseys and base layers. I'm a huge fan. To that end I've picked up a set of new long sleeve base layers from DeFeet both in regular and wool.

The bonus appears to come in shedding arm warmers in favor of sleeves. The looser fitting sleeves keep me warmer and allow for increased range of motion. I still think I'm one of the few people who feel comfortable in wearing two pairs of shorts on colder days rather than thin tights. Maybe that's odd; but I've also added leg warmers to my collection for the first time. Prior to this year I had gone with the college football style of winter riding with knee warmers and bare calves. The addition of a pair of fleece lined Pearl Izumi leg warmers has really helped in the 40 degree temps.

Still got to have ten different pairs of gloves for every ride. It's amazing how 45 degrees on Monday requires a totally different set of gloves than 45 on Wednesday and then again on Saturday. Odd.

Eating on the Bike

2011-12-14T12:02:00.000-06:00

The above picture is the top of my fridge which, in addition to serving as one of my cat Fausto's favorite perches from which he can survey the entire kingdom he jointly rules with his more couch-and-fuzzy-blanket oriented brother Dubs, has come to hold the collection of food I eat on rides. I carry a mixture of food with me on rides including those shown above, bananas, cookies or anything that can fit in my pockets. I like to carry cycling specific foods because they are just that, specific to bike racing.  Most days around snack time, i.e., 4 pm, while I am hanging out or working at my desk, I do not find myself hungering for a Gu or a PowerBar as opposed to something more, shall we say ordinary like an apple or grapes. All of this leads me to a degree of confidence that the food I buy specifically for bike racing will be there when I go to grab it.

In addition to one or two time a year team orders, I sometimes supplement my bike racing food from places like the Energy Food Warehouse. I try to shop and compare when it comes to buying stuff in bulk, in doing so, I find that the folks there offer competitive prices and they ship quickly. Embarking on the following analysis I offer a caveat, that I am taking no position on the nutritional value of these items. We can all read labels and I chose them because they are available to me and do the job I want them to. All three of them seem to do exactly what they are advertised to do and I will continue to use them all as interchangeably as ever.

That being said, by virtue of long experience I would like to talk about each of them in the terms of useability while riding and thus their packaging. The three I typically use are GU Chomps, Clif Bar's Shot Bloks and PowerBar's Energy Bites. That of course is not to say that I do not eat other types of energy foods or that these are the only ones I am willing to try. Just behind or around what is displayed in the above picture and you'll see Nuun (which was introduced to me by a fellow bike racer and pro-MTBer for Scott), EFS, a host of other products from Gu, Clif and PowerBar plus from time-to-time other things I can get my hands to test out. However the Chomps, Shot Bloks and Energy Bites are similar products and can be more readily compared.

From my perspective, when it comes to useability of a nutrition product on a bike, it's about how quickly and readily the product can go from package to energy. Again, I am not commenting on digestibility or end-game functionality; rather, about how effectively I can get it from my back pocket into my stomach. We have likely been there in a race or an intense moment in training where we found ourselves in need of food and ended up fumbling around with things for far too long. For my part I try to consume around 200 calories per hour of riding after the first hour, so in the end I eat quite often. What I like about all three of these products is that they come in bite-sized pieces which can be parcelled out over time. As a result I can consume 50-60 calories every 15 minutes. Just try repackaging a banana while out riding, especially on a hot day, and you will see why that is important.

Of course, with any comparison I want to name a winner; but in this competition each product has its own pluses and minuses that makes it not practical. With the Shot Bloks I like the packaging the most.  the Shot Bloks are laid out in a straight line in a packaging that can be easily opened on the move, with just your teeth (don't tell my dentist please). When I race I normally start the race with a package or two already open so that I can skip that step. In addition the packaging is laid out in such a way that you can squeeze each one out as you go a long which saves me from losing them to the occasional unanticipated pothole. However, the Shot Bloks do have a tendency of being tougher to chew especially if they are kept, even wrapped, for a long time. Not sure why or how; but sometimes they have the consistency of a jelly bean which does not make things easy. Another added bonus is that some of the flavors have caffeine which can be a nice pick me up through time.

GU Chomp's are consistent in texture throughout time even when you leave the package open for a while, i.e., day two of a stage race etc . . . . Further, there are typically more of them in a package than Clif so you can be even more judicious in how many you eat each time. Their packaging is a little bit of a let down. The tear point does not always open the rest of the package. And, since they lay loose in the package sometimes there is a little hide-and-seek that the pieces play. The package is compact so it is never a huge challenge but when you have thick gloves on sometimes it becomes a little more difficult.

I started using Energy Bites earlier this Fall when PowerBar set up a display at the outset of a group ride I was on. I tested them out that day and immediately went to buy some when I got back home. Energy Bites are like mini Harvest Bars, which is an excellent change of pace if, like me, all you were consuming before were gels and chomps. The Energy Bites lend a certain consistency to eating on the bike which is really welcome. The major drawback from these is the packaging, its unruly and large.  It fits in the back pocket but when you take it out it's hard to get a hold of pieces especially when you start to get going fast or if there is a sufficient crosswind.

Like I said, I cannot pick a best or worst here.  And I am going to continue to use all of them because I like them all. These are just my insights from extended use of each.

Rocking the Round Hill (VA) with a Neo-Pro

2011-12-09T09:31:00.001-06:00

In looking back at this blog I realize I post a lot about not being in DC. Last year I spent over 80 nights away from DC for both work and bike racing, which could lead some to believe I do not like it here. That is absolutely not true. Riding in DC is some of the best I have found in the country. We have beautiful roads, respected routes and a great community of fellow bike racers. The Mid-Atlantic racing scene is also one of the best and most consistent in the country.

I also don't write a lot about local races and riding. A quick review of Gam Jams on a Monday morning following a race weekend will prove how well covered the local scene is already. It will also serve as a reminder of the painful moments my subconscious tried to forget as well. Therefore, my own particular insights about these races probably would not provide extra value and might distract from my own joy of reading about other people's impressions of our experience.
Now that the race season has subsided and I am back to long training rides I have headed back out to one of my favorite local haunts about an hour drive from DC in a town right under the Blue Ridge -- Round Hill. For various reasons, I have become a regular in the area and I know I'm not alone. In the past I have seen a host of MABRA's finest-- Joe Jefferson, the now west coastal Chuck and a bunch of team rides from NOVA-based squads on those back roads. So the secret is definitely out.

One of the real joys of riding there is that I am joined periodically by Neo-Pro Curtis Winsor, pictured here in white (in full high school prom night glory). When he is home and away from his efforts to conquer the cycling world I often join him for way too many long hours in the saddle.  He does have a tendency of getting us lost and convincing me to go for "just a little bit longer" which almost always turns into one more mountain or one more hour.

I need to brag a little bit here about my friend Curtis. I have been riding with him for about 2 years and since then he has gone from elite ametuer to faux pro and now to an official neo-pro with Kenda/5-hour Enegry Pro Cycling presented by GEARGRINDER. It has been incredible to be along for the ride while he has made this journey and I cannot say enough good things about his attitude and how grounded he has remanded. Granted, his epic rise does mean I win fewer and fewer town/county/state-line sprints against him; but, I have grown comfortable with that fact. And more importantly, it will not dissuade me from trying, again and again.

Bike racing is, at it's heart, a social endeavor-- a shared suffering.  Growing up as a swimmer I realize the privilege we have in bike racing of being able to talk to others while we are training or competing. It was always difficult in swimming to realize you were going to be staring at a black line on the bottom of a pool for hours without the ability to share thoughts or jokes with those who are nearest you.

Winter training is about that aspect of the sport-- rolling out with your buddies for long rides. In the race season, which now seems to be ever expanding with the inclusion of CX, I get so focused on getting to races on time, on prepping equipment and all sorts of things unrelated to just enjoying the company of people who share my interest.  When winter rolls around it's great to re-enter that world. I have been admittedly isolated in the last couple of offseasons, much to my detriment. I spent a lot of last offseason riding solo. Too much time out alone will likely drive you crazy and I'm sure it did for me . . . to a small degree.

So this winter, I have promised myself that I will be more present. So if you see me out riding or on a group ride please just ride up and chat. I can always use the company.

New Orleans and New Sarpy

2011-12-04T18:17:00.008-06:00

I've had a long standing love affair with the Crescent City and I got the chance to be there for a week. There is something really special about New Orleans- it's a perfect mixture of life, food, decadence and rust. I enjoy cities that are lived in, ones that have history which is evident from the moment you walk in. I get really annoyed with places that are so clean and so perfect that you wonder if you have to take your shoes off when you cross the city limits. New Orleans is a special place and you know it just by being there. You see it even more when you get passed Poydras and head out into Southern Louisiana.

While the pavement might not be perfect, New Orleans is a really rideable city and one that I have gotten used to riding in. It also has a growing cycling community with well attended local weekend rides. By virtue of living in Mississippi for a couple of years I came to know the racing scene and a bunch of the elite guys who are legit hammers. I wanted to test out my legs on the river levee which is an about 25-mile stretch of paved bike path along the Mississippi River which heads out to New Sarpy, which is a small town on the river. The path is not nearly as congested as you would guess and it's a good place to get in a strong ride out into the swamp. Just don't expect any elevation change but do expect a strong headwind at some point.

I love eating in New Orleans. My experience is that food is a celebration down there and not something which you just do. I had to have a couple quick meals and hit up one of my favorite sandwich shops Mother's which is perfectly located right across the street from the courthouse. Just remember when someone asks you if you want debris on your po-boy that means a whole bunch of dressing and not road trash. And everyone at Mother's refers to you as "baby" and they don't take tips. Just accept those facts.

I also got to try out a place I've wanted to try for a long time- Upperline-- which is just up the road off St. Charles uptown a bit. It was delicious meal and the bartender made a great sidecar which is always a plus. And who can complain about a $45 prix fix three course menu? I enjoy places where the owners and managers are there and take an interest in your enjoyment. Just thinking about it now makes me want to go back down.

DON'T FLY US AIRWAYS

2011-11-21T12:07:00.008-06:00

I cannot make it any clearer than that. I have been a longtime critic of the random pricing of airline bike fees; but a recent charge I was forced to pay was unconscionable. I went down to New Orleans for a trial last week. Based on our position in the case I knew I would have some periodic free time while I was down there so I thought it was a good idea to bring the bike with me. Plus, I wanted to test out my form on the river levee-- nothing says fun like 50 miles of absolutely flat reptitive riding (sarcasm font)!!! So I boxed the bike up and took it to DCA for my morning flight. After some back and forth with the ticket agent, I was charged $200 for just my bike-- $200!!!

This was a $140 increase over the fee I paid in 2008, on the same flight, on the same plane, on the same airline. I consider this to be ridiculous. Of course I thought that this was just the latest in a long line of airline's charging random amounts for bikes for no good reason. And, that on the way back the price would fall back to the $100 range like it is on United and most other airlines. Sadly I was mistaken. I checked the US Airways website and sure enough, the bike fee is listed at $200.

I guess I should have checked the website out first and would have been spared the grotesque shock of hearing that dollar amount. However, in my wildest imagination, I did not think it could possibly be that much of an increase in such a short period of time. What is most interesting is that the bike fee is a 10x increase over their standard charge for other checked bags. I debated doing an airline-by-airline spreadsheet of charges; but I found that the fees change so regularly that it really is not worth my time to try and keep up.

Moral of thes story, check their prices online beforehand and simply do not fly US Airways. The service has always been marginal and its employees are lackluster anyways. By and large Southwest and Virgin are the best and cheapest airlines when it comes to baggage fees-- $50 each way. If possible, my goal is to limit the number of times I check my bike this year. Just means more driving for me; but to save the aggravation of fees and bike boxes I have no problems doing it.

The Rivalry

2011-10-26T20:51:00.002-05:00

There is something pure about a rivalry-- a simplicity in the dislike rivals have toward each other mixed with a grudging respect that comes with heated competition. Rivalry is part of what makes sports great and why watch. What would baseball be without the Yankees and the Red Sox? What would football be without the Bears and the Packers? It is games like those that get circled on calendars long before a season starts. It is those games which draw people in like no other throughout the season.

When I was a swimmer, back in the days of yore, I had a bitter rival. We did not race each other each weekend but we found ourselves staring across the lanes more often than not. With each race our rivalry grew and the competition got better. Eventually I would outpace him and the competition ceased but while it was on going it produced some magical races.

In the world of bike racing I have missed out on that for some time. So you can imagine my happiness when Nick Versus Gravity brought back the joy of rivalry to my life. It started subtle, a text taunting me about his prowess in CX followed by a Facebook message encouraging me to bring my "A" game. Then came his assurances I would find myself in the tape. Because of a trial scheduled this September I was not able to open the CX season in MABRA but sure enough when Winchester rolled around I got to line up right behind him and this is what ensued:

Granted neither of us won the race but all the fireworks do not have to be at the front of the field right? In the end his mouth was bigger than the wattage he could throw down...however he did go down a bunch of times. We have not resumed our rivalry yet because frankly Nick Versus Gravity chose to chicken out and not go to Granogue; presumably because it was too much of a man's race for him, and I raced up in the 1/2/3 at DCCX.

Come Ed Sanders the Rivalry will resume. This one is likely to get ugly.

Raining and Pouring

2011-04-25T21:12:00.006-05:00

The weather here, and around every part of the country that I've been to lately, has been spotty at best. One moment it's sunny and the next moment it's raining sideways. Such has been the pains of my season as well. I showed moments of greatness in Phoenix and had a solid ride at Black Hill to be followed by three sub par performance over the past three weeks. A battle with a couple mechanical problems and a crash have a way of sorting things out for you in a hurry. Especially when my margin for error is so small.

I took a rare day off to do my other favorite thing. . . sit and enjoy a Spring day with food and friends at Oatlands for the annual Hunt Point-to-Point. I am bringing out a new fashion trend this season. I noticed a vest as a replacement for the sport coat in a recent episode of White Collar and wanted to give it a test drive. I think it's a great move for the blistering temps of the Summer. Who ever is running the costume shop on that show has been inside my closet lately. As long as looking classy is in style I am a happy guy. To that end I was introduced last year to Suresh Khemlani of Custom Executive Outfitters. He's been my tailor since then and put together a great set of shirts for me as a Christmas gift from the pretty brunette pictured here. I strongly recommend him to anyone. It's harder than you think finding business clothes that fit the body of an athlete. He comes to you and has been a pleasure to work with.

My out of town season starts in mid-May with Tour de Grove. It marks the first opportunity that I have had since becoming a Cat 2 to get into a race with my coach and friend Adam Mills. I have been looking forward to this for two years. No doubt it'll be one of the toughest races I have been in for a long time but bike racing has always been about challenges and meeting them head on, especially when they have a tendency of meeting you back.

Local Racing

2011-03-23T21:20:00.004-05:00

MABRA has a style of racing I have not found in too many places-- the circuiterium. It's not long enough to be a circuit race and its not short enough to be a crit, it's the race somewhere in the middle. During the opening months of the race season in the Mid-Atlantic our calendar is dominated by these races. They take a couple different forms but mostly they are about 1 1/2 miles without much in the way of technical challenges. In most cases the races come down to a match up of rider against rider and not riders against the course. Our first local race like this took place recently out in Maryland in a particularly unassuming place. It was great to get the local season started here but the remainder has been less than satisfying. Our early season races appear to be vanishing this year. Some have been postponed, some have been canceled. I am not passing judgment just expressing my frustration in wanting to get some racing in. It is making it difficult to follow through on the plan that I made at the start of the season. At a minimum it requires me to be more flexible as to when I'm going to line up to do battle. I set out on work travel last week to Rochester, NY. At first when you hear that, you are at a loss for anything good to say about the locale. And, I will admit that there really is not a ton to do there but it is not half as bad as I thought it was going to be. I have heard that Rochester's Museum of Play is not bad for the family folk among us and the Eastman Kodak Museum has some great exhibitions throughout the year. However, when I am on travel I do not get the opportunity to check out things unless I get done really early. What I do get to enjoy is the local flavor. I refuse to eat at nationwide chains while on travel. Whenever possible I go out of my way to find something local and something off the beaten path. While driving from the airport to a meeting I ran across a little pizza joint called Perri's Pizza. It's classic New York pizza with counter service. I am not saying it was just like pizza down in NYC, but it is definitely better than any of the soggy-crusted pizza we have in DC. As a Chicagoan I can appreciate good pizza and I am not going to engage in a debate of what is the better style of pizza. Let's just put it this way, NYC pizza is better for lunch. Whereas Chicago pizza is the better style for dinner. These are just facts that should not be disputed.

Cowboy Boots

2011-03-10T16:22:00.006-06:00

San Antonio surprised the heck out of me. I first found myself there a month ago and was blown away by how big the city actually is and what the city had to offer. Growing up in Naperville, with our own version, I had heard about the Riverwalk in San Antonio but had no idea what to expect. So I put on my cowboy boots and headed out to see what I can find.

I have had a fascination with Texas for as long as I could remember. I am not exactly sure what there is about the State but I really enjoy the food, music and culture, especially in central Texas. So when I knew I was heading down I was really charged because it had been a good long time since I have had some BBQ. Also, I knew I had to make my pilgrimage to the shrine of Texas itself-- the Alamo. Just being in this humble building was like walking into a center of pride; especially for a guy like me who grew up idealizing Davy Crockett to the point where my Grandmother made me a coonskin cap that I wore all over the place.

I was only gonna be there for a couple days so I did not bring the bike with me; but I can see how there would be great riding in the area. Despite a big downtown, it looks likes it would be easy to get on some lesser travel roads and eventually into the open country. And, with the hill country nearby I can only imagine the trouble someone could cause on two wheels. If I get the chance I am definitely gonna bring the bike.

The first time I was there I took in a classic Texas experience with a former teammate and his wife-- Rudy's. Having lived in the South I am familiar with the tradition of mixing bad for you food with gas stations. I loaded up a plate full of different meats, creamed corn and topped it off with some Lone Star. I do not care if the latter is Texas' version of Bud Lite; when I go native I really go native. The "Q" was as good as I remembered it.

The most recent time I was there I met up with a long-time cycling friend and the guru behind State Wheels at the Gristmill River Restaurant for some Chi-Friy and to discuss exactly why I love the wheels he builds. One of the great things about traveling as much as I do is the ability to keep connected with people and to experience all the country has to offer. The Gristmill is located right next to Gruene Hall, one of the oldest dance halls in Texas. I was told that on any given night you could find just about any one playing there including some of the biggest names in music. The food was great and, by the looks of things, that dance hall is definitely a place to head back to when I get my boots polished up.

Escaping the Cold: Valley of the Sun 2011

2011-03-06T12:02:00.008-06:00

After a hiatus from travel and blogging (but never from racing) I returned to a faux pro lifestyle in the early Fall 2010. It's taken a while but I'm back in form and am ready to provide that bit of unique commentary that I have and to share the stories of racing and riding throughout this most beautiful country.

In D.C. we have languished under some pretty cold temperatures for most of the winter and I have found myself wearing my thermal jacket way too much this year. So when I had the opportunity to depose a witness down in Thatcher, AZ I jumped on the first plane I could. It happened that this trip would coincide with Valley of the Sun so I packed up the bike and my new set of State Cycling Wheels which I will demo for the first part of the season.

After a quick deposition and a stop at Pima-based Taylor Freeze for a remarkably cheap, delicious and greasy lunch, I made my way up to Phoenix for the start of bike racing season ver. 2.11. Valley of the Sun is a three-day stage race which features a flat time trial, hilly road race and a downtown criterium. Without a time trial bike I rolled the first stage and determined to hunt stages starting with the road race on day two.

ROAD RACE:

The road race consists of 16-mile triangular laps which feature a 4-mile 400 foot climb and corresponding descent into straight as an arrow valley road. The challenge to this year's race was the strong cross wind in the valley road which put everyone into the gutter. I rode well through the first lap until I felt that sinking feeling that corresponds with a flat rear wheel. I looked down and sure enough I was rolling on the rim and was about to launch into a 73-mile chase.

After a wheel change I dove into the headwind just in time to see the field turning into the cross wind about a mile ahead of me. Throughout the course of the race I picked up and passed shattered riders and formed a small groupetto that continued to chase. Eventually the effort wore us down and the chase finally went out of the group. We rolled in a good distance behind everyone else. When they say that its a dry heat in Arizona what they should say is that it is a heat that will suck all the water out of you so you better drink double what you are used to drinking. At the end of the race my legs were white from salt and my body was dehydrated beyond belief.

CRITERIUM:

The profile of the crit said it had a 40-foot elevation change so I was expecting a hill. What I got was a figure eight course flatter than my IHOP pancakes. With no large teams in the field it was negative racing at its best. Guys threw themselves off the front but each time they came rolling back through the field like a bowling ball heading downhill. After a brief second of toying with the idea of doing that myself, I settled in for a field sprint I had great position all the way through the race until about 3 laps to go. At that point in time I looked up and suddenly saw 50 guys in front of me and just about nobody behind me.

I have always been curious how this phenomenon happens. You roll in the top 10-20 guys for 25 miles and are vigilant about what is happening and where everyone is and it is as if you suddenly find yourself teleported back to the lantern rouge. I remedied my positioning problem with a few dives into a couple corners and was back into good position...just in time for some guy to flat right in front of me through a corner and nearly take out the middle part of the field right as we hit the ultimo kilometer. I scrubbed speed hard getting through his shaky line and found myself thrust to the back as we hit the final lap-- packfodder. I was not pleased with my result but pleased with the effort I put in up until that time.

After the races I visited two solid local spots: Los Olivos Cafe in Scottsdale and Monti's in Tempe. Definitely places to go to when you are in town. If you get to Los Olivos, which I've been to twice, ask for one particular server, she's been there for 56 years and has the greatest stories ever. This time I was served by her granddaughter who also works there

Solvang, California Days 3 & 4, Vineyards and Chris Carmichael

2010-02-26T20:47:00.013-06:00

The weather turned on the third day and it started raining. I needed a lighter day and the hour-long recovery ride fit just perfectly. Rather than waste the day I made contact with the brother of a dear KS friend who works in valley managing vineyards. We met for an incredible lunch and then went around the Santa Rita Valley sampling some of the finest grapes that the land can offer. Surrounded by so much wine I just couldn't resist snapping a shot.

The fourth day was the big day for me. A ride without serious mountain climbs but with serious distance. We chose a route through the vineyards and down to the sea. Then we turned north and shadowed Vandenberg AFB and up and over Harris Grade before heading off to Santa Maria.

The way back was through some of the most beautiful canyon roads that I have ever seen. With blue skies above, the lush green of springtime California is eyepopping. Carmichael Training Systems has a camp in this valley and we've come across them a couple times, so it was nothing odd to see a lone CTS rider in the valley in front of us. We caught him at the base of a climb and struck up a conversation. We introduced ourselves and he introduced himself simply as "Chris" leaving it to us to realize that it was in fact Chris Carmichael.

We rode with him back into Los Olivos and then down into Solvang. It was a great time and we talked about everything. He was very pleasant and unpretentious and took his turn at the front of the paceline just like us all. Definitely the kind of guy that I'd love to have on my rides all the time.

Later that evening we headed up to San Luis Obispo to meet with the folks at Highroad. We had a great dinner and shared some incredible laughs under the stars. Just standing in the office of HTC Columbia was impressive. The office is a converted garage filled with leader's jerseys from every imaginable major race in the world. Being in such a room was like being in a miniature cycling museum.

Solvang Day Two: Into the Wild

2010-02-23T22:26:00.008-06:00

After 7 hours and 8500 vertical feet of riding we thought we'd keep it easier today. So instead of two mountains we set off to conquer the 4500 feet of Figueroa Mtn. The sunshine of the previous day had given way to grey and overcast but the temperature was still in the 60s. It's always amazing to me how different 60 degrees feels in places that lack the humidity of D.C. because it was definitely a touch chilly at the start. Upon setting out on this march you cross a series of serene vineyards and horse farms. Nothing to hint to you of the mountain top monolith that awaits you. "Fig" as the locals call it, was a beast. We went up from what I guess would be the back side where the pavement was worse and where the road again gave way to dirt.

There appears to be a bunch of impromptu shooting ranges dotting the California forest. By impromptu I mean, two guys, a glock and some paper targets set up in front of a hillside. One of these was tossed in about 4 km into the climb which made for a pleasant distraction. Somewhere about 3 km from the top I began to crack and crack hard. I find it really heartwarming, and disheartening at times, when the road is painted with mile-to-go markers. I try to think to myself that someone was kind enough to think that it would help me focus, but there is always the ever present thought that if I find that person I will likely smack them around for the hours of conscious pain that they have brought upon me.

On the way back down we came across pastures of cows. As we rode by them I was reminded of the commercials about good cheese and happy cows coming from California. At this point we had been riding for about 3 hours and despite eating shot blok after shot blok I was still running pretty much on empty. My training partners out here swears by jelly beans (the cheap ones) and rides with a pocket full of them. Since he rode me off his wheel like I was standing still I imagine it would work. I'm definitely not above that, it's just at this point in time a cheeseburger was just what the doctor ordered.

The descent was perfect. Much better than the descents the day before. Wider and more open roads allowed us all to get up some decent speed. I've grown so accustomed to the descents back in Virginia that the California ones with their hundreds of switch backs are a pleasant distraction and a definite challenge. The weather isn't looking good for day 3 so we may just switch up the plans for a little vineyard touring.

Solvang, California: Training Camp Day One

2010-02-23T20:00:00.012-06:00

I was fed up with the endless snow, cold and dullness of the mid-Atlantic this winter. So I got on a plane and came out to southern California to ride without thick gloves, without knickers, without 9 layers of clothes. Two days in and it's been great. My legs are exhausted, my body is cracking and I'm just getting warmed up.

The first day we set out on a path from where we were staying in Los Olivos down Refugio Rd and over to the coast. Before the base of the climb over the coastal mountains we came across a 60-year old man on a mountain bike. After we told him our route he asked if we had cross tires on our bikes. He kept warning that the road was closed and that it was all dirt on the way up. That gave us no pause.

About five miles in to the climb it became paved again right at the summit. Prior to that it was a mountain bike course. Most of our time was spent picking through the wet rocks. Thankfully and painfully our way was being led by a pro mountain biker. At the top we paused for a few minutes to dress for the descent and eat some food. The 60-year old came up the same path at the time and said that we must all be pros because we chose the best lines through the rocks. I didn't have the strength to tell him that it was just survival instinct for me.

The mud climb paid off in a great view of the Pacific Ocean and the channel islands beyond. The decent was gnarly and technical. I rode the breaks because the longest straight stretch was about 200 meters long. It dumped us off on the 101 right along the beach. We rode tempo into Goleta before turning our attention upwards over the San Marco pass.

San Marco pass gave way to Painted Cave Rd which 3000 feet above the nearby ocean started to cap out with these indian cave drawings. By this point in time I had been climbing for about 45 minutes. Despite standing there staring at the sign for about 5 minutes I have no idea what it said. At the top of the climb we came across a small community. In the driveway of one of these houses was a hippy holding his dog in his hands. As we passed by him he commented to the people standing next to him that "they say the path to peace lies through suffering." An unpleasant thought directed at him crossed through my mind at that point in time.

We rode along the ridge line above Santa Barbara for a while looking for a way down and then came upon this road. The one thing about google maps is that they don't distinguish between paved roads and their less paved counterparts; or in this case a road that really didn't exist at all. At the top of this road was a makeshift shooting range while at the bottom was trailer park. We road down 7.2 miles along what was in reality a horse path (complete with hoove marks) which at times had more grass on it than dirt. After reaching the bottom we decided to make a straight line for homebase.

When the World is White

2010-02-09T22:29:00.005-06:00

Credit first goes to U2 for giving me inspiration for this post. It's snowing outside and I'm getting increasingly annoyed by the lack of opportunity to ride outdoors. I'm also annoyed by DC's complete inability to clear streets. I can understand the difficulty they are having but the pace of cleanup in the area is making the nation's capital the laughing stock of the nation . . . for more reasons than normal

It seems like most of my long riding is done when the weather is cold and this year most of that riding has been done will there is snow on the ground. Here are a couple pictures taken from recent rides, complete with snow.

What seems like an eternity ago I was able to go outside and ride my bike. I took this picture of the clothes that I wore on a day when the temperature was just above 20 degrees (and not the strange Euro 20 degrees which is really 60 degrees). In the summer I can get dressed in about 5 minutes and be out the door. In the winter it takes about 15 minutes. I miss summer.

During my recent individual training camp I discovered a new route from Marshall, VA which took me up and over Skyline Dr before descending back into the valley around Luray. For some reason the road was closed to cars that day so I had 30 miles of perfect open road with 3000 feet of climbing to myself. The 3400 feet up to Hogback Overlook is the highest that I've climbed on the east coast. About a year ago I climbed the 7000 feet up to the top of Mt. Mingus in northern Arizona, that's still my personal record (it was also snow covered).

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am to live where I do. On a recent week day ride I found myself at this point and snapped a quick picture. While it looks like a great pastoral image that could be taken anywhere in Loudoun County or beyond into West Virginia, it's actually taken in D.C. This was from Rock Creek Park and only about a 15-minute ride from this point back to my office in downtown.

Back to riding the trainer.

Statistics

2010-01-19T21:01:00.002-06:00

The last math class I took was freshman year of college. I hated math. I bought an Srm and suddenly I love statistics. Five days of hard riding in the first training camp of the year are now in the books. Here are some statistics from that camp.

Total Number of Miles: 340 miles. Distance from D.C. to Pittsburgh, PA: 241 miles

Total Time on the Bike: 20 hours 19 minutes

Number of States Involved: 3-- Virginia, Maryland and West Virginia plus D.C. (Statehood Now)

Number of Civil War battlefields traversed: 4-- South Mountain, Antietam, Loudoun Heights and 2nd Manassas (the outskirts). Total number of American casualties at Antietam: 22,719 (single bloodiest day in American history).

Number of Mountains Climbed: 3-- South Mountain, Skyline Drive and Sugarloaf. Total Elevation Gain: 19,741 feet. Heighest point in the US: Mount McKinley-- 20,320 feet.

Total Calories Burned: 12,420 calories. Calories in a McDonald's Big Mac: 590 calories.

Total Number of Heart Beats: 162,246. My normal resting heart rate: 48 bpm.

Now for a rest day and then back to the normal life.

Reset

2010-01-17T17:10:00.003-06:00

It's not often that in the course of any set of events that you get to hit the reset button and effectively send things back to the beginning. However, recently for me I was afforded that opportunity and I am trying to take full advantage of it. My work detail ended and before heading back to my full time job I decided to cash in on a little leave. I know, planning a cycling vacation in VA in January is not ideal but it's not called "use or lose" leave for nothing.

I'm taking a cyclin-cation right now. It's been three good days of riding with two more to go. It's an opportunity to focus on riding and relaxing and shaking off 6 months of hard workdays. Also, it's an opporutnity to start something new. I'm starting a new project that I will carry through the remainder of the season.

I've run across a lot of strange things in my days on the bike. Odd things that most people don't see like strange signs, passionistic nuns, roadside porn and on and on. These oddies are the byproduct of being in places that people don't often go and also being focused more on the journey rather than the destination. My project this year is to put together a photo album of those odd encounters and the great company that I keep while riding and racing my bike. There is no specific theme or goal. It's just a collection of pictures about the miles as they tick over and over. In the end it's just a story about a story.

I'll post pictures here from time to time; and if you see anything out there that is noteworthy let me know and I'll go find it too.

Setbacks

2010-01-07T20:50:00.002-06:00

It's natural that everyone experiences a setback, eventually. The key is how to deal with those setbacks when you come across them. The holiday season presents a set of challenges to training just as it does to all other aspects of life. There are new and different demands on time, changes in schedules and additional stress. However, despite what I often times say, life is more than just the aggregate of miles that I ride. Therefore, it is more aptly put that between family, friends and frivolity; the holiday seasons presents a series of pleasant challenges.

Adam and I planned out our approach to this time of year very well. Unfortunately nature didn't agree with our approach and dumped 20 inches of snow on the mid-Atlantic. Washington, D.C. is terrible with snow removal when there are only a couple centimeters on the ground. So when there was almost two feet of snow I had to resign myself to the fact that the streets wouldn't be cleared enough to keep putting in the intense efforts that we had planned on. Then DC was hit was an epic cold snap that has made everyone's desire to even go outside small.

We've ramped things back up over the week and will continue to do so in the coming week, especially with a small vacation from work next week. However, it's clear that I lost something as a result of mother nature's recent onslaught of cold weather and snow. Now it's time to gather the chips and get back to basics. My work detail is ending this week and I am scheduled to return to a more balanced life. A lot of changes are on their way and I'm heading back out into the world.

Setbacks in the end are just an opportunity to get back to what was working.

Pain Face

2009-12-17T21:16:00.003-06:00

Like him or don't like him, the above picture of Lance is a fitting one for my topic-suffering. Few bike racers in the last twenty years have suffered as well or as much as he has in the pursuit of athletic immortality. His grimace of absolute determination is something that to some extent all of us who ever clipped into a set of pedals and raced our bikes share. The fact that your pain face comes out 400 or 2000 watts beneath his is immaterial because inside your mind and body the pain feels the same.

Our individual expressions of pain are different. For my part I've been told that I my expression is rather expressionless. One of my teammates has gone so far as to say that my body and face don't betray the true extent of the pain that I am feeling. In his words my expression stays the same despite an ever increasing level of effort. To me it doesn't feel like it but I'll rely on his representation.

There is something inherently pure about athletic suffering. It has its own therapeutic properties. As the pain grows and your muscles scream out there is a cleansing. Maybe this is something unique to me but as my effort increases my perception grows tighter. My world pulls inward and my focus reaches a laser focus. What matters becomes more finite and easier to distinguish. The remainder of the world fades into the background and eventually all that remains is my will to push harder.

Tonight I found this highlighted even more. There is something distinctive about training in cold weather that heightens this experience. The juxtaposition of the cold world against warm skin makes me feel the moment...more. More distinctively, more strongly, more completely. As a parting note if you ever have any doubt whether Washington, D.C., is a beautiful city. Just take a quick ride around the Mall at night. It is beautiful and looks just the way a capital city should.

Winter Training Update

2009-12-12T16:19:00.004-06:00

One of the greatest privileges of my life has been to serve as a prosecutor in the District of Columbia. The police officers and the people that I work with make it all worthwhile and the cause of justice is one of the most noble that I have pursued in my life.. However, the workload is staggering. There were times in October when we were understaffed and I was easily working 12 hours a day. Even now with a full staff I work over 10 hours on an easy day and when I'm in court that time goes up and up.

This has left little ability for me to get out in the middle of the day as I had been accustomed. I tried and struggled to maintain that same pattern but about a month ago I threw that idea away and went back to a workout plan that I had grown used to back in Mississippi. Back then I rode in the mornings before work in the dim light of a dixie morning. I cannot do that now because I have to be at work early and I would have to wake up around midnight in order to do so.

So I've taken to riding in the pitch black of night after work. A small island in the middle of the Potomac River with a 3 mile loop that's largely absent of cars has become my destination of choice. So the moon, the river, a couple fox and myself have become well acquianted. Finally life has started to settle back into a predictable pattern. The repetitive nature of the route and the time of the day has limited the time that I can dedicate to training but Adam and I have worked out a solid program.

Riding at night does mean that I have to equip myself appropriately and the folks at Light & Motion make a great line of lights that I have been using. There is an additional serenity to suffering through intervals at night. The world seems to close in on me as the minutes and miles click by. There is an acute awareness of the details of my muscles that have helped me focus.

Bike racing is a social enterprise; however training is often a solitary task. Amongst moonlight and under the watchful eyes of Presidents and beneath the towering heights of the Capitol I push myself. All to prove that person can succeed at more than one aspect of their life at a time. The misson is simple but the path is hard. It begins now.

Training When it's Dark, Cold and Raining

2009-10-27T21:34:00.003-05:00

Most days of the week I am blessed with the opportunity of getting out on my bike during the work day. Normally I get to ride during or right after what is most people's lunch. The nice thing about being an federal prosecutor is that you don't have clients and when you work with law enforcement they work 24/7 so you can reach most of them at any time of the day. That allows for some flexibility in life.

That being said, I still find myself in a courtroom brawl every now and again which stops me from getting out, like today. Mother Nature's persistent rain didn't ease the situation either today. These are the days that I end up on the trainer fighting against boredom and trying to ride hard enough and long enough that I can make it to the next day outside. I'm not sure what it is about the trainer that makes doing intervals so hard on my leg muscles. Maybe it's the artifical resistance or the slightly different position but I find my legs fatiguing a long time before my endurance systems do. It's like a weight workout built into a cardio workout.

Adam and I are working through the growing pains of a new job, a new schedule and a new training regime. It's a painful adjustment but one that is working out. Life is about making choices. I know a lot of people say that they don't have time for this or for that, but there is always time. It's a matter of prioritizing and making a decision to make certain things important to yourself and then having the support of those around you to carry it out.

When I took this new position it was about gaining trial experience and getting comfortable on my feet in court. Those two things have definitely happened, but on top of that I'm learning how to prioritize things in my life as well. It's a hyper-focus that I hope makes me a better bike racer. Or at the least, I hope it can be proof to others around me that you can work 12 hours a day and still be an elite athlete. All it takes is persistence and a lot of good coaching.

What do I do Now?

2009-09-07T21:12:00.002-05:00

One race left on the calendar and then it's all over for the season. My legs are done in from 41 previous races but my heart still wants to race. There will be no cross racing for me this year because despite my heart's desires, my wallet says no. So what do I do next? Normally my season ends with a flourish, in the past it was normally Gateway Cup or another multi-day race. However, St. Louis was a little too far away this year for me to go, especially with a new job that hasn't been fully broken in yet.

It's also a little too early to start thinking about next year. Maybe just the most preliminary thoughts about what big races to think about. However, these preliminary thoughts will probably change about 50 times before next month. Maybe, now is just the time to reflect on a good season and goals accomplished? Heck, I've been an athlete too long to think that contentment is a good feeling when it comes to getting better. So I guess now is the time to think about what I can do better. . . what happened this year that worked and what didn't work. Also, maybe it's time to finally fix my time trial bike so that it actually works the way it is supposed to work.

Overcoming Panic

2009-08-30T20:50:00.003-05:00

It's been a month and a half since starting my new/temporary job. It's been an up and down ride and the transition has been...a transition. This has been a pivotal weekend for me and it feels like I've left the Belgian pavee for a little bit of Mississippi chip and seal. It's a welcome sight and my body can feel a more comfortable ride ahead.

After a rocky start to being a Cat 2 at Millersburg, today's race at Jason Gundel was a marked improvement. It didn't start out that well for me, when on the third lap I found the only unmarked pothole on the road, hit it, and turned my handlebars 30 degrees down. This forced me up to the pit. But I got back in the race and finally found my legs again.

The hill on the backside of the course at Gundel was of the type that normally would make my day unpleasant; today that wasn't the case. My finish was nothing spectacular but it was a finish. After peaking no fewer than a million times this season, my training as of late has been a consistent and I've been able to put together decent miles over the last month.

However, for about a month I've been in a state of near panic, my nerves have been at their peak and I've been having trouble getting back into a comfortable schedule. However, late this week I came to an understanding with myself and my job. I realize the two can be reconciled, which is itself a relief. As my fellow bike racers can testify to, by this point in time we've all drank the Kool-Aid. We've made the decision to sacrifice other aspects of our lives for the sport.

Those that love and care for us understand this point. However, explaining these things to an employer is a different story. Suggestions on how to improve are always appreciated. My position has always been that personal lives and professional lives have to be balanced. My grandfather always said everything in moderation. I'm not one of those guys who will work 60 hours a week for the sake of working 60 hours a week. I'm also not one of those guys who will shut down his computer at 4:59 PM just because I don't want to be late for the metro. The same with bike racing and being with friends and family. There is a constant give and take but finding that balance is a tough thing, especially at the start of things. So here is to week two of finding balance.

My Story

2009-07-30T21:14:00.004-05:00

In February of 2001 I raced my last 200 backstroke. That race ended nearly 20 years of competitive swimming. Following that meet I went through what could only be called a quarter life crisis. A huge part of my identity vanished and I struggled for a time to find something to replace that part of my life. I couldn't easily give up on being an athlete and my love of competition.

On a lark I went to a bike shop in Chicago and bought my first bike. As soon as I got it home I went for a 30 minute ride in my neighborhood in a worn out pair of shorts that I had used for weightlifting and a white t-shirt. By the end of that Summer I raced my first race, and crashed twice in a 10 lap crit. I joined the University of Kansas Cycling Team when I returned to school and made some of the best friends that I have kept to this day.

I went from a Cat 5 to a Cat 3 by May of the following year. Then inexplicably I left the sport. I started law school and somewhere on the journey from Kansas to Mississippi I allowed someone to surgically implant a giant pole into my body and lost my focus on those things that made me who I was. I flopped around in local races over but never made a commitment to racing like I had done while at KU. I graduated from law school and moved to DC where I continued to "kind of" race and "kind of" train. I had goals but no focus. I had dreams but no passion. I had ego but no commitment.

Then in April of 2008 the inexplicable happened again, I blew out a spoke on a brand new pair of wheels. Somehow this spoke represented a metaphysical snapping within me. I opened up the brakes on my rear wheel to keep it from rubbing too badly and rode McArthur back into DC. Along the way I opened up myself too and spent a long time thinking about who I am and what I was doing in my life. I made a real simple decision, rather than just fix the spoke I was going to buy a whole new wheel set, I was going to buy a PowerTap.

I called up one of my best friends from KU, Adam Mills, who in the time since I had left school had become a cycling coach and one of the best bike racers in the Midwest. I told him that I was tired of it all and that I wanted to do something other than just finish Cat 3/4 races (actually I had been dropped from a PA race two weeks prior). I told him that I was buying a PowerTap and that I wanted to start training like I had when I was swimming. He warned me that it wouldn't be easy. In typical fashion I responded "I ain't scared."

I went down to a trusted bike shop and met with a very trusted friend, we shall call him Mr. Jones. I told him what I wanted to do and what I wanted to buy. He obliged and a week later I got a call that my brand new Mavic Open Pro's were in and ready for me. As fate would have it, I was getting ready to head out for work to Colorado and to LA. I packed up the bike and flew out to the mountains. It wasn't until I got to LA that I realized what was happening. In the middle of a ride out in Riverside, CA (which is nowhere near LA contrary to what I had been told) while going up a hillside I made a promise to myself that I had a goal and that I was going to achieve that goal. I was going to dedicate myself to training and racing and I was going to move up from Cat 3.

Adam and I spent the Summer pushing my limits on the bike. I followed Adam to a new coaching organization, Source Endurance out of Austin, TX, and made contact with some incredibly skilled and talented people. The folks at Source-E have opened my eyes to the fundamentals of the sport that I had overlooked or misunderstood, like nutrition. For those who think that good coaching doesn't pay off, well I hope that my example will show forth that it really does. Adam punished my legs daily with workouts that I often cursed him for but it began to pay off. I won my first ever race and a couple weeks ago I achieved my goal of upgrading.

It's been a tale of suffering but it's all been worth it. It was a goal that at times seemed inevitable and impossible. The statistics on what it took to get me to this goal aren't anything out of the ordinary. However, these are some of the odder statistics that I compiled along the way in the past 15 months since I set out on this quest:

1. Number of Miles Ridden in Training: 10086 this doesn't include races or the months of January and July 2009 when I sent my PowerTap back for re-calibration (Saris Cycling is a great company and I have tremendous respect for them and their product).

2. States that I have raced or trained in (including DC): 15: DC, VA, MD, SC, KY, IL, KS, CA, CO, AZ, WA, MO, OK, IN, WV.

3. Number of bike chains: 4

4. Avg. Calories Consumed per day: 3200

5. Mountains Climbed: Sugarloaf (MD), Mt. Weather (VA), Blue Mountain (VA), Naked Mountain (VA), Mt. Tam (CA), Cougar Mountain (WA), Random 6 mile 2000 foot climb outside of Eureka (CA), Mt. Mingus (AZ), Mt. Oread (KS)[ok, I cheated on this one].

6. Number of bike tires used: 3 sets

7. Number of crashes on training rides: 1

8. Number of times I fell off the bike while racing 3 cross races: 4, once into a brier patch

9. Most listened to song on my IPhone: Miranda Lambert, Gun Powder and Lead (I swear I put the thing on shuffle).

10. Number of curse words used in a single race: 1058, and all used while chasing down a breakaway at the Low Country Challenge Stage Race.

The act of purchasing a PowerTap wasn't the impetus of anything but rather the first step in making myself accountable, accountable to ultimately myself. There is no hiding when you use wattage, either you're pushing 300 watts or you're not. The data allowed me to mark and track changes and progress in a way that I couldn't do before, and it gave me many many many reality checks. More so, my coach Adam was my reality check. A steadfast critique of bike racing and tactics and a genius for understanding the minutia of training. I could not have done this without his guidance.

Along this path I relied heavily on the kindness of strangers, friends and family. My teammates were a constant source of strength and advice. My family was a rock of support and I found the most beautiful woman in the world who helped me along with gentle nudges and swift kicks. I'm confident that she doesn't understand this obsession of ours to deliver so much pain to our bodies, but she understands what it means to me and supports me throughout with unwavering strength. This has bolstered me throughout and has gotten me over the crest of numerous hills, both physical and metaphysical. For me that's all I need.

If Wishing Only Made it So

2009-06-15T20:41:00.004-05:00

I spent last week in Charleston, SC, prepping witnesses and handling depositions (the picture is me across the way from Fort Sumter saluting my Union ancestors). After a week of that I thought I'd head on down the road to Beaufort and race a little bit in the Low Country. The Low Country Challenge is a stage race with three stages over two days and a total altitude change of 5 feet. Maybe I'm exaggerating a bit, but it was flat and fast. I ended up 13th in GC and that's the end of that story. The Low Country boys can flat out ride fast in a straight line. They can't turn their bikes to save their lives. However, when you can jump like a gazelle you don't have to turn to well, unless you are being chased by a cheetah.

This weekend I felt more like a lone wolf. Someone would jump and I would accelerate and pull them back with determination and will. The spark wasn't there but the ability to turn myself inside out was. In the road race on Sunday I found myself in a group of about 20 guys that had left the rest of the field behind. A split formed in that group and I was behind the leading 7 or 8. Along with the help of a couple other guys I pulled it all back together. I tried to jump to the break but didn't have the power to make an instant gap so I had to do it the old fashioned way.

The break was pulled back but 10 seconds later 5 guys were up the road. The break was comprised of a lot of the horsepower left in the field and the big teams were represented. I knew I had to put myself there or else the race was over for me. I jumped across, got clear, joined a guy in nomansland and dropped him. The break had 5 seconds on me for about half a mile. I was riding consistently at more than 100-150 watts above my lactate threshold. I felt the fibers of my muslces shredding. I put my head down and prayed for any draft, just an ounce, just something to close those five seconds. Then it happened and I was on.

We spent the next 15 minutes rotating and after all that effort we were caught by the remaining 9 guys in the field. We rode the rest of the race almost in neutral but I was done. A Kansan told me that you can push your body beyond the point where almost anyone else would stop. He said that you can literally turn yourself inside out and then right back again. I'm not saying I rode harder than anyone else or that I achieved something superhuman. All I'm saying is that on Sunday I redefined what pain means to me. And now I'm stronger for it.

Only the Strong Survive: Tulsa Tough

2009-06-04T17:05:00.003-05:00

KC's Justin hit the nail right on the head when he described the deceptively friendly panda logo of this year's edition of Tulsa Tough:

"I think the Panda in the logo for the hospital and race is a perfect mascot for this 3 day race series. The image of a Panda lulls you into a false sense of security and then once you approach it it grapples your head and sinks its incisors deep into your jugular and rips your throat open, leaving you for dead."

For more you can always visit Justin's blog. Tulsa Tough is 3 days of crit racing in Oklahoma that become more and more deadly to its racers. At first it's just the heat, then it's the 125-guy fields, then it's the insane speeds that you average (all above 26 mph which includes several less than friendly hills) and topped off by the dumbest hardest river bluff climb (complete with kegs and oddly dressed spectators with flags and baby dolls).

On both Friday and Saturday I finished in the top 25, despite the valiant efforts of other bike racers to thwart my endeavors by throwing their bikes on the ground in front of me. There was an amazing number of guys in all the races who took insane risks but ran out of talent halfway through and ended up wrecking. Sunday was a mess and I ended up cracking on the hill with about 12 laps to go.

Over all it was a great experience, but still a little disheartening in the results. Saturday was definitely my day but I got a little boxed in, in the final sprint and had to sit down and then reaccelerate. I made several moves over several days but I'm not strong enough to hold off 100 other guys. The Stars and Bars did get called out at the line on two occassions. On top of the announcer being confused by the presence of a DCer, Venerable NCVC alum Scott Delaune was at the race on Friday and gave a shout out followed by numerous laps of heckling and calls for me to push the speed past ludicrous to plaid.

As the first of my focus events of the year, I have to say I am pretty psyched and that it bodes well for this weekend's Low Country Challenge in South Carolina. I've got the power courtesy of coach Adam Mills, now I just gotta get the big ring on.

Sprinters Beware...

2009-05-28T09:24:00.003-05:00

...RFK is the last of the bone-flat untechnical crit/circuit races of the year. Well, at least the last one that I'm signed up for in MABRA. From this point on out the road turns uphill and me and my lightweight cohorts are getting ready to throw down.

I won't retell too much of the story of RFK just to say that I tried to break it up. If I read my power data right, I threw myself off the front no fewer than 3 times. In the end an 11th place in a field sprint that was as organized as a Walmart opening on Black Friday.

Again, Amy Jones was there to capture a couple images. Thank heavens we not only have talented bike racers in MABRA, but also really good photographers and Joe Jefferson calling the races too. Notice the pain being displayed and the almost emotionless-where-are-the-white-elephants look on my face. Plus the uber cool argyle socks that I'm rocking.

I'm out in Kansas again chasing some leads and getting ready for a weekend of hardcore racing at Tulsa Tough. I've heard a lot about these races and cannot wait to see the best of Oklahoma, Texas and Kansas-- I ain't scared. This marks the beginning of a journey that has me racing 18 races in a row outside of MABRA in the next two months before returning for Coppi.

What Are the Noon Time Rides???

2009-05-21T15:55:00.003-05:00

Today I headed down to the Point to hammer!!! Ok, not really but I did go down to turn a couple of laps and to try to shake my muscles loose after a solid couple days of efforts. I had almost made it through my laps around before heading back to the office when the big guns rolled up in the midst of the hammer session. I was itching to get in there and mix it up with the likes of Chuck Hutch who has made a couple of my lunch hours painful when I was reminded that I couldn't do it today because I was trying to recover.

I did however notice my Mayor, Mr. Fenty, in the mix today which was exciting to see. It looked like he was handling the hammer session well. I've seen the Mayor out from time-to-time riding hard at noon in various places, with a small crew of guys who aren't on his DC Velo squad. This leads me to believe that there is either a planned or an impromptu mayoral-group ride, which I'd like to become a part of.

However, more generally, I'm curious what other noon-time rides there are in the area. I've heard rumors of a couple here and there that I'd really enjoy joining from time-to-time, especially on days when I don't have a focused set to do while training. So please, if anyone can help and write a comment on how long, when and from where these rides leave I'd forever be in your debt.

Unofficial Poll...

2009-05-20T19:51:00.003-05:00

I've decided to conduct an unofficial poll, so here it goes:

-- If I didn't race bikes I would . . .

I'll start off. If I didn't race bikes I would eat a lot of pizza, likely be very fat and drink way too much.

The Lonely Miles

2009-05-19T08:32:00.002-05:00

It was suggested to me that my legs may not want to race 7 weekends in a row. Seeing the genius of that suggestion, I ended up not racing this past weekend so that I could have a little break in the midst of the season. I took the opportunity to head out of town to the mountains for some long lonely miles. It's nice to be out among the hills and it's great to listen to nothing but silence. It's an odd reminder of where my own athletic life started.

What I found the hardest as a swimmer back in college was the silence of the sport. When you bury your head in the water pretty much every noise from around you fades away. As a backstroker my ears were deep in the water and with the noise that my arms made going right by head it was pretty much a guarantee that once I started that I couldn't hear anything. I did get the privilege of looking up at the heavens as opposed to down at the black line on the bottom of the pool but that was a minor escape from my watery shackles.

Riding alone amid the mountains I am back in the same place. Aside from the occasional car horn honking, it's just me and the wind. Even better while climbing, it's just me, the steady rhythm of the crank arms and my breadth. Cycling is a social sport and racing in the pack is a great feeling; however, the quiet moments of suffering by oneself remind me of the joys of my youth. It was a nice way to reminisce and pass the long miles while reloading for the next phase of the season.

I'm about to launch on my first set of focus races for this season. I am still ahead of schedule on my personal quest for this season but as of late that rate slaked a bit. This weekend is Murad and the RFK Crit which I'm using as a tune-up before traveling to Tulsa Tough and the Low Country Challenge the following weeks. I'm excited to see what my form brings me in these races.

Into the Wind

2009-05-11T15:13:00.002-05:00

Toni Morrison once said "if you surrender to the wind, you can ride it." When it comes to bike racing, that is totally bull. I surrendered myself to a breakaway on Saturday and I all I got was the joy of dodging a couple crashes and 1200 watts in a field sprint. I watched the break go at Fort Ritchie. I wanted to be in. I tried to be in. I tried jumping to it twice. Both times I came back a little more broken then before.

If I couldn't be in the break than I wanted to bring the break back. I tried joining in the chase at the front of the field. The break was right there the whole time, it was just 15-20 seconds off the front. One or two more guys on the front and maybe, maybe, maybe. The tail of the tape is that I maxed out at 1200 watts and 36 mph in the race. I put in a lot of effort and in the end it wasn't enough to bring them back. However, it's clear that I can still turn my bike and that Ben Coles' old adage, that "there is always room on the inside," holds true.

A couple points emerged from 60 minutes of racing. The first is that if you come with me when I'm bridging up to a break, I'd like it if you'd help pull a little bit. It's great to have a buddy suffering with you to get up to a breakaway. It reduces the workload and makes it all so much better. However, if you jump me to finish off the gap then you better make it up there. I realize it's bike racing and people are going to do that, so I cool when it happens. It's part of the reason why you learn that lesson to always conserve enough energy for one more jump. However, if you jump me to bridge the gap and you subsequently fail to get to the break...well then...maybe you should rethink your strategy because now both of us are back in the field.

The second point is, when are we going to start pulling riders who are out of contention? This season has seen a lot of lapped riders in the field in a lot of different crits. About 20 minutes or so into this race the main field started catching lapped riders. Fort Ritchie is a 1.5 km loop with 6 turns in it. It was technical to a degree and the attrition rate was high. It was clear from the beginning that some of the riders weren't going to make it the whole way. I appreciate that the officiating crew likes to leave riders in as long as possible, but when they get lapped by the field, then it's just dangerous. Especially when while in the process of getting lapped these riders don't move to the sides of the road and end up going backwards through the field like a bowling ball down a mountain.

At some point in time the individual rider needs to admit that they are beyond their capacity and it is in his/her best interest to pull the plug. We've all done it before, I've pulled myself out this season. It happens and it is nothing to be ashamed of, it's just a sign that tomorrow will be a better day. However, if you get popped and stick around to get lapped and take someone down in the process of getting lapped...well then that's just a plain bad decision on your part.

Quick Look it's Something Cool!!!

2009-05-07T10:45:00.003-05:00

Clearly one of the cooler wheel sets I've ever seen. It's proof positive that Christian Vande Velde rocks in many different ways. On a side note it is also a reminder that I have to get my TT bike up and running. It probably wouldn't hurt to work on my positioning too.

Banned from the United Kingdom

2009-05-06T16:36:00.002-05:00

Unrelated to bike racing but related to my love of the law, big news yesterday was that the British Government banned Michael Savage and Fred Phelps from visiting the United Kingdom. They were included in a list of close to 20 others including fundamentalist, religious fanatics and leaders of hate groups. This is both a great and frightening thing.

If you don't know who Mr. Savage or Mr. Phelps are, I wouldn't be too surprised. I became acquainted with Mr. Savage while driving through rural Mississippi late on Friday nights and before I learned of the genius of Sirius satellite radio. My choice for radio entertainment was limited to local high school football games or Mr. Savage's radio broadcast. I would normally listen to his broadcast for about 3 minutes before he would say something so incredibly hateful or ridiculous that I would be forced to turn the station or I seriously feared that my ears would start bleeding from his rampant stupidity.

Mr. Savage is a reactionary radio host whose syndicated broadcast reach too far beyond the sound of his voice. In my brief 3 minute stints of listening to him I gleaned that he was apt to explosions of profanity, insulting his callers and basically lambasting any and all socio-economic, racial or religious groups that he just didn't like at that moment.

Mr. Phelps on the other hand, is an attorney from Topeka, KS, who spent way too much time on the campus of my alma mater, the University of Kansas, spewing hate towards homosexuals and anyone who didn't despise them as much as he did. He has been known to protest at the funerals of U.S. soldiers killed in Iraq and has argued that their deaths are God's punishment for the United States' tolerance of homosexuality.

Both of these men are clearly not intellectual leaders of any kind and the world would obviously be better served if they stopped talking. I think it's great that the UK banned these individuals because of their intolerant behavior and their calls to hatred of various groups. The ideas that they spew provide little to no value to the marketplace of ideas. Frankly, they are a bigger waste of space than anyone I can think of.

However, as much as I dislike reactionary nut jobs like Mr. Savage and Mr. Phelps, I truly love the First Amendment. The idea that the freedom of speech is protected against encroachment and that everyone is allowed to basically speak their mind no matter how ridiculous their words might be is the hallmark of liberty, which as John Adams said is "the soul's ability to breath." Any law student who has sat through their first semester of Constitutional Law can recite this country's seminal case law on free speech and the limits of the First Amendment including such judicial doctrines as "fighting words" and "hate speech." I believe those decisions are correct and see their inherent value. It is the limits beyond that which cause me concern.

I realize that the United Kingdom is apt to do what it may when it comes to its immigration and travel laws and is not bound by our Supreme Court's interpretation of the very basic civil liberties which we as Americans are afforded. As to the former, I can justify the British decision to restrict the entry of individuals especially when viewed under the prism of public safety and therefore, would never challenge their action. However, as the bulk of our common law jurisprudence comes from the same source as British common law; such a decision purely on the basis of restricting free speech gives me pause.

It places all of us in a conundrum where in civil liberties are often tested and the classic judicial proverb, "bad facts make bad law" is found. What a slippery slope do we find ourselves when we place limits on the ability of people to freely speak no matter how ridiculous or hurtful those words might be? While, most would agree that banning either Mr. Savage or Mr. Phelp's right to propagate hatred is a good thing, where would it stop beyond there? Would it extend then to others on extremes of the right and left?

The marketplace of ideas is one of our most sacred treasures; while it cannot be quantified or placed on display at the Smithsonian its value is beyond measure. Those governmental actions that impose limits on that marketplace must be beyond few and far between. The marketplace of ideas must be self-regulating. In the end, the best way to end the speech of men like this is to simply do what I did, stop listening to it.

Darn Wet

2009-05-03T19:23:00.002-05:00

The following is a retelling of 75 minutes of pain and agony. Every season a bike racer has a couple races where he's just off. For me last year was the Tour of Washington County. This year it was the Bunny Hop. I'm hoping that there are no more days like this. It was 60 degrees and raining at the start. The field wasn't as stacked as normal but 30 person fields have a tendancy of being harder than others . . . there just ain't anywhere to hide.

I'd like to write about all the moves I covered or all the breaks I got into; but the simple fact is that when I did put myself in the wind I couldn't recover after the effort ended. I'd swing back through the field and I just couldn't recover. I kept waiting for the speed to slow down or maybe for my body to adjust but neither was happening.

I redlined myself any number of times in what should have been a simple enough race to sit in and wait for an opportunity to develop. With about 10-to-go the rain started coming down heavier than before. Even if I wanted to see what was in front of me I couldn't. Guys started throwing themselves off the front and the pace picked up. I'm not sure how many of our group had been thrown off the back by this point but that didn't matter, because I knew who would be next if I didn't move up.

The bell lap came and went. I rode in with the field. Here is the silver lining to an otherwise rain soaked day-- I was still there.

Back in D.C.

2009-04-30T20:11:00.002-05:00

After a week-long trip to St. Louis and a few warm days of riding, reality kicked back in as did 50 degree temps. I must have been overzealous in the idea that Summer was coming because on Tuesday I did some massive Spring cleaning. In the process I took all my winter clothes out of the closet and put them into storage for next year. Thanfully I saved a wind vest, a pair of arm warmers and some light gloves just in case . . . .

Tonight I got to ironing and found myself watching a show on SciFi called Eureka. It's not the best show but it was a heck of a lot better than Dancing With the Stars, Idol or countless hours of CNN retelling the same story. Why can I not find bike racing on TV right now? But I digress, watching Eureka instantly got me thinking of my trip this past Fall to California's Wild Rivers Coast, tall redwoods and thick fog.

I in no way feel the need to break out the bike box and head back on out on the road; however, northern California has grown on me. It's not as beautiful as the green hillsides of the Virginia hunt country, but I can definitely see the charm of San Francisco, Sonoma and the wine country. Especially, the fact that you can wear a suit coat every day and not freeze or burn. Looking back on some of my other travels in the past year, I've really gotten to ride my bike in some cool places. Looking forward to my upcoming race schedule the next two months are all local races. That'll definitely save my back the pain of dragging cycling luggage around airports.

There is something great about riding in DC. The idea of leaving my front door in the heart of a real city and within 10 minutes being on an open road headed toward the countryside . . . well that's just a great feeling. I cannot thinmk of another place like it. It's fun to be a part of other cycling communities as a visitor for a while; which is why I wish I could figure out a way to bridge the gap between different communities. We seem to get so focused on our own district whether it be MABRA or LaMBRA (LA/MS) or MOBRA (Missouri) or whatever your home calls it, that we forget that there is so much else out there. Or just how plan fun it is to try some new routes or races.

I am extending an open invitation to all my bike racing friends from across the country to come here to DC and ride. I guarantee you that it's some of the best riding around and our races are legit too.

Tour of St. Louis: Carondolet Park

2009-04-27T14:46:00.002-05:00

Stage Two (for me) of the Tour of St. Louis was the Carondolet Park Circuit Race. The course was created by adding an additional 3/4 mile of road to the Tuesday Night World Championship course. It's a course which features swooping curves, almost no corners and one steep descent followed by a quick rise back up. It also featured a swirling wind which bounced through out the park's trees. In fact it was so windy that water from one of the park's fountains traveled over a 100 meters and misted the riders as they went along.

Most of the early part of the race was uneventful. I took a few digs and bridged up to a couple breaks which were ultimately pulled back. The wind knocked a lot of eager breakaway attempts down and the speed of the ascent/descent made it hard to get away unless you were intent on just putting down a nasty tempo until everyone around you abandoned all hope.

Before the race started I was warming up with the boys from the Mercy Cycling Team and talking about how to attack this course. Joe Schmalz made a passing comment that if you took the slightly less than 90 degree corner at the bottom of the fast descent at 40 mph that no one would follow you. With two laps to go I put that theory to the test. Given the grade and the tailwind it wasn't that hard to push the pace up to 40s. I tucked through the corner and out the other side with only one guy on my wheel. I punched it up and over the first part of the hill and the other guy took it from there.

We had a solid gap on the field and it was growing quick. He went down into an aero tuck with his arms on the top of the bars and I put my head down and my hands in the drops and we charged off. I was pretty gassed from the effort going up the hill and had just about caught my breadth when he popped in the head wind. I came around him but a quick gust knocked down the mirth of my jump. At the start/finish line with one to go I got caught by the field.

I thought my day was over but surprisingly the pace really slowed down and I didn't get swarmed. I made a few aggressive moves to put myself back into the top 25% of the field going into the final couple hundred meters. I started my sprint too late for anything grand but ended up in the top 20.

Two top 20 finishes in a weekend is a good result but not something that I'm overly happy with right now. My focus is sharp and my form is on, but I'm not seeing the sprint the way I was a month ago. I made very simple mistakes in both races in the Tour of St. Louis, mistakes that I shouldn't be making at this stage in the season. What it comes down to is that right now I'm missing the sprint before the sprint or that time when you ramp your speed up to get good position to sprint. I've been sitting back for too long waiting to go. I need to remedy this mistake and then just let my sprint flow.

Tour of St. Louis: Delmar-velous Crit

2009-04-25T17:03:00.002-05:00

Stage one of the Tour of St. Louis was the .8 mile Delmarvelous Crit. It was four-corners, flat and crosswind filled. It started with more than 50 guys and finished with just about as many. There was nothing particularly hard about the race and none of the guys in the field were prepared to make it hard. That was trouble for me.

I jumped hard a couple of times but ended up bringing with me someone who was much weaker than me. I'd pull through and gap the guys who were in the break with me. I'd try to drop them but they were strong enough to stay with me. However, when I ended up alone I was not strong enough to fight off the entire field.

With about 5 laps left to go in the hour race I resigned myself to the fact that it was going to be a field sprint. I fought through swarm after swarm when the pace slowed down. I went into the final corner just too far back. In the 300 meters to the finish I passed a couple of guys but finished 17th on the day. It's a better result than I had been posting this month but still not what I wanted. I know where I made my mistake today and I won't let that happen again tomorrow. It's just frustrating to know that I was strong but not strong enough. Tomorrow is a new day.

Live from St. Louis

2009-04-20T20:03:00.004-05:00

I've made it in MABRA cycling!!! I thought I had made it when my blog was linked to by one of the area's fastest bike racers and someone who has dropped me on more 10AM rides than most. However, it's official now because I finally found my picture among Jim Wilson's photos this past weekend.

Notice the determined look; however, I still I think that I can use a new pair of sunglasses. As long as I can keep my photo off You Got Dropped, I'm happy.

Hayden and I packed up and left again.

This time to St. Louis for work and then the Tour of St. Louis this weekend. Anyone who knows me knows that I travel more often than most people. It comes with the territory of my job. I enjoy the opportunity to ride and race in new and interesting markets. Plus, it's fun to be an ambassador from a far away place or just a rogue rider in the peloton. My bike racing travels began about a year ago when I escaped the clutches of a succubi who threatened to suck out my very will to live much less my love of bike racing.

I've flown my bike to about 10 different cities across the US and on almost every major domestic carrier a couple times. The one consistency in those travels is the inconsistency in the fee that I have been charged. The prices have ranged from no charge on US Airways, from National to New Orleans; to $225 on United from LA to Dulles. It makes no sense.

Today was no different. Today I was informed that it would cost me $175 to fly my bike from Dulles to St. Louis (silently I was outraged). This was radically different from the last time I flew from Dulles that time to San Francisco on United in the Fall where I was charged $50. On the return flight from Seattle I paid $0 and with no explanation for the difference. Today I asked the gentleman behind the "Special Assistance" counter that I had been routed to by someone at a regular counter who said that they couldn't handle my bag, another first for me, why the difference in price. He was dumbfounded and couldn't come up with a good justification or answer. It took him 10 minutes to produce a rate sheet that showed the bike fee, which stated that it was effective as of 2008.

There was no fee charged for checking my wheel bag or my suitcase today. That was different than my recent flight from Kansas City to DCA on Midwest Airlines where I was charged $80 for my bike and an additional $40 for 2 excess bags (my bike box and my suitcase). That charge was again different than the $100 I was charged on the way to Kansas City on the same airline, which was limited to just the bike box. $80 is also what I paid when I flew from Denver to LA on United but $50 is what I paid when I flew from National to Denver.

This is just a few examples of how arbitrary these fees are. I honestly feel that it's dependent upon who checks you in behind the counter. When I flew to SF and was charged $50 it was by a uniformed employee from United. On the return no-charge flight from Seattle I was checked in by an airport employee who had no connection to an airline. When I wasn't charged when I flew to New Olreans on US Airways I was standing in line behind CNN's Wolf Blitzer so I'm sure the woman behind the counter was just star struck and forgot her standard procedures.

I admit that my bike box at 53 lbs fully loaded weighs more than most luggage, barely. I don't like the fact that I have to pay an additional fee to check my bike but I'm willing to do that because I realize that's just how the game is to be played in our world where airlines feel that they can oversell flights and cut the quality of their service to almost nothing. However, I live by a budget. I budget everything because that's how I have determined I can best manage my money and afford those things in this world that I enjoy, including my addictions to bike racing and nice suits. Budgeting however is made difficult when you cannot predict how much you are going to be charged for a particular service. When the baggage fees appear arbitrary it's hard to budget for it. When I can in the future I think I'm just going to drive to a few more places rather than fly. At least I know how much it's going to cost me to put my bike in the trunk of my Jetta and roll.

Syn-Fit Criterium

2009-04-18T20:43:00.005-05:00

"At least it was a good day of training," it's totally an excuse or better said a way you justify a hard day of racing with no results. It's also how I've felt about my races in April. I doubled up again today for two crits out in Chantilly, VA. My first race, the cat 3 swerve-a-thon, was a testament to shaky riding and inept attempts at breaking away.

My teammate, Karl and I spent our day at the front trying to start or join breakaways. Our efforts ended up being in vain and the race turned into a field sprint with no good result. I rolled up for the 1/2/3 race with a different and looser attitude about things. I'm very focused on bridging the points gap and becoming a 2. I'm closing in on it and a good result should put me over the top. So I've approached my two MABRA 3's races with tension but when it's a 1/2/3 race I've been looser and more free because I'm playing the role of a supporter. As a result, I'm having much more fun.

I started the second race on the front and stayed there.

(remember the goal is to look tough because cycling is all about the tough guy image). I covered break after break for the first 10 laps. I sat up after putting in a good effort and rolled back about 10 spots to catch my breath. A few guys got up the road and I thought to myself, "that sure looks like a good break to be in." I didn't chase as I was gassed and they were sure to come back. As luck would have it they didn't come back. Even though the break got so close a couple of times. One of my teammates was up in the break and that's a solid bonus for me.

The pack chased for a long time and I spent the rest of the race following wheels and wondering when the next big effort would come. I went after a pream but wasn't able to come around the last guy in front of me. With 13 to go the officials decided that the lead group of about 10 was going to lap the rest of the field and gave us 3 laps to go. With no money left in the race I rolled in with a set of weary legs.

I had joked before the race started with DC Velo's Jason Meidhoff that I was sure he had peaked for this early season race. Well, it might not have been a season focus for him but he had a great ride, dropping the hammer on the break and soloing away for the win for at least 10 laps. My teammate in the break finished solid in and among the district's big sprinters. Now on to a little rest phase and the Tour of St. Louis.

Belgian Days

2009-04-15T10:56:00.001-05:00

Today is already a wash. I declared it a no riding outside day a few minutes ago. It's in the 40s, it's raining and there is no sign that it'll be stopping any time soon. To say the least, I'm not pleased. I hate riding the trainer. I dislike everything about it.

I rode yesterday in the two-hour break in the weather that we had. Winter feels like it is holding on for a little too long this year. It's not that it's been cold or snowy or anything like my boys out in Kansas have been dealing with. It's just not getting warm. Riding in 40-50 degree cloudy and rainy weather just wears on you after a while. Especially here in DC where there air is almost always filled with just a little bit of humidity. It gets through your wind vest and clings to your base layer like a lobbyist to the teat an omnibus spending bill.

April has been a disappointing month for results, especially following on my March results. I've got four more starts left this month and I'm gunning to turn things around starting this weekend. May is on its way and there is going to be some mad racing in May. I'm just hoping the weather starts to cooperate. I dig Belgian style beer and Belgian style racing but I'm losing my love for the Belgian weather.

Hunt Country Easter

2009-04-13T18:40:00.004-05:00

I had a great plan for a bazillion base miles on Saturday out in the Blue Ridge. Mother nature had some other plans. It rained all day long and I was only able to escape around 5 o'clock for a couple hours of riding before the sun went down. Topeka-rules say that you don't ride outside in the cold rain. The logic is that the worst thing that can happen to fitness is getting sick, so one weekend of bad riding is just sacrifice.

With very little bike racing this past weekend my Monday abesent of Gam Jams distractions and reading up on other people's blogs. Thank heaven that next week there will be plenty of bike racing to recount. On Sunday I spent some time at a hunt point-to-point; as such a recounting of horse racing could be in order. However, I have no idea what steeple chase is and I'm befuddled by horses and any description of what was going on is fruitless.

Despite that fact I had a great hat. If my grandfather's stories are true, I am genetically predisposed to wearing fedoras. There is no fear that I will trade bikes for horses any time soon.

Just a pleasant diversion for a Sunday afternoon.

Spring Time in DC

2009-04-09T17:13:00.003-05:00

Today was one of the nicer days that I've seen in a long time. My legs have been slowly coming around after this weekend's festivities and I've had two days in a row of solid interval work. Coming back into to DC around noon time today I was confronted with a wall of traffic. I have no idea where it all came from and no idea why it was there. There was a traffic jam in Georgetown all the way from one end to the other. At least a good mile of cars. I've come to expect that on weekends or during rush hour but at 1PM? I blame it on the ideal weather and people's truant disposition today. Let's hope the good weather stands for awhile longer. Winter has held on for a bit too long this year.

Tyson's Corner

2009-04-06T11:33:00.000-05:00

Double-up Sunday for me-- two circuit races and I paid the price. My legs were fresher than most given that I had only done two hard laps at Walkersville the day previous before my bike decided that it didn't want to race anymore. I was focused on revenging that performance out in Virginia.

Tyson's is a long crit/short circuit race. It's a little over a mile in length and features a long downhill and quick uphill. There really is nothing more to the course than that. If five focused guys get it in their mind that the race is going to be a field sprint then they can make it into one. That's pretty much what happened in both races today.

My first race was solid. Greg Faber got up the road in a break that was looking like it might actually stick. Suddenly the break imploded and we saw guys stringing out the back in pairs. When Faber left the break, Drew Armstrong went to the front of the field and didn't leave it until he had nailed back the remainder. At that point in time I should have jumped, but instead of doing it right then when the pack was relaxing I waited a lap.

I jumped hard but might have gotten five meters off the front before I was tagged. I pulled the plug, and as it was 4 to go, sat back in for the sprint. Karl and I were in good position going into the final lap but the downhill was too quick and we got swallowed up in the surge from behind.

Race two was a lot like race one but faster, longer and harder. I dug early and got to the front of the field and stayed put. A few early breaks tried to establish themselves up the road but nothing was happening. One of the stronger Harley riders was riding right in front of me and jumped when a couple other guys went at about the midpoint of the race. I tagged on to his wheel and went. It wasn't the acceleration that hurt me but the fact that the acceleration never seemed to end. I clawed onto the back of his wheel and prayed for mercy.

Mercy didn't come because down the backside of the course the pace got even faster. I had hoped that once, maybe just once, that the pace would let up on the hill so that I could catch my breath. That didn't happen. No sizeable gap formed between the group I was in and the field and eventually it was all back together.

The hill would take it's toll on my legs and I had little left at the end of the race. I rolled in very pleased with my fitness and the knowledge that I can do more than just hang on when the big guys throw down. It's just gonna take some extra work to make myself a player in those fields.

I've got three weekends till my next race at the Tour of St. Louis. Perfect time now for some miles and a little regrouping.

Walkersville

2009-04-04T16:50:00.001-05:00

On lap two I had a mechanical. I was able to fix it quickly but not quick enough to keep up with the pack. I chased for a lap and then I retired. Time to fight again tomorrow.

Regrouping

2009-04-01T19:30:00.002-05:00

Since my first race in February I've had 11 starts. In that time I've had 4 top tens and 1 win. I've also had 2 DNFs and the rest were pack finishes. By the end of this weekend I'll add 2 more starts to that total. Then I'm taking two weeks off of racing and gearing up for a long set of May and June races. By Memorial Day I'll likely have done more races than I did all of last season. I'm on a quest this season and I'm not stopping until I succeed in that quest.

I recently joined a new coaching service-- Source Endurance. The link to their web page is to the left. It's a great organization and I'm impressed with them. Coach Adam is one of their newest coaches, so it was a no-brainer to join up. I was looking through my training schedule for the week and noticed that it said "time to regroup." It's great to have a coach that is on the same frequency. It's almost as if I don't have to say the words out loud, he just knows instinctively.

Jeff Cup

2009-03-30T11:35:00.004-05:00

It's an amazing thing to be a part of a field that shrinks from 125 guys to about 30 guys over the course of 70 miles. This was my first run at the Jefferson Cup in Charlottesville. In the past, I've either been in trial or afflicted with a vicious disease of some kind; as such everything was new to me. The course is a fairly typical Mid-Atlantic bike race and the field was full of all the usual team kits. A couple of hills and some fast twisting roads were the major challenges. The wind also tossed in a challenge or two.

I found myself kind of light-headed on the first two laps. I really don't know what was going on with me but I plowed on and into the third lap when things got nasty. Going up the steepest and longest of the hills that day someone set a hard pace. I was riding about 30 guys back at the time so I couldn't see what was going on but I could feel my legs slowly coming a part. We crested the hill and right into the headwind. I plunged down the steep twisting descents determined not to lose grip on the field. To be honest that grip was tenuous at that point and I was well above my lactate threshold praying for the speed to let up just a bit.

After about 10 minutes of chest-on-to-top-tube riding the pace slowed enough to catch my breath. At that point in time any light-headedness I was having was gone. I had made the split and the field had shrunk to less than 50 guys. I finished out the 3rd lap in relative peace. A teammate rode up to me at that point and asked me to shadow him and make sure he kept contact with the field. He's a much better sprinter and given the conditions of the day it was likely that the race would come down to a field sprint; so the answer to the question was pretty simple. Implementation proved fatal to my bike racing on the day.

I couldn't get him forward into the field and spent a couple of hard minutes keeping him in contact. A slip up in the feed zone on lap 5 proved to be the undoing of a bunch of people. Someone at the front put the pace down right then. I found him and put him on my wheel. He was solidly attached to my wheel as we went up a several mile long false flat which proceeded the biggest of the hills. We turned the corner and I made it my mission to make sure he got up and over the crest. When he did, I popped...hard. After trying to fight into the head wind for a mile or two I sat up and rode in.

I'm a little disappointed in how I fared. I had a lot of momentum coming into the race and wanted to keep it going. Plus, I was inspired by the idea of finally having teammates in the field. It's a good feeling not being the only guy wearing the stars and bars. However, given that I survived longer than a lot of people who last year beat me senseless a couple weekends a month, including some pro riders, I feel good. Had I not have been in the role of helping a teammate I may have survived but I was cashed and would have been of little use in the field sprint that ended the race. Another teammate, Jeff Dickey, had a solid performance and an 8th place finish to lead our squad. Greg Faber also had a great race and out lived the madness.

Plo-ha

2009-03-27T12:46:00.004-05:00

...is my version of the phonetic spelling of the Russian word for bad, poor, ick or just generally how I've been feeling for much of the early part of the week. I'd say I bonked hard on my ride on Tuesday but that would subscribe to a theory for the cause of probably one of the worst rides that I've had in...well...forever. Suffice it to say, I was unhappy. On Wednesday I tried to pick up the pieces of shattered body and it worked a bit better. Then I jumped on a plane and went south.

I flew back to DC today from my Thursday trip down to Ft. Lauderdale. The sun and warm air was a nice change. I jumped on the bike for my noon-time training ride and set out to do a little recovery loop around Hain's Point. I don't like the "Point." I go down there to do one lap and then get out. I don't turn laps down there or join in the noon ride. I don't have anything against anyone that does, I just find it mind-numbing going around the same 3-mile loop when I have access to miles of beautiful open roads elsewhere to train on.

Well, in my leisurely pace around the Point, I acquired a kling-on. You know, the guy who rides up behind you and starts drafting off you and just sits on your wheel without saying a word. The same guy you wouldn't even know that he is there unless you looked behind you and then you ask yourself "how long has he been there?" It would be one thing if I was going fast and it was the 10AM or an actual race; but I was on a recovery ride. I would have had no problem if this guy had ridden up to me and rode along side with me and chatted. I enjoy the occasional bike ride random chat with a dude that I don't know. Bike racing is much more fun when you have people to talk to while doing it.

What irked me is that he just started drafting and he was intent on sitting there like this was his personal version of Paris-Nice and I was leading him out for the world's slowest sprint. At first I hoped that he would come around me and go away. I even slowed a bit to facilitate this event. However he just stayed there. I swerved a bit in the lane to take him off my wheel but undeterred he stayed there. Then I started riding slalom down the dashed white lines- back and forth and back and forth. That finally broke him of his kling-on-ness.

Here is the moral of the story. Don't ride up to a guy you don't know and draft off him without at least saying something. A simple "hey how you are doing, do you mind if I sit on for a second?" would have changed this entire episode from an annoyance to something acceptable.

Here at the End of the Beginning

2009-03-23T16:02:00.002-05:00

Two weeks in Kansas and 7 races later I have come home prepared for the start of the MABRA season. The last stage of the Perry cross-wind-a-thon was a powerful illustration of the fact that my team kit sticks out in a crowd. About 3 laps into the race a break of two got up the road. Neither of them threatened my position or anyone else's in the GC so they were let go. A third rider attempted to bridge and recognizing him as the Bike Shack rider who had solo'd away with 5 to go the previous day I jumped to catch him.

I looked back and saw nothing but a long train of red and white jerseys from KC's Team 360. I was a marked man and they let me know it. I resigned myself to riding in the field for a couple more laps. The third rider never made it up to the two leaders in the break and spent a long time dangling out in front of the break. One by one the field shrank as the crosswind took its toll. Only in Kansas can one design a race course that has absolutely no tail or head wind, only cross wind. Eventually the field was down to 10 guys with all the GC riders still left.

Team 360 was the motor in the remaining field as they had about half of it. It was easy to spot the one rider on their team that they were riding for as he was typically the guy who would latch on to me when I jumped. And I jumped repeatedly one lap in the cross-headwind section underneath the dam. I didn't know this at the time but those jumps appear to have hurt him. On the final lap his team threw it in the gutter hard. The strange thing about it was that their GC rider was back behind me and I was sitting about 4th wheel virtually riding in the grass. I slowly let a gap open between me and the rider in front of me and a couple of guys jumped around to get back in the draft. I tagged along and got back with the group but without the GC leader. His own team had dropped him with their gutter riding. A pair of them dropped back to try and bring him forward but by the time he rejoined the group we were at the base of the final climb and he finished well behind the winners.

Benn Stover from GP Velo Tek lead out the final sprint by ramping up the pace at the base of the climb. We quickly tagged him back as the road flattened out a bit then the final attack came quick. In the final sprint the field caught one of the riders who had been in the break with about 100 meters to go. He was shattered and couldn't respond. I came around Benn who finished right behind me but I was overtaken at the very top and finished 6th overall. I was blown up at the end of this one; much more so than the week previous. Two straight weeks on the road was just about all that my body could handle. So back on the big jet airliner and home to a soft bed and a good night sleep.

Kansas Racing: Schmalz, Medium and Large

2009-03-21T16:40:00.003-05:00

Today's race is dedicated to Joseph Schmalz, one of the fast and most down-to-earth 19 year-old bottle rockets I know. In short, he's fast and only getting faster. My last weekend in Kansas and my second-to-last race before the start of the MABRA season left me in a good spot. Another one-mile four-corner crit out at Clinton Lake. We did 30 laps with three sprint points before the final sprint.

As I was signing up for the race a little kid came up to me and saw the stars and bars on my shoulder and said "hey you won last week, how did that feel?" I was taken by the fact that he remembered me and what I did. It reminded me of when I was swimming and the meet in British Columbia where a local kid asked me for my autograph. That was the one time I signed an autograph in swimming. Today, I didn't sign any autographs but I felt really good about myself and my team.

My field of 35+ riders started out slow, especially compared to what we had been doing the previous weeks. I'm not going to complain because I was not feeling it early on. I tried to hold back my urge to jump the field early and did a good job until 23 to go. We slowed to a snails pace and I jumped just for the sake of jumping. I got clear and was solo up the road. After half a lap I looked back hoping to see someone or anyone coming across the gap to me but I was definitely alone.

I rode solo by myself for two laps before the field caught me. I was holding between 300-350 watts during that time just trying to stay smooth and praying that maybe the field would lose interest in a solo rider. That was not to be today. I'm not going to lie, when I got caught I was definitely down a few matches. I let the second and third sprint points go by. I tried to contest the 3rd one but found myself woefully out matched by someone who outweighed me and had a better lead out train than I.

After the 3rd sprint point a GP Velo Tek rider rolled off the front. I rolled with him. He didn't get very far before two guys from Bike Shack rolled even faster off the front. Bike Shack again had numbers in the field, I'd say a good 7 or so of our 35. I was a little gassed but I said to myself, "oh heck why not." I grabbed onto their wheel and let them pull me around the course for a lap and a half. With 14 to go I looked back and found that we had been joined by 4 others and had a bit of a gap. The 4 other guys started working and I joined in.

Our gap slowly increased to about 40 seconds and as all the major teams were represented it looked like it was going to stick. In fact it did stick and thus ended my drought of not being in a winning breakaway in a crit. With 5 laps to go one of the Bike Shack riders jumped the field. I was afraid that this would happen and the cohesiveness of the break would fall apart and we'd be caught. I covered the jump and brought the break back together.

Another lap went by and I took my turn at the front. As I rolled off the front Bike Shack attacked again. The number two man in the pace line did not cover and he got clean. We were never able to pull him back because no one wanted to work for it. The gamesmanship started to get bad with 2 to go. Everyone was looking at everyone else and the field was gaining on us. I went to the front and tried to jump off but got pulled back. I was countered and held on. With 1 to go I tried to take a flyer but got reeled back and sat on the front until the just before the second-to-last corner.

I have been having wicked trouble negotiating the final corner all day. I've ridden that corner maybe 70 times in last 3 weeks but I just cannot figure it out. It's off-camber slightly less than 90 degrees and with a little bit of a hook just past the apex. I ran the wrong line again and ended up being gaped. So my good position was blown and I had to open up my sprint too early. I wasn't able to pass anyone and got passed. I rolled in 7th in the sprint. A solid race and a good springboard into the MABRA season.

On the Path

2009-03-18T18:27:00.003-05:00

So at least I know that I'm on the right way now. Who would have thought that this would be in St. Louis.

Carondelet Park A Legit Training Race

2009-03-17T22:37:00.002-05:00

After my laywerly duties concluded today I suited up and went down the road to St. Louis' Tuesday Night World Championship training race in Carondelet Park. It was a legit race. It's a quick little loop with a tough hill. When Coach Adam, Joe Lafico and I rolled up to the start line we were joined by 50 other guys. Like I said, it was a legit race.

I've done training crits in a lot of places and most of them are pretty tame and not well attended but tonight was not the case. It was 50 minutes + 3 laps and there wasn't much time to sit back and relax. because the racing pretty much went from the gun. Again, the stars and bars on my team kit were recognized at the start line. It's really entertaining how many people recognize a DC-based team when you're not in DC. It's really a boost of confidence that folks have the respect enough to acknowledge NCVC/Inova Health System.

Coach Adam was a marked man pretty much from the jump. He tried a few moves early on but was instantly countered. I spent the first half of the race curbing my nasty tendency to...well attack in the first half of the race. I've been consciously trying to make my attacks more focused and less desperate this season and a big part of that goal is to improve my timing. We were turning laps at about 1 minute intervals which made the first half drag on for a while.

After the 25 minute mark I started to play a little bit more. Adam got up the road with a group of about 6 guys. They were working together pretty well and fighting off the field. I jumped across to try bridge as we headed into the downhill. Two guys tagged on and I pulled them about half way there. I signaled for one of the guys to pull through but instead of pulling through he jumped both of us. This made me just a touch angry and sent me back into the field.

Adam's break eventually came back and the field began in earnest attacking itself. I bridged up to a group of two who had established a move off the front. The moment I arrived the two of them just quit racing, which led to a little more anger and then me quickly being caught by the field. The race ended without much more from me.

I was really impressed by how the entire training race was run. It was smooth and professional and everyone took it serious. The pace never really slackened and overall it was a great workout.

Bike Riding in St. Louis: Creve Coeur, MO

2009-03-16T16:16:00.006-05:00

Ok, the name of the town is just cool. The riding here isn't anything special, in fact I only road for an hour today and all at recovery pace. It's just a town with a cool name. However, what was really great about today's ride . . . it was in the 70s and I didn't have to wear winter clothes!!!

I found some more pictures from yesterday's bike race:

This is the four-man breakaway going up the hill with one to go. Who says that bike racing isn't fun. I was having a great time, riding above my lactate threshold and even got to shoot the cameraman the thumbs up.

A few seconds later. It looks like a smile, but in reality it was a grimace. The result of climbing out on the West Coast and hours going up the Blue Ridge has made me much more comfortable when the road turns up. Still, there is nothing like a Kansas headwind to make you feel small and your legs feeble.

That's Tom Price in the blue and orange Lincoln kit. This is lap five going up the hill and he is setting a killer tempo. Tom finished the race with a solid 3rd place. The GP Velo Tek rider is right over my shoulder. It was right at this point that I realized that the race was about to get painful and we were about to get our sprint on.

I realize now that I need to get cooler sunglasses.

In the Saddle in Kansas

2009-03-15T21:59:00.005-05:00

Day 4 of bike racing on my two-week long work trip to the MidWest and I'm back racing the Perry Road Race. The ride out today was a lot more pleasant than last week when Coach Adam, Jason Knight and I fought a 25 mph headwind for an hour and 15 minutes. Today we did the same ride with a couple of extra fresh legs in 55 minutes and never once saw our power go above 250 watts. It was definitely a better way to warm-up for a race and didn't leave me blown before the start.

30 guys lined up for a 5-lap road race. The first lap was a "mountain goat" lap which had the added bonus of providing a few series points to the first three finishers. My legs weren't feeling fresh on the flats or in the crosswind sections but going up the half-mile climb they felt great. On the first lap a rider from GP Velo Tek got off the front at the base of the hill and the guys from 360 immediately went to the front. However, instead of countering or trying to bridge they just rolled up the hill. I jumped around a couple of them to steal 3rd and a sprint point. The leader was quickly caught after the crest.

The second lap proved entirely uneventful. A few cheap breakaway attempts but nothing stuck. On the third lap going over the dam another GP Velo Tek rider rolled off the front. I remembered him from the day before and since no one seemed to care about him being up the road I lept across to him. I got there clean in about 20 pedal strokes and we were off. Tom Price joined us about 2 minutes later and now our break was 3. Tom and I had put in 2 1/2 laps worth of a breakaway the week before so I knew what he was capable of doing and I also knew he had a motor. A fourth guy joined us later that lap just before the turn onto false flat leading into the climb.

We were taking 30 second pulls and working good. My fear was that we would come apart on the hill and that someone would try to attack. I told my breakaway mates to keep it steady and then went to the front and laid down a 350-watt tempo up the hill. The pace got nasty going down the other side of the hill and onto the dam but the field was nowhere near us. I kept expecting to look back and see someone on the front chasing but there was no organization in the field.

One of the guys in breakaway started to stumble a little on a small rise on the lower portion of the dam. He had been a serious motor on the flats and I was content to let him pull because he could hold a hard tempo. I began to get concerned as we neared the right-hand turn up onto the false flat before the base of the hill. I remembered the week previous and how my lead had evaporated instantly on the climb. I was not going to let the pace slow down so I went to the front and set the tempo high. Tom joined in and we pushed on.

We hit the base of the hill with Tom in the lead, me second and the GP Velo Tek rider third. We made it up and over the first rise without incident. I kept waiting for something to come. I knew that I had the legs and the power to sprint the steeper last 100 meters but I didn't want to be the one who lit it up first. The false flat came and it was clear that Tom wasn't leaving his position on the front. I faked a jump to get the GP Velo Tek rider to go but he didn't bite. The road turned steep again and it was time to go.

I jumped hard but not at a full sprint. I half thought someone was going to come around me and wanted to be able to reaccelerate if I needed to. I took 6 hard pedal strokes and a quick glace back. It was me and the GP Velo Tek rider and he was 10 meters behind me and wasn't gaining. I dropped it into the next gear, went en banc and dug for the crest of the hill and the finish.

In the end my jump proved too much and I rode in for the win. It's a relief to get this win. A lot of effort and sweat was rewarded and more than that the pressure of getting things going again is gone. I've got my first win and now it's on to the next challenge. The win and the sprint point has thrust me into contention for the series which concludes next week.

(photos courtesy of Alyson Abel)

Well Heck

2009-03-14T22:33:00.002-05:00

A quick flight back last night to KC from Northern Kentucky where the bourbon flows like water. Two sprint depositions exhausted me which was just exacerbated by the flight back and the greasy pizza from Johnny's. I actually passed out in my clothes later that evening from exhaustion, and not from drinking. I woke up 7 hours later, realized I was still wearing my jeans and then passed back out again without taking them off.

Today was the Spring Fling crit, 29 laps of one-mile fury. It was identical to last weekend but this time there was no wind, which in Kansas means less the 15 mph. All I gotta say is "seriously, what does it take to break a field?"

Thinking back now I realize I have never been in a breakaway in a crit that has actually stuck for the win. I've made the selection and ended races in small fields, but never off the front. Five times today I rolled off the front. Five times I found myself attacking the field. Five times they dragged me back.

The professed theory of bike racing, at least n the Midwest is that the 3rd attack will be the one that sticks. Three attacks in a row and the field will let the third one go, at least for a little while. It's what you do when you get up the road that matters.

I made my first attack at 21 to go when the field slowed after a sprint point. It was a lame attack in the neighborhood of 500 watts, but it got me up the road. I took a couple guys with me but we were dragged back 20 seconds later. My second attack was when a group of four established a break. Each big team was represented and before they got too far away I knew I had to get to them or else my rogue racing self would spend the rest of the race chasing. I made the juncture bringing one guy with me. Somehow, my presence in the break was too much for the field to bear and they dragged us beak half a lap later.

My third and fourth attacks were close in time to each other More than anything these attacks broke the will of the largest team to attack the field in a coordinated manner. For the previous five laps they had repeatedly assaulted the field. One of their guys would get up the road and then the field would chase just long enough for them to launch a counter attack. It was a pretty sweet plan until I put them on the defensive. They stayed there the rest of the race.

Another guy from a KC team came to the front and laid a nasty tempo down. It started as a breakaway attempt but he was swept up quick. He slowed up after two strong efforts in a row and then I made a jump for it. It was about 5 to go and my jump wasn't powerful. I only hit mid-400 watts but then I stuck my wattage between 300-350. I know I can hold that pace for ten minutes. I know that if need be I could stay there for the final 5 laps, heck maybe someone would jump to me.

I was all alone and 50 meters ahead of the field. I looked back and the big team I had put on the defensive sent a guy off the front to bring me back. I sat there at above 300 watts undeterred. I broke him. I broke him like he was a little girl. The field recoiled and I dove through another corner faster and stronger. I had been off the front for a lap. Down the little hill and up the hill again and a second surge from the field came. This one came up within 10 meters of me before the surge slowed, but they were too close and a couple guys lept across the gap and tagged on.

I wasn't about to bury myself any more to pull them around the course so I sat up and they swarmed me. I stuck it out in the field and was in position to take the final sprint until I got chopped in the final corner and found myself going in reverse quick. I was out of position and just rolled in. So another field sprint and a 1700 calorie day. Tomorrow back to the uphill finish.

Lawrence: Paisley and Black

2009-03-10T13:39:00.003-05:00

I was out to dinner on Sunday night with Col Randy, Kathi and Kanak and the topic of life in Lawrence was brought up. I had met the mom and pop part of the family back in 2001 when I was still a student at KU. We subsequently all found ourselves living in DC together in 2006 before they moved back to Lawrence. They love it here and who could blame them.

We were discussing me moving back to Lawrence and whether or not I could see myself living here. As I ride around Lawrence these last couple of days I realize that I could move back and that I would enjoy certain aspects of it just like the old days. However, I paused when I thought about my life, the dream house I wanted to build and how things here were just foreign to my "vision" of myself.

I enjoy wearing a suit and tie everyday, I enjoy the hustle of the Metro and the warm smells o f stores in Georgetown and I dream of one day owning a house that looks like a plantation home of old. These things are foreign to most in Lawrence. Given it's laid back nature and Midwestern farmhouse appeal, these parts of me would probably appear a little out of sorts. At least that's what I stressed to the other members of my foursome at Free State Brewery.

Kathi shot back however with a genius thought, nothing in Lawrence ever really looks out of place. Anything goes here and that was part of the charm which drew her back. It makes Lawrence the equivalent of paisley and black. Absolutely nothing goes with paisley and everything goes with black. In some sense that is just what Lawrence is, it's the place where things make sense even when they don't make sense. Maybe that was the allure that guided my ill-formed thoughts to chose this place for college. Who only knows what I was thinking about at that time. I'm glad I did.

Kansas Field Trip: Weekend One

2009-03-08T19:30:00.002-05:00

It's on like donkey kong here. I've come back to the place where the home fires burned to get in a series of races before Jeff Cup. It looks like between then and now I'll probably race 8 times including a pair training races. The adventure began with the Spring Fling, which is a four-corner crit with a short downhill and a short uphill on the finishing stretch.

Terrain is not biggest obstacle in Kansas racing, the 20 mph wind and the gutter however do cause some troubles. I'm a rogue rider here but my kits stars and bars are easy to see in a field and led to me being marked. The race started quick but I started in the front and after learning my lessons at Valley of the Sun, I didn't relinquish that spot.

There were 3 strong teams in the field and they kept taking shots off the front. I kept leaping to the breaks and the field kept coming with me. I found myself in a break of two which was working but my cohort let me drag him around in the tailwind section and then jumped me in the head wind. This of course drew an expletive from me and I sat up and let the field catch me. A solo rider is not going to survive in this wind.

Somehow a 3-man break got up the road about 5 to go. It was one of a bazillion breaks but this one somehow stuck. So the field was sprinting for 4th and I was determined to fire it up in the sprint ala NCVC days of old.

The finishing stretch was in a head wind and down a slight hill for 300 meters and then up for 100 meters. I hit the final corner in the field in about 5th wheel and drafted down about 250 meters. The guy two in front of me jumped and we rolled with him. I put my sprint down and jumped. I ended up passing someone right at the line and finishing 3rd in the field sprint and 6th overall.

Day two of the weekend featured the Perry Dam Race. Nothing like warming up for your race by riding for an hour and twenty minutes into a 30 mph head wind. The race is only about 15 miles from Lawrence and we always ride out to it because the route is bone flat and along the Kansas River. Today the wind was blowing right into our faces and I was in a group of 3 going 300 watts and holding 14 mph.

The race itself takes the shape of a golf club and goes along an Army Corps of Engineers dam. You head along the top of the dam and then take a sharp right hand corner down a quick hill to a parallel road right underneath the dam. That road then heads left and then right into the club part of the course and into the kicker...a short steep stair stepper.

It was a 4 lap circuit that in total took us about an hour to do. The field was a combine 1/2/3 field and there were a couple boys from Mercy Cycling team. That didn't bother me because one of them was Coach Adam. Lap one was uneventful but saw a third of our field get shattered on the stair stepper.

Lap two was were I put myself in harms way. I had been riding behind Coach Adam, who was a well marked man, and I was content to wait until the hill again to shatter some more of the field Under his breath, or at least I think so, as we are heading down the road under the dam I hear him say "go now, go now." I jumped and got clear of the field. One of the local 3s jumped across to me and we were gone.

We crested the hill and then down onto the dam with the tailwind. We spent the entire lap 3 off the front and just at the crest of the hill Mercy boys joined us and plunged us down across the dam again. From stories afterwards I found out that one of the local squads put together a lap long coordinated effort to catch us in the break. After the catch, they were never seen again.

The lead Mercy rider was holding 450 watts across the dam and we were gutter riding anyone that could stay on, the outside of my foot was literally scrapping the guard rail that separated us from the abyss and I was the 5th rider. The pace let up as it was clear that the field was back together.

Coach Adam then started unleashing repeated attacks and was dragged back each time. One, two, three, four attacks came and it was clear no one was letting him go. The field let up after it caught him a little over 2 miles to the finish. I jumped the field right into the head wind. They let me go. I got up a head of steam and they just let me go. I turned back to look and I was clear.

I couldn't believe it, my stupidity of just throwing myself off again and again. was working. I began the climb and I was spinning and spinning up. I reached the false flat in the middle of the stair stepper and I was still alone. 300 meters to go and I had it in hand. Then from the back right I hear the most unpleasant sound in the world . . . shifting gears.

The field swallowed me hard and spat me out. I wanted to accelerate and jump up the last of the climb. I wanted to launch an assault that would end all assaults, but I didn't have it. My legs were fried my body was dumped. I was 300 meters from winning in a solo break. 3 out of 5 times I would have won.

I spent the better part of half the race off the front either in a two-man break or by myself. If the finish had been flat it would have been over. If I had jumped into a cross wind rather than a 25 mph head wind it would have been over. There were 3 times in the race that I thought I had broken the will of the field. Damn bike racing, when will I learn.

A New Adventure

2009-03-04T16:22:00.002-06:00

Tonight I head back down into the storage closet to get Hayden's luggage. We are preparing to head back out on the road again for what is going to be my most ambitious travel to date. Work has called for me to spend the next two weeks in the great Midwest and I'm taking full advantage of this opportunity.

I'm heading this weekend to Tulsa to race with Coach Mills in what I want to be a breakout performance for this season. I echo statements made by Mr. Tilford recently in which he recounted a race down in Texas and draw encouragement for it. My performance at Valley of the Sun was good but my results didn't match what I was hoping they would be. I felt fit and I was in the mix but it didn't click when I needed it to. It's a great sign for my fitness but it's time to take that fitness and make results out of it.

I reemerged at the end of last season after about 5 years of moping around. I put together my first set of top ten results since returning to the sport in earnest and I want to continue this trend this year. It's time to stick my nose in the wind at the finish line. I've got a sprint and I'm determined to use it.

After Tulsa we are headed back to the bastion of cycling in Lawrence for a couple of days of hard riding followed by a solid race that weekend in St. Louis. The weekend afterwards will feature my return to racing on Kansas soil in the Spring Fling and Perry Races. A set of races that as a rookie I used to catapult myself up the ranks and out of being a Cat 4. These races are nothing fancy and the scenery pales in comparison to the epic mountain races to come or the crits on Pennsylvania Ave. None of that matters to me. What matters is that I drop the hammer and get this season going the way last season ended.

The MABRA season starts at the end of the month and the Jefferson Cup looms like a dangerous thunder cloud on the horizon. By the time I reach that race I should have 8 starts in my legs and a dangerous head of steam. All that remains is to keep the focus up. Pictures and race stories are sure to follow.

Red Rock Country

2009-03-02T16:51:00.007-06:00

After Phoenix Hayden and I, along with a special guest, road up to the high desert. The scenery was beautiful

and the riding was great. Sedona rests above the Verde Valley among the most beautiful red rocks I've ever seen. I spent most of my time absorbed by how different it is from Virginia's green hills. On day two of our time up there I rode from Sedona 2000 feet down to Cottonwood at the base of Mt. Mingus. Half way up the mountainside lies the town of Jerome. A mining-ghost town that was turned into a tourist trap. Cottonwood lies at 3300 feet and Jerome was at 5200 feet. About 30 minutes later a sickening sign popped up on the side of the road indicating that I was crossing 6000 feet and apparently the snowline. It was sickening because I knew that the summit was at over 7000 feet.

I climbed for over 100 minutes. By the end I had climbed higher and longer than I had done previously. Timie for the next step.

Racing in the Valley of the Sun

2009-03-01T16:33:00.005-06:00

Hayden and I have done it again. We packed up and winged out of DC for greener pastures. Well, in this case it wasn't greener but was definitely warmer. The Valley of the Sun is a three day, three stage race in Phoenix, AZ. It marked the beginning of the season for me but not for the boys in the desert.

Life is going to be tough when you roll up to the line and the guys around you are talking to each other saying "dude, I haven't seen you all season." By the time I went to this race I had put in about one week worth of intense efforts so my top end was still developing. The desert boys have been putting in top end efforts for well over a month longer. To say the least, they had access to power that I was only just beginning to understand. I guess it's the price you pay for our season running into September and their season ending long before then.

I finished in the top 50 on the GC largely because my time trial, while better than normal was still weak. My time trials need to improve. The big action came in the 79-mile road race. An amazingly simple triangular course of a little over 16 miles that we did four and a half times. The course featured a 3-mile 400-foot climb. The finish line was a little over a km after the crest of the climb. The field was geared up and over 90 guys.

I found myself in a spot of trouble on the second lap going up the climb. Somehow I had let myself get behind a few too many people and got gapped off the back as people sprinted for one of two king of the mountain sprints. The gap had dropped about 30 guys off the back of the field and I was one of them. I chased back on for 3 miles and then reintegrated. As soon as I caught I rode right up to the front and stayed there for the rest of the race. I was determined not to get caught behind any more guys with jerseys from Utah.

I followed a couple breakaways up the road which I thought might catch the field off guard but got quickly swallowed up. Our average speed on the flat sections was just too fast for a breakaway to develop unless it's members were dedicated to destroying themselves. The last climb was were the race turned into a twisted mess of carbon and aluminum.

One of my teammates had come down from college in Colorado and was determined to show his climbing prowess. Russ jumped at the base of the climb and the 50 or so remaining guys struggled to stay on his wheel. Russ couldn't get away and he couldn't get the field off his back. He jumped again and the field dragged him back. The efforts proved too much for Russ and the field swallowed him whole and spit him out the back just before the crest.

I had been riding in the front half but a surge on the opposite side of the road pushed me way too far back to make a go of things. Especially since the race officials decided that the final km was not going to have an open road. So 40 guys were sprinting down a slight hill on a one-land road. You know what happened next. A couple guys surged on the left side of the field with about 500 meters to go. Some other guys saw an opening and wanted to join the train only to run smack into other guys moving up. Wheels touched, handlebars locked and bodies hit the pavement.

I jumped around a wreck barely missing the outstretched limbs of one guy and landed up on the white line ofnthe wrong side of the road. I looked up at the field about 5 meters in front of me and saw it literally explode. I didn't bother to stick around and find out what the total count of guys involved in the wreck was. I finished with the same time as the field and ended up 34th, which is pretty good given that I had to dodge bikes in the last half km. A pretty good start to a season.

Fire on Ice

2009-01-14T15:50:00.003-06:00

It's cold here. Ok, it's not cold like it is in Chicago or possibly like it is in Alaska; however, I have specifically chosen not to live in either of those places right now. I live in Washington, D.C., where it is supposed to be warmer than this. My problem with the cold is not that I am too much of a pansy to go out into it; but rather it is my hatred of the trainer. This problem necessitates my voyaging out into the cold when sometimes I should sit inside and spin in front of the TV or one day in front of my PlayStation 3 (that is when I get the money to buy one).

Applying strict Topeka Cold Weather Riding Rules, I should have ridden about 23 miles today. Instead I voyaged out for a normal two hour ride. However, I was saved because I hit the jackpot recently with a gag gift my Mom bought me for Christmas-- Little Hotties.

They are packets of warm stuff that you put in your shoes and they keep your feet warm. They are absolutely genius. I'm sure that the chemicals inside them will give me cancer or cause fertility problems but right now I don't care because my feet stay warm and I love it.

The trainer is an evil device that should not be allowed. It's the cycling version of the treadmill which is also a device that I completely don't understand. My thought is that there is this place called "the outside" which is wonderful. It's full of birds and clouds and fun things to look at. It is also the place where bikes are supposed to be ridden (unless you race track). Things that keep me from riding my bike outside are like little restraints on freedom. Thus, the trainer is my personal version of cycling prison. The only purpose it serves is to help me warm up for criteriums that take place in urban settings.

So, today I put my kit on and headed out for my first VO2 Max workout of the season. It only seems like four months since I did my last such workouts-- oh wait it was. Despite the recency of those workouts, my legs reacted to today's workout as if it was a full-on assault on them. I know the muscles are buried beneath a layer of base-riding pinkness but it was difficult to access them. I guess in the end, I just need to go out and do some more of these because I do, in fact, hate myself and enjoy causing myself pain because of the high I get from endorphins. I admit it, I've been living a life as a closet endorphin junky. Off to get my next fix.

The Winter Solstice/The Winter Duldrums

2009-01-05T20:59:00.003-06:00

Winter in the Mid-Atlantic has its fair share of grey dull dreary days. The beauty of the summer sun is replaced by patterns of clouds and rain and then just misty overcast days. I've spent more time the usual on the back country roads of VA these last couple weeks. It's a change from suburban MD and DC. The roads are empty and the scenery is quiet. There is a solemn pride I feel in myself when all I hear is the sound of the chain and the rolling pavement under my wheels.

Ironically, my team was once sponsored Reynolds Wheels. They made a solid product and I enjoyed riding them until one day I blew one of the wheels out. Suddenly, the company was nowhere to be found and wouldn't return my phone calls to try to warranty the wheel. Needless to say, I'm not buying their product again until someone from that company actually gets back to me. The wheel set I used was the Solitude and I found myself alone many times while using them.

When you ride alone you find yourself thinking a lot and then you find yourself a lot of the time not thinking at all. The winter weather amplifies this effect because the beauty and warmth of the Summer is gone and the grey landscape makes you feel more isolated and insular. My second training cycle ended this weekend and I'm on rest phase number two. This cycle didn't go as well as the last. I know that I'm fitter now than I was last year-- rides that lasted 3:30 hours last winter now last 3:10 and my wattage is high. However this last cycle was filled with bad weather days, scheduling upsets and annoying distractions from all angles.

So a rest phase is in place right now and in a week's time I'll be back out on the road in full force. My first race is now only a month and a couple days away. It's time to shake the cobwebs and get ready to light the fires. Time is ticking and not even the shortest days of the year can stop me now.

Bloomington: Hoosiers on Parade

2008-12-05T17:04:00.005-06:00

I drove down I-65 in pursuit of witnesses for one of my cases and on my vain quest to complete my 50 state sweep of places where I have ridden my bike (now up to 25 states). In the winter Indiana is a pretty cold and vast expanse of white corn fields. It brought back to mind the commercial for Indiana Beach that I saw repeatedly in my youth. It would always end with "...there is more than corn in Indiana." If that is the case, where is this other stuff?

There are a surprisingly large number of used car dealership in Bloomington. I imagine that the movie Breaking Away somehow spurred the creation of these dealerships and they have been living on the momentum of that movie for the past 20 years? Sadly, Dennis Quaid did not join my on my ride that day. However, this is a great pose for him.

Even though I escaped from the frozen tundra of Chicago, the frozen part stayed with me. Fields were still covered in snow and the wind still was like an icy iron fist in my face.

While I could imagine how pretty the area could have been, this picture just did not match the cold gray reality of this particular December day. However, I am working on perfecting that particular pose to be used next season.

I enjoy riding around college campuses. It's interesting to me to picture what it would have been like had I chosen to go to there. I took in the locale fare at Nick's and Opie Taylor's, both excellent recommendations; however, I did miss out on a game of Sink the Biz. I promise that I given my numerous Hoosier friends in DC that I have played my fair share and have surprisingly little talent at the game.

After a solid ten days of resting my legs are now, hopefully, ready to be opened up again and it's back to hard training. As I take a deep breadth, and think of the miles to come, I remind myself that it's all in the pursuit of some higher purpose-- the perpetual quest for HMF points.

Road Salt White

2008-11-30T17:26:00.003-06:00

Hayden and I have come to realize that we may have taken the wrong turn when we left DC. Instead of turning south and heading to the warm sandhills of North Carolina we headed north towards the frozen tundra of Chicago. I should have known I was in trouble when the VDub hit PA and saw fields of white and I'm not referring to cotton.

Winter riding is about finding balance. The balance between too much and too little clothes; between riding too hard or too slow; and knowing when the trainer is the better option. I dislike the trainer and do everything in my power to avoid riding on it except for warming up for crits. I miss the hot days of summer right now.

I enjoy riding in snow, not on icy roads but the first couple of moments when the snow starts to fall. I got that opportunity today and am a happy camper to be back inside now. It was a cold day outside and makes me wish for those days of 90 degrees. There is something disturbing about that stinging when slushy snow hits you in the face. I know that these are the miles that I need to ride to get better. These are the days that I need to keep going so that when it comes down to it in April and May that I'll have that endurance in my legs to put in that final push.

Coffee Makes Me Happy

2008-11-28T23:15:00.002-06:00

My coffee intake has not slowed down; however, the hours I spend on a bike has decreased. As a result my sleep pattern has been thrown way off. I'm living it up at home in Naperville for the next couple days prior to heading back out into the cruel world of lawyering. This occasion has allowed me to get back to my roots and reconnect with a few neglected friends.

It's a well-known fact that I am addicted to Facebook. Of course the joy of Facebook is finding people you once knew and seeing what they are doing. It's all the fun of reunions with none of the awkward silences or the necessity of saying "remember when" all the time. The best part of this cyber-phenomenon is to see what bizarre paths people have taken and how one person's life actually does effect so many others.

I count myself lucky to know so many incredible people. When I was younger I would marvel at all the "stuff" or the "famous" people that adults knew. Slowly, as I am forced to consider myself an adult, I find that this trend isn't the result of being well-connected or even famous yourself, but the natural outcome of growing up. I'm sorry for all the people who I've lost touch with over time. I rarely have a good excuse and shouldn't even try to explain myself because it all ends up sound like pathetic lies.

I wish I could say that I vow in the future not to let this happen but that would be the worst kind of lie. At least with Facebook and an over-abundance of espresso drinks coupled with way too much sleep I have the ability to catch up a lot easier. Now, if only I could answer the age-old question "what the heck was I thinking dating her?" Maybe they should make a website for that one too.

Winter Training 2008: Chapter 1

2008-11-26T19:58:00.006-06:00

Periodization is one of the greatest developments in training since the discovery that dopers really do suck, see e.g., Ricardo Ricco. While the details behind the science of exercise physiology escapes me the one thing I enjoy about periodization is that every so often a rest phase gets tossed in and training becomes easy. I came to cycling after swimming where periodization was not utilized. The swimming theory of training was simple-- if you swam 15000 meters today you should swim 15500 meters tomorrow and 16000 the next day. Looking at it from hindsight this is the equivalent of fighting dehydration by drinking a cup of Drano.

I have no idea if that is still how swimmers are trained but the poster boy of periodization, Lance Armstrong, was winning Tours when I was swimming so it wouldn't surprise me that very little has changed. In my 20 years of swimming the most technical piece of equipment I used was an electronic clock. When I go riding nowadays, I monitor my heart rate, speed, time, cadence and wattage. Everything is scrutinized afterwards and trends are studied.

While my training lately hasn't been as intense as it was towards the end season I've definitely put the miles into my legs. My trip to the West Coast cracked my tired legs. It's been a long time coming for me but I have arrived at a rest period. A blessed rest period to repair the damage that has been done to my tired muscles. The rest period marks the end of one training cycle and the beginning of another one. It's like a muscular new years; a time to recharge and ask what's next?

The Emerald City

2008-11-16T23:51:00.007-06:00

I have reached the far corner of the continental US and the last stop on my trip. Seattle is one of my favorite cities and a place I enjoy coming to. This time, I'm lucky enough to have a couple extra days to help enjoy the local scenery. Plus, it's NOT RAINING.

When I come to Seattle I make sure to take in the coffee and the sushi; both are the best around. However, tonight I ate at the Metropolitan Grill and had a steak the size of my head. It was simply one of the best steaks I have ever had. It rivals anything I've eaten in Chicago or Kansas City. I am in a state of absolute bliss. The scenery around here is pretty too.

Riding in Seattle is no joke. There are bike lanes everywhere and they are free from the garbage that normally finds its way onto the DC paths. There is even a bike lane along the side of I-90 and runs across the surface of Lake Washington which is almost as eerie as the sidewalk along the Golden Gate. However, don't let anyone fool you, I saw no cougars while climbing Cougar Mtn. However, the view from the top was worth the trip.

On my first ride in town on Saturday I crossed no fewer than 10 group rides. I had heard rumors of the "Seattle rules" to group rides but I imagined that they were exaggerations. However, at least one rumor is true -- they use fenders on their rear wheels. It makes sense in a place where the roads often have a layer of water on them and knowing that there are few things less pleasant than riding through someone else's rooster tail. Using a fender eliminates a lot of the road spray but it's just odd to see.

Since I've been here I've been in the best mood. It's possible that super strong caffeine highs are putting a smile on my face but I really think it's just getting in some great rides and have getting to unwind which is doing it for me. The return of the Peppermint Mocha at Starbucks doesn't hurt, it's my favorite dessert drink. Kelly, my gracious Seattle hostess and tour guide, opined that it's the northwest lifestyle kicking in making me happy. I try not to think too much about the cause but just enjoy the end result.

Seattle would be a great place to live, but I'm not sure I would be accepted into polite society. I'd have to totally rework my wardrobe. I don't own a hoodie and the only stocking caps that I have are for bike riding. Until that time I think I'll stay comfortably back on the East Coast.

The NorCal Hustler

2008-11-15T19:38:00.007-06:00

I left behind the safety of San Francisco for California's Wild Rivers Coast. About 4 hours of driving through some of the tallest trees I've ever seen landed me in Eureka, CA and the foggy shores of Humboldt Bay. Eureka is a small town by most standards, but for this area of California it is one of the largest and it attracts people from all walks of life.

After a days work I set out on what I wanted to be a three hour ride. There are scant details on the interwebs about good rides in the area so I headed out in one direction to do an out and back. After the day before, I wanted to ride somewhere with fewer hills but that was not to be the case. I ended up heading inland after a few miles on the 101 and found myself deep into a California redwood forest. The road appeared to end but soon I learned it switched back on itself and headed straight into heaven. I had no idea how long this climb was going to last but I knew that it wasn't going to end soon. An hour later I had gone up about 2200 feet and had been riding for over 6 miles up to the little town of Kneeland, CA.

The scenery got to Hayden and brought out her environmentalist side. When we paused at the crest of the climb before turning back she decided to hug one of the local inhabitants.

She got upset when she realized that the tree was to wide to hug and threatened to cut it down to use as our new Christmas tree. She realized that it was a wee bit too tall to fit in to our house. Surprisingly, Hayden had gotten a little moody but I realized she just had a nasty case of the munchies. I thought the fog I had been riding through was caused by the weather, but really it was just smoke from all the pot that was being smoke in the valleys below.

The descent back down into the flat lands was incredible. The street was wet from the heavy fog and it made the switch backs quite treacherous. By the end of the decent my hands were cramping from grabbing the brakes. This was two days in a row that I had been more challenged by going down than going up a hill. The folk in the area were pleasant but after all, when the fog lifted the views were so impressive that who wouldn't be happy.

Hayden wanted to see the Pacific so we headed out on the sand dunes. Hayden's sister Yoko has spent some time in the sand pits racing cross but this was Hayden's first trip to the beach.

I walked for about half a mile but the fog was so thick that I could never find the ocean. I knew it was out there and I could hear it rolling in but I could never get to it. Next stop, the Emerald City.

Mt. Tam and the Pacific Coast Highway

2008-11-13T09:34:00.007-06:00

I love my job. Something has to be said for Emerson and taking the path less traveled. When I came upon a fork in the "legal" road I took the path less traveled and it has made all the difference in the world for me. I woke up in San Francisco and was determined to find a ride that befit such an opportunity. The day prior I had run into a fellow customer at the Bike Shop who alerted me to the climb up Mt. Tam and how it would change my perspective on bike riding. He didn't lie. By the end of the day, I had climbed more than 4000 feet and lost my cycling innocence forever.

While Hayden is only a year old and has trouble with her reading, she knows that a sign such as this means trouble ahead. At least this time she knew exactly how long we would be in pain. Before beginning the ascent, a brief pause to look at the scenery:

Then I was off. Mt. Tam is a nasty set of switch backs that lasts about 5 miles past this lake and took me up to 2000 feet. It is wooded most of the way up. The trees are right on top of you and with no traffic it's an awe inspiring close in experience. You feel alone and in a tiny bubble of a world. The whole trip from the city of Fairfax to Stinson Beach I passed one vehicle.

At what I thought was the top I paused to shot this picture:

I would say that this is the face of determination, but in reality it's not. I later learned that this wasn't the top but the beginning of the steep section. I had rode above the clouds and the protection of the trees and the wind began to pick up as I summitted. The drops of sweat and the fog that I descended through turned my arm warmers white with frost. I was smart enough to put my arm warmers back on but the gloves didn't make it on till I reached the Pacific Coast Highway. That made for icy fingers.

I've ridden mountains on the East Coast, Colorado and So. Cal, but never before have I encountered as technical a section of road as the descent to Stinson Beach. I'm sure that the locals dive bomb that section without thinking, but for me it was a serious challenge. I think I almost fell off the edge no fewer than nine times. My power meter recorded 40 mph speeds right next to 5 mph. Perhaps I have a weakness in descending?

I reached Stinson Beach and thought that the hard part was over. Somehow I had gotten it into my head that the route back on the Pacific Coast Highway was going to be cake. I imagined with the word "coast" in the name that the highway would be somewhat flat. I was dead wrong and about 5 miles later I was unhappy.

The entire ride was incredible, but the best part of the whole thing was taking Hayden across the Golden Gate bridge:

It was so cool to ride across the fogged in bridge. This has to be one of the most famous bridges in America and the idea of being that high up over the water was amazing. I was however, very excited to get back onto dry land on the other side.

The Road Trip

2008-11-10T15:15:00.002-06:00

Tomorrow starts a great odyssey that seeks to put to shame my previous bike riding voyages. Tomorrow I am getting on a plane in DC and getting off a plane in San Francisco. I am staying in the Bay Area for a day or two then driving up the California coast to Eureka for a couple days. This stay in NorCal is followed by the long drive up to Seattle for the weekend and part of next week. The bike box is in my living room, laundry is being done and the weather has been checked. All seems to be a go.

For good measure, I'm stopping in Eugene, OR to ride my bike too. I didn't want to miss out on the opportunity of adding another state to the list of places where my bike tires have touched pavement. I'm bringing the camera and have my route up Mt. Tam planned. Everything else, I leave in the hands of Providence.

I AM

2008-11-07T13:47:00.003-06:00

I am the listless wanderer of the earth,
the singer of songs and the teller of tales;
I am a profit and the historian,
the oracle and the reporter;
I am cursed to a love of the open road,
the never-ending journey without a home;
I am a citizen of the world,
the child of everywhere and nowhere;
I am the Bard.

Riding Along

2008-10-30T15:17:00.003-05:00

The anatomy of how a vessel blows up when you introduce an open flame to fuel and combustible vapors is thrilling and some would argue commonsense; however, at the moment it has my head spinning in a variety of different directions so I decided to take a break and ride my bike. I don't always travel with an IPod, or in my case a new nifty IPhone, but today I decided to rock out my training ride to a couple tunes.

The right song can make the miles go by in a flash...conversely the wrong song, i.e., a terrible re-make of "Pour Some Sugar on Me" (which I downloaded accidentally), can cause irreparable damages to my ears. Sometimes, when I get beyond the pale of Georgetown and cars that make random U-turns in traffic, I find myself lost deep inside my own mind. A song starts playing that gets me thinking of a time or a memory and the next think I know I'm ten miles down the road without realizing how I got there. I'm conscious but operating with a mechanical functioning and repeated muscle memory.

I can reach a state will riding which allows me to escape. It's this escape which I love so much and has provided numerous opportunities for me. It's part and parcel of the reason why bike racing has become such a part of my life. The races are great and help me satisfy the competitive part of my personality. However, in order for me to be good at those races I need to be out there for the long rides. I need to have the passion to ride for hours in situations where there is no glory and no prize money at the end of the road.

My training rides are the opportunity for me to sort out those issues which I have dealt with during the course of the day. To think things through and to plan out what my next steps will be. I use them as the opportunity to break away from what is consuming me and in that breaking away to look at things critically and from a different angle. I guess it all boils down to this-- bike racing is how I stay sane.

Rain Days

2008-10-25T12:00:00.002-05:00

Sometimes the powers that be just be. The weatherman has been predicting bad weather for today all week long and well they weren't wrong. So I'm here on the couch watching my Jayhawks play and not out on the bike. These are the days that I need to help slow me down. Sometimes as a bike racer/lawyer/super type A personality I get spun up on something so much that I forget to relax.

I believe that you have to slow yourself down periodically or you end up missing everything. I get mired in details and workouts and motions. It runs the risk of burning you out and it's my natural tendency to fight burnout by working harder, riding longer and trying to do more which ends up driving me further down the path. So sometimes it takes a little rain to get me slow down and reminds me to take a break.

NBBOS Redux

2008-10-20T18:35:00.004-05:00

In the Summer before my final year of swimming eligibility in college I moved to Ft. Lauderdale to focus and train. It was a great Summer. How could someone not enjoy a life geared around training, eating, sleeping and enjoying the beach which was less than a mile away from my bed. When I started that Summer I came up with this philosophy of NBBOS which stood for No Babes or Booze Only Swimming. In a nutshell it was a dedication to a singular purpose that was swimming.

It would have been ridiculous to think that I actually adopted the entirety of NBBOS. In fact that was the Summer that I remember spending $10 on a Bud Light without batting an eye. Largely because it was served to me by a bombshell wearing a silver bikini at the Baja Beach Club. However, it was the dedication to the cause of qualifying for the Olympic Trials that I took from NBBOS.

As I sit here looking forward to offseason training and toward reaching a similar level of cycling I think about the dedication I had back then. I'm not advocating divorcing myself from enjoyment of life's other pleasures but on focusing in on a goal. From this point forward I am reinvesting myself in the NBBOS; not literally because I could never give up the BBs of life. However, by this time next year I'm going to write again about this topic. When I do I'm going to say that I achieved my goal.

The Joe's and Changing Washington

2008-10-17T14:28:00.003-05:00

Joe has gotten mad press lately. By that I am referring to Joe Sick Pack and Joe the Plumber. Since there is only one person not from the US who is likely to read this blog, and he's at the London School of Geniuses anyways, I don't feel compelled to explicate the above pop culture reference.

The only thing getting more press than Joe right now is the repeated phrase made by politicians nationwide that "we need to change Washington." I, speaking on behalf of all Washingtonians am here to say to the rest of America "thank you, but we are fine and don't need anything." The political rallying cry of "change Washington" is the most ludicrous of them all. However, at the same time it is the least politically costly too.

For those who don't live inside the Beltway and don't spend your time dodging tourists trying to feed squirrels in Lafayette Park (I promise you I say a German women attempting to do it earlier today) I think a little explanation is necessary. Washington is the federal city. The vast majority of people who live in DC work either for or with the Government doing the day-to-day tasks of making sure it doesn't collapse. Very few Washingtonians find themselves in policy making positions and are content to work for government wages, i.e., way less than what they deserve, because they believe in the system and want to make America better.

Washington is a city of museums, good restaurants and national treasures (not the one's that the crappy movie with Nick Cage alluded to). It is not a place filled with vice where every individual carries a wad of $20s and is ready to bribe or be bribed by anyone. If change must come to Washington, than perhaps it is the people that the rest of the country sends here who must change. These are the individuals who control policy and establish the rules of the game. This isn't Washington's fault, but rather the fault of Minneapolis, Salt Lake City, Albany and countless other cities.

Politicians take cheap shots at Washington because they can. Nearly half a million people live in Washington, which makes it larger, by population, than the State of Wyoming. However, Washingtonians have little control over what happens within our territory. It's easy to target those who are least capable of fighting back. I can vote for three people-- the Mayor, the President and a city commissioner. None of these individuals decides on how funds are appropriated to my LOCAL government.

Plus, my fighting back is like throwing a tiny stone in the Potomac and imagining that it will miraculously stop the river from flowing. It's easy for people from a thousand miles away to join others a thousand miles away and target one specific location as the source of all their troubles. It's easy to displace the failures of their elected officials on some mythical corrupting force such as Washington. It is much easier than looking within the confines of their own voting booths.

If you want change in your world the better approach is to change those people who represent you. Don't blame those who are just trying to help.

Lunacy = ???

2008-10-14T20:45:00.003-05:00

10 1/2 hours in the saddle on my first long weekend back into the world of off-season training. Maybe I'm a bit over zealous? It was just a lot of long long long riding out in the Blue Ridge. I found myself spending a couple days west of the Beltway, enjoying society events by night and long rides by day. My adventure into horse country and blue blood society culminated on Sunday with me on the far side of Mt. Weather heading toward the gravel top of Blue Mountain.

I view climbing as a semi-religious experience. The longer the hill and the higher the peak the closer I feel I am coming to the All Mighty. Literally this may be true but there is also something euphoric when you look out through the trees and see nothing to the sides of you except an open expanse of air and a valley way below.

My view of the cycling landscape is shaped by the relatively flat world of Kansas. According to Ben I have waxed poetically about my origins quite a bit. I agree with his assessment, however, when you come from some place where the horizon is visible beyond the curve of the Earth and the ocean is days away you get a new appreciation of terrain and the enormity of nature.

There is also something beautiful in the sound of silence. Climbing is about rhythm. It's about finding that comfortable spot in between pain and suffering and then continuing on. When I reach that rhythm I find myself in a silent world where all I can hear is the slow ticking of my cranks and the pavement under my wheels. It's like a symphony of silence.

There are many different types of silence and each has it's own emotion behind it. There is the silence of being caught on an elevator ride with my ex-girlfriend who I am no longer on speaking terms with. The silence where you are uncomfortable and undirected emotion boils over into a reddening of cheeks and a desire for it all to end. Then there is the silence of a rush hour DC bus where 40 people can be packed in like sardines yet not breadth a word. That is the silence of motivation and determination. Of people trying to start their day in the most positive light while using the least energy possible. Then there is the silence that proceeds a first kiss with a girl who I know that I will love. The one so pretty and so smart that I can not believe she is there standing inches away from me and I find myself just overwhelmed by the situation.

The silence of climbing borrows from all of these moments and creates its own. It's a time of fire and motivation combined with passion and determination. It is a meddling of feelings and a result of desire. On top of that, the silence makes you crave it even more.

Seafarers for Obama

2008-10-08T14:03:00.007-05:00

After four hours in the saddle life has ways of making itself amusing; better put, I come up with ways to make life more amusing. At first trying to figure out obscure vanity license plates can be a lot of fun; but, on some of the roads I ride on there just are no cars. In these situations other diversions have to be created. This afternoon while riding back into D.C. I came across a car with a bumper sticker which said "Seafarers for Obama." I immediately went to the Obama website to find this bumper sticker but was unable to do so.

However I did find this sign:

Call me old fashioned but can you be an "independent" when you've committed to vote for either a Republican or Democrat? I understand that these individuals are probably not registered for one party or another but the sheer fact that you have decided which candidate you are going to vote for inherently means that you are not independent for purposes of that election. Prior to the next election cycle you can go back to being an independent but let's call a spade a spade.

I understand that it is politically sexy to consider oneself an "independent." The independents in our nation are the ones that every politician relentlessly courts. They are like the hot ditsy girl in the bar who has had too much to drink. Suddenly she let's out the official ditsy-girl-in-the-bar mating call "I'm so drunk" and everyone comes running. Thus, it is with independents and the election cycle.

These classifications encourage the fragmentation and itemization of the electorate. As a nation we have encouraged the compartmentalization of society. Everyone wants to find his or her unique social sub-class. If we can only objectify ourselves a little bit more then we can package society into neat boxes that can be taken out at election time so that media buys can be effectively used to target voters.

The issue that I see is that every election cycle the American public ends up being treated like every one is uneducated and worse yet uneducatable. The electorate is taught what to care about rather than the candidate listening to his/her voters' concerns. Churchill once said "the best argument against democracy is a five-minute conversation with the average voter." However, in the same breadth he said "democracy is the worst form of government except all the others that have been tried." An educated electorate is the most powerful tool for progress and the ideal of supporters of democracy going back beyond the ancient Greeks.

I was reading an article in The Washingtonian yesterday which spoke of partisan databases (Catalist for the Dems & Voter Vault for the GOP) which track voter characteristics and attributes over time. These databases are used by political action groups and election committees to predict voter sympathies so that they can micro-target swing areas and successfully campaign in places that may not have previously been thought of as "in play." This is a such a powerful tool however, it's not being used for it's ultimate purpose. I am sure that the owners of these databases can reap huge monetary rewards from politicians seeking office but what their creation should be used for is the education of the public.

Tracking this amount and type of information can bring within the electorate such a consciousness about specific issues as to achieve the dreams of our democratic founders. It is hard to comprehend the vastness of political space from where I live. With a loud bullhorn I can hear someone from Capitol Hill in my bedroom. However, that distance and thus that level of convenience, is not shared by everyone.

It is a long distance to Abingdon, VA from Richmond and its an even greater distance from Washington, D.C. to Redmond, OR. Those who live in places not so proximate to the palaces of politics reap both the rewards and the deficits of that distance. While some are politically conscious and remain intent on the minutia of issues that concern them, others are not so motivated. This leads to a lack of public awareness of issues of great import but limited mass appeal. This problem is compounded as a result of the proliferation of "national" news media with its generalist approach and headline news tickers which spend as much time talking gossip as it does exploring issues. Sadly, "sexy" stories or sensationalized news sell and their technical
counterparts get mired in obscurity.

These databases should be used to raise awareness in specific issues for target groups not just during election cycles but at all times. If you can micro-target a group then do so not for just the benefit of the first Tuesday after the first Monday of November but so that these groups can educate themselves and become grass-roots players in the political process. Targeted media and the availability of the internet can be used to create a new market place of ideas wherein genuine discussion of an issue at the highest levels can occur. These people can then direclty interact with their representatives

No longer need debates be had between only those with the monetary ability to purchase massive media outlets and blanket an entire metropolitan area. The debate can be brought into the home of those who are most directly effected thus raising awareness and giving more people the education necessary to participate in the market place of ideas. Whether they ultimately participate rests in their hands.

Virginia is for Lovers

2008-10-02T13:48:00.003-05:00

While it is true that Virginia is for lovers, Maryland however is for crappy drivers. It might as well be said that DC is for everyone else. There of course is no shortage of bad drivers in DC too. Given it's proximity to Maryland and the fact that many of the latter's residents drive into Washington to work one must expect that like a rat carrying the plague these drivers would spread their disease all over the city.

Worse than people from north and east of the city, DC's single biggest problem on the roads is the presence of unregulated, untrained and irresponsible cab drivers. Today, in a two hour ride only 30 minutes of which was done within the reach of this breed of cockroaches, I was nearly killed 4 times. That is a little too frequently for my tastes. I prefer to keep near death experiences to a maximum of once a week.

(short commercial break)

So, I knew this would happen. I took a break from blogging for the evening and in my 10 minute bike ride commute home I found myself getting hit by a car. I guess my luck had just run out. Thankfully it wasn't bad and I didn't get hurt that badly. However, to add insult to injury, literally, the police who responded gave me not one but two tickets. One for failure to yield the right of way and the other for failure to use a turn signal.

This is how the accident happen. JRA (just riding around) I cross an intersection while I have a green light. I'm riding in the right hand lane and as I get to the far side of the intersection a pedestrian steps into traffic. In an effort to avoid that person, I move slightly over to the left while still remaining in my lane. In a simple 1 foot move to the left I come into contact with the leading edges of a car passing me in my lane. This sends me right to the ground.

So this is my fault how? Should I have signaled to indicate that I was moving over in my own lane? When I asked that was clearly the officer's theory. So from now on should I signal with each pedal stroke because inherently I'm likely to get a little lateral movement each time. Or is there a de minimis movement that I don't need to signal for? Kind of like the 12 inches I moved over before getting hit. Should I always give up the right of way to cars that are driving behind me? I mean that makes sense right? By doing that I imagine that I should just stand on the side of the road in my kit and watch cars go by for a couple hours and call it a good ride.

The officer was nice, given that she didn't know the "bike statutes" and had to phone a friend. I didn't know that we were living in the real-life version of Who Wants to be a Millionaire. I guess the next time I have a question about an objection at trial that I should request a recess or poll the audience. I think I might be challenging this ticket.

Back to the Drawing Board

2008-09-29T15:43:00.005-05:00

It rained in DC for 4 days straight-- Thursday through Sunday and, as if it was not already bad on Sunday we raced bikes around lily pads. This was my first ever cyclocross race. I had taken the bike out the day before for the first time and practiced the art of jumping on and off a bike while it's moving. I see little kids do it all the time in the park but for as a grown-up it's a touch more complicated than it appears.

Cyclocross is mountain biking on a road bike or better put a test in bike handling skills. I think a lot of people can say that they are good bike riders but until you get out there in six inches of mud on a 10% slope and pedal up it you are an amateur (still haven't accomplished that myself). Pictures were taken of me at this race but because I was such a pathetic version of my normal self I am posting pictures of Taylor Jones, a true esquire of cyclocross:

(credit to Jim Wilson for this shot). Taylor raced about 3 hours after I did and during that time frame the course dried out and the sun rose. My race featured a 200 meter long ankle-deep mud pit, two short steep run ups and some of the slowest single-track I have ever witnessed (not a far stretch of the imagination since this was the first that I have witnessed).

As this was my first cross race, I definitely did not get a call up and with a field of 63 guys I started dead last. I tried a couple classic crit manuevers to move up in the first corner and succeeded in passing ten guys only to find myself in a full on stop as the single-track section began. Every single obstacle that I encountered in this first lap was a first for me, i.e., mud, grass, barriers, dismounting, near death experiences. So the fact that I made it through the first lap was nothing short of amazing.

Troubles for me started on lap three when I somehow landed flat on my back going through a little mud section. Normally this wouldn't have bothered me but the trajectory of my fall threw me right off the course and three feet into a patch of thorn bushes. Admittedly I have crashed into some unique places before like hay bales, light posts, car windshields, car doors, ditches on the side of the road; but I have never crashed into a thorn bush. It took me a couple moments to extricate myself from that experience and needless to say I got passed by a couple guys.

Later on during lap four of five I was mocked by the guys in the beer garden because my soaking wet hands missed the beer hand-up. In my defense I was running up a wet grass hill carrying my bike over my shoulder with so much mud in my eyes that I could only see the back of my eye lids. To the contrary, Taylor was able to take two beer hand-ups during his race. Clearly, I have quite a bit to learn.

On lap five I had my second crash of the race when the course suddenly turned on me and I found myself back on my butt. Two guys saw this happen from the roadway above me and chuckled. They assured me that no one had seen it but to our dismay this was wrong as a 12-year old girl warming up for the women's race happened upon me right as I was getting up again. Again, I was passed by a few folks at this juncture. There is symmetry here, in that in my first crit I crashed twice--once into a mailbox and the second time into the aforementioned hay bale.

Despite all of my efforts to finish last, I ended up beating a couple people finishing 49th and not getting lapped by the leaders. A rather interesting start to my cross racing career. My bike was covered in mud and grass. I had leaves and sticks hanging out of kit. And now a desire to try it all over again on Saturday. First I have to let my body heal a bit. My encounter with the thorn bushes left me looking like I had picked a fight with a particularly frisky feline (and lost). Not the sexiest image ever but it's not for me to make up the facts.

The Off Season

2008-09-26T13:36:00.003-05:00

I woke up on the floor of Princess Lillian's house two days ago. This was the end result of a comedy of errors which began with my hatred of carrying keys and ended with me locked out of my house and office. I went to sleep in Washington, D.C., but some how woke up a couple hours later in Belgium.

The weather turned from 80s and 90s to thirty degrees colder with no sun and lots of rain. All we are lacking is the women with wooden shoes and the tulips. It's that time of year when the arm warmers, gloves and shoe covers come back out from storage and long slow rides predominate. It's a great time of year to sit back, have a drink and just enjoy the results of a good road season.

Of course drinking leads to excess and sitting around leads to watching way too much college football. Actually the two go hand-in-hand. For a lot of folks when they get drunk they'll do something crazy like get a tattoo, meet a girl and fly off to Vegas to get married. However, when I get drunk I buy a cross bike, decide to race cross and make plans to go to Kansas.

My first cross race is Sunday and I am actually nervous about it. I've watched Taylor dismount and re-mount his bike a ton of times and have practiced myself doing the same but nothing prepares you for the first time you have to do it in a race. It's been raining now for a couple days and I'm sure the ground out at the course is going to be good and muddy. My nice white kit is bound to turn a shade of brown.

From my spectator's position this is what I've learned about cross. You start off sprinting like crazy to get into the front. Then you make some crazy turns on grass/mud. This is followed by dismounting and remounting your bike as you leap over barriers and other obstacles. Occasionally someone throws sand or snow or some other terrain in your way. You sprint some more and then you finish. Sounds easy enough. Maybe I won't end up in the hospital.

ING Crit: Racing in the Shadows of the Capitol

2008-09-23T17:38:00.004-05:00

Part of the squad that went to battle this day:

Thinking of all the history and architecture, it's awe inspiring to ride your bike down Pennsylvania Ave. I do it on a weekly basis and I never get tired of riding past the FBI building, the Archives and right up to the Capitol Building . The idea of racing on this same street was beyond a dream. That is until it happened on Sunday morning. The first ever ING Crit is now my favorite race of the year.

It was a technical course, a short steep hill and a 180 degree turnaround over .6 of a mile was what we were up against. The Harley team had been called up to the invite only pro-race which was the headline of the day, so the 1/2/3 race was more wide open than a lot of our other races. The thought was also that it might decrease the horse power in the race too. However, the thought of racing on Pennsylvania Ave, brought out the best of the Mid-Atlantic this morning.

A short steep hill in a crit is typically enough to separate the wheat from the chaff and today it did; however, add in the 180 degree turnaround it turns the course into textbook example of cycling darwinism. Each lap you were required to go from 30 to 5 to 30 mph in the course of 400 meters.

My old car found such an acceleration challenging. After an hour of doing so my legs found this process to be down right soul-breaking. After 20 laps I found the sweet spot in the field and rode out the hardest parts of the course until I could move up in the technical 4 corners in 4 blocks section (this came right after the uphill and right before the 180).

I tried to move up every lap. My thought was that if I could get to the front then it would make the accordion effect less. So I kept passing two or three guys at a time. I'd look back a little later to find those guys blown off the back of the field and myself again hanging desperately onto the end. I made a lot of bargains with myself that day to stay in the race looking for an opportunity to get up the road. You know those bargains where you say to your legs "just give me five more laps and then I'll pull out." All along I kept looking for an opportunity to exploit, a momentary slowdown, but none were forthcoming. I was very content with my field finish and am looking forward to next year's version of this race.

One of the real highlights of the race was the cowbell which I received from the promoters. A toy which came in handy when I voyaged with the legend of cross racing Taylor Jones over to the Charm City Cross Race that afternoon (it's a loud cowbell and would put those used at MS State to shame). It was my first experience at a cross race and I have to say I am impressed. I cannot wait to get my try at one of these. However as of today I am launching the Taylor Jones Supporters Groupe. We are an organization dedicated to cheering on Mr. Jones in all of his upcoming cross races so if you are interested in joining this organization (first give me a couple days) and then check out facebook for more information.

The Urban Wonder

2008-09-17T16:59:00.006-05:00

Living in the great mindset that is Washington, D.C., you come to expect certain things that you would otherwise not expect anywhere else. First, that the staff at the Washingtonian magazine has an unnatural obsession with Ben's Chili Bowl on U St. I admit that they make darn good food but why must this restaurant make an appearance in every single issue of your magazine(this month it's even the answer to a crossword clue)? I mean is it really the only restaurant on U St. that makes good affordable food? A simple Google search shows more than 20 restaurants on U St itself between 18th and 12th streets.

The second thing that you become accustomed to is the ever present political wind. It seems every politician in America, be it the senior senator from your State to the county committee chairperson comes to DC to announce a new agenda. That's great and wonderful, because I do like to stay informed on the news and politics. However, it leaves you in the middle the geographic equiavalent of a conversation with that other person who is simply waiting for you to shut up before it's their turn to talk. I guess it's the natural result of being so close to power yet having none of it yourself. It's like being talked at all the time and never being talked to.

However, one thing that struck me as odd today, and which I have not come to fully understand is the manhole epidemic DC faces. I had noticed previously a large number of manholes in DC streets (especially in Georgetown) but today on my ride I came across the following image:

This is the corner of Columbia and 14th St. It's a regular location for me to cross because I live a few blocks away and it is near to my local Target, Best Buy and a dozen other stores that I love to get lost in (thankfully there is no office supply store there otherwise I might not make it home). This image is just a portion of the intersection but you can clearly see no fewer than 12 manholes. I promise you that when you add in the remainder not seen it is more than 20. My question thus is why on earth did this intersection require that many manhole covers?

Can't we consolidate a little here? Or is this a classic example of pork barrel spending. If it's the latter I can support that as I am a huge fan of pork and the American steel industry. I am glad that my neighborhood has put the children of Bethlehem, PA through college through this kind of behavior. Sadly, this is probably the end result of a bad acid trip for some civil engineer. He woke up one day and realized the mistake of his recommendations unfortunately too late to stop the city planners from going through with this intersection.

I guess as long as they stay in place I cannot complain. On a side note it has become clear that Russia's worst beer has officially made it to America. The below poster is from the market half a block from my house. Baltika 7, advertised below, was the terrible beer that I drank on occassion while living in Russia. Even the Russians I lived with admitted that it was terrible and drank it during hotter days as a substitute to water or kavas (fermented bread served in a two gallon bottle like pop).

It's clear by the add campaign they are using that the bottlers of Baltika are seeking out the more sophisticated beer drinkers of the world.

Giro di Coppi: MABRA Championshps

2008-09-16T09:38:00.003-05:00

I haven't done this race in four years and I had forgotten how hard this course is. It shadows Sugarloaf Mountain and you would think that since it doesn't go up the mountain that it would be an easy flat course. This is quite to the contrary. This course is hard and can wear away a field.

We started with something close to 50 guys and finished with fewer than 30 and the lead group was down to 12 or 13. People out west talk about how only they have "real" climbs in their races but I argue that the east coast races are equally challenging. Admittedly in the Mid-Atlantic we are lacking the Rocky Mountains which eliminates the 2 hour long 6000 foot climb. However, the rolling courses like ours provide a lot of challenges because you can never get into a rhythm and spend your time adjusting to the newest climb, decent, turn, twist etc..., that just popped up in front of you.

This course had two challenging hills and a series of flat twisting descents. One of the hills was on the back side of this 12-mile course which wound its way through a forest. It wasn't that long of a climb but at the outset I knew that it would be the climb that would separate the field out and I knew that I had to be in the front. With two laps to go I looked back after we crested the hill and our field was destroyed. What had been 50 guys was down to 30. One of my teammates snuck away right there and solo'ed away for what would be a win 15 miles later. Another strong time trialist got off the front at some point during the final lap and stayed off too.

We crested the hill for the last time a lap later and then it got serious. With about 2 miles to go I joined a small group of two guys off the front. Another guy joined us and this group comprised a lot of the horsepower left in the race as it included the BAR leader and last year's MABRA road race champion. Unfortunately we couldn't get organized and the break got caught by what was an unorganized chase.

The finishing stretch was a 1-km long rise up to a hill top. The last 200 meters peaked out at over 18%. I was holding myself back about 4 guys deep at the 1-km mark. I knew that at 18% there was no way that I could hold a 200 meter sprint so I decided to wait for the 150 meter mark. That was a small mistake on my part and I should have waited for 100 or 75 meters. At 150 meters to go I jumped and put in a full 10 second sprint and looked up to find myself still 100 meters from the finish. I sat down in the saddle and started spinning. My sprint had given me a strong lead on the rest of the field but I lit every match doing so.

I dug deep and I kept going. I got passed by one guy, then two, then three. I just kept going and the finish seemed to not get any closer. Mercifully I crossed the finish line for my first top ten of the year. In fact looking back this might be my first top ten since catting up. I'm really happy about this result because it was on such a hard course and required every tool in the toolbox to be used.

As If The Work Day Was Not Tough Enough

2008-09-12T12:29:00.008-05:00

Since leaving the green hills of Mississippi behind for the urban jungle of D.C., I have become deeply involved in a niche law practice. I have had the great fortune of landing my dream job and am so wonderfully happy that I cannot imagine doing anything else. For the most part I practice admiralty, which sounds like an arcane phrase best reserved for life at court in England in which the Queen or P.M. would call for the The First Lord of the Admiralty. However it is a real life area of law.

In a nutshell, admiralty is the law surrounding events like this:

Or sometimes like this:

Or when your clients get particularly frisky you end up with moments like this:

None of these are particularly good situations and sometimes are rather tragic. However, they almost always lead to me getting involved and when that happens I am a pretty excited guy.

As in law and athletics sometimes you are forced to raise your performance to the level of your competition. My Grandfather, as most do, gave me many great pearls of wisdom. The most poignant of them was "never engage in a battle of wits with an unarmed foe."

With this logic, I cannot argue.

Progress: It's not Just a Campaign Promise

2008-09-09T16:46:00.007-05:00

The weird thing about progress in athletics is that if you work hard it actually finds you. The even weirder thing is that a good coach has a way of sneaking up and showing you how much you've progressed.

Adam was being his typical sneaky self this week and threw a pair of tough workouts at me early in the week. It came as a rather unpleasant surprise to me because I had grown used to the idea that the road season was coming to an end and that it was time to transition back to 5-hour endurance rides. You know the rides where you remind your friends that you only have to go fast to outrun the dog that chases you. Even in that situation you only have to beat one person in your group (sorry Joe, you were young and full of promise, but we had to leave you behind).

On Monday I go to check the calendar and there suddenly appears a set of intervals, darn it, a set of I-have-to-go-hard intervals. [For Kelly Longergan's sake, an interval is that point in time in a cycling workout where you have to ride hard for a while.] Normally these intervals were short in duration and few in number. This time, they weren't, they were triple the number and double the time that I had recalled. Despite that fact I still housed them and it didn't kill me.

Today it got worse. Today was the day when you have to suck it up and know that by doing this workout you are making yourself a stronger rider. I realized about half way through the workout that I had done it before. In fact I had done this exact workout about 2 months prior. At that time I failed miserably. I didn't complete one of the three sets. Today was a different story. I'm not going to say that it was easy or that there was never a time that I couldn't hold my pace, but I did the workout. I had improved by more than 150% and this was on legs that were worn from the day previous. This was evidence of that elusive goal of progress.

Today may be a sad day, however, because I fear my beaver might have departed this world. Of course by beaver I am referring to:

yes, the small woodland creature that populates rivers like the Potomac. Training routes are slowly created over time as you learn new roads and new areas. There are different routes of course: 1) long let's get lost on the back roads routes; 2) shorter let's get focused and ride a workout routes; 3) specialized routes for specific workouts; and 4) I hate the idea of riding today let's find a route that goes from my house to a coffee shop and back.

Today I was on my training route for doing a workout which required no stop lights and was close to the office so that I could get back easily once my legs cracked. It uses a road that follows the Potomac as it snakes it's way from suburbia into DC. It's a great road that most cars don't know about and as a result I love. Along this road a beaver normally sits and watches me ride by (I typically do loops on this road). I've seen this beaver maybe 6 times in a row now. I'm starting to think he/she was my first real groupee. However, today the beaver wasn't there and I am of course unnecessarily concerned.

It's strange what things you come to expect along the road. Adam and Ben once believed that there was no such thing as a living armadillo.

We had passed millions of armadillos on our rides but they were always the victims of road kill; likewise, with opossums (playing dead in the middle of the road is not a good defense mechanism by the way). We spend so much time out there and a great deal of it is by ourselves. I just find it funny to think of what we end up spending our time thinking about. This is the randomness that goes through my head. I hope my beaver is just busy building his dam.

Return to DC-- Crossing the Rubicon

2008-09-07T17:46:00.005-05:00

[In the saga of Gateway Cup, if you are interested in knowing what happened, at U-City it's quite simple, sometimes you got nothing. Then there are times that you find yourself riding behind another set of idiots who crash uphill on a straight away. This time they broke my cleat and my race was over 20 minutes in. Lesson learned from that, McDonald's Sausage Egg McMuffins do not sit well with me while racing. I thought I learned that lesson earlier this season but it appears that I did not.]

Tropical storm Hannah made her way through DC yesterday. She brought with her a lot of rain, a little wind and a day off the bike. After being gone for two weeks I had a lot of chores around the house to do. It took me two days to get them done. Today, equipped with a new pair of shifters, a new fork, cables and housing on my bike I set out for my first long ride back on the roads of Montgomery County and elsewhere [thanks to Taylor for all of the above bike work.]

I have crossed some metaphysical Rubicon in my life. After some great and very unexpected success at work coupled with my results at Gateway I have a whole bunch of happy energy. I admit that top 20 finishes aren't what I train for but rather are the gateway to better things. Through Adam's help and my bullheadedness I feel that I have found something that I lost about two years ago-- racing form. Two bad years of terrible training and worse racing had worn me down to a dull lackluster unvarnished shine.

I'm hoping that my discovery of form with three races left on the road calendar is a great sign for the end of this season and the beginning of the coming season. I've found a great set of training partners (if Bodge ever forgives me...please?) and have finally figured out this whole training thing.

I found myself today riding back in on the Rock Creek Parkway. A little unusual for me because that's normally my way out of town on a Sunday but what fun would life be without a little change thrown in? The creek was swollen from the rain the day before and I was rolling along with the little rapids. I had gotten a late start today because I was visiting with a childhood friend for coffee this morning. So by the time I made it back to DC it was already after 3PM and the park was filled with little kids, picnics and couples lounging along the side of the road. It was picturesque and reminded me of a Seurat painting and my high school days at the Art Institute.

On longer slow rides by myself I listen to an IPod. It helps to pass the time and helps me forget about the klingon whose sucking my wheel all the way down McArthur Blvd (did you have fun going up the hill on Falls Rd there little buddy?). My IPod appears to have enough music on it right now to last about three hours before it starts repeating itself. If anyone has any suggestions about music to download I'm all ears.

On a side note, the new song by Kelly Pickler, while catchy and empowering to women and girls of all ages, doesn't really help me all that much while riding. This is just another example of how easily persuaded I can be and how ITunes might actually be too easy to work. At $.99 per song (in England that's just about free, right Ben?) it almost feels like their are no consequences. I'll be the first to admit that I enjoy her picture when it pops up on my IPod and the thought of her in red high heels is pleasant but it's just not cutting it when grinding out miles. I can almost hear Princess Lillian (and the Southern Belles she represents) quoting some age old adage right now..."only women of the night and little girls wear red heels." But you'll never hear me complain when a woman wears them.

I digress, a lot, well when I arrived back in the park today, J-Tims had popped up in my ear, and together we are definitely bringing sexy back. I'm sure that I could have been taken for an idiot riding down the street bobbing my headed to the beat, but darn it I was happy. It was warm, sunny and I was doing exactly what I love doing. It's a long trip from here back to the rider I was in Kansas. Six years and a lot of miles between then and now but I've finally found the same love that I had for the sport that I had back then. And this time I'm not letting go.

Gateway Cup: The HIll

2008-09-05T13:21:00.002-05:00

If the Gateway Cup has a queen stage, the Giro de la Montagna would be that stage. It's been happening in the same neighborhood for over two decades and everyone there has come to expect and enjoy watching the race. The race has adapted to the neighborhood too. It starts later in the day so that everyone can go to the small Italian-American church and after lunch they can turn to watching some top notch racing.

The Hill is a perfect little Italian neighborhood and reminds me a lot of some of the places on the southside of Chicago where my Mom grew up. The grass out front of the stoops of the little houses is perfectly manicured and lush. I was watching another race and heard a passerby remark to the owner of the house I was sitting in front of how nice her grass was. The woman who owned the house seemed to beam with pride when she heard that, as if someone had just told her that she had won the lottery.

The last time I did this race I was joined by a blonde-haired New England woman of Italian decent. It was her first trip to St. Louis and she fell in love with the neighborhood. At one point in time she turned to me and said that "we" could move there and just be so very happy. That's the kind of neighborhood The Hill is, a warm and inviting place where you forget about cell phones, traffic and political corruption. The race through it however is not that kind.

It's a four corner race with narrower streets than the two previous days. Aptly named there is a long slow hill that rises up on the backside of the course and that you quickly descend on the finishing stretch. Along the backside someone was nice enough to string a sprinkler along a telephone wire which stretched over the road. When you passed under it the cold water which came down gave you a refreshing "take your breadth away" shower.

This race was a battle of survival, not from the fast pace, but from the million crashes that seemed to happen for no good reason. No doubt the guy who won was the guy who didn't crash. The crash that I got involved in was going up the hill. I'm not sure what manner of stupid one has to be to crash while going up a straight-away on a hill, but the two guys right in front of me where that manner of stupid. I saw it slowly develop for about 30 feet. One guy leaned into the other. Then shoulders came together, elbows followed and finally handlebars locked. I looked to my left and to my right for an escape but there were guys on either side of me. When the two in front of me went down I joined them.

The field dodged us but a few others joined in the fun. A spectator asked if I was "ok." I responded by saying yes just "fine," but that I was going to have to get a beer from him after the race was over to be "good." A quick smile on his face and I took off to cut the course and head for the pit. The pit was located at the bottom of the finishing stretch where the field would pass with the most speed. This made it a little hard to get back into the race at the front. About 2/3s of the field passed me before I was able to get up to speed. I spent the next 10 minutes fighting through crashes (I counted a total of 7) and corners to get back to the front.

My plan had been to slingshot into the first spot through corner 3 at the top of the hill and then jump going into corner 4 for the sprint. It's still a good 400 meters from there to the finishing line but it was all downhill from there and it would be hard for a lot of people to come around me. I took the outside line in corner 3 and found myself rubbing elbows with a guy who thought he could go even wider than the road would allow. A 4 inch tall curb separated the pavement from the grass and he found himself dancing along it scratching his carbon wheels up for good measure. A little angered by this and all the other crashes I started my sprint for the front from midpack. A top 20 finish in another 140+ person field made me fell good and helped ease the pain of a cut up elbow.

Still missing the elusive victory story I resigned to try again the next day.

Gateway Cup: Riding for the Brewery

2008-09-04T13:21:00.003-05:00

The largest American-owned brewery in St. Louis is for a beer known as Schlafly's. It's a crisp no nonsense beer that pours easy and goes down great with a french dip at any restaurant in U-City. The brewery in which this beautiful amber liquid is brewed served as the site of the second day of racing at the Gateway Cup.

The course was a lot more technical than the first night. It was a little more than a mile figure 8 loop which formed the shape of a bowl. Each end was up a small hill and the middle, where the 8 came together, was down a pair of fast downhills. The top of one side of the course was a minefield of potholes, ruts and manhole covers which would take their toll on my arms and knock my handlebars down a few mm by the end of the day.

The backside of the course was up a long chip & seal road (slag for those in the South) which was literally strewn with remnants of bottles drank at the night-before's party. Having lived in college towns for the better part of a decade I've become used to broken glass just not in the middle of my crit courses. Beer bottle throwing is an art mastered by a great many fraternity pledges and perfected by their seniors. In fact in colleges in the South Eastern Conference I have heard that competitions are occasionally held. A few houses are rumored have applied to the IOC to make this a competition in the 2012 Olympics. However, I digress.

The race started off weird. A crash in the final corner of the previous race sent one of the riders to the hospital. However, it took a long time for them to clear the road so my field sat at the start line for a while. We sat so long that the officials called upon us to take a neutral lap. I cut the course and returned to the start finish line but many people didn't move. Suddenly the calls from the back of the group, i.e., the former front of the group because they had done a full lap, began in earnest complaining of how this was unfair. The officials responded by making everyone do another neutral lap. Both of these laps were probably the fastest of the whole race...so much for neutral.

I ended up in the middle of the pack. I knew that in order to make this a good race I would have to get to the front quickly. It's another one of those moments in a race were I looked inside and said, aw hell this is gonna hurt for a while. The whistle went and I clipped in. I hit the first two corners like a bald eagle aiming for a salmon in a river. I chopped a dozen people in the first corner and took the sidewalk line on the second corner. By the time we reached the third and fourth corners I was riding in about 15th wheel. I was gassed from the effort but happy that I had found the front.

140+ guys started this race and only about 50 would finish. The field would get ragged going around this figure 8. A lot of accelerations and the heat took its toll on the field. A small break of 3 got up the road and was joined by 2 others shortly. I missed out on this one and am kicking myself for that. I tried to bridge to the group of 2 but when I moved going up the chip & seal backside of the course. I ended up pulling the entire field. So I sat up and waited for another move or for the finish.

With 5 to go I got into an elbowing contest with a douchebag from a St. Louis team. Since we were so far from the finish and only riding in about 15th wheel I let him have it. It wasn't like that particular corner was going to be the end all of the race. He gave me a smile, like he had just won a big pink elephant at a carnival. I thought to myself "you douchebag, what are trying to prove?" The last laugh was all mine because he bit it hard on the final corner of the race and opened up a huge opportunity for me in doing so.

There is an old lesson that I learned back in my early Jed-Adam-Ben-Kansas days: there is always room on the inside. I took the inside corner as we lined up for the field sprint in the last two corners. In the final one my new best friend went down and slid to the outside blocking a whole crowd of people. I went inside and accelerated. It was a long drag race down to the finish line. In the end I took 13th in the field sprint. I was satisfied with that finish after a hard day of racing.

Afterwards I joined the HRRC/Trek guys for a couple beers and a few co-eds at the Tap Room. All-in-all a solid day of racing.

Gateway Cup: Racing at Night

2008-09-03T16:09:00.003-05:00

Now to begin the process of telling the stories of four days of racing and the tomfoolery that comes along with it. From Lawrence, KS it is a short four hours to St. Louis and the site of the Gateway Cup. The weekend is comprised of four crits in and around St. Louis. Each one offers its own unique challenges and come custom made for someone.

The first race is Lafayette Park which is done at night. The course is a flat 1-mile four corner course. It takes the term not technical and raises it to the next level. It's wide open and the corners are all 90 degrees...oh and did I mention it was flat? It's the kind of course where you can push 30+ mph without actually being clipped into your pedals.

Every time I've done it, the race has ended in a field sprint, but that sure didn't stop me and others in the field from jumping off the front like mad men. About 20 minutes into the race a small break of two was about 5 to 10 seconds up the road. They rang the bell for a prime and it seemed destined that those two would fight it out on the next lap for the prize.

I had been riding at the front of the 140 man field and jumped about half way into the lap. I bridged the gap within 5 seconds and just rode right past the two leaders like they were waiting in line for ice cream. I took the corner-next-to-last fast and then took a quick look over my shoulder to see who I had brought with me. To my surprise no one was on my wheel. I had gotten clean off the front and had 100 meters on the field going into corner four. It was a quick sprint up to the start/finish line and I took me a prime.

Looking back at my cycling life, it turns out that this was the first contested prime that I had ever won. I have no idea how I've made it this far without winning one before but the omen was great. I stayed off the front for another lap before being swallowed by the field. I sat in for 10 to 15 minutes and then found myself in a small break dangling off the front by about 5 bike lengths. I jumped the break and got clear again. However, again the field swallowed me up a lap or so later. At least I heard the announcer say my name this time, which would have made Mom and Dad happy.

Racing at night is an odd experience. The course is lit at each corner with huge flood lights but in the middle of each stretch only street lights show the way. You go from dark to light and back to dark again rapidly. It gives off the impression of moving in a giant strobe light. However in this one you get to hook handlebars and dodge potholes; oh and try to go fast too.

I sat back in the field and waited for the field sprint. With a course like this one it has to be assumed that a field sprint will decide the race. In order to get away someone has to be some kind of strong and determined, it would take almost a herculean effort to do it. With 140 guys chasing you down and frankly nowhere to separate yourself from the field with anything other than pure power, it just makes it too easy to get caught.

With 3 to go I was swamped in. I fought and scraped and dug to try to find any room to move up. Holes would open and close in the field quicker than one could react. Suddenly with 1 lap to go the field paused for a second. I shot to the front and around 30 guys. I realized at that moment I was a player in this race again and not just along for the ride. I prepared myself for the fact that it was about to get stupid fast. I looked inside myself for a second and said...aw hell it just hurts for a second anyways.

I took the final corner in good position but had chosen the outside line. Almost every single lap up until that time, the outside line was the better one. This was not that time. With only about 10 guys in front of me in my line I took to the sprint. One by one they started popping under the pressure of 300 meters of massive wattage. I just couldn't get around enough of them and the sprint went to the guys who took the inside line.

My prime covered my entry costs and was a great sign of things to come. Plus racing ended that night just as the little bars that flanked the park closed which made for endless entertainment as we cleaned up and headed for the hotel.

Walking Down Memory Lane

2008-08-26T13:32:00.003-05:00

I've reached the furthest west on my road trip and have placed my feet on the solid ground of Lawrence, KS and the hallowed halls of my alma mater. It's been four years since I was here last. It was early Spring then and I really didn't get the opportunity to get back to and enjoy a lot of the sites that I had enjoyed while I was in college. This time I'm not letting that opportunity go by.

Alot of this road trip has been about retracing steps. Whether I actually thought about this when I came up with the idea or not is question, it's been about looking back at where I came from and maybe, just maybe, looking at where the road heads from this point on out. My path has been a twisted one and required many different roads. Literally it's take me down I-88, I-80, I-35, I-70, I-40, I-20, I-85, I-81, I-66 and I-95. That's the path from Chicago to Kansas to Mississippi and then to DC. However, figuratively, there's a lot of country roads, some made of gravel and some of red dirt, that have helped along the way.

My path hasn't really gone all that far-- from Naperville to the top of Mt. Oread, to the Grove and now to Adams Morgan. A common thread I'm sure can be found somewhere therein. However, I'm not sure what it is but I encourage Mr. Coles to create a testable hypothesis that eventually will come to an answer that none of us can understand but it would make a lot of sense. I've second guessed a lot of my decisions to move to or from various places. I try to play it out in my mind...how each different change would have affected the outcome. Would I be in the same place? Would I be just as good? Or just as bad?

Lawrence does hold a special place in my heart. I have a special affinity for it unlike any other place that I have been. It's the only place where hippies freely mix with trust fund babies and where I could meet so many random but fabulous people. It's a one of a kind town and to be honest I lucked upon it. When I was deciding where to go to college I am sure that Kansas was nowhere on my radar until one day a random coach named Zhawn showed up at a meet in Alabama. Thankfully I actually swam well that day.

Sitting here now, with hindsight on my side, I wonder if I enjoyed my college days to the fullest. If I used that time as well as possibly could have. Could I have done more? Should I have tried harder at doing X? Or less at Y? Should I have dated this girl or that one? If you ask Chad what he thought of my girlfriends during college I'm sure you'd get a couple crazy stories. So basically please don't ask him. After all these thoughts I pause and think to myself, sure I could have done it different but I had so much fun the way I did it, why would I want to change a thing.

Rogue Racing 2: Tour of Oak Brook

2008-08-25T10:13:00.008-05:00

The cycling world of Illinois descended upon the quaint upper class suburb of Oak Brook. You know your suddenly not in the ghetto cyclist world when the pace car for your race is a Lamborghini or when you get to park your car on the nearby polo fields:

A slightly smaller race than Downers Grove, about 40 guys lined up for a 3.2 mile loop that was to be done a bazillion times. I grossly underestimated this course, the heat and the tenacity of flat land racing in the Midwest. However, that doesn't mean that I went down without a fight. Oh no, I was going to live up to my rap as the Rogue Warrior or as I am known in certain towns in North Carolina-- the Thunderbird.

The first couple laps I sat in as we went around. A pair of small power hills were on the back side of an otherwise flat flat flat road course. With the tailwind we could easily push 30+ mph into the finishing stretch. I followed a couple moves in laps 5-7 but nothing seemed to stick. I'm not sure how I was getting marked by the field, as I'm sure almost no one in Chicago remembers me from my Cat 5 days when I last raced there; but I was definitely marked.

Three guys had gotten off the front, one of whom was a member of the largest squad represented. They were content to let them get a couple hundred meters on the field and not push the pace. However, when I jumped to bridge that gap suddenly the field sprang to life. I crossed the gap in quick time but the field was so animated that they dragged us back in. With 6 laps to go I had had enough of this and was not content to sprint it out at 40 mph. So coming over a little rise into the head wind section I jumped. I got clear and stayed clear-- han solo.

The backstretch of the course was full of little twists and turns through multi-million dollar McMansions (honestly, McDonald's corporate headquarters is in Oak Brook's neighboring suburb aptly named Oak Brook Terrace). So I got out of sight quick. Up the two power climbs and into the long finishing stretch. However, once I got there the field saw me, turned up the pace and dragged me back in. I had been off the front for over 3 miles and had lit most of my matches doing so.

I retired to the field and resigned myself to the field sprint to come. With about half a mile left in the race the pace went to ludicrous. My early moves weighed heavily in my legs and then I exploded. Someone luckily was there to take this picture of the moment:

On a positive note, the stars and bars of NCVC/Inova Health System are distinctive enough that the Illinois boys who I was with remembered seeing them a couple years previous in another race. So I must give mad props to the likes of Greg Abbott for pushing through the jersey change when he did.

Rogue Racing: Downers Grove

2008-08-23T16:59:00.007-05:00

For close to two years prior to moving to DC I raced by myself and for myself. No teammates. No support. It's a lonely world when you race without a team; when you race as the rogue warrior in the field. You have to be quick and take risks and fend for yourself. I've come to count on my teammates. A little help now and again chasing down a break or making sure that no one chases you down for a while. My trip back to Illinois is without teammates and I was quite alone in this race. As with the next four races in this season and in the terms of Leon Turner, if I am to win I am going to have to do so "han solo."

Downers Grove is a quick race. It makes the shape of a figure eight with four corners uphill and four corners downhill. There were close to 90 guys in the race at the time the whistle was blown. As is my tendency I started at the back of the field and would have to work my way to the front. With that many corners and only .8 of a mile worth of a course there wouldn't be much time to pass on any straight aways.

I started picking my way through the field in the corners and found it pretty easy to move up. The pace was moderate and quite unlike any crit I've ever been in because the speed was even. Normally, the accelerations make a crit a competition in whose heart rate can peak and come back to normal the fastest. By normal of course I mean something like 120-140 bpm.

The first downhill corner started on a wide open four lane road and fed into a three lane road. It was 90 degrees and perfect for carrying speed and moving up in the field. At about the half way point I came to realize that this race was going to come down to a field sprint. A couple guys tried to go early but the field was so big and no team was willing to take control so every break got run down quickly.

I road in the top 20 most of the race and my plan was to use that wide open corner to move up in the final lap into the top 10 and then up into the top 5 by the final corner and sprint it from there. The plan was working perfectly until I ran smack into the slowest moving object in the entire field just as I passed through that first downhill corner. I had to scrub a lot of speed and then move back into the field. Instead of being in the top 10 I was in the top 30. I was a little angry and suddenly put into a defensive mode. There was a quarter mile left to go and I was nowhere near where I wanted to be.

Two more corners followed and I moved up a little and I could still sprint for the top 15 which is how deep the field was paid. I was still in contention. All the way up to the final corner when two guys got tired of racing their bikes and decided to lay them down right in front of me. I rode between them and reaccelerated but by the time I got up to speed it was too late and the field had rode by my. It was a disappointing finish for such an incredible race.

A Homecoming

2008-08-21T14:20:00.003-05:00

I left the comfort of the mid-Atlantic and the lush valleys of Virginia for the vast plains of the Midwest. I followed through on a plan I dreamt up several months ago which in and of itself is quite amazing. I've been in Chicago for about 4 days (minus a one day trip to Houston) and raced a hard race on Sunday (which I'll write about when I get the pictures downloaded). I normally don't bring a bike with me to Chicago because most of my trips are short and involve some bizarre legal battle.

Today I went out in search of an old route. I knew that the powers that be have been building a lot along the route I intended to ride but I didn't know that the old roads that I used are now just gone. Not blocked off or fallen in to disrepair but literally gone. The pavement has vanished and has been replaced by either housing or wild grass. What was once beautiful open fields and farms have been replaced by endless subdivisions with computer generated names which inspire "happiness" or "upper-middle-class ambition."

My least favorite such subdivision is Shenandoah. The subtitle was "the beautiful meadow." I've searched quite a bit to find that meaning for the word Shenandoah and have never found that meaning. Rather most agree that the word Shenandoah is derived from a Native American phrase which means "Beautiful Daughter of the Stars." I find it ironic that the word for a beautiful mountainous valley in VA has been applied to a disgusting aluminium siding filled subdivision which borders a railroad track in the vast emptiness of former sod farm country. Granted the soils maybe equal in fertility, the views are definitely different.

In the world of $4.00 or more per gallon gas prices, I am utterly dumbfounded by the fact that the exurbs of Chicago continue to grow so radically. You would think that economic natural selection would drive these people back into the hubs of local cities or at least off my bike routes. Of course my greatest concern is not the pocket books of the idiots who populate these areas, but the fact that it makes it just that much more difficult for me to find open roads to ride on. Of course, no one consults the cycling community when they launch these less than ambitious building projects.

Roadside Distractions

2008-08-13T19:12:00.002-05:00

Six races left to go on the season. It's that time of the year where I start to think about the next season. I think about things that I did well this year and things that I can improve on. However, I cannot let those thoughts get to me because the races to come are pretty tough and my chances are good. Tomorrow is my last day of work before my vacation begins. I've been looking forward to these two weeks off since I went to North Carolina back in what seems like another lifetime.

There is a racing website that talks about daily distractions. Basically it's about cycling and hot chicks that either race or find themselves along our race courses. The best/worst that I've been personally witness to were the "townies" oiled up and in bikinis at the Hagerstown crit this summer. Their "site" on the side of the road made it easier to throw down 600-700 watts through the corner away from those "beauties."

Yesterday I was out on my daily constitutional a/k/a/ my training ride. I was putting in a pretty good steady state workout where I ride at a wattage in a decently elevated range and hold it for a while. Yesterday my workout was a pair of 25 minute intervals. About halfway into the second one I found myself going up a steady incline and passed a bus stop. This particular time a girl was standing there who flagged me down as I passed. As a good American I stopped to help.

She was lost, really lost. The strangest thing about this situation was that she really didn't know where she wanted to go. She gave me three different locations that she "needed" to go to and was terribly unsatisfied by any of my suggestions, which typically ended with "well you can walk there in about 30 minutes or you can stay here and wait for a bus that probably won't come for an hour."

I really think she wanted to hitch a ride on my handlebars. Honestly, she was just big enough that she could probably have done so without adding 60 lbs. Fully grown she wasn't as tall as me when I was sitting on my top tube. I left her on the side of the road to head off to the Giant which was about 7 blocks away. I had grown so frustrated with her indecision that I thought maybe someone there could figure it out. I gave her directions, let her make two phone calls on my cell and offered to wave down a cab. None of these made her happy.

I headed off to finish my interval after about ten minutes. I hope for her sake that she found what she was looking for. Any cyclist will tell you that there are a lot of fun things on the side of the road. You'd be amazed by the random articles of clothing, magazines, furniture and in a couple cases (back in Mississippi) appliances. Once in Texas I ran across a great new baseball hat. Jed, of course has the best road side find--a wrapped porn DVD. However, the one thing that amazes me is the number of times I run across a single shoe on the side of the road. I mean you would imagine that unlike a glove or a t-shirt that you would probably miss a shoe if it fell off while you were driving, right?

An Ode To the Master

2008-08-10T17:16:00.003-05:00

My cycling career began one day sitting on the porch in front of an aged loft in Topeka, KS. I swam throughout college and when my eligibility expired I was left in the midst of a quarter life crisis. I had swum for close to 20 years by that point. I was even thinking about going beyond college to try for a spot on a national team. I was a much better long course swimmer than I ever was in short course and I had found a great home in Ft. Lauderdale with an excellent coach.

When everything went sideways in my life in the Spring of 2001 I was lost. The athletic department at Kansas decided to cut both the men's swimming and tennis programs at the same time. I was devastated. I mounted a campaign to right the wrong and invested all my time and energy into undoing the injustice that I felt had occurred. When it was all said and done I was burned out of the idea of swimming and was out of shape and there was no coming back in time to compete that Summer.

So I bought a bike. No real good reason why I bought a bike. However, I went out the very first day on my new bike in a black pair of shorts and a white t-shirt. I spent that Summer getting my legs into shape and learning all about bike racing. I was obsessed. I read every magazine I could and watched every movie ever made about cycling...all three. I signed up for Downers Grove as a Cat 5. Downers Grove is the national championship crit...not at the Cat 5 level but it's a big race none the less. So all of the area Cat 5s were gunning for it and this was my first race.

It rained that morning and the course is terrible in the rain. A set of concrete brick crosswalks in the middle of corners otherwise made of asphalt which turns the course into ice when wet. I went down twice in a 20 minute race. Once in the final corner in which I sled out and landed head first into a hay bale. Amazingly I got back up on a bike two days later.

In the process of crashing my bike that day I put a nasty dent into my wheel set. I needed to get that fixed but I knew nothing of bike shops in Kansas which was where I was heading. I somehow got in touch with the KU Cycling Club and a man named Jed got back to me. The next thing I knew this monster of a mountain man from New Mexico by way of Montana and Topeka was showing me the roads around Topeka and dropping me like nobody's business on an easy training ride.

So there we sat, Jed and I, on his porch talking about bike racing. It was from that day that I knew bike racing was something a world apart. The rest is somewhat a short history. I feel that it's ironic that on many of my training rides I pass this site:

I once tried to send Jed a pix of a stuffed moose and he responded to me saying: "My name is Jed. I live in South Carolina. I have a hound dog named Red. What makes you think my phone can receive pictures?"

So, as I get ready to go and race at Downers Grove for the first time since meeting this mountain man I reflect on how much we all need him back in the sport...come back Jed we need you.

Mane 'n Tail

2008-08-03T20:09:00.002-05:00

A rather large supporter of mine gave me a gift recently. My workouts are whooping my butt and have left me with some pretty tired and sore legs. In fact sometimes it's been a little rough getting into and out of my car. However that's bike racing, right? Riding until your legs are about ready to blow up?

I remember one particularly windy Sunday morning back in Lawrence. The group was coming back into town from Tonganoxie on a flat stretch of road. I've always fancied myself a break-away rider. I'm not really the best in the field sprint and thought, in fact still think, that if I can get up the rode I can hold off the field just long enough to stick it for a win. I drove Adam and Ben nuts with theories and strategies of how to create a successful breakaway. They might have even thought I could do it someday. Then I would do something stupid like crash on a group ride and all my street cred was gone.

This grey early spring day in Kansas was no exception. The group kept ramping the pace up little bits at a time. Adam was in the pace line with me along with most of the big guys in town. One at a time the field got smaller as guys popped off the back. My head was down and my vision was definitely getting a little redder as I went into oxygen debt. Just when I thought I was going to blow up, Adam jumped the field for the city limit sprint. From somewhere deep down inside I found the last bit of effort to cover the jump and found his wheel.

A minute or two later he looked back at me and shouted, "Rob, look back...that's how you make a successful breakaway." I looked back and we were free and clear from the field and they were nowhere in sight. I learned my lesson that day. If you're going to go out on your own to win a race you're going to need to put yourself through serious hell.

I've been putting myself through the ringer these last couple of months to get to where I need to be and my legs have suffered. Needless to say I've woken up many mornings lately in a bit of pain, which brings me back to my gift. When given to me I was told that it wasn't made for cyclists but it really works on tired legs...well tired horse legs. I was given a jar of Mane 'n Tail which is Icy Hot for horses. So I tried a little tonight for the first time. I put it on my legs about two hours ago. It took a little while to feel it but my legs have been on fire now for two hours. Seriously thinking of just sticking them in the freezer right now.

I mean the stuff has to be working right? At least I don't feel the soreness any more.

Fly New Kicks

2008-07-30T13:43:00.000-05:00

I was thinking back on my training this season and came to the conclusion that I cannot recall the last time my form developed quite as quickly or as sharply. In May of this year I was nowhere. My form was gone and my desire was less. Blame it trial in New Orleans, cold weather or my lack of enthusiasm to put in the miles and the effort needed at the time. However, somewhere along the line everything clicked again and my focus returned.

The problem is that I appear to have gone and broken myself, temporarily. My knee has slowly started giving me troubles over the past couple of days. It culminated on Saturday with pain so deep that I almost wanted to cry. However, following strictly the Topeka Rules of Cycling, I banished that thought from my mind as I would have clearly gotten my butt kicked when I voyage there later this Summer. Coach Adam and I have been working on figuring out what the problem is that caused my pain. However, in an effort to be good to myself and in the hope that money can buy happiness, I went out and bought a new pair of Time RS Carbon shoes. Now I'm officially super fly.

I had rode the greatest pair of shoes, Specialized Road Pro Carbons, for a long time. They actually replaced my original shoes which were hideous Italian made mistakes. I remember the day in Tuscaloosa that those shoes finally died. I was getting ready for a ride and went to pull on one of the straps and the whole damn thing just came off in my hand. In order to do a short ride that day I actually ended up getting a roll of packing tape and wrapping my entire shoe thick enough to hold my foot in the pedal.

Well my fancy new Time shoes have made me happy. They match the team kit (red/white/black) because everyone knows it's not necessarily how fast you are but how fast you look. They also are really comfortable and allow me to feel the pedals. I'm just going to have to figure out how to fix my brokeness first before the last races scheduled for the end of August.

Turn Left and Go Fast: Hunny Bop Crit

2008-07-21T12:30:00.002-05:00

To date I have not been offered a spot with Denny Hamlin's No. 11 FedEx Toyota team. That's ok by me. I'm sure they are just waiting for next year to offer me a spot in NASCar as I am sure it would be very intimidating for me to roll up at Daytona next year on my Cannondale for my debut.

In order to prove that I am fast and have skills in turning left, I attended the Hunny Bop crit this weekend. The naming of a bike race is truly an art form, especially since they shift around in the calendar so much. I cannot count the number of Bunny Hop or Turkey Trot races which are actually held nowhere close to Easter or Thanksgiving. Thankfully the promoters of the Hunny Bop realized this and renamed their race.

The scene was set: 50 riders, 75 minutes, 100 degrees. The race was pleasant simple and easy...then we hit the first corner and that all changed. It was a wide open crit with plenty of room to move around and no need to hit your brakes through the corners. A flurry of attacks went up the road quick but nothing stayed away for very long. At about the 30 minute mark a strong break emerged with one of my teammates in it and the pace slowed just a bit, which was fortunate because I'm pretty sure we were about to go to plaid.

The break got about 30 seconds on the field and I thought it was gone. Then suddenly the gap came down...28 seconds...25 seconds...8 seconds...caught. The field ramped the pace back up and the attacks started all over again. I covered a jump and lit about every match I had. Right as I was about to snap I looked up and the guy sat up. I licked all my wounds and slid back into the field and the safety of the draft.

With about 5 to go I found myself in 6th wheel with my head down, in the drops, on the tip of the saddle and my vision going to red. I'm only hoping that there was at least one guy behind me who was having half the trouble I was with the pace. I stayed there for about a lap when the pace let up just enough for the leading train to get swallowed up by the advancing field. Cracked in two and with a teammate in a good spot for the sprint, I rolled in with the field and counted it a solid day of racing.

MABRA Crit Championship: Exploring Scenic Hagerstown

2008-07-15T16:49:00.002-05:00

Saturday saw another 14 minutes of anaerobic racing smashed in the middle of an hour long crit. It was a good course with a little bit of technical thrown into a hammer fest. Turn two was over 90 degrees and it came off a little twist of the road in the opposite direction you might want to drive your bike. A pair of crashes in that corner testified to exactly how quick things can get out of control.

The first 15 minutes of the race reminded me of that time that I hated life. I started in the back of the field because . . . I don't know that's where I have a tendency of starting when I cannot get into my pedals and feel like a Cat 5. Just as I was about to think of hitting the pool for a afternoon of suntanning, a hole opened up and I rode straight up to the front of the field. Once I was there life was a heck of a lot easier.

A big 'ol crash happened on the flat finishing straight two inches in front of me. Somehow I rode around flaying arms, wheels, water bottles and bodies. A quick compliment from a fellow bike race and we were off again. Somehow a field of 50 shrunk quickly to 35. With about six to go I rolled off the front and got about 20 meters on the field. I took a peak down at the PowerTap and made a quick calculation abut how long I could hold my wattage. However, in the time it took to do that math the field swallowed me up.

I regrouped and prepared for another assault with about 2 or 3 to go because I was bound and determined not to be in the field if it came to a field sprint as my positioning this year has just been off. Sadly, at 3 to go we were strung out single file and it stayed there till the very end. As has been my habit this year I was way off target in my position and just rolled in with the field.

A couple good lessons came out of this race. I shouldn't be afraid of seeing power numbers over 500 watts because I can hold that and repeat that effort. It's always better at the front of the field. And, it's about time that I start finding ways to get in better position and take advantage of my form that looks like it is slowly coming into its own.

Sweet Home Chicago

2008-07-09T20:24:00.004-05:00

I was able to go home twice within the last two weeks. It was great to see Mom and Dad and to have some decent pizza. I've missed being home but haven't missed the craziness that is Chicago traffic. Mayor Daley, in his infinite genius has put palm trees on the Oak St. beach.

That's literally a palm tree in front of The Drake hotel and the John Hancock building. I've spent a lot of time staying at The Drake which is just a great hotel. The rooms are huge and very plush. I mean you literally fall into the beds which is such a good feeling. My legs have been absolutely murdered these last couple of weeks.

Coach Adam and I have been trying to improve my crit riding ability and my power coming off the corners. At the crit in Tour of Washington I was putting out over 600 watts once a lap and that ate away at my legs (not to mention the random ambulance that was outside of the corner for half the race). This weekend is the MABRA Crit Championships and we'll see if my power has improved.

I feel that it's become a lot easier to put up bigger numbers repetitively and I'm hoping that it shows this weekend. When I first started training with a PowerTap I was impressed to see a number over 1000. I thought that it was crazy but now I hit those numbers two or three times a day during my normal workouts. I'll have to really open it up some day and see what my top number is now.

DC Cycling Has Been Invaded...

2008-07-07T20:58:00.003-05:00

...by bike riding Fred's like this dude and to me they are known as the Klingons. You guys know who you are. Yes you, the dude who wears his Primal Fear kit and the clip on aero bars on your insanely expensive Trek that you have no business owning. The same guy who hits Rock Creek Park like it's stage three of Le Tour and sucks my wheel while I'm heading out of the park like I'm on Cipo's lead-out train of old.

Seriously dude, I don't know you. I didn't set out to ride with you. I don't want to ride with you. You are literally just the guy I passed right before a stop light and you should disappear just as quickly. What's sad and worse is that honestly I fear that the klingon gets some kind of Saturday-morning-world-championship joy out of riding my wheel.

If your goal is ride with me to prove your fredhood, why don't you try riding the next 60 miles with me. You know the one's I do after I leave you in the park. Don't worry, I know you're probably confused by a lot of this so I went online and ordered a book on how to speak klingon and I am listening to audio tapes so in the future I can say get dropped in your native language.