End of the Cross Season 09

I did not post my USGP race because it was something I’d rather forget. It wasn’t that things went badly but more that it represented the bottom of a slow downward spiral since this start of the cross season. I felt for this season I had trained reasonably well and after my first two races felt confident my fitness would improve, but it didn’t. there was a moment in USGP where I was riding in the front of a group and someone, in the group, yelled – “are we on a Sunday stroll?”. At the start of the race I felt as if I was half asleep only going through the motions because I’d paid to be there. Any time I felt I was warming up I’d get passed. Each lap I kept looking back to ensure at least SOMEONE was behind me. There always was, but moments later I’d look back again to see them all backed up behind me. They’d pass and I’d try and stay on the the last wheel only to loose it on the first corner. There are many factors but the sum of it all made for an unpleasant day. So on Sunday for the second USGP I called a friend and we went for a leisurely ride with a stop for coffee in the middle.

Fast forward to Nationals. I was nervous, hesitant and not 100% committed. The snow, cold and ice only served to shake me up more. My race was at 9:30am on Saturday. I arrived Friday to watch many people crash hard. I just wanted it to be over so I could finish the season and move on to other things (XC Skiing). Saturday morning arrived and I headed out at 7:30 to pre-ride the course. It was beyond slick. Many others had also come out with the weak dawn light to slide around. It was almost comical. I did two laps and went home crippled with fear. As 9:30 approached I headed back out to warm up a tad and then line up. 127th to be specific. My goal was simple, no injuries and try to place somewhere better than 127th.

The sun had come out and there had been a race just before mine. Unbeknown to me the course had softened quite a bit. The gun went off and all 200 of us took off in a flash. At the start there was a pile up, I can still hear the sound of tires, metal and many grunts and exclamations. I was far enough back to react and not fall prey to the carnage. My main worry was the group behind me (although there were not that many people to be honest). Having survived I navigated around the blur of bikes and people. By the time I as on my bike the group ahead was rounding the first corner. A quick sprint and I was on a wheel.

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Much to my delight the course was surprisingly tacky and fast. I moved up the field passing, passing, passing. I felt great. Each corner I’d shoot the inside and get the lead of those in front of me. On the first lap I ran the hill on the far end and even ran it all the way down the return. This worked great the first lap but proved to be more effort than was necessary. Subsequent laps I would ride the whole thing as was everyone else.

Feeling great and completely enjoying myself it was about lap 3 or 4 that I came down a sharp drop off and heard the oh so telling sound of Pfffffft sffft sfft sfft followed by the jarring sound of dirt and rock to metal when only separated by a piece of rubber. Time to run… To be honest I feel like I’m a good runner and can hold my own speed wise, but somehow with a bike on one shoulder and hard ass shoes with metal spikes on the front I found every step felt like a hammer to my heel. By the time I made it to the pit I had lost a good 15+ places and literally strolled up to the Shimano tent. They reacted with speed and efficiency while I took a moment to gather myself.

Back on the bike the rest of my race went just fine. I regained a few of my lost places due to the flat but otherwise felt like my first Nationals experience was a success. Final result 75th.

That same day Sabine and I went XC Skiing with the dog. While I was tired from the race it was great to be on ski’s surrounded by clean white snow. I have great plans for next year…I know, I know, I say that every year but I honestly feel like I learned more this year than any other.

Crosscrusade #7 : PIR

I have my Sunday now down to a science. The morning arrives slowly and with no urgency. My cross race is in about 8 hours but it’s far from my mind as I feed the dog, which is the first thing every morning. The rest of my morning is a combination of food, work, rest and more food. Eggs, potatoes, toast…I try to eat as much as possible early because after about 12:00 I shift into semi liquid mode. Even for distant races this schedule varies little. The only difference is that my work, rest or food is on the road.

Around 10 or 11 I start to shift my mental state into the crazed attack dog psycho crosser I should be if I ever think I’ll place in the top 10. I eat my final meal and start to gather my gear, check the bikes, wheels, prepare my post race shake (bananas, walnuts, apple or pear, blueberries and recoverite from Hammer), small PB&J just in case I do need more solids, two water bottles (one with electrolytes and the other thick with Sustained Energy…another Hammer product), and finally I don my skin suit. Now I’m ready.

I used to arrive just before and line up cold and uncaring, now a days I arrive in time to gather my thoughts, register, find the team tent, say hi to friends, visually scope the course out and cheer on teammates with long trails of spit hanging from their chin. I get partially dressed and on my bike in time to pre-ride the course. After riding the course I should continue to properly warm up but I enter a strange lethargic pre-race zone. I’m content watching the people racing feeling oddly distant from it all. With about 1/2 hour to go I do start riding around to warm up.

I have as of yet to get a call up so I’m always stuck either in the middle or in the back. I’m noticing as the season progresses the field size is such that most people are getting call ups. For example I was number 9 and for this race it meant I was the first group after all the call ups. I was super stoked until standing in the middle of the pack looking forward and then back I was still at the later half of the pack.

We are now at the start, seconds away from shocking my system out of it’s casual Sunday mode. I will go from a calm, contemplative, standing position to a convulsive, lung busting, freak out. I have been told, and have read, that the race is determined in the first 3 laps, nay the first lap. The last thing my wife said to me as I headed to the start was “Kill yourself”. That’s how it is, who has it in them to endure more. I was determined to do just that, I was also determined to find every hole in the pack and take advantage of it. I wanted to be near the front long before the first lap is over. Did I succeed? Well…almost. Sabine has photos of me heading up one of the last hills in front a very large group. I was probably 10th or so. Not bad if you ask me. But her photos tell a sad story as well. Moment later on that same lap about 10 people in the large group can be seen in front of me. Several things happened in that small section near the end of the lap. I fell into the chain link fence, was painfully slow running up the hill on the back side, and was going anaerobic in a bad way. I was suffering.

For the rest of the race I fought to keep my position but lost some additional ground. I fought back and in the end got 24th…my best placing so far. It’s not much but I was pleased with the day. I love the mud and the course was challenging and relentless.

Some shots…
Exhibit A: Me close to the front
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Exhibit B: The pack behind me
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A much later probably last lap photo
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Crosscrusade #4 : Washington County Fair Complex

The frustration continues…

I will begin this post with a declaration of my love for this sport. I am, without a doubt still having fun. Why the oddly out of place announcement? Because if I’d said this after my post you wouldn’t believe me.

I showed up early enough to ride the course and get warmed up, however fate would once again wield it’s undesirable power to screw things up. I was practicing one particular corner when I noticed my rear tire was flat. Again!? Flabbergasted, I figured I’d screwed the valve up when releasing some air. 30 minutes later after running around looking for pumps, tools and a miracle, I was back at the car grabbing my spare wheels. (Things have gotten so bad for me that I now bring two bike AND a spare set of wheels)

At the start I was cold and not very warmed up. Taking off I did not feel very spunky and lost some ground. I can’t explain my apathy. My wife says she thinks it’s a combination of me working too much and all my technical problems that is slowly sapping all my enthusiasm. I know I can do better and the continual disappointing placements might be having an effect on my desire to push those boundaries. At the end of each race I’m not coughing, I’m barely tired and that is a clear indicator of not trying.

The worst of it all is the fall. Not on the mud, not on the grass, not even on the gravel…instead I decide to fall on the pavement. I was leading a group that I had just passed so I was probably pushing too hard. My front wheel when out and I went down. Right hand first, forearm, then the shoulder. I can still feel the absorption of the impact. Nothing broke but the I have some glorious road rash in 4 places. (The knee is the worst)DSC_0241

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I finished the race feeling kind of cool with my bloody knee. When done I sheepishly tried to cut into the bike wash line to rinse the horse poo out of my open wound. Someone calmly pointed me to the first aid tent. Duh.

This was my first time with the first aid. The looked at me and without a word started getting the sponges and bandages out. The cleaning and scrubbing hurt but I was still numb from the race. I was very thankful and they did an awesome job.

So lets summarize, flat tire, back half of the pack, road rash…can’t wait till next week.

I’m just thankful that my team still finds it in their hart to cheer for me when I pass.

Crosscrusade #3 : Sherwood Forest

You go out, you do your best and the universe shits on you.

The last number on my bib is 9. So far this season a lucky number, but today it placed me second the last. The folks in dead last get a six pack of beer and a guaranteed spot up front next week, so second to last is really the true complete losers of the field for that day. I didn’t care though, I had my new tubulars, my head was on straight, I had pre-rode the course and I felt like I ate enough but not too much to throw up. Even at the start with the spinning wheels, bodies everywhere, dust in the air, and the cheering crowds things went well for me as I moved up a fair amount. Descending into the forest towards some mud, I muscled my way into position and followed the perfect line and continued to work my way past people. Things were looking up.

Of course I’m panting as usual but there is a sense of fearlessness surging through me. Some of the descents felt more like fast mountain single track, I was flying, in control and beaming with joy. For one hill I did mistime my shifting and ended up losing a lot of ground as I heaved my way up…one…slow…peddle stroke…after another…until I could get to a spot to downshift. By the time I saw 3 laps to go I was loving this race. I didn’t know where I was at but I was not losing ground to my rivals and gosh darnit, I was having fun.

I did go through my ritual mental anguish of pain and doubt, wondering what drives me to do this and debating a quick exit. The money, the time, the stress, it all comes down to this odd hour of racing that forces you to dig into places you don’t normally go. Today, I dug deeper in search of my strength. What emerged was a bit of crazy and a flat front wheel. The crazy I could deal with but the flat brought me to tears. I flatted just before the pit where I decided a mere 45 minutes ago to NOT put my second bike in because it was too far. I was mad at myself, the organizers for putting the pit just out of my lazy zone, and the universe for callously throwing away what little joy I was having. Even the time seemed odd. I was in a non bumpy, non rocky, smooth fun section. I had just used some of that crazy I had found to nudge passed this guy who was determined not to be nudged. I was elated at my determination and forcefulness when my tire went dead. And just like that the universe changed it’s tune and sent me home crying.

Crosscrusade #2 : Rainier High School

This should be brief. My lungs are thrashed, I’m coughing and sound like I’ve just recovered from a 2 week long chest cold. I recently finished shoveling down a home made chicken burrito and fell asleep on the couch listening to a documentary on the birth of Jazz in America. I awoke and decided I’d best log the days events before slipping off into a deep post race sleep.

Once again I was lucky with my number 9 and was placed only a few rows back from the leaders. Rainier has a long hill, half of which is paved that I seem to dread each time. Although, in years past I have used this hill at the start to my advantage by going all out to move up. Today would be no different. I went hard from the start and was in the top 15 at the top of the hill…the price? Leg spasms. I eased back, breathing hard and tried to recover. A few passed. Down the long dusty dissent I found myself getting passed so more, maybe I felt a bit timid with my clinchers pumped to full capacity. I was getting bumped around and did not feel connected to the dirt. Later I would get my groove on this section but needless to say I lost some ground.

Progressing through the course there would prove to be some areas of utter disdain. One rutted out section was so bumpy that no matter how hard I pushed my petals I seemed to move backwards. There is also a back section where the incline pushed my legs to the brink and throughout all of this I was breathing to the point of gasping.

The race continued much like this. where I ended up I do not know. People claim I looked good and did well. The reality though is that I need to figure out my mid week training if I want to do better. I’m already thinking about next year but it’s way to early for that.

Crosscrusade #1 : Alpenrose

A complete and utter disappointment. Everything started off well enough. I rode to the venue and felt nice and warmed up. I ate well all day and brought my new secret pre-race combination. My number ended in “9″ which put me right behind the called up folks. Everything was hunky dory. Even my start was good. I was well positioned in about 15th and considering the size of the field I felt good about that.

But then everything started to go horribly wrong. Normally on each corner I feel my tubulars grip and I feel one with the dirt, today my tire kept sliding out. Not a slip but a roll, my tire felt flat. I kept looking down but it seemed fine, maybe a bit low but not flat. This was lap one. For three more laps I’m uneasy, I’m losing position and feeling timid on the corners. Then on lap 4 it’s totally flat, rim to dirt flat. It’s a horrible feeling as the rim grinds over the rocks and bumps. I roll into the pit, change wheels and I’m off. I’m feeling a bit better despite losing so much ground.

I’m way off pace and can’t tell how far away I am. I do about two laps with my new tire when my front catches on a corner and rolls. I jump on and ride it with the tire going phumpf, phumpf, phumpf for every revolution. At the foot of the steps I decide it’s unsafe and stop to take another look. I roll it back on and head out. Timid once again I decide it’s best to not hit the pits but to just be careful on the corner. As I approach the pits I hear Dave yelling if I need a tire. What the hell, riding with the rolled tire sucks. I roll into the pit a second time, change the tire. (I need to file down those darn lawyer nipples because that along cost me two places)

Off again with probably 2 laps to go. At this point the race is a wash. Maybe I can gain one place. I see a guy and chase him down. I finish, tired but in no way exhausted. Just a downright lame ass race. Add to that the new pressure to not gain points for the overall team. Sorry guys, the technical crap today probably added a good 15 points to my place.

Hood river double cross Day 2

These early season races are meant to be a learning experience designed to work the kinks out. Today was a perfect example. I DNF’d after doing a super man over some barrier to avoid the rider’s bike ahead of me, which had stayed behind while the rider kept going. The sad thing is I could have continued, which leads me to my first lesson.

1. Know your equipment: When I did the super man my bike took a hard hit and appeared to have broken the left brake. I looked like it was just dangling there. This will be my first year on Sram Rival and it’s been taking me a while to get used to. Turns out after the adrenaline died down the shifters have a kind of break away. (Intentional?) Regardless, I could have just popped it back in and continued. Bummer.

2. Ride the chain back on: This hurt me the most. My first biff into a barrier (It was all about timing) dropped my chain. I tried to manually put it back on. I lost 5+ places when I gave up and jumped on shifted up and popped it back on. Dumb, Dumb, Dumb!.

3. Work on remount: Whenever it’s fast and bumpy I hesitate and do the little hop jump. Need to work on remounting with speed and a bumpy surface.

4. Work on the start: I was in the back which I can deal with but my start is still slow. I watched others move up quickly while I remained in back.

The good news is that I felt good, was well positioned and riding well. I was able to get on people’s wheel over take them and move up. I felt solid and in control, my cornering was fluid and overall I felt fast over the barriers. A good start to the season despite the DNF and some minor scrapes.

PIR 08.03.09

Aaaaarrrrrgh! Yup, that about sums up my PIR experience today. A DNF! That totally sucks. I just don’t get it. Am I getting weaker or is everyone else getting stronger? Ok ok, I’ll cut myself some slack. I mean, hell, last week was about the most lethargic week off one can imagine. 100 degree days with little relief at night. I still diligently rode to work each day but my motivation beyond that that this side of zilch. AND THEN! (That’s right more excuses) today as I’m leaving to ride to PIR (Uh huh, I rode to PIR!…excuse count 2) I notice my tire is a bit squishy. I’ve been noticing little nicks of glass and it’s been on my mind so I take a closer look. Well wadda know, there is a section of tread missing down to the guts of the tire. I search for a wheel in the garage, but this is a 10 cog so, um, no. I have a 9, can I throw a 9 on there? Not sure, best not risk it. Do I have a tire? Yes, but it’s an all weather beast and it’s on another rim. Best take that. (excuse count 3) Umph, grunt, pull, prod, pump….shit! Pumps not working. Where’s my second pump!? Ah! it’s in the car, with the wife, drat! Hmmmm? How broke is the pump? It seems to get the tire to 50psi and begins to piss air out the side. Have I mentioned that this is the heat of the day and I’m starting to run out of time so the stress level is rising (excuse count 4).

Breath. I’m getting all worked up over nothing. If I don’t make the race who cares. Anyhow, new beast of a tire on, 50psi and I’m off with 45 minutes to get to the race. If I hustle I can make it. I’m pushing hard (excuse count 5)…really hard. Legs burning hard. Some guy (George) hooks on the back. Turns out he’s going to PIR too. Cool. No I mean reeeeally cool. I was going a route I had only gone once and was obviously confused. He showed me the way. Thank you. This was a huge blessing because through the max and bus mall at the rose garden the lights refused to turn. 3 light turns later cyclist began to run them. Darn city lights. Of course this sent my panic state to a new frustrating level.

Anyhow, after all that I make it to the race and find myself hanging out in back with the hairies. (I just made that up…no offense, I realize the absurdity and geekiness of shaving my legs). I’m hurting and hanging on after only two laps. I do spend some time up front. It was interesting. There was this moment of euphoria where it seems my legs popped and not the popped as in we’re done but a clarity, a rejuvenation, a spring. They felt cool and comfortable, strong and willing. I was quickly moving towards the front. Of course this only lasted about 2 or 3 laps but it was pure bliss. Can’t explain it. Well, 5 laps to go I fell back…waaaay back. The last guy said “I’m the last hop on”. I did and then 1/2 laps later I popped. This time it was a pain in the legs kind of pop. There is a side of me that says I could have fought through the pain, I know I’ve done it before but with the ride home, my neck muscles hurting, cramp in my calf, blah blah wine wine. So I popped 5 excuses later.

I did, however, ride home strong. I must say, I was feeling and looking like a racer after a tough race. My legs are getting tan from the riding (mostly commuting) and garden work and the grime from changing the tire, sweat and road debris just added to the post stage race look. It motivated me as I pushed the 12 miles home. It was a cycling geek moment.

PIR 07.20.09

Hot, dry, windy, hot. Perfect day to ride from home to PIR to race my butt off then to home again. I’m still drinking water. I even took a cold shower when I got home. During the race around each sharp corner I could have sworn that my tires were slipping on the soft asphalt. It was a very strange feeling. However by the last 4 laps it felt less mushy…my imagination? Hard to say. I could have been hallucinating, there were moments where I was asking myself if I’d know the signs of heat exhausting. Especially with 5 laps to go and the last drop of my water was gently rolling down my tongue.

Somehow I always survive despite always trying and talk myself out of finishing. I probably only fail to fail because I’m too stubborn. It’s not determination as much as it apathy. Pushing myself forward is almost easier than finding the right moment to quit. So I sit, then I get bored so I go up front to play until my legs scream then I fall back to recover and debate quitting until I get bored round and round. But today I was mostly up front. So how is this fun? Its a game, a back and forth match play between the mind and the legs. The mind tries to call the shots but relies on the legs to cooperate. The legs are sly in that they pretend to do the minds bidding but never reveal the whole truth. The mind says “Give me everything?” but the legs only give 80% and then complain bitterly when it’s too hard. The mind relents and allows the legs to recover. The legs then sit back and milk the rest for all it’s worth. However, when it really matters the legs can surprise the mind and pull out a whopping performance. This moment of cooperation is nirvana.

I felt nirvana today. I was not winning, I wasn’t even close but it was the end of a very hot race where I had pushed my legs numerous times to the limit and felt there was nothing left. Yet there I was sprinting for the finish relaxed and feeling strong. Albeit in the middle of the pack.

One final note. To all you side-nose-snot-blowers, suck it in and swallow it! I’m not interested in having your snot sprayed into my face in the middle of a race! Or at least fall to the darn back. Geese.

A sad day

There are moments in life that seem more vivid than others. The day I rode my first true road bike is still crystal clear. I recall looking down at the front tire and feeling like I was going to be kicked off right over the front. It felt fast and responsive. Up to this day I had been racing mountain bikes. Road racing and even riding on the road was foreign to me. I was going to college in Annapolis Maryland after growing up and living in Santa Fe. The lack of mountains in Maryland left a void so I often found myself hanging around this one bike shop looking a bit lost. I had become a regular but was a poor student. One of the workers called me one day and said he had a bike for me. A man had brought this 1983 Pearl white with chrome Raleigh Competition (The current year was about 93). The guy at the shop threw some SPD road pedals on it and sold it to me for 100 bucks. The bike was practically free.

Today over 15 years later that bike may have breathed it’s last breath. The wheel was making an odd wiggle that I couldn’t figure out. I put it on the rack and took off the back wheel to inspect what was going on. What came off was part of the rear triangle (I’m sure there is a name for it). Basically where the triangle meets to hold on the wheel had cracked and broke off top and bottom. I was dumbfounded. I raced through all my capabilities as a mechanic and this was completely out of my hands. There is some hope that it could be welded back on by a professional, but I have my doubts. In silence I began to remove all the components like a jockey taking off an old horse’s saddle. I then gingerly cleaned the frame but so much chipped paint and scratches it’s hard to get it perfect. Now naked and beautiful I stand for a moment before walking away. To give you an idea of why I’m sad, I’ll highlight some moments below. The key thing though is this. I raced that bike for 12 years. I went from Cat 5 to 3 on that bike. Last year was my first new bike since getting my Raleigh 15 years ago. It had become part of me. I have never been more comfortable on a bike than I was on my Raleigh.

Important moments

Within the first couple of weeks riding on the road I was hit by a car turning left into a gas station. Over the hood I went and my wheels were trashed. The guy gave me a ride home and I ended up spending more money on a new set of wheels than I had for the bike.

Cat 5 New Mexico Race Series Champion (96)

Cat 4 New Mexico Race Series Champion (97)

Raleigh gets upgraded groupo (Ultegra with STI no less)

Cat 4 Tour de Gila 2nd place. (For me it’s not the second place that I recall most but the epic climb at the end where I went solo and gained 2 minutes on the chasing peloton, it was a glorious race)

Bike flies off the roof of a car at 60 MPH I watch through the rear view mirror in horror as it bounces down the highway. Chrome front fork is cracked so a buddy replaces it with a used, purple, Trek fork. Gads!

Life in Portland begins (99). Not much racing but lots of rides. The rain is hard on the Raleigh.

Bike Central helps me breath new life into the Raleigh, they convince me into taking the classic approach out or respect for it’s age. New chrome fork specially ordered, down tube shifters, bike looks sweet.

I start racing again, I continue to get the same reaction from folks that I always got back in Santa Fe – “Classic bike dude!”. But it’s age is showing.

I go through my third pair of fenders. Jeff Tedder installs his custom steel fenders. Portland cool factor x 30. They were still in good condition after two winters.

I get a new bike but the Raleigh still sees daily commutes to work and many weekend rides until today.

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