Cuattro and Cinco de Mayo

Cuattro de Mayo aka The Elusivity...

This is my mantra (on my top tube) when my Id shows up on race day

On the weather cooperative days, I can get a pile of miles in.  My elusivity is the marathon mountain bike race called the Ridgeline Rampage-actually it's just getting in my first marathon event under my belt.  The weather here in Colorado-especially in the Spring-is downright unpredictable.  The meteorologists (people who study meteors) forecast about as well as my tea leaves do.  So the week I actually get a pile of miles in, it snows (and snows and snows!).  In fact it snows so much they have to postpone my race for the following weekend.  To make a long story short, I couldn't race that day but the promoter was cool enough for us to transfer our application fee to another race-Battle the Bear.  So I get miles in ready for that one (this Saturday); and take a guess what happens?  Yup.  It snows.  Again.  On top of that insult, the injury of cold creeps in.  It creeps into our bones when we're outside; it creeps into my house because I'm too cheap to turn up the thermostat, it creeps into my sleep underneath my blanket and sleeping bag when I'm wearing my flannel University of Texas PJs (Hook 'em!!) with a hoodie. Needless to say, I was able to get in an hour of power group ride in Lone Tree known as Meridian; and, I was also able to ride with my mountain bike club here at my HS where I showed them the new, manmade mountain bike trails in Greenwood Village, near the Cherry Creek reservoir.  We had a blast.

My next elusivity is rest.  As the school year comes to a close there's still a whole lot of learning going on.  So I plan and grade.  And grade.  And grade.  And grade.  I put in on myself though so I need to stop taking in so many assignments.   My Principal's shaking up things at our HS so this puts needless stress on my thought process when it hovers over things school related.

The next one up?  Calories.  Sheezus my tapeworm's going nutty!  The week I ride long miles reveals this latent effect on my hunger drive and general energetics.  I go strong mid-week then CRASH!  I need like a consistent drip of fuel to keep my metabolic fire going.  I feel like I'm a shark without a swim bladder.  If I stop moving and ultimately can't get enough dissolved oxygen into my gills I'll asphyxiate and sink to the bottom of my couch (minus the asphyxiation part).  Speaking of calories...

The next one, hanging with my honey.  We had a mid-week date where we went to a restaurant in Denver called Beatrice and Woodsley.  Very awesome date place dinner joint.  A colleague forewarned that the food's good but the portions are small (the French Restaurant part of them I suppose).  So when our first course of SPAGHETTI AND WHEATBALLS (salad of celeriac, parsnip, and parsley with steel-cut oat, feta, and lemon croquettes, tomato-almond gazpacho) arrived, after some interesting tasting cocktails, I had to stifle a laugh.  David wasn't kidding about the portions.  Next course wasn't so bad though-proportionally speaking.  It was a pretty durn tasty organic fabrication called SMOKED RICOTTA AND MUSHROOM CREPES (ugly yogurt crepes filled with smoked Jersey Cow ricotta, kale, and trumpet mushrooms with braised radish and mustard vinaigrette).  Still it brought a small smile to my face proportionate to this entrée (that's french for entrée).  Dessert was actually decent sized.  To wash it down with espressos, it seemed as if they broke into a little kid's doll house and stole her cups from her formal tea tray.  A thimble would've held more espresso!  The spoon to stir in the brown sugar cube (hecks no I wouldn't put sugar in my espresso!) measured to the nearest nanoliter (don't laugh I told myself!).  I had a completely sublime time eating and being physically close to Karen who sat on my right during this fine evening.  I switched to a southpaw so I could eat (and not hit her while craning the food to my mouth) and sit closely to her.  She is an audio-visual treat.

Okay I'm done bellyaching about my elusivity of things that are elusive.  I am excited though to get in my first race of the season albeit it has quite the emotional attachment.  Saturday I rode again to the Greenwood Village bike park easy and back to make sure the engine checks out.    

Cinco de Mayo

Before race.  All dolled up with fresh latex in the tubeless

The experience I received from today's Battle the Bear 60 (miler) should help me with the Growler.  My official time was 4h and 39 minutes.  Came in 29th out of 46 in my field.  Damn.  Quick bastards.  All of 'em!  I always get caught up at the start.  Rolled hard with the leaders to get the holeshot, even though there's a million places out there to pass it's that roadie in me that wants to dice it up with the leaders.  So I locked out the front fork and turned it into a crit start.  Lined up seventh when the singletrack started.  Other than hurting from placing as many watts into my legs it was fairly uneventful.  Painful; but eventful.  The coolest part of the course was on my last lap when the kids raced.   The dregs of our category who were caught up in the wave of U-12s (including me!) were impressed on how they could ride and stay in the tight single track and  the confidence they had negotiating the downhills.  If any of them were my kids, I would've praised them; in fact, that's what we did.  After we passed them, it was back onto shite on your neighbor mode.  Sadly, I got hosed on the last climb.  The mixture of the cold and hypoglycemia couldn't handle the stess of the climb.  Now on the flats, that's a different story.  Thought I could pass them on the wickedly fast finishing straights but it was too long to get up to terminal velocity.  Needless to say, I was satisfied.  Damn my category was the largest by far and had the most sandbaggers.  Live and learn.  My legs are ready for more please.  Thank you sir, may I have another?  Have you ever been passed by a pro?  They are the most polite people to ever hand your ass to you while you're cranking like a fiend on the pedals.

My hardtail an Airborne guardian, Penelope, was impressive.  I haven't raced her since last year so I was fighting her (as we were slowly becoming one) when we hit terminal velocity on the twisty downhills.  I went off-course on a particularly tight switchback (twice!) because those 29 inch wheels are so scary rolling fast! There was a flowy portion of the trail where I would pull away from people because it was just tight enough for me to hip turn and really lean into the corners (unlike my 'cross bike where cornering mannerisms are waaay different!) while silky-smooth pedaling with my toes down!  The final kilometer of the course was super fast and I was passing people like crazy (unfortunately they weren't in my category).  It was a great finish, I pushed it hard and didn't cramp-came close though!  The promoters fed the racers with Heed and Hammer products at the start/finish where I refueled and hydrated every lap (each lap was 10 miles long).  My training seems like it's going okay.  Here's to Cinco de Mayo.  Here's to Battle the Bear.  Here's to the Gunnison Growler.  Word has it (Karen's brother, Drew said) that there are some technical sections but the flowy, fast, non-technical portions are longer than the previous.  I need new brake pads if I'm running Penelope at the Growler. Curious though about bringing my other steed, the DS/XC-specific 29er affectionately known as Vivian.

Dirty.  Now my Id has disappeared and my super-ego tells me to clean it.  Notice the travel indicator...

PS.  Lost about 3 pounds of water weight as measured on/by the nurse's scale at my HS.  Exhausted yes;but happy?  Yes too.  Time to eat....

podiatric power pedaling peregrinations

The next generation of cycling!

Just had my Spring Break.  In fact, I'm undergoing a real bad case of vacation hangover.  Took the kids to Moab with Keb-moe (we made up 2/3rds of the homey trinity, Billy couldn't make it) with his kids and Karen and her crew.  'Twas an excellent combination of people and the chemistry shared between us was righteous.  The kids behaved like excellent kids and the adults behaved like excellent role models.  Thankful and grateful.  The weather was absolutely cooperative.  In fact, Denver was a freezer compared to the weather in Moab.  This led to my kids being absolutely bitten the Moab bug and me riding with the kids (all of the kids at the camp along with my boy Kevin and my girl Karen).  My daughter's were the DJ and I think i listened to Thrift Shop at least two hundred times.  It's funny when Macklemore's about to the say the "F" word and the kids have their kid filters on it becomes strategically quiet for a nanosecond.  Loved the way all the kids-especially mine-behaved.  The kids had wee sun burns, a cut on a knee, and I burnt my my thumb, index, and middle finger on my left hand when I picked up a lid over some boiling water when I was making our camp dinner.   Kevin, me, and Karen on one ride, broke up the kid wrangling duties whenever the little regulators went with us.  I usually took the lesser of the daredevils (Kevin's youngest daughter Lauren and my youngest:  Mason) back to the car while Kevin would take the greater of the daredevils closer to their destination. The kids rode everyday except for the morning we left and they still wanted to ride.    It worked out quite well.

I rode six consecutive days!  One of the days was when a cold front came in and Kevin and I fired off a 65 miler.  I didn't have my cold weather gear and I suffered mightily (wonked my knee a smidge too) which drained my hemoglobin as I spiraled into another anemic rut (riding Sunday solidified that!).

Don't you hate it when the transition time from play to work is non-existent and the work routine rudely punches you in the solar plexus (i.e. Sunday night)?  Yeah, I hate that.

So come Monday I am hoitin' fo' soitin'!  Tuesday my energy level actually dropped a notch and Wednesday it plateaued in a basin below sea level.  I ate and ate and took multivitamins to get out of the iron deficient funk (Karen recommended spinach and more spinach and a healthy measure of red beans since I don't eat meat). Like I said, I had such a supremely deluxe, excellent time with my kids and friends, going back to work coupled with my anemia just put me in such a state of vacation hangover I coulda cried (but I didn't!).

Thursday I did the Meridian ride (another hour of power ride except this is in South Denver).  Energy felt low but I managed to stay in the lead group.  One noteworthy tromp was when the lead group ran a red light and the rest of us law abiding cyclists stopped.  Needless to say it opened up quite the gap and a teammate of mine along with another dozen or so riders STEPPED on the gas to bridge the gap.  My teammate did such a supreme effort he and I ended up riding away from the other riders.  I burnt all my wee matches in my physiological matchbook as I fought to stay in his slipstream (read: half-wheeling like a son-of-a-gun!).  This dude can MARCH a big gear boy!  When he faded oh so slightly on the uphill, I returned the favor of a pull albeit it wasn't as watt producing or as long (as his) bringing us to tailgunner position to the lead pack.  Finished with the lead group with a bunch of traffic bandits in the final uphill sprint.

Saturday was spent with Vivian, Jeremy, Keb-Moe, and Chris.  This ride took care of my Casa Bonita meal the night before.  I do believe I can go to my death bed witnessing the spectacle that is Casa Bonita.  Divers, gorillas with swimming trunks, shootouts, all this and more to celebrate Karen and Lauri's birthday with Jeremy and I as witnesses.  The meals were quasi-offensive but the entertainment and the excellent company more than made up for the gastro-intestinal debacle that was about to follow. Good times indeed...

Like I said, got a 5 h and 17 minute ride with Vivian.  43 all purpose miles.  Maybe 5 or 6 miles on the road?  If you didn't know, Vivian's my Airborne, dually.  It's like riding my couch.  Part couch, part scalpel on the trail.  Very good manners and loves abuse but i try and pick the sweet lines whenever I can due to my hardtail upbrining.  Whenever I can't, the suspension gives me and my spinal cord a break.  Amazingly, I have no aches.  No triceps, no lower back pains and we would go full tilt on all the downhills!  Some of the trail was under cover so there were some small muddy and snowy patches.  She felt confident floating over the snowy rocks, just can't touch the brakes. 

Downhilling on the road, I have ample standover height so I would bust the fetal position, laying on the smartly curved toptube to reduce my frontal area as I tucked and sometimes rode away from my companions.  Except Kevin, he's part roadie too, so he's savvy enough to let others share the workload be it up or downhill.  Vivian was super stable even after I locked out both the front and rear suspensions for the road portions and for the sustained climbs.  Thought I would dig a fully active suspension on climbs but for today she felt great completely locked out on the not-so-technical climbs on our route.  Started to cramp at the end though.  Could feel the hamstrings getting a smidge tight around mile 40.  No pictures of today.  We all were in the flow zone.

At Burrito Express, Jeremy said on the portion of the ride when we rode together, his Stavia app said we got in 3600' of climbing.  Before I met them I probably climbed another thousand feet with Chris!  Not too bad.  I needed this tempo riding, long saddle time to get my body ready for my mountain biking marathon season.  Not even planning anything for the road even though I'm a Cat III.  I do the Tuesday/Thursday Worlds but it's just for training for my marathoning and to make sure I still have pack (fodder) skills. 

Go away anemic funk!  I ate two burritoes and drank a Coke almost immediately afterwards.  On the ride drank two Go Fasts, a Snickers, two gel bloks, two Clif Bars, and 1 Clif-Shot.  If I drink a beer, lights would definitely be out!

Feeling good for April 20th!  Let the training continue (well at least as constructive as it can get)! 

Ruminations on why I ride, 1:30 in the morning

It’s 1:30 a.m. and I’m trying to carry over what wee fitness I have from my 2012 campaign of mediocrity mixed in with indescribable moments of alpha-wave releasing, endocannabinoid producing, endorphin popping by:  practicing, racing, witnessing new terrain, crashing, bonking, humbling efforts, conversing, laughing, hitting new physiological thresholds, looking like a concentration camp survivor, and hanging with teammates.  Well I did win one race last year.  A cyclocross race.  Speaking of which, I raced right up until December.  That’s the longest time I’ve ever raced since moving here to Colorado, getting the big “D”, and meeting Special “K” (that’s code for Karen y’all).  2011 and 2012 was the harbinger of life changing events ranging from downright shitty, depressing, grief, anger, loss, numbness, episodic moments of self-actualization, friendship, romance, re-acquaintances, deeper connections to my close circle of friends with the potential of adding another, enough to get me nutty enough to seek therapy (she was awful by the way-my therapist, cycling's cheaper) and to become temporarily grounded.  This sine wave (can you picture it dropping negative off the zero line, curling up and past zero, hitting the apogee and descending at the origin?) of emotions and moments of clarity will repeat but I guess that's the nature of a sine wave (not only that but it’s repetitive, not only that but it’s cyclical, not only that but it’s recurrent, not only that but it shows periodicity…etc. ).

How did I arrive to the sine wave of eating a buffet-style, crap sandwich with episodic moments of unfettered happiness?

Hmmm.  Good question.  It involves my unique self-preservation mechanism as I was gorging myself on that oh so delicious shite sandwich I suppose.  Surround yourself with supportive people, listen, decompress, analyze and visualize all the information gathered via an ass kicking, mind clearing ride, and have a job that you love so it can support your riding and your children.  As it happens, or is it serendipitous? but all my inner circle of friends including my older brother ride and/or race.  My ninja Eric, my Airborne brother, my kindred spirit, my brother in arms (he grunt style, me chair force), opened up my opportunities to reacquaint myself with my riding identity by taking me in as part of the Airborne Flight crew ensuring me quality riding machines that I can articulate and communicate their awesomeness.  So riding is essential and is my essence of being as well as teaching.  I guess that's what some people call their identity.  My identity slowly deteriorated in my 15 years of marriage.  I blame only myself for that.  7 people whom my heart holds near and dear were once or are currently still teachers (Hez-Billy, Kev, Karen, Kenny-that’s a lot of K’s- J, Melissa R., and Pablo-I can write a blog’s worth for these impressive people).  I have ridden and/or raced with the aforementioned peeps with the exception of Melissa R. and, have personally formed deep bonds as we spend time riding, eating, talking, listening, laughing, burping loudly, and the occasional holding of hands on two wheels (aw!).  

It might be an addiction-who cares?-but there’s a lot of us out there who are passionate about riding (and teaching!)  So, I am motivated to ride.  Even in the cold!  My daughter’s playing for the championship soccer game tomorrow.  Know what I’m going to do before I see her win?  I’m going for a ride in sub-freezing temps beforehand.  I ride for saneness, I ride with the homey trinity for mental alignment, I ride for health, I ride to contemplate, I ride and will bleed out of my eyes to stomp my competitors, I ride when I’m broke, I ride to resonate with Karen (amongst other things), I ride to bond with my son Mason, I share riding experiences with my brother Lem as well as ride with him!, I ride to have a T. Rex upper body and to struggle when I break a pound of fettuccine noodles to boil them, I ride because I might be vain, I ride wearing a Halloween kit, I am inspired by the Tour de France, I have pee'd while cycling as my UT teammate Grant pushed me, I pay to race, I ride to race…am I missing anything?

Why?  Because that’s how I roll…on two wheels! 

Well Hello Vivian!

Do it with impunity, I dare you!  You digging that paint job?

My Ninja Eric said he was going to mail it out mid-December so when a guy like me who needs discipline for delayed gratification (I often eat my dessert first before the main course if it's available-did someone say "flan"?) hears that, I get anxious awaiting its delivery.  I suppose that was delay enough? 

Happy to say, I received my 17" HobGoblin yesterday as I was doing some reading, cooling down in my living room after riding the rollers for 45 minutes from Santa Clause-Fed Ex dude.  I was shooting for an hour but golly gee y'all, have you ridden an indoor bike for training purposes?  No sane person would choose to ride a trainer.  It's a necessary evil because of the inclimate weather we're currently experiencing here in colorful Colorado.  Supposed to be in the high 30s this afternoon but bag that!  Still too deem cold y'all!  I'd rather have my toenails extracted slowly with rusty needle nose pliers than think about the mental drainage/damage required in sitting/balancing/pedaling on rollers while simultaneously looking at the minute hand for timing intervals. Speaking of rollers, I had a roller/indoor training date with Karen in her living room (because she's cool like dat!).  Me on my rollers; she on her wind trainer.  Hit 51.1 mph max showing off and didn't dump it then!  Cool huh?  Every now and again I just pop in a movie and see how long I can stand it.  I dumped it, sadly a couple of days after my roller date with Karen.  I didn't think my non-drive foot would click in so quickly on my down stroke in my Speedplays and I wasn't expecting the quick weight shift disequilibrium hence I fell onto my cushy-cush living room big-a$$ chair (Thanks Tim!).  That beats falling on the opposing side where my glass plated coffee table was located  (Thanks Shawnee!).  Embarrassing but funny. After the mind numbing workout, I had to delay my gratification upon building my new steed because I wanted to head out to my library before closing time where I eventually scored on some DVDs (for roller purposes-ugh).  The crappy thing about having a public library (I still love them anyhoos!) that services roughly 330,000 people is this:  the good books are lost (I'm assuming the bandits just flat out steal 'em!).  After keyword searching some of my favorite topics, the ones with the synopses I thought would be damned interesting and enlightening were, of course, tagged as lost/billed.  Bastards (the thieves that is)!

With this bike, especially, I wanted to do some endurance (ha!) mountain racing-you know, easier on one's spinal cord/arms/shoulders.  People with hardtails are still winning these events and I still really, really, love my 29er hardtail but it'll be an excuse to compare a 29er dually on these courses on its ability to flow and for recovery.  For the XC short stuff-32 miles or less-I'll fly the Guardian, which is my hardtail affectionately named Penelope.  My cyclocross bike's name is Delilah, and I think I'll name my dual boinger 29er Vivian.  Yes she looks like a Vivian.  She's cobalty, glittery blue with curves, along with white highlights.

Any Schwinn owners getting flashbacks?

The paint job reminds of the old school Schwinn kids bikes, thus evoking childhood memories of when I used to lived in Stockholm-NOT (my childhood was co-spent in Urbana, IL-you have to pronounce the 's' in Illinois and Plano, TX)!.  Hmmm.  Sad thing is, the weather here's still frigidly cold and the white stuff's still on the singletrack so Vivian's sitting in my house impatiently asking  when we're going out (soon baby-cakes, soon...).

A prelude to something purty!  It comes from Ohio relatively easy to assemble.  A chimpanzee might not be able to do it but a wily Rhesus monkey might could.  Not to be confused with a Reece's Pieces that might eventually melt...

I know this before opening up the box:  she's quality spec'd with SRAM X7, Elixir 3s, Monarch RL rear, Reba RL up front (both with lockout), tapered steerer tube (heavy duty!), 10x2, 17" frame, and GEAX 2.2s as her shoes.

Getting there with assembly in my living room...

work stand in the living room playing loud inappropriate music!  Take that HOA bastards!

As I finally build her up, I am noticing the wee attention to detail on how she was assembled.  The welds are crafty and ripple-like, the metallic-blue paint job on the website pictures barely do it justice when one's rods and cones observe it under natural UV radiation.  I present to you...Vivian (sans pedals)!!...

Woa! Finished product complete with ghetto chainstay protector!

Okay, here's my tentative endurance race schedule for the 2013 for racing Vivian (not including XC short track and the occasional crit and road race):
-The Ridgeline Rampage on 20 April
-Battle the Bear on 4 May
-Indian Creek on 18 May
-Gunnison Growler on 26 May (I've prereg'd for this one).
-Firecracker 50 on 4 July
-Steamboat Stinger on 10 Aug?

Time to lay off the residual sweets still hanging around and to ride/run my wintery self into some fitness.  I've worn out my rear tire on my road bike putting in quality roller time.  Time to go to Performance bike and see what's on sale in the rubber department.  Now I get on the rollers and finish Girl With The Dragon Tattoo...

Chasing Santa at Colorado's State CX Championships

Thanks Dejan!

 'Twas a dark and not so stormy morning...
When I left Denver it was 34° F 'round 7:00.  As I started rolling through Northglenn the mercury started dropping (actually they don't put mercury in thermometers anymore, just red dye and alcohol nowadays for the sake of uber-interested, orally fixated kids).  That's when I said, "Self?  Why didn't you pack your Corsa weight Natural Grocers jacket?"  I did bring sandwich bags though for me feets and by golly it worked out on the course (homemade, internal booties)!

When I got there, I knew my girlfriend's brother Drew would be out there because his wave went before mine so I was looking out for his yellow X-Terra.  As I got out of my truck to pick up my number he rolled up and asked if he could borrow my helmet because he forgot his.  I've done that.  At the Denver Federal Crit earlier this year, I had to borrow a helmet from a bystander because I forgot mine at home.  The deal breaker's usually the helmet or the shoes.  That's when you say to yourself, "Self, you better put that second helmet in your vehicle just in case."  Of course, my second helmet's over the shelf in my laundry room.

After I get my number pinned on my three layers of kit I get the green flag to preview the course.  One of the referees bust me because I'm flying the colors and riding sans skid lid.  So I tell him, "My teammate (Drew races for another team, truth be told) forgot his helmet and he's currently racing that's why I don't have mine.  May I borrow yours if you brought one?"  He says it's my lucky day because he brought his helmet.  So I put his helmet on, designed for someone who has a severe case of hydroencephalitis apparently (size:  mellon gargantuan), but I was so happy to preview the course and it fit under my kinda slightly bulky head gear and as I rolled on I said, "thanks."   So preview and warmup here I go...


When we get our callups we're eight wide and and I count nine, yes nine, rows.  Yikes!  I get third row and I line up for the holeshot on the inside line (the first turn is a righty-tighty) so if people want to pass me I have the line and they have to ask themselves, "Self?  Do I want to risk crashing because that handsome gentleman flying the Natural Grocers colors with the sandwich bags poking out of his shoes riding the Airborne Delta because he has the the inside line and I know 'cross racers aren't afraid to throw shoulders or elbow check hence running the risk of taking myself-and others possibly-out in a crash at the onset of the race?  I think not."


This week because of my apathy (not only that but I didn't care!) during my last race I learned a lesson.  My lessons to practice was my starts:  clicking my non-drive side shoe onto my pedal and sprinting out of the gate like Satan-not be confused with Santa but that's coming up!  My Shimano mountain bike shoes have very tight, recessed clearances between the cleat and the outsole/tread so it's not as easy as it seems and with the added mental stress of the official counting us down it's sorta difficult.  Another strategy I employed was some advice my Ninja Billy told me the night before.  He told me to channel the Filipino Clint Eastwood-my father for inspiration.  I showed him pictures of my Dad when he was younger and truly my Dad looks alot like the younger Clint Eastwood.  So that's what I did.  My Dad was the stoker and I was the captain.  Beautiful isn't it?  So I did that and it worked out nicely.  We are off and digging in, my behind looking like a swimming alligator's metronomic arse, my hand's rocking the drops and head bobbing like a savante (pedal Dad, pedal Dad we're catching 'em!!  I miss you Dad!).  In slow motion I see the guy directly in front of me front wheel kissing the guy's in front of him rear tire thus ensuring his one-way ticket to the pavement.  Sir, I regret to tell you, you have date with the X axis.  A competitor behind me with his GoPro filmed it.  I'm the guy in the orange pockets, white shouldered jersey with the silver cross bike.  Click on the link.

So he get's bucked off his pedals and he's hanging onto his handlebars-I'm seeing this in slow motion-and I say to myself, "Self?  You sure can pick the winners to line up during callups."  As he's actually sliding off his bike to his right, he finally releases the handlebars and the momentum of his forward force scoots his rig over the gentleman's rear tire in front of him and it catapults his bike at least six feet in the air.  Here I am saying, "Slow motion Self?  The negative coefficient of this current, skinny parabola of the flying bike will make me the first thing that gets hit once his bike conforms to gravitational attraction at the current velocity I'm traveling."  So homeboy is cartwheeling to my left and his bike's trajectory is also to his left i.e. me as its target.  I do a major Atari lane change and some drift braking (thanks disc brakes!) as we're charging out of the gates like Pamplona's Running of the Bulls and I just graze homeboy's shoulder (with my left leg) and the bike lands/bounces millimeters off my left side.  Amazingly he only takes himself out but of course I lose some placings as people get around my unlucky self.


So I'm lined up in the singletrack and getting passed in the frenzy but also fighting for position.  At the super twisty portion I'm at the slowpokes's mercy (some people are actually off their bikes running) but at least I'm somewhere in the middle as opposed to being lanternrouged like last race.  When it filters out I'm in a string of riders where our skills and dieseling ability are close.  Here's the surreal and quasi-embarrasing part:  the guy directly in front of me is dressed up in a Santa suit complete with cheesy white beard!  I say, "Self?  You're NOT going to let Santa put the smackdown on you are you?  Uh, no self, that is not going to be an option today."  After the twisties a super long straightaway's coming up and I say to myself, "Self?  Burn a match, open up the twin turbos and pass Saint Nick!"  Sheeyat.  Saint Nick kicks in his afterburners and actually put's a car length on me as we're both digging in!  I can't get him!  Deem Saint Nick! 

Here's some more surreality:  after the first lap the stitching on his pants is coming undone on his arse side and I don't know whether to laugh (which I did) or get more upset (did that too) because Santa is testing my mettle!  Again, we pour it on on the flats and he ever so slightly gaps me.  Finally he pops before the second round of twisties and bumps come up.  I'm dieseling pretty good and this is my position plus or minus a couple of hominds towards the end.  As I pass Santa I say something encouraging so as to be more nice rather than naughty.

This run-up beats stairs any day.  Still sucked though

Last lap, I'm gassed and I'm leading a pack of 4 four.  You know what that means, if the dude behind me has more juice at the end I'm gonna get passed.  We're flowing, he tries for the pass at the top of the run up, I punch it and I'm leading towards the right hander onto the finish line which is pavement.  Hands on the drops, chain on the biggy-small (as opposed to the rapper Biggy Smalls), we both wind up our sprints, heads hovering above our stems, rocking our steeds digging in.  He's coming for the pass but the finish line is also coming up so I throw my bike to break the plane first but as luck would have it, he finishes before me officially (thought I had him!).  Nice!  Left everything on the course and our Natural Grocers placings are 27th, 30th, and 34th (me) out of 70+ people today.  I'm average.  Oh well.  Had fun as opposed to last race's efforts and mental satisfaction.  I shake the dude's hand who squeaked by me and we do a partial cool down (more like a freeze down) on the course and head back to the staging area.  I see Santa checking the results and I say, "Good Job Santa."  At this point, his pants now look like ass-less chaps adding to my day of fun, satisfaction, and race-induced surrealism.  My teammate from Wyoming says, his next race is an endurance race in Castlerock.  60 miles of easy topographically speaking, mountain bike racing.  Okay,  April 21st I'm going to be looking for fitness and it's a date with racing again.  Stick a fork in me, I'm done for the season y'all.  Now, I'll have to be extra vigilant dietetically and aerobically while doing freezing group rides with my peers, teammates, and competitors in the Colorado off-season.

On the way home, Drew and I eat an amazingly unremarkable breakfast consisting of short stacks o'pancakes at Johnson's Corner outside of Loveland; but, at the very least, I've got a good tale to tell Karen at her Christmas party which was amazingly remarkable. 

Getting there...

Das Pain, not to be confused with Das Boot

End of the week y'all.  Officially we have nine days left of school.  Went by quicker than what I remembered from the previous years.  Half the year nearly completed!  The school year's analagous to a well written novel (minus the mind numbing e-mails and district mandated accountability tests).  There are twists and turns (who's going to pass, who's going to fail, who's going to squeak by?), a convoluted but predictable plot ("Hey kids, contain your excitement but today...PHOTOSYNTHESIS!!" or who wants some VSEPR!  thought so!"), a climactic part (mid terms, finals, stress from grading), and a resolution (break!); then the next chapter begins...

Taking Delilah for a walk in Louisville, CO.  Crash wound under wraps from last week

 From the previous blog entry, my transition into riding the cyclocross bike hasn't gone (crash, crashing, and crashes) as well as I'd like so I've been riding with one of my best buds and new teammate Kevin (aka the "Son" from the Homey Trinity).  He has private, singletrack trails behind his house that are 'cross bike friendly (long patches of babyhead rocks is where I need to float but for now I'm a braking, quasi-hovering pilot barely flowing over that nonsense) and we've gone for a couple of night rides.  Kevin on his 26" Yeti dual boinger and yours truly on an Airborne Delta afffectionately anthropomorphised into a gal named Delilah.

Bandimere, before my crash.

Here's the hierarchy of skills from my humbled and limited point-of-view.  The best way to start off as young urchin/underling/journeyperson is BMX.  Did a little in Texas so I had some skill for the hardtail mountain bike.  Only then young grasshopper when you are proficient on the hardtail can you transcend to the dual boinger.  Some people on the dual boinger do just fine without cutting their teeth on the old school hardtail but you establish the basics more soundly on the hardtail.  Now it seems, I should've done 'cross in my earlier years after the road season ended to establish a more nuanced and surgical turning skill(s).  The fat mountain bike tires are so forgiving and confidence inspiring that I can really point and shoot it over any crud and I'll go there.  Like my Volkl Karmas, they're so fat under the foot and at the waist she just pushes the crud out of the way when I go off piste skiing.  Not so with skinny 700c tires.   Gotta be smoof like water in the lean and body english.  Gotta learn how to enter the turn keeping the speeds high so I don't have to brake.  I'm at that steep learning curve where the cost of failure is crashing (hello knees and hips, does that hurt?  yeah, I thought so.)

Riding with Kevin these last couple of night instilled my confidence again on Delilah.  He'd lead and I'd follow.  It's kind of cool weaving and bobbing in the scrubby areas of his trails where the singletrack topographically undulates while it twists and turns flanked by large flora that at night, limits your vision even more.  All the axes (X, Y, and Z) are coming at you and your brain has to interpret the data, sending feedback to my steering motor neurons (hands are in the drops, not confident enough to ride the hoods yet) and just enough watts to my size 42.5 cms.  Add the cold and it heightens your other senses to keep you aware from crashing.  Sometimes I lose track of my wheels, most of the time we're riding outside of our lights in the twisties but that's what makes it fun and a bit dangerous (re-cycling it back into fun-a perpetual cycle of endorphin/endocannabinoid release-how many times can I say 'cycle'?).

After an hour and half or so of this, even though we're wearing neoprene gloves and booties (I said, "booty"), sadly, our toesies get cold.  Cold enough to call it a deal breaker but all we do are loops and we're really never that far from his house.  It was fun.  Hopefully my skills are improving from chasing him.  I like it when I come up on sandy portions so I have to float at the last minute or the blind downhill corner where the babyheads greet me and where I be gotsta float.  If I do have to do emergency breaking (oxymoronic term) thank goodness for disc brakes.  My confidence'll eventually get here, but for now I'll ride and freeze until the snow arrives, which apparently is, later this afternoon.  I have rollers (but good Lord they ain't even remotely fun!).

State Cyclocross is coming up.  If I have enough gumption (and currency, minus snow) I'm a do it...

These photos are from Dejan Smaic's very cool website http://www.sportifimages.com

Great Week, Bad 'Cross Day

So I've recently acquired an Airborne Delta (her name's Delilah) cyclocross bike.  Thought I'd be killing it on the scene, 'cept it's the other way 'round.  I'm getting killed y'all!  Not literally but I thought I could throw a leg over her fast self and transition quickly to riding skinny 700cm tires with no shocks, drop handlebars out here in the ever changing, non-consistent riding surfaces/topography of Front Range 'cross courses.   

Ha!  I am a Cat VI.  My first race ever on Delilah, at Bandimere Speedway-the Quarter Mile Cross-resulted in a 14th place finish and a crash.  The skinny tires are about a beeyatch y'all!  Too many years of late braking, early entry, inside-outside-inside, super hard leaning counter steering ain't what 'cross turning's about.  I don't know which is harder-trying not to brake in loose gravelly, sand, asphalt chunks while negotiating serpentine turns; or, going over wet railroad tracks!  It's not confidence inspiring.

Today I did a race in Louisville and not only did I crash but apathy settled in.  I came from a road background so hitting it like a scalded cat when the firing gun goes off in crits is what I'm used to.  However, today when they counted us down-and I had a nice placing from my callup-I just let the riders pass me as we were gunning it toward the singletrack and that's when my race was over.  I was slotted so far back in the pack I turned into a tourist.  I was at the mercy of the long line of riders' pace in front of me while the lead group extended their lead.  It sucked.  It took the wind out of my sails.  Passing with no shocks in the rough where my confidence is lacking because of not enough hours on Delilah was not an option either.  So I had to suck it up until it single filed into skill level. 

That's when I started picking them off; but I was so far off the back, my picking wouldn't even make it halfway.  That's also when I crashed.  Crashed so hard it knocked my rear wheel out of its dropout.  By the time I put loosened my quick release and centered the axle back in the dropouts at least six perambulating-by-wheels hominids passed me.  It took a while to pass 'em back up but pass 'em I did.  Didn't do me any good.

Bad day.  Lost it mentally.  Crashed like a novice.  Crappy placing so no points for team overall.  I had no focus.  Completely my fault.  'Twas a learning experience.  Wished I had been on Penelope.  Half the courses here favor a 29er anyways; but I'm making the transition to be a 'cross rider.  Need more hours doing race stuff on the skinny tires and practicing my dismount at speed.  I can run and portage with the best of 'em.  I can absolutely bury myself on the flats and put the chain on the large-small and put multiple car lengths on my chasers but when the twisties show-up they've closed the gap.  Need to learn how to flow through that stuff.  Noticed that my hands are on the drops in the twisties.  Don't know if that's a good or a bad thing.   That lighting of novicity ain't gonna strike this kid twice!

Silver linings to save the day?  Chris, the two Neils from Wyoming representing Natural Grocers, Joe, and Rob showed up at the race and afterwards Chris shared his Modus Operandi 12-pack with us in the blistering heat here in Colorado on the first day of December and we laughed; and, I went to dinner with Karen and her brother later that evening-and we laughed there too.  Not too bad overall I suppose...

I'm riding with my friend and new teammate Kevin tomorrow so I'll forget about my Cat VI self temporarily while on my road bike enjoying the Front Range's current heatwave.