What I've been up to.

I have to admit, it has been strange to be without my road bike for the past month.  Very strange.

At first, I had those recurring thoughts that spontaneously enter the mind of a habitual rider:  "When will I ride next?  Man, that last ride was hard!  Wonder if Mitch and Barry wanna ride on Saturday?  I better mow the lawn Friday evening since I'll be on the bike for 4 hours Saturday and will probably want a nap afterwards."

Within a week, the thoughts and feelings became more dramatic:  "I can feel my legs undergoing atrophy, I am definitely slower than person X now and person Y has been riding alot, too.  I wonder if I could borrow someone's bike."

Some thoughts bordered on the extreme:  "What if I just buy a new bike now, and sell the Cervelo when it gets back?!  Yeah, that's the ticket!"

I pushed through the madness with Barry's help.  I'm borrowing his 'cross bike and trying to ride once a week or so.  Rob also came through big when the CLM 100K rolled around.  He loaned me his Storck Fenomalist with Shimano Di2.  In a word, that system is seamless.  I still cramped up, however, so it's not perfect.

Despite all of this, I am still twitching and worrying that my form is evaporating.  Comforting words such as "it's almost the off-season anyway" will find no home here.  Beyond the physical aspect (I am well aware of my pack-fill amateur rider status...it's all relative), it has been so long since I've been off the bike that I've forgotten how much I rely on it for my mental health.

My ever-patient wife and Coach will tell you that I've been challenging at times.  When on the bike, just tell me what you want me to do and I'll do my best to lay it down.  However, leave me around the house with most tasks accomplished and chores completed, and I might get a bit grumpy.  Fortunately, Jill has sensed this flaw in me and kept us busy with fun stuff, visiting friends, and a wonderful trip to the fall festivals of the NC high country.  With a trip to Baltimore coming up later this week and plenty to do in preparation, I think I'll make it through ok.

The bike is currently at Calfee, and should be back by Halloween, give or take a few days.  Once that re-build is final, I might not post up for a while as you'll be more likely to find me out on the road.  Until then, I'll be thinking of this thing called 'cycling' and how it is far more than a physical activity and a means to hang out with friends.  More and more, I'm relating to the subtitle of Barry's blog:  interpretation through cycling.  I continue to see cycling as a metaphor representing many aspects of life, but even after 4 weeks, I almost feel like I'm seeing a story written by someone else instead of by me and that's not a bad thing.

After all, interpretation must be taken from more than one view, even if the landscape seen from the saddle seems the most meaningful at the time.

Out of Commission.

What you see here is the left seatstay on my R3.  Yep, cracked.  And no, I do not need to cut back on the Krispy Kreme doughnuts. 

Last night, I was making a left turn at a T-intersection when the car 90 degrees to my left pulled out.  I was mostly sure he was stopped and waiting for me to go by, until he lurched forward as I passed the front of his car.  Thankfully he just tagged the rear end of the bike and I didn't even go down.  He stopped (miraculous, and more on that in a second) to be sure I was okay and that my bike wasn't damaged.  Not only that, he handed over all of his information and asked me to call him if I found anything wrong with the bike. 

I rode home, and then began going over the Cerv.  To my surprise, I noticed the cracks in the seatstay.  There is even a bit of a bow to the stay, letting me know (for sure, I didn't really doubt it) that the structure is compromised.  So I call Steve (the guy who hit me) and let him know.  He literally says "I'm so glad to hear your voice, are you feeling ok?"  I am still stunned at his compassion.  We agree that I'll take the bike to a local shop for their opinion.

I visited Mock Orange, where Charles reminded me that Calfee repairs high-end carbon frames.  Hence, a call to Calfee yields critical info - seatstay repairs are 1/4 the cost of a new R3 frame, and repairs can be completed in as little as two weeks.

Now, the real story here is that Winston is possibly not the death-trap for cyclists that we've all been fearing lately.  While Steve and I were talking, another lady stopped to see if I was okay. My suggestions, having been through a close call here, are these:  Obey the traffic laws, use lights (I was), keep cool, and try not to piss drivers off.  You never know when this kind of thing might happen to you or someone you're with and who's watching or listening.   

A few more pics are below.  By the way, I stripped all the gear off the frame for shipping, and this thing is LIGHT.  Just had not idea as he's not been fully 'naked' since I've had him. 

I'll keep you posted as to the outcome of the Calfee send-off, but as the Cerv is my only set of wheels, I'm out of commission for a few weeks.   

2011 Tour of the Battenkill Course Preview

As promised, here's my take on the proposed 2011 Tour of the Battenkill course.  Dieter Drake and Andrew Bernstein took us around the new loop, which turned up at just over 63 miles per my odometer. 

The first 35 or so miles are unchanged from last year.  Following a 1k neutral start, the madness will begin on Rte. 313 as riders jockey for position ahead of the Eagleville Bridge coming around mile 5.  The narrow and slightly uphill lead-in to Roberson Rd., the first dirt section, will give the newbies pause, as they know IT is coming.  A soft landing on dirt and gravel begins the trademark dashes across raw earth between the relatively calm paved sections.  Tooth-rattling vibrations overtake the body as you dare to glance at the speedometer.  32mph, it says.  On dirt.  With 100 of your closest friends.

Once regrouped on Camden Valley Rd. the group's anxiety will build toward Juniper Swamp.  The smart racers will be at the front by mile 10 so as to be near the arrowhead once the rush up Juniper Swamp begins.  The steep, dirt hill will cripple those unprepared, and I predict another single-file line down the other side and into Shushan.  Fortunately, the descent is smooth and holds a gentle curve allowing nearly brake-free insanity.

The route is relatively calm until the assault on Joe Bean Rd. begins.  Last year, the peloton really shattered over Joe Bean as it has 6 or so 'humps' that make it feel like you're climbing stairs on your bike.  Ow.  Make it over these humps with the leaders and you had a good shot of recovering on the way into Greenwich before the feed zone. 

Significant, however, are the changes that follow. 

Last year, racers hung a hard right on 29 and zipped across several mundane miles of pavement until arriving in the town of Greenwich and a big, sweeping left turn toward the last feed zone.  That hard right on 29 came just after a wicked climb up Joe Bean Rd. and rapid descent along Bunker Hill Rd. to the dirt section of Ferguson Rd. 

According to Dieter, we'll hang a LEFT on 29 this year before taking what is probably a 100 degree right turn toward Carney-Cassidy Rd.  This new section, upon first glance, looks charming with its shady ambience and fine gravel.  Wrong.  Coming off of Joe Bean and powering down Bunker Hill and Ferguson is tiring, and the addition of a series of gravel hills (not unlike a dirt Joe Bean Rd.) on CC really tosses in the lactic acid.  Rest assured moves will be made here, as the views from the top will inspire the breakway artists who like to fight gravity.  Here's a peek of the start of CC Rd.  Innocent looking, eh?  Don't be fooled.  She goes up and up and up from there.  Better keep your head down and stay in the pack here or you might be lost and gone forever, son.

The remainder of the roads, as noted by Andrew, are less remarkable than the addition of Carney-Cassidy and serve just to get one back to the crown jewels of the course - Mountain, Becker, Meeting House, and Stage Roads.  Even with tired legs, these roads were a treat to ride with Andrew and Dieter, despite Dieter's bad luck with flats and a snapped derailleur cable.

The 2011 course, as it stands currently, will skip the town of Greenwich due to bridge construction.  Come next April, I might wish for that section of 29 again, but as of now I'm plotting my escape...

Big thanks to Dieter and Andrew for showing a couple of Carolina boys around a wicked course.  The 2011 edition of the race is sure to be interesting, and we all agreed the addition of the new section is an improvement, apart from the necessity of skipping the town of Greenwich. 

Verdict:  An American Classic gets even better with the addition of more of the same madness that makes the race so fascinating and challenging to begin with.  Registration opens in December, so grab some gusto and think hard about it. 

See you in April.

We're Back.

Barry and I are fresh back from NY.  Well, not really fresh as last night's campsite didn't have any showers.  Regardless, what a killer trip.  To say that the weather, the vistas, or rides were anything but spectacular is a crime.  Hurricane Earl stayed away, temps dropped into an autumnal range, and the new folks we met are genuinely kind. 

I'll sum up the trip briefly here, then return in a day or two with a full preview of the 2011 Tour of the Battenkill course.  Dieter Drake, race director, was beyond gracious in his invitiation to show us around the 2011 course. Changes for next year, as judged from my saddle, are significant in effect if not in size.  More to come...

As for the trip, my lovely sister-in-law offered up her Manhattan apartment as our 3/4-way house, allowing us to break up the trip and enjoy a wonderfully schizophrenic combination of city and country.  We enjoyed the surreal views from her balcony and the flavors of Little Italy.

The next morning, we picked up the car from the parking garage.  Let it be known that if we were to park a car at said garage for one month, we would owe them roughly $340.  What is the fee for two bikes, I wonder?

Nevermind that, we had miles to make.  We hooked up with Dieter and Andrew (Andrew Bernstein is from the excellent Goodbye Blue Mondays blog, among other sports-related publications) at the Cambridge Hotel at high noon.  The plan: Recon the course and, if we survived, offer some feedback on the changes for 2011.  Currently, Dieter plans to release the full details of the course and host a supported pre-ride in October. 

Our Cat 2 guides were kind enough to show some mercy on us, and we returned the favor (tongue in cheek, here) when Dieter suffered two flats and a broken rear shifter cable around mile 40. 

This was cruel fate for yours truly as I pulled out of the 2010 edition of this race with - that's right - a broken rear shifter cable at mile 40.  Now I have the pleasure of watching Dieter finish off the course with relative ease in his 11-tooth cassette.  I'll just chalk it up to it being his home turf. 

We finished off the ride and hit up the Cambridge Hotel for lunch.  Great food and cold beer to boot.  The four of us killed a pile of nachos then wolfed down some burgers.  Andrew had to get back to work, while Barry and I needed to get to our campsite and settle in.  As a side note, we 'greased' this whole deal by agreeing to bring some Duke's mayonnaise north of the Mason-Dixon.  I won't name names here, but someone in the Drake family really likes the stuff.  A parting shot from the historic Cambridge Hotel.

Once back at the campsite, we pitched tents and built a fire.  The skies cleared off and the temps dropped significantly, right into perfect camping weather.  We sat for a long while, reviewing the day and laughing at the near-death experiences and ripping-fast descents. 

The next morning, we hit up the roads around Cambridge, Shushan, and even a bit into Vermont for a spin before heading south.  Barry and I were to be found full of oatmeal and french press coffee.  We had time to revisit the first three dirt sections of the course before making tracks back to the south.  A quick shot as we rolled out for the Sunday morning spin, sporting our new lids.

Now pressed for time, we grabbed a quick lunch at the Cambridge Hotel and headed south.  Our journey coming to an end, we reflected on the trip.  So much can be said for the warm welcome we received in Cambridge, and riding the course with the race director was an experience to savor.  Andrew's perspective made for fascinating discussions on the race and cycling as a whole, and Barry is a rockin' road trip partner. 

Tonight, we're back in NC - but already thinking of the journey that will come again next spring.  Until then, there will be many cold days and nights, sessions on the trainer, dietary modifications, gravel grinds and heart rate monitoring. 

We can't wait.

A Pilgrimage.

This weekend, Barry and I will point his wife's highly fuel-efficient Honda to the north and in the direction of The Empire State.  We hatched the idea of a Labor-Day-weekend-whirlwind-trip to NY following a long ride several weeks ago.  All of my incessant talking about the Tour of the Battenkill finally got to him, and he realized that the only cure for his new fever was to go there himself.  Of course, I've got to go along...for supervision.

Once north of the Mason-Dixon, we'll park in NYC overnight Friday ($$$) and crash at my very hospitable sis-in-law's Manhattan apartment.  Granted, I don't relish the thought of driving into NYC on a Friday afternoon, but it's going to happen.  Saturday will find us cruising the roads of the race course, taking pics, relishing the forecasted New England weather (stay away Hurricane Earl), and mashing pedals on rather large clincher tires.  We're camping overnight Saturday along the Battenkill river, then going out for some more miles Sunday once we rustle ourselves from our tents. 

It's okay to be jealous.  It's hard to contain my excitement right now, too.  It's also okay to wonder if this fever will eventually consume me and possibly Barry as well.  Time will tell.

Check back for updates next weekend.  Gonna be hard to sleep 'till then.

A Dish Best Served Cold.

Of course, I speak of revenge.  While not one of the most attractive of sentiments, it is usually interesting.  A scorned lover, a grudge among regional enemies, or even among players on the world stage.  This, however, had more to do with me vs. a ride that got my goat three years ago.

In 2007, following a bit of rehab from a cracked collarbone and scapula, I signed up for the Tour de Gaps on a whim.  The next morning, I drove up to Mt. Airy, signed in at Westwood Park and had what was easily my worst day on a bike ever.  Intending to the full 82-mile route, I cramped out after the second (of four) big climbs around mile 40 and limped home in 5:15.17 with somewhere around 65 miles in the legs.  Defeated.

This year, I've raced a good bit more, trained harder, eaten more effectively and frankly tried to add a little anger to my rides. That's not to say I mashed pedals the whole way, but it can be said that I was determined.  On to the ride...

Leaving Westwood Park with this group is always a shock to the system as the pace is rather quick.  The group rocketed through Mt. Airy's suburbs and was shortly heading north toward the Blue Ridge.  Around mile 12, we encountered a steep hill on Pedigo Ridge that put some separation into the group.  I saw Brian Porter in the group ahead and made sure to make this selection.  Within minutes, we arrived at the base of the first gap (Squirrel Spur) at mile 18.  I held up briefly to try and regroup with Barry and Mitch, but the pace of the group drew me forward shortly thereafter. 

Descending Squirrel Spur is just a blast.  The pace up hadn't been so scorching as to wipe everyone out, so the descent was pretty aggressive and fast.  The fella in front of me nearly kissed some guardrail as he overshot the first hard right after a 50mph straight.  A nervous laugh and exchange of glances and the meteoric return to the humid valley continued...

The rollers between the gaps are the real devils in this ride.  Friends Mission Rd. and Old Schoolhouse Rd. are probably the most famous offenders.  I slid into a small group of 5 (Diana Conn, Brian Porter, two other dudes, and me) to cover the wretched ground between gaps 1 and 2.  We eventually caught the first group on the road, containing none other than Joe Hutchins.  Good times.  This group then dwindled to just three of us (Dianna, Joe, me) by the top of the second gap, with Brian Porter rejoining us on the descent.  Four guys were up the road ahead of us, and probably not coming back

Two down, two to go.  It was at this point three years ago that I began to question my ability to finish the ride.  It was clear I wasn't going to climb all four gap roads, but even my arrival back to the start/finish was in doubt!  This year, things were looking much better.  After the second gap descent, we had to face Old Schoolhouse Road.  Wow.  Pure misery.  The best part?  There is a cameraman right there, perfectly placed to catch you dismount and roll into the ditch in full body cramps.

Onward to Orchard Gap and now we were only three - Joe, Diana, me.  Diana's husband Jeremy was cruising up the road in 2nd place, so we made it our unspoken goal to get her as close to his finishing time as possible.  She was already the only female rider in sight, so her Queen of the Mountain status was cemented. The Orchard Gap climb is probably the easiest of the four, and after a quick swap of bottles at the top, we rocketed back down once again.  Here I saw Mitch cruising up solo, so I gave him a big shout and I'm pretty sure he heard me.

By this time, the excitement was building.  One gap to go, three of us sitting in the top 10, and legs are tired but holding up.  There is a good bit of road between the third and fourth gaps, and during this time Diana's right-hand shifter started acting up.  She had the cable replaced a week ago, and wondered if something was amiss following the repair work.  Hmmm.  After a robust *smack* the shifter started working again.

At the base of Piper's Gap, we agreed to regroup at the bottom if separation occurred on the climb.  Once off Piper's, there is about 15 miles of road to the finish, and a group is much faster over those rolling roads than a solo rider.  I hit the top first, followed closely by Joe.  Diana later told us that in trying to catch up to us on the desecent, she passed a car!  That's awesome.  Again I saw Porter rolling up and Mitch 'all over his machine'.

The road back in was just joyful.  Finally I was going to make it, with a solid time, top 10 placing, and no real cramps.  Well, I spoke too soon.  On the LAST hill, where we made contact with Barry, I finally began to feel the cramps creeping into the hammys and quads.  No way.  No way was this going to stop the ride or slow us down.  Less than 5 miles to go and feeling a second (sixth?) wind, fighting off the urge to focus on the cramps or the pessimism they bring.  Time to stomp it.

Joe and I crank it up just as Diana's shifter finally gives up the ghost.  She tucked in behind Barry while Joe and I pushed ahead.  Shockingly, we see the 4th place guy about 100m ahead.  We're within a 1/2 mile of the finish.  Nearly 82 miles and here were are sprinting for 4th.  Unfortunately, Mr. 4th had some gas left and once he detected us sneaking up, he fired up the afterburners and got us.  I nearly caught him at the finish chute, but: 1) it was too dangerous to sprint through there, and 2) it wasn't worth it.

Overall, 5th place.  Granted, some of the previous winners were not there and that helps the placing but I will take it.  They say revenge is a dish best served cold, but I'll take mine on an August afternoon, at about 88 degrees with some pretty heavy humidity.  Huge thanks to Diana, Porter, and Joe for all the help on the ride.  That was a blast!  Until next year...

A Call to Arms.

After a near victory in a Dixie crit a few years ago, to a horrendous crash fracturing a scapula and clavicle at the same venue, to a near-miss of a parking meter at 25mph in a Brevard, NC crit, I left the adrenaline-junkie-world of crit racing behind.  I've rarely missed it.

Her Siren song has again filled my ears, however, and putting aside most of my good judgement I am heading back to the short-course phenomenon known as the criterium.

This weekend, I'll be in Wilkes County, NC racing at the historic North Wilkesboro Speedway.  It's a former NASCAR track, and though it's been out of use for many years, Pirate Race Productions has resurrected it with a non-technical course along its banked corners.

I have to admit trepidation is creeping in, but I might just use some of that fire to grab a prime or antagonize a breakaway.  We'll see.  I haven't been training specifically for crits and being a bit skinny, it's not my best discipline.  Enough with the excuses, though, let's line 'em up on Saturday and see how it goes.