Break'n Out the Pasties

It was only the fourth time this year I had busted out the pasties. One doesn’t count because it was in Colorado, the other two were earlier last week. But on Sunday everyone busted out their pasties. There were men with pasties, women with pasties, even juniors with pasties. There were Cat 4 pasties, Cat 3 pasties, and yes – even professional pasties. There were big pasties, small pasties, hairy pasties, smooth pasties, and even a few not so pasty pasties.

Yes, on Sunday for the first time all year the local race peloton bared their legs in all their pasty white glory. With temperatures expected towards 70 it was definitely shorts weather, it was a bit windy, but that was a small deterrence. I came ready for the assault on my senses armed with sunscreen, and more importantly my mirror lenses in my sun glasses.

The Cat3/Master’s A race started out pasty. Pasty legs and a pasty pace set up the first climb. I continue to be amazed at how tight the pack rides together and the aggressiveness that some people have in positioning. At one point I was between two guys, out of the saddle hitting bars with them on both sides when we rocked – pretty close right? Apparently not close enough, someone tried to squeeze up on my right.

The pasty pace ended at the top of the hill when someone took advantage of a nasty headwind to blow up the field. With the pack breaking up I tried to hang on to the group I was in and weather the storm. I was suffering like a dog, but think I was going to be ok as we were headed into a downhill.

The road was a bit bumpy and my stiff carbon wheels were transmitting every bump fully into my bike, body, and apparently my stem. Just before the downhill I noticed my handlebars slipping down in the stem.

No problem – I’ll go drops, ok the hoods came up – too far. No Problem – I’ll go hoods, whoops no hoods - down wwaaaayyyy too far. No problem, I’ll go drops – here come those hoods again. Damn it.

All this at the top of a hill, dangling on the back of a bunch, we’re up to about 40 already. Then the bar starts moving side to side in the stem – umm problem.

Did you know it takes about half a mile to stop when you are going downhill at about 40 with jelly handlebars? That was the scariest minute or so I have ever had on the bike. When I finally stopped I didn’t have any tools to tighten the stem – not even anything to MacGyver it with. I had some Goo, but I don’t think that would of held – powerbar maybe, but Goo no. Where are those bike guys with the huge saddle bag with every tool known to man when you need them?

Ultimately I had little choice but to call it a day about 5 miles in. I am completely wiped out emotionally, I have been suffering all spring – but this is just not the way to end a race and be eliminated from the spring series.

Anyhow, you may have guessed I got a new stem last week – part of my new old man bike fit. Apparently my mechanic (me) didn’t tighten the stem bolts quite enough. Some day when I get rich I am going to pay someone competent to work on my bike, until then I will just hope for the best.

Gotta go. I am running out of time to figure out how to keep my bike together for 3 trips over the gravel out in Emmett.

Hecklers: Violin Kid Revisited

I ride my bike about 10 hours a week. I know it doesn’t sound like much, but it is – just ask my wife. My point is that during my commutes and training rides I am exposed to bicycle hecklers for about 10 hours a week.

Having ridden about that much for the last 5 years I think I have seen the gambit of bicycle hecklers – from road rage guy all the way to violin kid, yes violin kid made fun of me.

We all know violin kid whether you know it or not. He was the bottom of the social totem pole the entire time you were in grade school, Junior High, and High School. He was the kid who actually ate the pea’s in the school lunch instead of stuffing them in the milk carton. He was the kid who fought the violin case onto the school bus every day for 12 years. He was the kid who tucked his shirt in. He wore a sweater vest. His Levi’s always looked brand new. When you went to his house for a birthday party in grade school the furniture was covered in plastic. Basically the anti-Lenny Kravitz. Do you remember him yet?

To be fair, he is also the guy that owns Microsoft, Dell, IBM, or any number of other companies. He is the guy with sweet cars, big houses, and trophy wives. On the other hand he may be the guy who went nuts and whacked someone who made fun of him. Surely you remember him now.

So one day last year I am riding home, and I see violin kid – violin case, tucked shirt, sweater vest, shiny blue Levi’s – he had it all. As I ride past he makes some snide remark like ‘Go Fast! Dork’. I couldn’t believe it, violin kid just made fun of me. Eff. What the hell. Am I really lower on the totem pole than violin kid?

I have known shaved legs and spandex put you in a precarious position in society, but below violin kid? Come on!?!

Damn you violin kid!

The Art of the F-bomb…

Sometimes you need to look for a silver lining. For example, when my 4 year old dropped his first F-bomb last week I had a choice – be angry or be happy.

While I don’t condone f-bombs from 4 year olds, I think there are far worse things in the world. So rather than ranting and lecturing I embraced the fact that he used ‘oh eff’ in the correct context, and also quickly retracted the f-bomb with an ‘oh frick’.

Now I know the good grammar came from watching ‘School House Rock’ video’s – the boy knows his interjections. But where in the world could he have learned the f-bomb? We were at the in-laws a few weeks back, so I will blame it on them. If that doesn’t work I will blame Ronald Reagan – everything is that guys fault.

Since this is my training blog and all, I put in 600 miles on the bike in March plus about 8 fabulous hours on the trainer.

Confined Spaces...

I am learning quickly that I have a lot to learn about racing in a field with 1’s, 2’s, and 3’s. I was still a bit apprehensive for the Birds of Prey Road Race on Sunday, but was determined not to repeat my mistakes of the previous week.

I made a baby step this time by lining up in the middle of the pack at the start instead of the back. I also made a point to keep track of my team mates who are all much better racers than me – and stay close to them.

With the course being somewhat easy, and the field being somewhat large racing was somewhat uneventful. A few attacks and associated accelerations here and there, but really nothing too hard. I even accidentally ended up near the front one time when I got in the wrong line that snaked up the side of the field – I have got to be more careful! Ultimately the race ended in a sprint – I just sat in and pedaled it out for the pack finish.
Woohoo! It will be the last for a while…

I did learn a few things along the way. Like how many Masters A’s and Cat 3’s can you fit in a 10’x10’ box – I think about 4 across the front and 4 across the back + about 3 more jammed in the cracks – so about 10. Compare that to maybe 6 in a Masters B race. So what is safer, 6 Master’s B or 10 Masters A/3’s? Probably the 10 Master’s A/3’s – still a bit scary, not for the faint of heart.

It will be interesting to see what happens when we hit the first real hills of the year next week.

10 Things I Learned in Colorado

I try to learn something new every day. Sometimes if I am lucky I learn two things, or even three. That’s why I am titling this blog about my recent 9 day trip to Colorado ‘Ten Things I Learned…’. Yup I got some bonus knowledge, besides ten sounds better than nine.

NUMBER ONE: They have bike lanes in Colorado.

At first I didn’t know what to make of it. All this extra space to the right of the white line – what was it and what should I do with it. In Idaho we would probably drive our cars in it and harass anyone that gets in our way. In Colorado they reserve it for bikes – wtf?

NUMBER TWO: They clean the crap out of bike lanes in Colorado.

In the rare event that there is a bike lane in Idaho it is promptly filled with broken glass, roofing nails, or at least goat heads. It all stays there until some dude on a bike carries it all away imbedded in his tires. In Colorado they either don’t have that stuff or they clean it up.

NUMBER THREE: They haven’t invented ‘flipping the bird’ yet in Colorado.

That is the only explanation. I didn’t get flipped off or otherwise harassed the entire time I rode my bike in Colorado. Weird.

NUMBER FOUR: They have the ‘BEER LOOP’ in Fort Collins.

Actually I don’t know what it is called. But if you ride past two breweries in a 35 mile ride I call it the beer loop. It is my new favorite ride. When I go back I am going to stop at each brewery and try to free samples during my ride.

NUMBER FIVE: They have the ‘DAMN LOOP’ in Fort Collins.

Yes I know you spell dam d-a-m, but DAMN is funnier. Besides when you climb from about 5000 feet to 6000 feet in a few miles it is more damn than dam.

NUMBER SIX: Elevation Sucks.

It might just be me, but climbing from 5 to 6 thousand feet seems to suck a lot more that climbing from 2 to 3 thousand feet.

NUMBER SEVEN: You can add an hour to any given ride and get away with it when you are away from home by telling your wife you got lost.

Yup, when a guy says that he got lost when riding in a new place spouses think it is funny – completely cancelling any negative effects of additional riding time.

Learning the Hard Way – Again

So yesterday was my first road race in Cat 3. I figured that I would take all the lessons that I learned in prior seasons as a 5 and 4 and apply them to the Cat 3 race to help me survive. That’s what I thought.

In reality I learned the same lessons again, or rather, had them pounded in to my head.

It was all going well until we lined up at the start. Well it actually went bad before that when I forgot my trainer and never really warmed up. It got worse when I lined up in the back of the massive Master A/Cat 3/Women 1234 peloton.

I figured it would start out pretty easy, since it was a 60 mile race and all. I figured wrong. I guess it did go easy for at least a mile or two, but the first time up the roller on Pleasant Valley Rd all hell broke loose for me. Not that the climb was difficult, it was just hard to get through the traffic and close the gaps between groups that were opening in front of me. I was about 50 yards off the back and going into the red just before Kuna-Mora Road.

Thinking of the 55 miles I had left to ride I decided to sit up, hope to get some help – and chase back later. So 5 miles into my first Cat 3 race I broke 4 of my basic rules – always warm up at least a little, never line up in the back, never ride in the back, and always bury yourself to catch the group in front of you when gaps are opening. I whish I could say it was all down hill from there but it wasn’t – It was mostly flat and windy.

Eventually the dropped riders coagulated into a group of 20 or so. We worked together intermittently, at one point closing a 3+ minute gap to 20 seconds. None of us had the gas to close the distance, and we certainly didn’t have the cooperation. If fact, three riders did most of the work – crash victims Anthony Fisher, and Gene Harding from Georges, and LAC teammate Chris Cadeaux. I contributed where I could but was hardly consistent. It was also good to have Justin Harvey in the group, taking some big pulls and providing some good humor.

The last lap we picked up Matt Beeter who had flatted. Matt proceeded time trial at the front and rip our group apart. Chris, Gene, Joe Kafka, and I were the only ones able to stay with him. Matt largely dragged us to the finish, where I chose not to contest the sprint for 14th – not that it would have changed anything if I had. I finish 16th of 23 in the Cat 3, about 5 minutes behind the leaders.

Meanwhile, up front I imagine the race happened something like this… a bunch of guys were riding their bikes really fast, then LAC rider Shane Litzenberger rode a little bit faster and won. There might have been more to it than that, but I obviously didn’t see it.

All in all not a bad day considering the string of bad decisions that I made. I actually had more fun riding in this race than any of them last year.

Next week I am hoping for a pack finish…

My New Best Friend Methylprednisolone

I have a new best friend. Her name is Methylprednisolone. She was introduced to me as a treatment for my hip funkiness earlier this week. She makes me feel really amped and really tired all at the same time. She makes me feel like the vivarin at a 4 a.m. study session. She makes me feel fast on my bike again.

Who would have thunk that you could ride your bike, and ride your bike hard without fire spreading down your left thigh? I still don’t feel great, but it is soooo much better. I think I love Methylprednisolone.

Soon she will leave me. My 6 days of rocket science dosage schedules will be over on Sunday. I hope that she leaves me a better man than I was a few days back.

As much as I lover her I hope I never see her again. I am a little apprehensive about anything that starts with the letters METH, or for that matter anything that ends in the letters OLONE.