Riding a bike enthusiastically is infectious. Not in a dread disease kind of way, but in a "all my friends are doing it, and man, it's improved our lives and we're happy, wanna try?" harmless cult sort of way.
I started bike commuting last fall. Along with losing a lot of weight, my energy level and work productivity picked up. I also got to know some other bike commuters. Lo and behold, I found that two other people in my office of 80 or so people are daily bike commuters. Whenever we talk about it, we're all excited and happy, and the other folks in the office say things like "you guys look kind of weird in that lycra, but you've all lost weight and look really good."
There are also two other guys on the same floor who bike commute, from a different section but also enthusiastic riders. It's quite a little collection of lycra wearing bike geeks. Now here's the cool thing.
Three other guys in my office are looking to start bike commuting over the winter if it's mild enough. I've agreed to help them get their bikes up to snuff and to help them figure out the best routes in from their homes.
Another employee, a middle aged woman with a few weight and knee problems, has picked up a hybrid bike and she's using it on a trainer three times weekly so she can *start riding outdoors* next spring. She bought the bike and trainer from my buddy Jon, a regular riding partner and LBS owner. She tells me she's extremely happy, has lost a little weight, and her bum knee is actually loosening up and becoming more useable - I haven't seen her on a cane in months.
It helps that the office building we're in has good amenities - a hotel gym caliber locker room, a reasonably priced concierge dry cleaning service, a secure garage - all things conducive to bike commuting. You know why they offer that stuff? Because there are a lot of bike commuters, and once you get the fever, you're stuck with it, and being in a bike-able job becomes a necessity; and once you're commuting, there's a good chance you'll pass the disease on to others. The facilities manager offers those amenities because there is a demand for it. A critical mass, if you will.
You see where this is going?
Yeah, it's going in a nice direction. A couple of us enthusiastic loonies are turning a whole office on to the benefits of riding. It will be good for them, and good for those of us who already ride.
But I really don't want to put it that way, because that's not how it is. Man, that makes it sound like a bowl of plain oatmeal, and riding isn't that.
No, it's not "do it because it's good for you." Instead, we're turning them on to the fun of being eight years old for a half hour twice a day, time spent on the wheel and growing younger, before and after a tough day of growing older and tired-er.
And that's what it's really all about. It's nice to take it easy on the environment. It's nice to save on gas, and not contribute to the pollution. It's good to be healthy and lose some weight and do nice things for your cardiac health. But all that could be just as applicable to buying a small car and eating a bowl of Super Duper Colon Scrub Cereal each day.
The real reason to ride is that riding is doing what you were meant to do - using the body for something other than a Herman Mueller-shaped desk anchor, and savoring a little tiny sip of fun a couple times a day. It is integrating (1) fun and (2) good for you and (3) good for those around you into a tidy little package.
We do many things that are a lot more difficult, that aren't as good for us, and that don't have so much payoff. It only makes sense to spread the joy around a little bit.
Thursday, November 30, 2006
Monday, November 27, 2006
Think Like a Winner
Riding home today, I thought about what it takes to win. Way back in the way back, I used to play rugby, up to a pretty decent level. When I was young, in my mid-20's, I had several years of really good play. Nobody schooled me (except for a couple international level players from Wales & NZ) and I hung in, even against athletes who were better gifted than I was. I was very tenacious, but more than that, I always seemed to be in the right place at the right time, to pick up a dropped ball, to snatch a tipped ball out of the air and run off with it, to blast an unlikely opposing player who had suddenly found himself in possession of a ball that bounced errantly. While some guys were very talented and stumbled into wins, I busted my ass, used my limited talents and will power to prepare well, and often made key plays to help the team to a win. I *always* played on winning teams. I didn't make it happen myself, but prided myself on identifying the guys who could work together, and we'd form a cadre of like-minded competitors, and do whatever it took within the rules to beat the other guys. Sometimes I got beat, but I can tell you I never, ever, lost. In short, I played like a winner.
It's been a long time since I put in the kind of preparation it takes to play at that level. Tonight, pedaling through a tunnel of light provided by my excellent Blackburn XR-6, I remembered what it takes. It isn't just working out, though working out, being as fit as I could get, always formed the foundation for success.
It took a constant effort of dieting for one thing. I like to eat wayyy too much (interpret that however you like, your impression is accurate no matter how you understand that phrase) and I had to basically starve myself into near-peak fitness, then eat carefully when I got there.
It also took steady effort on the fitness. Not just practicing rugby, but doing the other little things that it took. In cycling, riding is the main thing, but you have to do core strength work, a little lifting for your upper back and arms and wrists, and a lot of stretching if you want to peak.
It all came down to focus, to organizing the organize-able parts of my life around playing up to my full potential, and winning. But there was one other part to it.
I used to spend some times before games going through all the possible likely game situations I could imagine. Dropped balls, good and bad passes, tipped balls, places to burst through the line, hard tackles to drop the other team's star player, kicking extra points and penalty goals properly, the whole deal. My teammates often thought I was weird - while they ran around yelling and getting psyched, I preferred to sit quietly and just think about the game.
I didn't just think about it though. I ran and reran the scenarios in my head until I saw myself, in my mind's eye, doing them correctly. I would envision something like the other team's center - the equivalent of a fullback in American football - catching the ball, and dodging me. As I sat with my eyes closed, he dodged, stutter stepped and sidestepped. After he beat me two or three times, I imagined myself drilling the bastard and dropping him in his tracks. When I could picture the play succeeding three times in a row, I'd move on to the next phase of play and do exactly the same thing. I'd imagine it with the opposing player making the play correctly, and me playing textbook offense or defense, then I'd imagine him screwing it up. I'd imagine myself doing it right, and sometimes blowing the play - but then I'd imagine how I could turn my screwup into an advantage. Drop a pass, and fall on it then pass off the ground to kill play and prevent the other team from capitalizing on my error. Miss a tackle, and run on a sharp angle to catch the guy further down the line, or to cover some other player running support. But the theme was the same, always, always think about playing like a winner. Envision success, and envision failure, but only let yourself envision failure insofar as it is necessary sometimes to cope with failure, overcome it and use it as a building block toward success.
Riding home, I pondered how this applies to bicycle racing. It became clear to me that I don't know jack about properly finishing a race - when to go, exactly how to go, and so forth. A couple of the Coppi sprinters are working with me and others to pass on the knowledge concerning how to drop the hammer at the end of the race. That is a learned skill that I will learn, by osmosis or tutoring, or by hard experience. It's one of the game situations I can prepare for. But cycling success relies on so much else.
That's where re-learning to think like a winner comes it. It occurred to me that part of my problem - not losing weight right now, missing some workouts, feeling sluggish and a bit ambivalent about my training - comes from a lack of mental focus. I'm thinking like peleton fodder, rather than thinking like a winner. What does a winner think like in bicycle racing? I don't know, I guess I'll have to ask Lance Armstrong if ever I meet him. In the interim, I believe part of thinking like a winner involves focusing on every aspect of the training in an appropriate manner. This includes eating for racing - visualizing myself struggling and gasping up a hill carrying 50 extra pounds as I do now - which will make pushing away from that apple pie easier. It involves doing my core strength and light weight workout every day or so, consistently, and knocking out those situps with images of an end-of-race sprint, or next year's 'cross season in my minde. It also entails doing my hard intervals, my stomps, my VO2Max hill intervals with near-race-level intensity. It also includes keeping focused while doing long slow distance aerobic work, and not letting my need for speed cause me to work too hard on rest days (a syndrome that precludes proper hard work on hard days).
What it comes back to, is making a commitment to winning, or at least to putting everything into a tiny needle's eye of a focus point, with the goal of winning or coming as close as my potential allows. Do I have to kick my family and job to the curb? No. But I have to take the vast majority of my time, and refocus what I can on being a better racer. I have to refocus my training so that I train harder when it's a hard day, and ride easier on rest days. I have to think about those painful sprints, and the bloody hills in the races, when I need an incentive to keep the fridge door closed. Winning may not involve podiums. I don't know enough about racing yet to really know what I can do, nor do I know my own limits or potential. But I'm not a terrible rider, and I have a lot of upside. Winning for me will involve doing a lot better, and seeing how far I can go within the constraints imposed by age and ability - and I know damn well I can beat a lot of other people along the way. I can visualize it now.
The point, as much as there is a point to a fat, nearly 40 year old novice roadracer plotting his improvement, is that winning is an attitude that affects your whole life, and that attitude and way of doing things is something that can be controlled, unlike racing luck and genetic gifts. And since it can be controlled, it has to have a beginning. That beginning is right here.
Winning begins right here, right now. Take responsibility for winning at the outset, and all the other stuff seems to fall into place. My broader goal for this winter and the upcoming season is to approach this racing thing like a job, a fun job that is my passion. That's where it starts, that attitude will take care of 90% of my problems, and the other stuff I can solve along the way. My first year of racing was about seeing if I could do it. I found out I can. This next year is about getting good, or at least as good as a second year, cranky knee-ed old bastid can get.
I realized tonight on the way home that I'm really up for this challenge. It's going to be hard, and arduous, and I may not come out on top. But I don't care, the gauntlet has been thrown, perhaps by my memories of my youthful self, and I realize that I want to win.
Are you up for the same challenge?
It's been a long time since I put in the kind of preparation it takes to play at that level. Tonight, pedaling through a tunnel of light provided by my excellent Blackburn XR-6, I remembered what it takes. It isn't just working out, though working out, being as fit as I could get, always formed the foundation for success.
It took a constant effort of dieting for one thing. I like to eat wayyy too much (interpret that however you like, your impression is accurate no matter how you understand that phrase) and I had to basically starve myself into near-peak fitness, then eat carefully when I got there.
It also took steady effort on the fitness. Not just practicing rugby, but doing the other little things that it took. In cycling, riding is the main thing, but you have to do core strength work, a little lifting for your upper back and arms and wrists, and a lot of stretching if you want to peak.
It all came down to focus, to organizing the organize-able parts of my life around playing up to my full potential, and winning. But there was one other part to it.
I used to spend some times before games going through all the possible likely game situations I could imagine. Dropped balls, good and bad passes, tipped balls, places to burst through the line, hard tackles to drop the other team's star player, kicking extra points and penalty goals properly, the whole deal. My teammates often thought I was weird - while they ran around yelling and getting psyched, I preferred to sit quietly and just think about the game.
I didn't just think about it though. I ran and reran the scenarios in my head until I saw myself, in my mind's eye, doing them correctly. I would envision something like the other team's center - the equivalent of a fullback in American football - catching the ball, and dodging me. As I sat with my eyes closed, he dodged, stutter stepped and sidestepped. After he beat me two or three times, I imagined myself drilling the bastard and dropping him in his tracks. When I could picture the play succeeding three times in a row, I'd move on to the next phase of play and do exactly the same thing. I'd imagine it with the opposing player making the play correctly, and me playing textbook offense or defense, then I'd imagine him screwing it up. I'd imagine myself doing it right, and sometimes blowing the play - but then I'd imagine how I could turn my screwup into an advantage. Drop a pass, and fall on it then pass off the ground to kill play and prevent the other team from capitalizing on my error. Miss a tackle, and run on a sharp angle to catch the guy further down the line, or to cover some other player running support. But the theme was the same, always, always think about playing like a winner. Envision success, and envision failure, but only let yourself envision failure insofar as it is necessary sometimes to cope with failure, overcome it and use it as a building block toward success.
Riding home, I pondered how this applies to bicycle racing. It became clear to me that I don't know jack about properly finishing a race - when to go, exactly how to go, and so forth. A couple of the Coppi sprinters are working with me and others to pass on the knowledge concerning how to drop the hammer at the end of the race. That is a learned skill that I will learn, by osmosis or tutoring, or by hard experience. It's one of the game situations I can prepare for. But cycling success relies on so much else.
That's where re-learning to think like a winner comes it. It occurred to me that part of my problem - not losing weight right now, missing some workouts, feeling sluggish and a bit ambivalent about my training - comes from a lack of mental focus. I'm thinking like peleton fodder, rather than thinking like a winner. What does a winner think like in bicycle racing? I don't know, I guess I'll have to ask Lance Armstrong if ever I meet him. In the interim, I believe part of thinking like a winner involves focusing on every aspect of the training in an appropriate manner. This includes eating for racing - visualizing myself struggling and gasping up a hill carrying 50 extra pounds as I do now - which will make pushing away from that apple pie easier. It involves doing my core strength and light weight workout every day or so, consistently, and knocking out those situps with images of an end-of-race sprint, or next year's 'cross season in my minde. It also entails doing my hard intervals, my stomps, my VO2Max hill intervals with near-race-level intensity. It also includes keeping focused while doing long slow distance aerobic work, and not letting my need for speed cause me to work too hard on rest days (a syndrome that precludes proper hard work on hard days).
What it comes back to, is making a commitment to winning, or at least to putting everything into a tiny needle's eye of a focus point, with the goal of winning or coming as close as my potential allows. Do I have to kick my family and job to the curb? No. But I have to take the vast majority of my time, and refocus what I can on being a better racer. I have to refocus my training so that I train harder when it's a hard day, and ride easier on rest days. I have to think about those painful sprints, and the bloody hills in the races, when I need an incentive to keep the fridge door closed. Winning may not involve podiums. I don't know enough about racing yet to really know what I can do, nor do I know my own limits or potential. But I'm not a terrible rider, and I have a lot of upside. Winning for me will involve doing a lot better, and seeing how far I can go within the constraints imposed by age and ability - and I know damn well I can beat a lot of other people along the way. I can visualize it now.
The point, as much as there is a point to a fat, nearly 40 year old novice roadracer plotting his improvement, is that winning is an attitude that affects your whole life, and that attitude and way of doing things is something that can be controlled, unlike racing luck and genetic gifts. And since it can be controlled, it has to have a beginning. That beginning is right here.
Winning begins right here, right now. Take responsibility for winning at the outset, and all the other stuff seems to fall into place. My broader goal for this winter and the upcoming season is to approach this racing thing like a job, a fun job that is my passion. That's where it starts, that attitude will take care of 90% of my problems, and the other stuff I can solve along the way. My first year of racing was about seeing if I could do it. I found out I can. This next year is about getting good, or at least as good as a second year, cranky knee-ed old bastid can get.
I realized tonight on the way home that I'm really up for this challenge. It's going to be hard, and arduous, and I may not come out on top. But I don't care, the gauntlet has been thrown, perhaps by my memories of my youthful self, and I realize that I want to win.
Are you up for the same challenge?
Tuesday, November 21, 2006
Had a nice training ride today, too...
Now I'm off to the 'cuse to spend some time with family, and do my part to put a dent in the existential threat posed by domesticated turkeys.
Have a happy Thanksgiving Day weekend.
Have a happy Thanksgiving Day weekend.
Monday, November 20, 2006
Had a Nice Training Ride Today
Been eating a lot lately due to wicked stress – closing on a house right now among other things, with some demanding buyers and a contract that’s only good for 30 days. Yikes. So I’ve been completely out of sorts, and not riding enough to boot. After a crummy breakfast and a big fat BLT for lunch, I needed to punish myself a bit. So I took off for a 30 mile ride in the wind and cold, belching and farting acidic BLT grease the whole way. Bumped into fellow Coppi Seph Coates along the way, and chatted for a bit. Nice guy, good ‘cross racer, like most of the Coppis really amicable. I noticed it’s easy to ride pretty quickly if you have somebody to chat with. As he turned off near Shirlington, I kept going straight on 4 Mile Run and immediately lost 5 MPH. Maybe I was suddenly in a headwind, maybe it was just the loss of motivation. Can’t say. What is clear is my exertion level stayed the same, solid in zone 2 (roughly 65% - 75% of Max Hr) while I lost major speed. As my Hr climbed up a bit, I decided it was time to just downshift and spin and keep it solidly in zone 2. That way the aerobic system gets built up. So I did that and tooled along at 15 MPH until I got onto the shielded portion of the W&OD Trail heading toward Roslyn. You see, if you keep the effort level in zone 2, you wont feel like you are working out, you will go impossibly slow, but when you finish the long ride, your legs will be shaky as all hell, and you’ll wonder who stuck the knives in your thighs. That’s the pain from your legs realizing that just pedaling you around isn’t enough, they need to grow some new little blood vessels in order to more efficiently supply your muscles with oxygen-rich blood.
There are wonderful things associated with building an aerobic base. First of all, you get faster in races. Well, not exactly. You get faster in that you can go faster for a longer period of time. Actual getting faster involves riding really hard in short to very short intervals; aerobic base just lets you ride at a pace close to your top end for a longer period of time. Second of all, aerobic rides are sort of fun. They are long and slow, but if you can put your ego away, and let yourself get passed by every Phred in the world, you can just chill and enjoy riding your bike and being eight years old for a couple hours. Third, and maybe most wonderfully, the training load from zone 2 rides is really low. Training load is the accumulated wear and tear on your legs, and it builds up over the course of a day, week, season, year. You need to spend time off those busy legs to unload them a bit, use different muscles like the running muscles or the laying-on-your-back-on-the-floor-with-your-legs-on-the-sofa-for-a-week muscles in order to let the legs unload. Aerobic load accumulates slowly – Joe Friel, probably the premier basic trainer for cyclists – believes that riding at tempo pace, usually just a dozen or so heartbeats per minute more strenuously, basically just starting to breath hard – builds up a load on your legs at roughly twice the rate of aerobic paced riding. So if you really want to do some aerobic basebuilding rides, you can do a lot of them back to back. And did I mention this is actually kind of fun riding? Guys talk about how you have to do a lot of brutal workouts and fill up your "Pain Bank" to be a good racer, but the vast majority of your riding should be this kind of riding, even when you are doing very hard intervals, like VO2 Max hill repeats, kilos, and other famously brutal workouts. In between, ride aerobic. And then have whole days of long rides that are just aerobic. Nope, it doesn't fill the Pain Bank at all, but I have noticed that the Enthusiasm Money Market Account earns a lot of interest when I do these kinds of rides. Yeah, this is the stuff I think about when my head is down and I'm spinning along...
Eventually I crossed back into Georgetown on the Key Bridge, circled around and down Wisconsin and then K Street, and then started up the Capitol Crescent. Along the way I spun past some commuters on mountain bikes. One guy in what looked like an old Brooklyn Cycling
jersey under a windbreaker picked up the pace as I went by, but he was pretty quickly dropped. Going uphill, shielded from the headwind that tortured me on the W&OD, I was able to spin, keep my Hr in a reasonable aerobic range, and move at a decent clip, 16-17 uphill toward Bethesda. Towards the top of the hill I slowed down to cough up some chunks of lung – gotta love long rides in cold weather combined with asthma – and the guy in the Brooklyn jersey came huffing by, elbows on his flat bar in full MTB TT mode. I spun up the bridge just behind him, and as he crested he stopped, coughed a bit, pulled out his bottle, and tried to swig between gasping in gulps of air. Keeping my Hr steady at around 138, I snicked the bike up three gears and rolled at a high rate of speed down the other side of the bridge and up the false flat toward the tunnel. He was completely spent and looked like he was going to tip off the bike, so he was riding backwards pretty quickly. Normally I joke about telling people who pass me that I’m just riding low zone 2 / recovery, but today I actually was and didn’t have the heart to tell the guy he’d just beaten somebody who was working exceedingly hard to stick to his training plan and go slow…
And that’s a good feeling. In spite of the stress, the shitty eating habits, putting on a few pounds since August and feeling generally bloated, cranky and slow, I’ve maintained some form and the progress since last year is enormous. I wouldn’t have been that guy on the mountain bike last year, I was too slow and fat to have been that guy last year. Thing is, he was riding reasonably fast by rec or commuter standards, and did pretty good to keep with me, a racer who climbs badly. So good for him, and good for me, the worst climbing roadracer in the world. I t feels nice to see that level of progress - racing forces improvement. It feels better to know I’m learning to keep my ego in the bag and just stick to my training. That’s a real David Carradine / Kung Fu Grasshoppa sort of moment.
Did it make up for the abuse I’ve been doling out on my body the last couple months, or for all the rides I’ve missed due to major life hassles? Naaah. But I don’t really care about that stuff as much after a nice ride like this. I feel pretty good right now - ongoing bacon burps & farts notwithstanding.
Besides, I’m taking tomorrow off and I’m going to put in three or four hours of the same kind of riding. Should be fun.
There are wonderful things associated with building an aerobic base. First of all, you get faster in races. Well, not exactly. You get faster in that you can go faster for a longer period of time. Actual getting faster involves riding really hard in short to very short intervals; aerobic base just lets you ride at a pace close to your top end for a longer period of time. Second of all, aerobic rides are sort of fun. They are long and slow, but if you can put your ego away, and let yourself get passed by every Phred in the world, you can just chill and enjoy riding your bike and being eight years old for a couple hours. Third, and maybe most wonderfully, the training load from zone 2 rides is really low. Training load is the accumulated wear and tear on your legs, and it builds up over the course of a day, week, season, year. You need to spend time off those busy legs to unload them a bit, use different muscles like the running muscles or the laying-on-your-back-on-the-floor-with-your-legs-on-the-sofa-for-a-week muscles in order to let the legs unload. Aerobic load accumulates slowly – Joe Friel, probably the premier basic trainer for cyclists – believes that riding at tempo pace, usually just a dozen or so heartbeats per minute more strenuously, basically just starting to breath hard – builds up a load on your legs at roughly twice the rate of aerobic paced riding. So if you really want to do some aerobic basebuilding rides, you can do a lot of them back to back. And did I mention this is actually kind of fun riding? Guys talk about how you have to do a lot of brutal workouts and fill up your "Pain Bank" to be a good racer, but the vast majority of your riding should be this kind of riding, even when you are doing very hard intervals, like VO2 Max hill repeats, kilos, and other famously brutal workouts. In between, ride aerobic. And then have whole days of long rides that are just aerobic. Nope, it doesn't fill the Pain Bank at all, but I have noticed that the Enthusiasm Money Market Account earns a lot of interest when I do these kinds of rides. Yeah, this is the stuff I think about when my head is down and I'm spinning along...
Eventually I crossed back into Georgetown on the Key Bridge, circled around and down Wisconsin and then K Street, and then started up the Capitol Crescent. Along the way I spun past some commuters on mountain bikes. One guy in what looked like an old Brooklyn Cycling
jersey under a windbreaker picked up the pace as I went by, but he was pretty quickly dropped. Going uphill, shielded from the headwind that tortured me on the W&OD, I was able to spin, keep my Hr in a reasonable aerobic range, and move at a decent clip, 16-17 uphill toward Bethesda. Towards the top of the hill I slowed down to cough up some chunks of lung – gotta love long rides in cold weather combined with asthma – and the guy in the Brooklyn jersey came huffing by, elbows on his flat bar in full MTB TT mode. I spun up the bridge just behind him, and as he crested he stopped, coughed a bit, pulled out his bottle, and tried to swig between gasping in gulps of air. Keeping my Hr steady at around 138, I snicked the bike up three gears and rolled at a high rate of speed down the other side of the bridge and up the false flat toward the tunnel. He was completely spent and looked like he was going to tip off the bike, so he was riding backwards pretty quickly. Normally I joke about telling people who pass me that I’m just riding low zone 2 / recovery, but today I actually was and didn’t have the heart to tell the guy he’d just beaten somebody who was working exceedingly hard to stick to his training plan and go slow…
And that’s a good feeling. In spite of the stress, the shitty eating habits, putting on a few pounds since August and feeling generally bloated, cranky and slow, I’ve maintained some form and the progress since last year is enormous. I wouldn’t have been that guy on the mountain bike last year, I was too slow and fat to have been that guy last year. Thing is, he was riding reasonably fast by rec or commuter standards, and did pretty good to keep with me, a racer who climbs badly. So good for him, and good for me, the worst climbing roadracer in the world. I t feels nice to see that level of progress - racing forces improvement. It feels better to know I’m learning to keep my ego in the bag and just stick to my training. That’s a real David Carradine / Kung Fu Grasshoppa sort of moment.
Did it make up for the abuse I’ve been doling out on my body the last couple months, or for all the rides I’ve missed due to major life hassles? Naaah. But I don’t really care about that stuff as much after a nice ride like this. I feel pretty good right now - ongoing bacon burps & farts notwithstanding.
Besides, I’m taking tomorrow off and I’m going to put in three or four hours of the same kind of riding. Should be fun.
Friday, November 17, 2006
Worst Road Rash... Evuh!
You are all hereby prohibited from complaining about your road rash, now, and forever. Why? Go look at this crash video. Then shut up about your stinkin' skinned elbow.
Tuesday, November 14, 2006
Secret Lab Emails Prove Floyd Landis' Innocence!
A story broke today that has rocked the cycling world. It turns out that data integrity and security at the French lab that busted Floyd Landis for doping leaves a lot to be desired, and unknown persons were able to steal reams of documents and test information from the lab's servers. But what kind of documents were purloined by the hackers?
Here, for the first time, it can be revealed, in a sensational new story.
A secret contact, known to this blog only by his web handle, Davide ZebraFrisky, forwarded to me the enclosed email string hacked from the lab's servers. I think it exonerates Floyd, and quite clearly proves what Phil Liggett and Floyd's lawyers have alleged: that the lab in question is crooked as a dog's hind leg, and can't be trusted.
You will have to scroll to the bottom and read up, I'm afraid; I reproduced the email here in its entirety, so that it's validity and authenticity would be clear beyond the shadow of a doubt. But even as you read up the email string, I'm sure you'll become convinced, as did I, that our spotless hero Floyd was set up and is the victim of yet another example of French perfidy.
---------------------------------------------------
Here, for the first time, it can be revealed, in a sensational new story.
A secret contact, known to this blog only by his web handle, Davide ZebraFrisky, forwarded to me the enclosed email string hacked from the lab's servers. I think it exonerates Floyd, and quite clearly proves what Phil Liggett and Floyd's lawyers have alleged: that the lab in question is crooked as a dog's hind leg, and can't be trusted.
You will have to scroll to the bottom and read up, I'm afraid; I reproduced the email here in its entirety, so that it's validity and authenticity would be clear beyond the shadow of a doubt. But even as you read up the email string, I'm sure you'll become convinced, as did I, that our spotless hero Floyd was set up and is the victim of yet another example of French perfidy.
---------------------------------------------------
---- Original Message -----
From: Escroquerie, Stefan
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 10:18
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Zees is, how you say, zee cool. Let’s do eet!
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 10:14
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Yeah, perfectly safe. Same guy zat does security for the CIA. We’re impénétrable like zee Maginot Line.
----- Original Message -----
From: Escroquerie, Stefan
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 10:10
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Zees is zee stroke of zee génie.
We sleep some drogs in le Floyd’s pisse, an’ nobody da wiser.
But you teenk it safe to discuss ziss on zee company leest serve?
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 10:08
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Zat ees zee easy part. Everybody will believe le Floyd is zee guilty. So many of zee others is up to zee tirette in zee EPO, zee anabolicals, zee amphetamines… nobody ever believe a cyclist is clean, zey always look good. So ziss year, wizz zee heavy testing... zey never seen a clean bike racers, so they gonna question when a guy have some good days, some bad days, zey gonna tink it's zee drugs. Zee cleaner he iss, zee more it look like zee drugs.
----- Original Message -----
From: Escroquerie, Stefan
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 10:04
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Zees ees intriguing, Francois. What makes you seenk it weel work? How can we do zees?
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:56
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Okay, we wait until zee Floyd, he have zee beeg day. Zen I take zee sample from zee race horses, we sweetch it up, inject a little proheebited drogs, and zen just report zee results to zee Dick Pound. Zat Dick, he don’t be asking any questions, he just happy to screw with zee cyclists. And no way zee French papers ask zee tough questions… zey hate zee Americains worse zen zee kids burning down zee suburbs, worse zen zee anglo words, worse zen zee sight of zee German soldaten...
----- Original Message -----
From: Escroquerie, Stefan
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:55
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Silence! Continue.
----- Original Message -----
From: le Mouffette, Henri
To: la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:52
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Heh, heh. You said le Dick.
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:50
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Eh, Henri, I teenk zat is a preety good idea. But I seenk Francois ees right. We are better maybe doing someting else… those polizia are so crooked, some Belgian come along with some argent, some pot belge, pretty soon all the charges get dropped. Dey nearly as bad as zee French police, just better smelling, and better moustaches. At least on zee women. Zen zee teams are hiring zee Phonak guys, everbody act like zee rien be 'appening, everbody forget, start cheering, "allez, allez," like nothing never 'appened.
But I teenk maybe we can use this Anglais idiot retardé Dick Pound work for the gloire of le France.
----- Original Message -----
From: Escroquerie, Stefan
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:45
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Zat ees an intriguing idea, but I do not seenk it will work. You tink zee Tour take zee doping problem seriously? I do not seenk so.
----- Original Message -----
From: le Mouffette, Henri
To: la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:33
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
I was seenking… Maybe we sleep hees name to the polizia hispagnola. Say hees code name was “HorsinBuggy.” Or “SchwarzePantaloon.” Or “Yoder the Jedi Master.” Zey impleecate heem in no time, and zen zee Phonak fire heem. Zen France return to zee cycling gloire.
----- Original Message -----
From: Escroquerie, Stefan
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:28
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Silence, fools!
What are we to do about zee Floyd?
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:27
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Zey do not have zee Whopper.
----- Original Message -----
From: le Mouffette
To: la Abruti, Louis Henri; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:26
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
And le Whopper?
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:25
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Le Beeg Mac.
----- Original Message -----
From: le Mouffette
To: la Abruti, Louis Henri; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:25
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Oh yeah? Zen what do zey call zee Beeg Mac?
----- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:24
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Eees a ‘amburger Royale, débile!
----- Original Message -----
From: le Mouffette
To: la Abruti, Louis Henri; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:22
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
‘ow about we spike hees Quarter Pounder?
---- Original Message -----
From: Grenouille, Francois
To: le Mouffette, Henri; la Abruti, Louis
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:20
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Non, non. Zat ees not zee good idea. What wiz zee crazy Boosh cowboy, he a beeg bicyclists, you know, we could be facing zee Americain attaque militaire if you do zat.
But what to do?
Any ideas, imbéciles?
----- Original Message -----
From: la Abruti, Louis
To: le Mouffette, Henri; Grenouille, Francois
Cc: Escroquerie, Stefan; Le Listserve Laboratoire Ecureuil
Sent: Lundi, 14 Juliet, 2006 09:10
Subject: Re: le bâtard américain
Eh, Henri. What are we to do about zees le Floyd Landis? I tought we were done wiz zee americains, what wiz zee pretender, le dauphin Hincapie, doing zee beeg how you say, bobine, eh, choke on zee heels.
Can we kill him?
Monday, November 13, 2006
Caption Contest
My submission: Damn... is that the new Orbea Orca?
Leave your suggestions in comments or via email. Best suggest wins everlasting fame and immortality.
Friday, November 10, 2006
Water Bottles 6(a)(3)(B)
Didja ever notice, when you're riding and not trying to think hard, you think of some pretty funny stuff? Some pretty dumb stuff too. Here's some utterly random thoughts I've laughed about and tried to remember over the last week's racing and training.
God. I'm so hurting I can't even lift my head up. All I can do is stare at my front wheel on this hill. Really. I can't look where I'm going. Screw it, I'm going to ride the next three laps like this. I don't care if I f***ing crash. At least I won't have to ride any more if that happens.
- Tacchino Ciclicross, two or three laps from the end
The least people could do if they're riding those really low recumbent trikes on multi-use trails, is to have a pedal-powered police siren or something. It's not possible to ride looking at the ground 100 feet ahead for rapidly oncoming scuttling land crabs...
- This morning after nearly getting taken out by a recumbent trike that was, no shit, barely 24 inches tall with rider.
Shit... why am I drooling and surpressing the urge to vomit... this is only an easy zone 1 commute to work... Oh, God, it's Art's Capitol Crescent Ride coming past me... just wave at them. Stop drooling. [wave] [stomach heave] Oh my God, this is awful, I should go home... No, I can't do that. [Blurg] [Spit] Man. I bet the kid gave this to me. I love him, but...[drool, spit, retch]
- Me, on Tuesday's commute.
Oh man, my legs are burning. I can't let that Phred on the mountain bike pass me on this hill. This is pathetic. Crap... you take a week off the bike to heal up a sinus infection and watch over a sick kid and it takes 2-3 weeks to recover form... and this Phred is about to pass me. Oh well. Just smile and say, "nice day for a recovery spin, huh?"
- Me, on Monday's commute.
Awesome. I'm hauling butt today. I'm only trying to do a light spin, but I'm doin' 22. Sweeeeeeeeeet... I guess it's possible to recover form once in a while. Hey, wait a minute... what if I race Saturday? Is this going to screw me up? Can you use up good form, even if you're only just spinning along? Oh, shit. I'm so screwed for this race Saturday. I'm going to be all tired now.
- Me, on Thursday's comute.
I'll just catch up to that girl up there. She looks mighty fine as bike commuters go... Holy crap, this is hard, she's moving. Crap. Dammit. But I'm commited to it. Plus she's a girly commuter. I have to catch up. Crap. Are we going 25? Shit! We are. Hey, what's that jersey she's got on under that commuter vest... Hells no! She ain't a commuter. She's with HPC List! God my legs burn... Oh, thank goodness she's turning off. Well, I guess now my legs really will be screwed for the race Saturday. Idiot.
- Me, towards the end of Thursday's commute.
Lordy, I see this same group of housewife joggers on the Cap Crescent just about every single day, rain or shine. There must be 20 of them. They all look really good. I should wave, but they're probably like the national capitol region NOW chapter and they'd kick my ass for being an old lech.
- Me, on every morning commute.
Hey, that deer needs to get out of the trail. Hmmm... big fat buck, four points... he'd be some tasty eating. I could make some jerky. I love me some jerky. Hey! Self! Shut up and quit thinking about food! You're about to hit that deer! [Aaaaaiiiiieeeeee]
- Me, later on in every morning commute by the Boathouse.
"F*** you!" "Put down the phone, lardass!" "Trying to kill me? Jerk..." "Do you get points for every cyclist you hit, schmuck?" "Didn't you learn how to dodge cyclists when you were learning on goat carts wherever it was you learned to drive?" "Man, I'm an assault just waiting to happen... I need to have a coffee before I leave the house, this could be trouble." "It's open season. I need to buy more life insurance, and switch to the health insurance that's got no deductible for emergency room visits."
- Collection of a week's worth of commuting thoughts from K Street/Pennsylvania Avenue, between G-town and the White House.
I can't wait to get home and see my kid. Can't wait until he gets older and we can ride together. Can't believe how fast he's growing. Come to think of it, maybe I can wait for some of that stuff. Hey, did I just hit a squirrel?
- Training ride thoughts the other day.
What are your oddball thoughts when you ride?
God. I'm so hurting I can't even lift my head up. All I can do is stare at my front wheel on this hill. Really. I can't look where I'm going. Screw it, I'm going to ride the next three laps like this. I don't care if I f***ing crash. At least I won't have to ride any more if that happens.
- Tacchino Ciclicross, two or three laps from the end
The least people could do if they're riding those really low recumbent trikes on multi-use trails, is to have a pedal-powered police siren or something. It's not possible to ride looking at the ground 100 feet ahead for rapidly oncoming scuttling land crabs...
- This morning after nearly getting taken out by a recumbent trike that was, no shit, barely 24 inches tall with rider.
Shit... why am I drooling and surpressing the urge to vomit... this is only an easy zone 1 commute to work... Oh, God, it's Art's Capitol Crescent Ride coming past me... just wave at them. Stop drooling. [wave] [stomach heave] Oh my God, this is awful, I should go home... No, I can't do that. [Blurg] [Spit] Man. I bet the kid gave this to me. I love him, but...[drool, spit, retch]
- Me, on Tuesday's commute.
Oh man, my legs are burning. I can't let that Phred on the mountain bike pass me on this hill. This is pathetic. Crap... you take a week off the bike to heal up a sinus infection and watch over a sick kid and it takes 2-3 weeks to recover form... and this Phred is about to pass me. Oh well. Just smile and say, "nice day for a recovery spin, huh?"
- Me, on Monday's commute.
Awesome. I'm hauling butt today. I'm only trying to do a light spin, but I'm doin' 22. Sweeeeeeeeeet... I guess it's possible to recover form once in a while. Hey, wait a minute... what if I race Saturday? Is this going to screw me up? Can you use up good form, even if you're only just spinning along? Oh, shit. I'm so screwed for this race Saturday. I'm going to be all tired now.
- Me, on Thursday's comute.
I'll just catch up to that girl up there. She looks mighty fine as bike commuters go... Holy crap, this is hard, she's moving. Crap. Dammit. But I'm commited to it. Plus she's a girly commuter. I have to catch up. Crap. Are we going 25? Shit! We are. Hey, what's that jersey she's got on under that commuter vest... Hells no! She ain't a commuter. She's with HPC List! God my legs burn... Oh, thank goodness she's turning off. Well, I guess now my legs really will be screwed for the race Saturday. Idiot.
- Me, towards the end of Thursday's commute.
Lordy, I see this same group of housewife joggers on the Cap Crescent just about every single day, rain or shine. There must be 20 of them. They all look really good. I should wave, but they're probably like the national capitol region NOW chapter and they'd kick my ass for being an old lech.
- Me, on every morning commute.
Hey, that deer needs to get out of the trail. Hmmm... big fat buck, four points... he'd be some tasty eating. I could make some jerky. I love me some jerky. Hey! Self! Shut up and quit thinking about food! You're about to hit that deer! [Aaaaaiiiiieeeeee]
- Me, later on in every morning commute by the Boathouse.
"F*** you!" "Put down the phone, lardass!" "Trying to kill me? Jerk..." "Do you get points for every cyclist you hit, schmuck?" "Didn't you learn how to dodge cyclists when you were learning on goat carts wherever it was you learned to drive?" "Man, I'm an assault just waiting to happen... I need to have a coffee before I leave the house, this could be trouble." "It's open season. I need to buy more life insurance, and switch to the health insurance that's got no deductible for emergency room visits."
- Collection of a week's worth of commuting thoughts from K Street/Pennsylvania Avenue, between G-town and the White House.
I can't wait to get home and see my kid. Can't wait until he gets older and we can ride together. Can't believe how fast he's growing. Come to think of it, maybe I can wait for some of that stuff. Hey, did I just hit a squirrel?
- Training ride thoughts the other day.
What are your oddball thoughts when you ride?
Wednesday, November 08, 2006
I'm Coming Out of the (Clothes) Closet
I sometimes wear Performance brand stuff. [gasps]
There. I've said it. What can I say. It's cheap, the clothing is pretty decent quality, and I don't feel right wearing team jerseys and maillots jaune, things like that, which I have not earned. I would look good in Team CSC kit... I have it on good authority that Ivan Basso actually weighs 244 pounds, but the black of is so slimming he actually looks underfed. I'd groove on that. But I've never won a race, much less nationals, much less racing on the ProTour for Bjarne Riis. No, it wouldn't feel right. Consequently, I've been riding in Performance gear, and recently branched out into some other brand names while waiting damn near 8 months for my Squadra Coppi kit, which I feel I've earned by virtue of racing for the Squadra, and of course by writing a dues check. And as we all know, Performance gear is gauche, right?
One of my fellow club members recently sold me a couple pairs of Squadra bib shorts he hadn't worn before, made by our sponsor and supplier, Voler. Imagine my shock and horror, when I discovered the chamois in the nice Voler shorts is identical to the chamois in my Performance Ultra Bib Shorts.
Yes, I know. It's horrifying that Performance might be offering premium kit at a low rent price.
But relax, oh sponsor. It wasn't cheap or low rent from Performance. The Ultra Bib Shorts run between $70 and $85 or so. They aren't cheap and actually probably cost more than the equivalent Voler product, the bottom tier shorts, and the Performance shorts definitely cost way more after you take Voler's sponsor discount into account.
Still, it was a pretty weird find, kind of like discovering the engine in your vintage Jaguar was actually made by Chevy. Maybe it was a top quality engine, but still, it's a bit jarring.
Then you realize: if it's good, it doesn't matter who made it. What matters is, it's good.
Both the Performance Ultras and the Volers are pretty damn good shorts. Not as nice as my Castellis, but both are much cheaper, and frankly, the performance differential isn't noticeable except on extreme rides, where the Castellis shine.
So what I'm saying is, if it's cheap and it works, wear it. Screw your friends in their Assos gear... if they think paying way more for equivalent functionality is cool because that's what the cool kids do, then it is probably best to let them keep thinking that way. Stupidity and high school-type thinking about what's cool and what isn't, is it's own punishment.
As for me... I'll stick with Voler now that I'm with a club that's sponsored by them. Equal shorts, and Voler sells them about $10 cheaper, and Voler sponsors the sport pretty heavily... no contest.
There. I've said it. What can I say. It's cheap, the clothing is pretty decent quality, and I don't feel right wearing team jerseys and maillots jaune, things like that, which I have not earned. I would look good in Team CSC kit... I have it on good authority that Ivan Basso actually weighs 244 pounds, but the black of is so slimming he actually looks underfed. I'd groove on that. But I've never won a race, much less nationals, much less racing on the ProTour for Bjarne Riis. No, it wouldn't feel right. Consequently, I've been riding in Performance gear, and recently branched out into some other brand names while waiting damn near 8 months for my Squadra Coppi kit, which I feel I've earned by virtue of racing for the Squadra, and of course by writing a dues check. And as we all know, Performance gear is gauche, right?
One of my fellow club members recently sold me a couple pairs of Squadra bib shorts he hadn't worn before, made by our sponsor and supplier, Voler. Imagine my shock and horror, when I discovered the chamois in the nice Voler shorts is identical to the chamois in my Performance Ultra Bib Shorts.
Yes, I know. It's horrifying that Performance might be offering premium kit at a low rent price.
But relax, oh sponsor. It wasn't cheap or low rent from Performance. The Ultra Bib Shorts run between $70 and $85 or so. They aren't cheap and actually probably cost more than the equivalent Voler product, the bottom tier shorts, and the Performance shorts definitely cost way more after you take Voler's sponsor discount into account.
Still, it was a pretty weird find, kind of like discovering the engine in your vintage Jaguar was actually made by Chevy. Maybe it was a top quality engine, but still, it's a bit jarring.
Then you realize: if it's good, it doesn't matter who made it. What matters is, it's good.
Both the Performance Ultras and the Volers are pretty damn good shorts. Not as nice as my Castellis, but both are much cheaper, and frankly, the performance differential isn't noticeable except on extreme rides, where the Castellis shine.
So what I'm saying is, if it's cheap and it works, wear it. Screw your friends in their Assos gear... if they think paying way more for equivalent functionality is cool because that's what the cool kids do, then it is probably best to let them keep thinking that way. Stupidity and high school-type thinking about what's cool and what isn't, is it's own punishment.
As for me... I'll stick with Voler now that I'm with a club that's sponsored by them. Equal shorts, and Voler sells them about $10 cheaper, and Voler sponsors the sport pretty heavily... no contest.
Monday, November 06, 2006
Some Tacchino Ciclicross Pics
Ryan Newill Rides the Steep Hill
Peter Nicholl Charges Up the Steep Hill
Brewer Takes Second in the Killer B's
Ryan Newill: Never Too Far off the Back to Mug For the Camera
Ken Woodrow, Looking Like a Bicycle Racer
Scott Thompson, Fillin' Their Hurt Buckets
Bill Gross Grinds up a Steep One in the A Race
Coppi CRP: Tacchino Ciclicross, Leesburg, VA
CRP: Tacchino Cross “C” Race
Saturday’s Tacchino Ciclicross race hosted by Squadra Coppi at Ida Lee Park in Leesburg, VA, was about as perfect an event as you could hope for. The weather was clear and cold, around 45 or 50 for much of the day, crisp, with a bit of a breeze. Judd and the crew put together a hell of a race.
The course was laid out over rolling hills in the park, with a couple longish false flat climbs (including Mount Ida, which sounds disturbingly like the title to a country & western themed um, adult flick), a couple short steep runup hills that you could possibly ride if you didn’t mind going really slow, a ditch, a fast off-camber sweeper, and an interesting tree hairpin by a rocky choke point.
I rode it single speed on my bean green Surly, with much better 2:1 (44:22) gearing than I had at Charm City. This time, there were probably 8 or 10 guys rolling on singles, including a couple 29’ers. That was a nice feeling – it’s cool to be unique, but completely not cool to be uniquely alone and off the back.
Around 52 riders started. I took it easy at the start, knowing that the fastest geared guys (aka the Sandbaggers) would be gone, and that I could pick people off at will, if I had the strength to do so later on in the race.
Going up Mt. Ida for the first time, a guy on a geared bike made it halfway around the little hard left onto Ida, stalled, downshifted, recovered, and rolled away. This brought me to a stop, forced a dismount, a runup the short slightly steep portion of Ida, and a quick remount. I cursed the guy out. This highlighted a weakness, and a strength of racing cross on a single speed. Momentum is incredibly important on a single. You don’t have the luxury of slowing down, dropping into a really low gear, recovering, and then taking off again. If you lose the Big Mo, it’s a slow, hard grind back up to speed, and several such efforts in short succession can pretty much take the wind out of your sails for two or three laps. As a result, you find yourself picking lines very carefully, and accelerating into turns where other guys are slowing then turning in. Several times I picked guys off in corners, coming in hot, skidding through the corner and accelerating out, keeping the pedals turning the whole time. This is a cool feeling when it works right. When it doesn’t… well, that’s the other thing you get to do a lot on a single.
Run. Run, Forest, Run! Singles force you to dismount in places other riders can ride through. The two short very steep hills on the course would have been pretty rideable, if I had about three more teeth on the rear cog. I didn’t, so they were only half rideable. A hill dismount is really tricky, however. I can never do a traditional cross dismount going uphill – swing the right leg over then pop the left foot out at the last second to hit the ground running. So what I’ve learned is sort of an explosive two legged dismount. Remember how Kevin Bacon slid off the back of his fixie in the execrable Quicksilver? That’s exactly what I look like when I dismount in the middle of a steep hill, except I’m fatter, clumsier, slower, usually doubled over in pain, and gasping. Anyhow, it works pretty well for me and I managed to pass a couple guys at runups.
The race went pretty uneventfully. After dropping well to the rear at the start, I got into my own pace. I saw the same three or four guys for most of the race, eventually putting an Army guy behind me, along with maybe an LSV guy and somebody else. I can’t remember really, I was pretty much zoned out for most of the race. I do remember dicing quite a bit with this guy in a blue jersey. He really screwed me up on the second runup hill, the muddy one. I had resolved to make it to the top one time, just to see if I could ride it. So I pegged the pedals through the rollers and down the long downhill, and cranked the bike hard right into the uphill. I slid around the corner, used the grass as a berm and pedaled hard. I was going to make it up the damn runup hill! Then right as I got halfway up, the guy in the blue jersey sort of fell off his bike, just tipped over. I had to stop and was so discombobulated, I fell over. When I got back on, blue jersey was gone, and I never saw him again. It was really demoralizing.
Some things were good though. I lapped a good handful of guys who were just toast out there, including a few of my fellow single speeders. Hang tough, bros! It doesn’t get better but you’ll get stronger abusing yourself like that. At least that’s what I tell myself. I also managed to pass Coppi newbie Alan Leung, who was working very hard but appeared, as Phil Liggett might put it, “in a spot of bother” near the bottom of Mount Ida. The last several laps I also found the groove, and in spite of massive calf cramps from all the climbing, it felt like I was floating around the course. It was a hard threshold effort, painful but maintainable. I’d found the right line in corners, was getting around hardly ever hitting the brakes or losing speed… it was good and I didn’t want to lose the groove by killing myself to pick off riders to my front. This was the right choice, smooth won the day for me and I picked off a few guys gradually, just easing on by them. The best thing, however, was coming past the start/finish line, where there were what sounded like 200 Coppis cheering. At the dismal points on every lap I kept telling myself to just keep going, if I could get to the crowd the shouts from Dana and Art and Jean, Ryan, Ken, new girl Lindsay, and the others would pick me up and give me some strength. It never failed. Thanks guys. What this world needs, is MORE COWBELL!
Towards the end, I found myself behind a guy in a red checked jersey for about two laps. I stayed a ways back off his wheel, trying to muster my strength to make a pass stick – we passed a few guys as we went around, he was on a single speed as well. Coming into Mount Ida, I caught him up and was on his wheel. We traded passes a couple times, and he nipped me at the barriers. Going into the finish line uphill, I was right on his wheel, but had absolutely nothing left in my legs to pass him. I settled for hounding him up the hill, and finishing right behind him, maybe in second or third among the single speed entries. I knew we’d gone hard because he barfed really good about 10 feet past the finish line.
The final verdict was 34th, and #2 or #3 among the single speeds, which wasn’t an official category but which was an informal ranking all the SS riders pay attention to. Special shoutouts go to Chris from Lanterne Rouge, who rode by me on the second or third lap and said, “hey Jim, I’m Chris. I always comment on your blog.” That’s a pretty cool thing to say, especially to somebody who is in severe oxygen debt and in need of a pick-me-up.
So I’m looking for a few more cross races to do before the end of the season. I think I’m getting this single speed cross thing figured out. The special rules for SS’ers, near as I can tell, are:
1) Ride your own race and be mentally comfortable with it – singles go fast where geared bikes go slow, and vice versa. What you lose at the start you may make up at the end.
2) Learn to dismount really well and quickly, and to run fast. You have to run more on a single.
3) Pick lines carefully and keep up momentum, even if it means you crash once in a while. Crashing hurts less than trying to restart on a hill.
4) Corner hard and upright – pick a line that lets you “flattrack” through corners and keep the pedals turning and the wheels moving. Keeping the rear wheel spinning and sliding actually makes it easier to square off a slippery turn.
5) Look to develop a rhythm – going a little easier but a lot smoother is much faster and much less tiring than putting in a slobberknocker-level effort but bouncing all over the course.
The postscript is that I hung around all day and watched the other races with the Coppis that were out there. The nice thing about our club is that there are so many folks who are fun to hang out with. Man, we’ve got some good people around… that really adds to the experience.
Saturday’s Tacchino Ciclicross race hosted by Squadra Coppi at Ida Lee Park in Leesburg, VA, was about as perfect an event as you could hope for. The weather was clear and cold, around 45 or 50 for much of the day, crisp, with a bit of a breeze. Judd and the crew put together a hell of a race.
The course was laid out over rolling hills in the park, with a couple longish false flat climbs (including Mount Ida, which sounds disturbingly like the title to a country & western themed um, adult flick), a couple short steep runup hills that you could possibly ride if you didn’t mind going really slow, a ditch, a fast off-camber sweeper, and an interesting tree hairpin by a rocky choke point.
I rode it single speed on my bean green Surly, with much better 2:1 (44:22) gearing than I had at Charm City. This time, there were probably 8 or 10 guys rolling on singles, including a couple 29’ers. That was a nice feeling – it’s cool to be unique, but completely not cool to be uniquely alone and off the back.
Around 52 riders started. I took it easy at the start, knowing that the fastest geared guys (aka the Sandbaggers) would be gone, and that I could pick people off at will, if I had the strength to do so later on in the race.
Going up Mt. Ida for the first time, a guy on a geared bike made it halfway around the little hard left onto Ida, stalled, downshifted, recovered, and rolled away. This brought me to a stop, forced a dismount, a runup the short slightly steep portion of Ida, and a quick remount. I cursed the guy out. This highlighted a weakness, and a strength of racing cross on a single speed. Momentum is incredibly important on a single. You don’t have the luxury of slowing down, dropping into a really low gear, recovering, and then taking off again. If you lose the Big Mo, it’s a slow, hard grind back up to speed, and several such efforts in short succession can pretty much take the wind out of your sails for two or three laps. As a result, you find yourself picking lines very carefully, and accelerating into turns where other guys are slowing then turning in. Several times I picked guys off in corners, coming in hot, skidding through the corner and accelerating out, keeping the pedals turning the whole time. This is a cool feeling when it works right. When it doesn’t… well, that’s the other thing you get to do a lot on a single.
Run. Run, Forest, Run! Singles force you to dismount in places other riders can ride through. The two short very steep hills on the course would have been pretty rideable, if I had about three more teeth on the rear cog. I didn’t, so they were only half rideable. A hill dismount is really tricky, however. I can never do a traditional cross dismount going uphill – swing the right leg over then pop the left foot out at the last second to hit the ground running. So what I’ve learned is sort of an explosive two legged dismount. Remember how Kevin Bacon slid off the back of his fixie in the execrable Quicksilver? That’s exactly what I look like when I dismount in the middle of a steep hill, except I’m fatter, clumsier, slower, usually doubled over in pain, and gasping. Anyhow, it works pretty well for me and I managed to pass a couple guys at runups.
The race went pretty uneventfully. After dropping well to the rear at the start, I got into my own pace. I saw the same three or four guys for most of the race, eventually putting an Army guy behind me, along with maybe an LSV guy and somebody else. I can’t remember really, I was pretty much zoned out for most of the race. I do remember dicing quite a bit with this guy in a blue jersey. He really screwed me up on the second runup hill, the muddy one. I had resolved to make it to the top one time, just to see if I could ride it. So I pegged the pedals through the rollers and down the long downhill, and cranked the bike hard right into the uphill. I slid around the corner, used the grass as a berm and pedaled hard. I was going to make it up the damn runup hill! Then right as I got halfway up, the guy in the blue jersey sort of fell off his bike, just tipped over. I had to stop and was so discombobulated, I fell over. When I got back on, blue jersey was gone, and I never saw him again. It was really demoralizing.
Some things were good though. I lapped a good handful of guys who were just toast out there, including a few of my fellow single speeders. Hang tough, bros! It doesn’t get better but you’ll get stronger abusing yourself like that. At least that’s what I tell myself. I also managed to pass Coppi newbie Alan Leung, who was working very hard but appeared, as Phil Liggett might put it, “in a spot of bother” near the bottom of Mount Ida. The last several laps I also found the groove, and in spite of massive calf cramps from all the climbing, it felt like I was floating around the course. It was a hard threshold effort, painful but maintainable. I’d found the right line in corners, was getting around hardly ever hitting the brakes or losing speed… it was good and I didn’t want to lose the groove by killing myself to pick off riders to my front. This was the right choice, smooth won the day for me and I picked off a few guys gradually, just easing on by them. The best thing, however, was coming past the start/finish line, where there were what sounded like 200 Coppis cheering. At the dismal points on every lap I kept telling myself to just keep going, if I could get to the crowd the shouts from Dana and Art and Jean, Ryan, Ken, new girl Lindsay, and the others would pick me up and give me some strength. It never failed. Thanks guys. What this world needs, is MORE COWBELL!
Towards the end, I found myself behind a guy in a red checked jersey for about two laps. I stayed a ways back off his wheel, trying to muster my strength to make a pass stick – we passed a few guys as we went around, he was on a single speed as well. Coming into Mount Ida, I caught him up and was on his wheel. We traded passes a couple times, and he nipped me at the barriers. Going into the finish line uphill, I was right on his wheel, but had absolutely nothing left in my legs to pass him. I settled for hounding him up the hill, and finishing right behind him, maybe in second or third among the single speed entries. I knew we’d gone hard because he barfed really good about 10 feet past the finish line.
The final verdict was 34th, and #2 or #3 among the single speeds, which wasn’t an official category but which was an informal ranking all the SS riders pay attention to. Special shoutouts go to Chris from Lanterne Rouge, who rode by me on the second or third lap and said, “hey Jim, I’m Chris. I always comment on your blog.” That’s a pretty cool thing to say, especially to somebody who is in severe oxygen debt and in need of a pick-me-up.
So I’m looking for a few more cross races to do before the end of the season. I think I’m getting this single speed cross thing figured out. The special rules for SS’ers, near as I can tell, are:
1) Ride your own race and be mentally comfortable with it – singles go fast where geared bikes go slow, and vice versa. What you lose at the start you may make up at the end.
2) Learn to dismount really well and quickly, and to run fast. You have to run more on a single.
3) Pick lines carefully and keep up momentum, even if it means you crash once in a while. Crashing hurts less than trying to restart on a hill.
4) Corner hard and upright – pick a line that lets you “flattrack” through corners and keep the pedals turning and the wheels moving. Keeping the rear wheel spinning and sliding actually makes it easier to square off a slippery turn.
5) Look to develop a rhythm – going a little easier but a lot smoother is much faster and much less tiring than putting in a slobberknocker-level effort but bouncing all over the course.
The postscript is that I hung around all day and watched the other races with the Coppis that were out there. The nice thing about our club is that there are so many folks who are fun to hang out with. Man, we’ve got some good people around… that really adds to the experience.
Sunday, November 05, 2006
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Dangit
It seems that Scientists have finally determined that there is no ice on the moon. Dangit!
You know what that means, right?
Yeah, of course you do.
It means you're going to need to bring a cooler if you want to make any martinis.
It's criminal, I tell you.
You know what that means, right?
Yeah, of course you do.
It means you're going to need to bring a cooler if you want to make any martinis.
It's criminal, I tell you.
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