Friday, June 29, 2007
Thursday, June 28, 2007
LOL CRASHEZ
You've probably heard about LOL CATZ - various web sites putting pigeon english slogans on funny animal pictures. Perhaps the greatest of these is the I HAS A BUCKET diptych, which is truly a great work of art. It occurred to me: why is there no parallel humor photo series in the cycling world? Well, naturally, since I had located an itch, I figured it was time to scratch it. Henceforth... we shall have LOL CRASHEZ. I'll be posting some marked up crash photos that hopefully tickle you more than they make you cringe, and if you do some similar art, let me know and I'll link it or feature it with a link.
It is time to laugh in the face of death, friends.
Or should I say, Tyme ot laffs at def!
You like that? How 'bout this:
It is time to laugh in the face of death, friends.
Or should I say, Tyme ot laffs at def!
You like that? How 'bout this:
Water Bottles: Gallons of Sweat Edition
So many random thoughts... where to begin? How 'bout we start with this:
- If you need a new casual riding jersey, hit up the Fat Cyclist's page at Twin Six. His wife Susan has some really nasty metastisized cancer, and they are fighting it like hell. The boys at Twin Six (who make a damn nice jersey, BTW) teamed up with Fatty to create a black and pink jersey dedicated to Susan, to raise money for cancer research. Hey, if you don't want to wear it, fine, then get it for somebody in your life who would wear it. I have one of their regular Fat Cyclist jerseys and the think is incomparably high quality gear. So not only would this be a nice jersey, but it would be for a good cause, to benefit the Lance Armstrong Foundation which, nevermind your feelings about Lance, does some yoeman work to help out those fighting cancer, as Fatty discovered.
- My legs still feel like crap from Church Creek. That TT was tough. The legs are almost recovered, but they are still creaky/heavy. Dang. Now I understand why Coach Bill G has me on an early rest week.
- Triathletes of the world: It is fun riding with you in paceline, but y'all need to do some speed work. Y'all roll at tempo but don't have a jump or a sprint. Here's a secret: you build up the muscular strength that supports your sprint and neuromuscular efforts, it will help your TT'ing speed. I'm just sayin'.
- For the dude who passed me on the bike trail this morning, working hard: congrats bro, I was riding recovery. You showed me... your hard breathin' tempo is much faster than my recovery. I learned my lesson: I won't try to throw down with *you* again.
- For the dude who passed me on the bike trail this evening, on the Moots, no shirt: Congrats bro, I was riding recovery. Your gasping >threshold work was more than I could cope with at 200 watts steady state. I won't try to throw down't with *you* again. Two things though. When I am spinning by you up a hill, you don't need to stand up and sprint. Really, I'm fat and lousy on hills. You should be able to dust me without working that hard. Second, youy might want to try bibs. Even without a jersey, the bib would look better than Pearl Izumi shorts, with their top half in front covered with your spare tire. Check it out dude, is that a Dunlop? I think so, because it done lopped over the top of your shorts. Ps. I don't think the girlies out jogging were impressed.
- For the ladies I passed this morning who were jogging on the trail at 6:00 AM: thanks. As always, thanks. I don't know why y'all do it, but I'm grateful y'all are out there. The collected beauty of any 20 women just about outweighs the eyeburns I get from middle aged guys riding way too hard and wobbling by me without jerseys on.
- Finally, to the dude with the porn star mustache in the blue Porsche convertible who peeled out at 13th & I, cut me off, and then skidded to a stop 20 yards in front of me... yeah, you showed me. How did it feel when I split lanes for the next three blocks and left you and your impatient mustache languishing in gridlock traffic? Do me a favor, you want to be all impatient and hammer through town, go get yourself a bike. The Type A shit won't be any healthier for you, but at least you won't kill some cyclist with your impatience. It might even get rid of some of that excess testosterone.
- If you need a new casual riding jersey, hit up the Fat Cyclist's page at Twin Six. His wife Susan has some really nasty metastisized cancer, and they are fighting it like hell. The boys at Twin Six (who make a damn nice jersey, BTW) teamed up with Fatty to create a black and pink jersey dedicated to Susan, to raise money for cancer research. Hey, if you don't want to wear it, fine, then get it for somebody in your life who would wear it. I have one of their regular Fat Cyclist jerseys and the think is incomparably high quality gear. So not only would this be a nice jersey, but it would be for a good cause, to benefit the Lance Armstrong Foundation which, nevermind your feelings about Lance, does some yoeman work to help out those fighting cancer, as Fatty discovered.
- My legs still feel like crap from Church Creek. That TT was tough. The legs are almost recovered, but they are still creaky/heavy. Dang. Now I understand why Coach Bill G has me on an early rest week.
- Triathletes of the world: It is fun riding with you in paceline, but y'all need to do some speed work. Y'all roll at tempo but don't have a jump or a sprint. Here's a secret: you build up the muscular strength that supports your sprint and neuromuscular efforts, it will help your TT'ing speed. I'm just sayin'.
- For the dude who passed me on the bike trail this morning, working hard: congrats bro, I was riding recovery. You showed me... your hard breathin' tempo is much faster than my recovery. I learned my lesson: I won't try to throw down with *you* again.
- For the dude who passed me on the bike trail this evening, on the Moots, no shirt: Congrats bro, I was riding recovery. Your gasping >threshold work was more than I could cope with at 200 watts steady state. I won't try to throw down't with *you* again. Two things though. When I am spinning by you up a hill, you don't need to stand up and sprint. Really, I'm fat and lousy on hills. You should be able to dust me without working that hard. Second, youy might want to try bibs. Even without a jersey, the bib would look better than Pearl Izumi shorts, with their top half in front covered with your spare tire. Check it out dude, is that a Dunlop? I think so, because it done lopped over the top of your shorts. Ps. I don't think the girlies out jogging were impressed.
- For the ladies I passed this morning who were jogging on the trail at 6:00 AM: thanks. As always, thanks. I don't know why y'all do it, but I'm grateful y'all are out there. The collected beauty of any 20 women just about outweighs the eyeburns I get from middle aged guys riding way too hard and wobbling by me without jerseys on.
- Finally, to the dude with the porn star mustache in the blue Porsche convertible who peeled out at 13th & I, cut me off, and then skidded to a stop 20 yards in front of me... yeah, you showed me. How did it feel when I split lanes for the next three blocks and left you and your impatient mustache languishing in gridlock traffic? Do me a favor, you want to be all impatient and hammer through town, go get yourself a bike. The Type A shit won't be any healthier for you, but at least you won't kill some cyclist with your impatience. It might even get rid of some of that excess testosterone.
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Petacchi - a Doper?
Nice. It appears the UCI and maybe WADA are going to investigate Allesandro Petacchi for using Salbutamol. Bad stuff, right? He's a cheater, a doper, right?
Well, maybe not. It is a really common asthma medicine and actually on the list of permissible medicines, commonly known as albuterol in the U.S. If you have asthma, and exercise aggravates it to the extent you have a coughing/choking fit, you need to take a hit from your inhaler to relieve the symptoms. The drug is a bronchodialator, and it allows your windpipe and your lungs to relax, so you can start breathing again. What happens if you don't? You can die. I've had really bad asthma problems in the past and especially get crushed in cold, windy, dusty weather... it's almost nightmarish to be really healthy and reduced to knee walking, mid-workout, by a friggin' brutal cough. It shakes up your view of yourself. You feel mortal. It is definitely not a joke.
As a matter of fact, a friend of mine was out walking in the woods about two years ago and had an asthma attack of this sort, exercise-induced. He didn't have his inhaler, had a severe asthma attack, and died right there. It's a big deal to be able to use an inhaler if you have asthma and are trying to participate in this most ventilatory of sports.
You might want to consider filing the appropriate paperwork, however, if you choose to be one of these crazed dopers. It would be a bummer to have to give back the Clif bars you won in a prime along with your 7th place finish at Greenbelt.
There is actually a really interesting discussion of this in an old Cycling News letters-to-the-editor page. Half of the writing riders - who are all-knowing, it seems - appear to believe that if you ride and claim to have asthma, you're just a goddam filthy doper cheat. Guess that makes me one. Funny - until my asthma was diagnosed in 2002, I thought it was normal to have an enormous coughing fit after every single hard run, rugby game, or lap session in the pool, and to collapse to my knees coughing out my lungs. I had always figured it had something to do with having chronic bronchitis as a kid. Little did I know, I was just setting up a good backstory to excuse my doping when I hit the highest levels of the sport, the MABRA Cat IV's... Just like Ale Jet. Of course there is evidence that for sprinter type riders Albuterol provides no performance improvement - other than keeping you from dying of course - but we never let puny evidentiary issues get in the way of our doping witch hunts, do we?
I'm not on the stuff right now because the weather is fine, but I'm keeping the inhaler handy, and putting in the paperwork so there's no questions. I'd really hate to die out on the course or in training due to fear of Dick Pound, or what some know-it-all jerk thinks he knows about the condition of my crappy lungs.
Well, maybe not. It is a really common asthma medicine and actually on the list of permissible medicines, commonly known as albuterol in the U.S. If you have asthma, and exercise aggravates it to the extent you have a coughing/choking fit, you need to take a hit from your inhaler to relieve the symptoms. The drug is a bronchodialator, and it allows your windpipe and your lungs to relax, so you can start breathing again. What happens if you don't? You can die. I've had really bad asthma problems in the past and especially get crushed in cold, windy, dusty weather... it's almost nightmarish to be really healthy and reduced to knee walking, mid-workout, by a friggin' brutal cough. It shakes up your view of yourself. You feel mortal. It is definitely not a joke.
As a matter of fact, a friend of mine was out walking in the woods about two years ago and had an asthma attack of this sort, exercise-induced. He didn't have his inhaler, had a severe asthma attack, and died right there. It's a big deal to be able to use an inhaler if you have asthma and are trying to participate in this most ventilatory of sports.
You might want to consider filing the appropriate paperwork, however, if you choose to be one of these crazed dopers. It would be a bummer to have to give back the Clif bars you won in a prime along with your 7th place finish at Greenbelt.
There is actually a really interesting discussion of this in an old Cycling News letters-to-the-editor page. Half of the writing riders - who are all-knowing, it seems - appear to believe that if you ride and claim to have asthma, you're just a goddam filthy doper cheat. Guess that makes me one. Funny - until my asthma was diagnosed in 2002, I thought it was normal to have an enormous coughing fit after every single hard run, rugby game, or lap session in the pool, and to collapse to my knees coughing out my lungs. I had always figured it had something to do with having chronic bronchitis as a kid. Little did I know, I was just setting up a good backstory to excuse my doping when I hit the highest levels of the sport, the MABRA Cat IV's... Just like Ale Jet. Of course there is evidence that for sprinter type riders Albuterol provides no performance improvement - other than keeping you from dying of course - but we never let puny evidentiary issues get in the way of our doping witch hunts, do we?
I'm not on the stuff right now because the weather is fine, but I'm keeping the inhaler handy, and putting in the paperwork so there's no questions. I'd really hate to die out on the course or in training due to fear of Dick Pound, or what some know-it-all jerk thinks he knows about the condition of my crappy lungs.
Monday, June 25, 2007
Tour de Suisse winner Vladimir Karpets:
And Matthew McConaughey:
Separated at birth?
I think so. At a minimum, we know who will play Vladi Karpets in Kissed by Two Hot Chicks One Time: The Vladi Karpets Story.
Oh, the other guy in the McConaughey picture? Haven't a clue who he is. Looks like some Hollywood schlub.
And Matthew McConaughey:
Separated at birth?
I think so. At a minimum, we know who will play Vladi Karpets in Kissed by Two Hot Chicks One Time: The Vladi Karpets Story.
Oh, the other guy in the McConaughey picture? Haven't a clue who he is. Looks like some Hollywood schlub.
Sunday, June 24, 2007
First Doping Scandal of the TdF Hits
Damiano Cunego is out of the Tour de France.
Apparently, Lampre Coffita stepped up its doping controls a few months ago, and Cunego was forced to go clean. Without the benefit of massive amounts of performance-enhancing drugs, it seems that his performance is downright ordinary. In fact, he probably couldn't hang with the Cat IIIs in your neighborhood, much less the domestic pros.
There's a picture of Cunego in action here. It's a high quality pic, and if you look close, you can see the ravages that dope takes on a man's face. It ain't pretty.
I wonder what other doping revelations Le Monde and Dick Pound have in store for us?
H/t Drunk Cyclist.
Apparently, Lampre Coffita stepped up its doping controls a few months ago, and Cunego was forced to go clean. Without the benefit of massive amounts of performance-enhancing drugs, it seems that his performance is downright ordinary. In fact, he probably couldn't hang with the Cat IIIs in your neighborhood, much less the domestic pros.
There's a picture of Cunego in action here. It's a high quality pic, and if you look close, you can see the ravages that dope takes on a man's face. It ain't pretty.
I wonder what other doping revelations Le Monde and Dick Pound have in store for us?
H/t Drunk Cyclist.
Saturday, June 23, 2007
Church Creek TT Rider Report
Took the Giant down to Church Creek to ride the 40 Km Cat IV TT. Bill's aero bars didn't fit so I rode in the drops. No taper, no rest week, just wanted to roll. It was a wild ride - the Thrilla in... um, Cambridge, MD.
From the start, I pedaled. I turned right. There was some gravel on the road. Holes too, here and there. Lotta trees and weeds. I pedaled some more. I turned right again. There was wind. I pedaled some more. Some guys passed me. I passed other guys. It was still bumpy and hurt and I kept pedaling, not as fast as I'd like but still pedaling. I turned right again. I waved to the cop at the corner, he may have been even fatter than me but I doubt it. It was bumpy again and windier. I passed some girls. I really hurt and they didn't even look attractive to me at that point though the thought of stopping sure did. Some guys passed me. It hurt real bad. I turned right again. I pedaled really really hard. In fact it hurt really bad for a while and then stopped hurting entirely and I found myself not thinking of anything and riding along in the weeds next to the road for a while which was harder to do than just riding on the road. I kept pedaling. I passed the finish line, stopped immediately and threw up. Some girl was concerned but mainly I was happy to be rid of breakfast, it had been trying to get out for quite some time. They didn't post the finish times very quickly so we left and drove back home. I couldn't eat the Wendys we bought on the way home and the Bay Bridge traffic suxored.
Man, what a thrilling race. I'm sure you were all on the edge of your seats as was I.
Near as I can figure, from the Powertap, I rode about 1:05.30. The goal was to maintain threshold power and I failed, managing only to maintain 97% of threshold power, or 300 watts average. Oh well.
Frankly, the whole experience was a bit bewildering.
[Update: ABRT posted the official times. I rolled a 1:05.58. Most of the Cat IV's I know from racing were just under or a few minutes over an hour. Maybe next year I'll try it with aero bars and taper for a couple days. Or maybe not.]
From the start, I pedaled. I turned right. There was some gravel on the road. Holes too, here and there. Lotta trees and weeds. I pedaled some more. I turned right again. There was wind. I pedaled some more. Some guys passed me. I passed other guys. It was still bumpy and hurt and I kept pedaling, not as fast as I'd like but still pedaling. I turned right again. I waved to the cop at the corner, he may have been even fatter than me but I doubt it. It was bumpy again and windier. I passed some girls. I really hurt and they didn't even look attractive to me at that point though the thought of stopping sure did. Some guys passed me. It hurt real bad. I turned right again. I pedaled really really hard. In fact it hurt really bad for a while and then stopped hurting entirely and I found myself not thinking of anything and riding along in the weeds next to the road for a while which was harder to do than just riding on the road. I kept pedaling. I passed the finish line, stopped immediately and threw up. Some girl was concerned but mainly I was happy to be rid of breakfast, it had been trying to get out for quite some time. They didn't post the finish times very quickly so we left and drove back home. I couldn't eat the Wendys we bought on the way home and the Bay Bridge traffic suxored.
Man, what a thrilling race. I'm sure you were all on the edge of your seats as was I.
Near as I can figure, from the Powertap, I rode about 1:05.30. The goal was to maintain threshold power and I failed, managing only to maintain 97% of threshold power, or 300 watts average. Oh well.
Frankly, the whole experience was a bit bewildering.
[Update: ABRT posted the official times. I rolled a 1:05.58. Most of the Cat IV's I know from racing were just under or a few minutes over an hour. Maybe next year I'll try it with aero bars and taper for a couple days. Or maybe not.]
Friday, June 22, 2007
On the Advice of Jonathan, my LBS guy, I checked out BikeSnobNYC and took another look at Drunk Cyclist. I had seen DrunkCyclist quite a while ago but it was a bit salty to link to, for a guy who blogs under his more or less true name. (If it was my true name, it would be something like 'chunky middle-aged lawyer staving off old age by pretending to be able to ride bicycles well instead of attending to weighty matters). The Drunk Cyclist has cleaned up his act a bit and is going on the blogroll, along with BikeSnob NYC who has a pretty good attitude about bikes in spite of his name. Both blogs are highly worthy, and BikeSnob in particular is high-larious, and true. In fact, I think he's my Brother From Another Mother - check out this entry:
(Just kidding if you're reading this dear...)
And on the subject of high-larious, I notice that my start time for Church Creek TT is something like 9:25. Hi, Larry! Yours start time is something like 9:55. I'll get your number from Jonathan and call later. We can cruise down at oh-dark-thirty. It will be great throwing up with you tomorrow. Can't wait, I'll make sure to drink plenty of orange juice at breakfast, so my nose burns extra when the inevitable wave of vomit - should come at about 35 minutes - overwhelms my anti-vomiting reflexes. The TT should be a real blast, in a number of respects. I love this sport.
We had a nice muffin ride this morning - the muffin ride is always the best. Lots of new folks, including a girl who wants to race, but just has one bike right now, a beautiful, classy black and white Mercier fixed gear - I think it was this one. Gorgeous bike, hope our usual grabasstic Friday goofballing didn't put her off the club, bicycle racing and men generally forever. The nicest part about the ride is it's just a social ride, there's no worries about getting dropped, about whether the ride fits your workout schedule, or anything else... it's just 20+ easy miles with friends, talking about racing and anything but racing, enjoying the early morning sun, bracketed on both ends by coffee. I know at least a few of the guys I race with said they joined the club specifically because of the muffin ride - the idea that a velo club would be headquartered at a coffee shop, and make having coffee and teammates chilling out with each other a priority, struck them as really attractive. I can see that.
Me, I just joined up because eating lots of tasty Italian food is in the club's mission statement
This may come as a shock to the newer riders out there, but there is absolutely nothing cool about trying to race somebody on your commute or on a recovery ride in the park. I know you’re very excited to be on your new Pista or Madone or whatever, and I know you feel like you need to prove yourself when you see someone else on a track bike or on a road bike in a team kit or whatever the case may be. But you need to learn something very important—it’s not always cool to attack, and it’s never OK to sit on a stranger’s wheel.Holy crap, I think I'm in love - that soulmate blogger was totally channeling one of my 'stoopid BTG' rants. If BikeSnobNYC is a dude, this is going to cause me some major psychic problems. Not to mention marital issues.
That guy on the track bike you’re killing yourself to pass may simply be on his way home from the velodrome, or from a day’s work as a messenger. The guy on the carbon wonder-bike in full lycra regalia may be returning from a 90-mile training ride, or a race, or may be cooling down from an interval. He sees you pick up the pace when you approach him, he hears you panting, he sees you look over your shoulder, and he knows what you’re up to. That’s why he lets you get a lead and then passes you on the next hill, often making a point of making a cell-phone call or eating some food, so he can pass you no-handed.
(Just kidding if you're reading this dear...)
And on the subject of high-larious, I notice that my start time for Church Creek TT is something like 9:25. Hi, Larry! Yours start time is something like 9:55. I'll get your number from Jonathan and call later. We can cruise down at oh-dark-thirty. It will be great throwing up with you tomorrow. Can't wait, I'll make sure to drink plenty of orange juice at breakfast, so my nose burns extra when the inevitable wave of vomit - should come at about 35 minutes - overwhelms my anti-vomiting reflexes. The TT should be a real blast, in a number of respects. I love this sport.
We had a nice muffin ride this morning - the muffin ride is always the best. Lots of new folks, including a girl who wants to race, but just has one bike right now, a beautiful, classy black and white Mercier fixed gear - I think it was this one. Gorgeous bike, hope our usual grabasstic Friday goofballing didn't put her off the club, bicycle racing and men generally forever. The nicest part about the ride is it's just a social ride, there's no worries about getting dropped, about whether the ride fits your workout schedule, or anything else... it's just 20+ easy miles with friends, talking about racing and anything but racing, enjoying the early morning sun, bracketed on both ends by coffee. I know at least a few of the guys I race with said they joined the club specifically because of the muffin ride - the idea that a velo club would be headquartered at a coffee shop, and make having coffee and teammates chilling out with each other a priority, struck them as really attractive. I can see that.
Me, I just joined up because eating lots of tasty Italian food is in the club's mission statement
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
Just Signed Up...
For a couple good events.
Church Creek TT is supposed to be a good time trial, if there is such a thing. We'll find out Saturday.
The Hagerstown Crit is an awesome course - it has a long slightly false flat uphill straight, a 90 degree left turn, a squiggly little uphill, a 120 degree off-camber left, a long downhill false flat with a dip in it, and a 180 degree looooong slightly uphill off-ramp style sweeper. I count two technical turns, one 35 MPH sweeper, a wide, long sprint friendly straight, and not a terrible amount of hills. It's July 7, the course alone is worth the trip. I'll hit the 4/5 Over 30, a great event every time I've done it, and maybe also the Cat IV, although it's much later in mid-afternoon, if the field looks interesting. Like I said, it's worth going for the course, and the beautiful neighborhood setting alone.
Church Creek TT is supposed to be a good time trial, if there is such a thing. We'll find out Saturday.
The Hagerstown Crit is an awesome course - it has a long slightly false flat uphill straight, a 90 degree left turn, a squiggly little uphill, a 120 degree off-camber left, a long downhill false flat with a dip in it, and a 180 degree looooong slightly uphill off-ramp style sweeper. I count two technical turns, one 35 MPH sweeper, a wide, long sprint friendly straight, and not a terrible amount of hills. It's July 7, the course alone is worth the trip. I'll hit the 4/5 Over 30, a great event every time I've done it, and maybe also the Cat IV, although it's much later in mid-afternoon, if the field looks interesting. Like I said, it's worth going for the course, and the beautiful neighborhood setting alone.
Revenge of the Bike Trail Guys
Regular readers - those I haven't driven off with rest week pauses - know that I can't stand knuckleheads who want to race while I'm doing slow, low speed cruising on my commute. They're the guys that Kosta calls The Bike Trail Guys. If they were in cars they'd have Camaros, wear tank tops, and do a lot of dumbell curls with their left arm - so it looks really buff when they hang it out the car. Thing is if you want to race, join a hard group ride, or better yet, pay USCF your $85 and go race. Bike trail commuter racing is like the high school street drags of the bicycle world - it's a bit dangerous, it's not real racing, and it sometimes reveals character more than it reveals engines.
And the real reason I hate it, is because my competitive side wants to go, even though my rational side knows it would be the stupidest thing in the world to do. I used to be that guy. Yikes.
So normally I just chug along, 200 watts, recovery pace... blah blah blah. Meanwhile, guys are passing me doing the head bob, trying to hold their heavy breathing "I'm just on a recovery ride today... " Yeah, okay Fred. You bet.
Tonight was a bit different though. The morning Hell of the North (Arlington) Coppi hill ride was rained out, at least from my perspective. I was going to do Greenbelt but got crushed at work and knew I'd have to work late. I was in a grim mood. The, a ray of light. Kurt K was looking around on the listserve for somebody to do a ride with, for the same reasons. So I chirped up, and he decided we would go do a couple hard intervals up the Capital Crescent. Man, I haven't gone hard on that trail in maybe 8 months... this would be good.
So we met up at the bottom of the trail and cruised up slow. Some commuters and rec riders even passed us. When we passed the dip in the pavement just past Fletcher's Boathouse, Kurt said "let's go," and we put the hammer down. For the first five minutes going uphill, until we got over the little bridge before the tunnel (yeah, that's right, I said five minutes) we were going about 22 MPH. I was sucking black latex as if my life depended on it - never ridden uphill in the drops before, that was a unique experience. Even going along in the drops, an inch off his wheel, I still averaged 385 watts. Yeah, a 5 minute VO2Max interval. But wait, it doesn't end there. When we got over the bridge he had gapped me by about 15 yards. So I tried to sprint and catch up, while he tried to get hit by some French girl cruising through the rail tunnel. I didn't catch up, he didn't get hit, and we kept going like that. I was completely blown up by this point and just dropped down to a high threshold level effort, around 310 - 320 watts. (That was all I could maintain, my lungs were exploding at that point). We rode like this up to Bethesda.
Did I mention that we passed the bejeezus out of everybody on the trail, including this one wannabe who tried to sprint and catch a wheel? Well, we did. No doubt the cognitive dissonance from seeing a small climbing guy and a big fat non-climbing guy hammering uphill at a speed that isn't terribly comfortable to maintain seared the image of the Coppi logo spread across my generous backside into his tiny walnut-sized lizard brain.
Then, when we got to the top, we turned around and did it again. Same result. This time, however, Kurt didn't gap me. We passed some people more smoothly the second time - we didn't have to come to a stop two or three times on the hill before the small bridge, so we never needed to go from 0 to 22. This tiny difference - three little surges - was all I needed to hold Kurt's wheel the entire way up the hill. I averaged 354 watts and 21 MPH for 14 minutes. Yeah, it was kind of a burner. My lungs are still a little irritated, and mid-ride, it felt like they would come out of my nose.
So we basically had two 15 minute VO2Max intervals (okay, fine, I got dropped into threshold level for 10 minutes of the first one) which isn't a terrible workout on an intensity day.
Most importantly, we crushed the bejeezus out of The Biketrail Guys, especially the guys who tried to race with us.
Wait a minute, does glorying in the destruction of a Fred commuter while I'm training on the bike trail make me a Biketrail Guy, like some pod person in Invasion of the Body Snatchers?
Aaaarrrrrrraaaaaaaiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!
Maybe it's not to late to buy a Camaro.
And the real reason I hate it, is because my competitive side wants to go, even though my rational side knows it would be the stupidest thing in the world to do. I used to be that guy. Yikes.
So normally I just chug along, 200 watts, recovery pace... blah blah blah. Meanwhile, guys are passing me doing the head bob, trying to hold their heavy breathing "I'm just on a recovery ride today... " Yeah, okay Fred. You bet.
Tonight was a bit different though. The morning Hell of the North (Arlington) Coppi hill ride was rained out, at least from my perspective. I was going to do Greenbelt but got crushed at work and knew I'd have to work late. I was in a grim mood. The, a ray of light. Kurt K was looking around on the listserve for somebody to do a ride with, for the same reasons. So I chirped up, and he decided we would go do a couple hard intervals up the Capital Crescent. Man, I haven't gone hard on that trail in maybe 8 months... this would be good.
So we met up at the bottom of the trail and cruised up slow. Some commuters and rec riders even passed us. When we passed the dip in the pavement just past Fletcher's Boathouse, Kurt said "let's go," and we put the hammer down. For the first five minutes going uphill, until we got over the little bridge before the tunnel (yeah, that's right, I said five minutes) we were going about 22 MPH. I was sucking black latex as if my life depended on it - never ridden uphill in the drops before, that was a unique experience. Even going along in the drops, an inch off his wheel, I still averaged 385 watts. Yeah, a 5 minute VO2Max interval. But wait, it doesn't end there. When we got over the bridge he had gapped me by about 15 yards. So I tried to sprint and catch up, while he tried to get hit by some French girl cruising through the rail tunnel. I didn't catch up, he didn't get hit, and we kept going like that. I was completely blown up by this point and just dropped down to a high threshold level effort, around 310 - 320 watts. (That was all I could maintain, my lungs were exploding at that point). We rode like this up to Bethesda.
Did I mention that we passed the bejeezus out of everybody on the trail, including this one wannabe who tried to sprint and catch a wheel? Well, we did. No doubt the cognitive dissonance from seeing a small climbing guy and a big fat non-climbing guy hammering uphill at a speed that isn't terribly comfortable to maintain seared the image of the Coppi logo spread across my generous backside into his tiny walnut-sized lizard brain.
Then, when we got to the top, we turned around and did it again. Same result. This time, however, Kurt didn't gap me. We passed some people more smoothly the second time - we didn't have to come to a stop two or three times on the hill before the small bridge, so we never needed to go from 0 to 22. This tiny difference - three little surges - was all I needed to hold Kurt's wheel the entire way up the hill. I averaged 354 watts and 21 MPH for 14 minutes. Yeah, it was kind of a burner. My lungs are still a little irritated, and mid-ride, it felt like they would come out of my nose.
So we basically had two 15 minute VO2Max intervals (okay, fine, I got dropped into threshold level for 10 minutes of the first one) which isn't a terrible workout on an intensity day.
Most importantly, we crushed the bejeezus out of The Biketrail Guys, especially the guys who tried to race with us.
Wait a minute, does glorying in the destruction of a Fred commuter while I'm training on the bike trail make me a Biketrail Guy, like some pod person in Invasion of the Body Snatchers?
Aaaarrrrrrraaaaaaaiiiiiieeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!!
Maybe it's not to late to buy a Camaro.
Monday, June 18, 2007
Couple Updates
Hey y'all - I want to welcome a few folks to the long-overdue-updated Blogroll.
First off, Flamenco Chuckwagon, whose rear wheel tried to eat his derailer, to ill effect, at the RFK Crit Cat IV race I was in. Thank goodness he blogged about it, because inquiring minds (AKA my Sainted Wife) wanted to know how the hell somebody destroyed their rear wheel so comprehensively in a race with no epic crashes.
Then there's Kyle Jones' joint, Pedal'n Around. Kyle is Strong Like Boool. Don't think I'll be messing with him any time soon, even if he does have knots in his ass.
Finally, there's Mike May with his tremendously useful Gam Jams. He keeps up a comprehensive MABRA race calendar, something that is beyond the ken of the overworked volunteers of MABRA. He also gives out some linky-love, which is nice.
First off, Flamenco Chuckwagon, whose rear wheel tried to eat his derailer, to ill effect, at the RFK Crit Cat IV race I was in. Thank goodness he blogged about it, because inquiring minds (AKA my Sainted Wife) wanted to know how the hell somebody destroyed their rear wheel so comprehensively in a race with no epic crashes.
Then there's Kyle Jones' joint, Pedal'n Around. Kyle is Strong Like Boool. Don't think I'll be messing with him any time soon, even if he does have knots in his ass.
Finally, there's Mike May with his tremendously useful Gam Jams. He keeps up a comprehensive MABRA race calendar, something that is beyond the ken of the overworked volunteers of MABRA. He also gives out some linky-love, which is nice.
RFK - Really Fricking Kronic...
I raced the RFK crit on Sunday.
I didn't really prep for this race, since I've been dieting and building to ride stronger in July / August, and had a few hard rides over the week, including a ride that James (Artemis) didn't think was bad - but then he's a skinny guy, and my zone 5 efforts on some hills were probably tempo for him.
Anyhow, Hub Racing - a sorta courier-based women's pro team (that has cute girls with nice legs, BTW, just in case you're into that kind of thing) makes you pre-register three or four months out, so I figured I'd sit in and see how I felt rather than waste the entry fee. It should be my kind of course - flat, fast, technical-ish in places. Too bad I am just building up to racing fit right now and not actually fit.
Anyhoo, rather stupidly, I tried to carb up with big bowls of pasta on Saturday night and Sunday at lunch to compensate for the dieting. Instead of giving me lots of energy, it gave me twisted up guts. It felt like my stomach had been stretched out, tied in a knot, and left there. I was also really dehydrated feeling, with a dry mouth, which was weird.
The race went pretty decently for a while since I only wanted to sit in and wasn't really scrapping. It took a while to figure out the easy (smooth) way around the course, but you would have to be really close to the front to ride it that way. The magic formula (why am I telling you? I'm an idiot) is to go wide and keep pedaling in turns 1, 3, 5, 6, and 8 (assuming you count the schwerve at the end of the back straight as a curve) and to carve inside and stop pedaling in 2, 4, and 7, and maybe 9 if the crowd isn't too heavy. I should let you figure that out for yourself, but frankly, I'd rather that you stayed on the gas and eased off on the brakes a bit next year. Anyhow...
My Powertap showed a long series of intermittent heavy efforts - 1000, 1100 watt efforts to close up gaps. I was sitting in and towards the rear intentionally, but riding with the Powertap proves to me - man, riding anywhere but the front is just plain bad ju ju. After a while, between the effort, the screwed up diet, and maybe adrenalin, my guts got really twisted up and I had bad stomach cramps. Still, it wasn't bad. We managed to attrite half the field or so by the time I blew up. How did that happen?
Around the 5th or 6th lap, halfway through the race, when I came down the back stretch, the cramps were so bad I came off the back and blew chunks into the gravel. It also felt like I was going to poop my pants too. I had enough in the tank to bridge a few yards to chase back on and to move up if I was taking the race real serious, but I really didn't want to see what other surprises the guts had in store for me. So I limped off the course and back up to my truck. I wasn't thrilled because I am sure if I had just worked up to the front (which wouldn't have been hard, the way half the field was misreading the turns) that I could have stuck around to the end. But I wasn't destroyed, because I was looking at this as a "C" priority race, just doing it in lieu of a short hard workout that coach Bill G gave me.
So how bad did my stomach hurt? I turned down a beer that some bike messengers offered me - yeah, my stomach really was bad. Those of you who know me, understand that as a sign I was in pretty desperate pain. Fortunately, I soon discovered that the cramps were coming from bad stomach gas, probably due to my misguided carb loading. So I was sort of bent over at the truck pulling my clothes off cursing and farting, and maybe belching a bit too. Okay, fine, I wasn't just farting. I was ripping these extremely loud, 10-15 second screamers. And grunting afterwards. Sorry, but it just felt good to relieve the stomach pain after the severe cramps. So anyhow, I'm there sweating and farting and grunting, and starting to feel good, and I look up and notice this older lady -probably in her 60's - standing about 10 feet away on the other side of the truck. She was nicely dressed, looked upper middle class, probably there to see her wonderful adult son, or her pro racer daughter, or her kick-ass grandson. She was there... and she was staring daggers at me.
I wanted to say something clever but couldn't think of a thing to say, so I just pulled my shorts on and went back down to cheer for the other guys in the race. So that made it sort of memorable.
Yeah, it's amazing the depths to which roadracing will drive you.
I didn't really prep for this race, since I've been dieting and building to ride stronger in July / August, and had a few hard rides over the week, including a ride that James (Artemis) didn't think was bad - but then he's a skinny guy, and my zone 5 efforts on some hills were probably tempo for him.
Anyhow, Hub Racing - a sorta courier-based women's pro team (that has cute girls with nice legs, BTW, just in case you're into that kind of thing) makes you pre-register three or four months out, so I figured I'd sit in and see how I felt rather than waste the entry fee. It should be my kind of course - flat, fast, technical-ish in places. Too bad I am just building up to racing fit right now and not actually fit.
Anyhoo, rather stupidly, I tried to carb up with big bowls of pasta on Saturday night and Sunday at lunch to compensate for the dieting. Instead of giving me lots of energy, it gave me twisted up guts. It felt like my stomach had been stretched out, tied in a knot, and left there. I was also really dehydrated feeling, with a dry mouth, which was weird.
The race went pretty decently for a while since I only wanted to sit in and wasn't really scrapping. It took a while to figure out the easy (smooth) way around the course, but you would have to be really close to the front to ride it that way. The magic formula (why am I telling you? I'm an idiot) is to go wide and keep pedaling in turns 1, 3, 5, 6, and 8 (assuming you count the schwerve at the end of the back straight as a curve) and to carve inside and stop pedaling in 2, 4, and 7, and maybe 9 if the crowd isn't too heavy. I should let you figure that out for yourself, but frankly, I'd rather that you stayed on the gas and eased off on the brakes a bit next year. Anyhow...
My Powertap showed a long series of intermittent heavy efforts - 1000, 1100 watt efforts to close up gaps. I was sitting in and towards the rear intentionally, but riding with the Powertap proves to me - man, riding anywhere but the front is just plain bad ju ju. After a while, between the effort, the screwed up diet, and maybe adrenalin, my guts got really twisted up and I had bad stomach cramps. Still, it wasn't bad. We managed to attrite half the field or so by the time I blew up. How did that happen?
Around the 5th or 6th lap, halfway through the race, when I came down the back stretch, the cramps were so bad I came off the back and blew chunks into the gravel. It also felt like I was going to poop my pants too. I had enough in the tank to bridge a few yards to chase back on and to move up if I was taking the race real serious, but I really didn't want to see what other surprises the guts had in store for me. So I limped off the course and back up to my truck. I wasn't thrilled because I am sure if I had just worked up to the front (which wouldn't have been hard, the way half the field was misreading the turns) that I could have stuck around to the end. But I wasn't destroyed, because I was looking at this as a "C" priority race, just doing it in lieu of a short hard workout that coach Bill G gave me.
So how bad did my stomach hurt? I turned down a beer that some bike messengers offered me - yeah, my stomach really was bad. Those of you who know me, understand that as a sign I was in pretty desperate pain. Fortunately, I soon discovered that the cramps were coming from bad stomach gas, probably due to my misguided carb loading. So I was sort of bent over at the truck pulling my clothes off cursing and farting, and maybe belching a bit too. Okay, fine, I wasn't just farting. I was ripping these extremely loud, 10-15 second screamers. And grunting afterwards. Sorry, but it just felt good to relieve the stomach pain after the severe cramps. So anyhow, I'm there sweating and farting and grunting, and starting to feel good, and I look up and notice this older lady -probably in her 60's - standing about 10 feet away on the other side of the truck. She was nicely dressed, looked upper middle class, probably there to see her wonderful adult son, or her pro racer daughter, or her kick-ass grandson. She was there... and she was staring daggers at me.
I wanted to say something clever but couldn't think of a thing to say, so I just pulled my shorts on and went back down to cheer for the other guys in the race. So that made it sort of memorable.
Yeah, it's amazing the depths to which roadracing will drive you.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Yeaaarrgghhh...
Rest week is over and I was looking forward to tearing into Build 1 this week - a bucket full of high intensity work.
Whoops. That didn't work out quite as planned. Coach Bill G. gave me a pretty simple work out - 90 minutes of riding, stop every 5 minutes or two to do a stomp - first 4 seated accelerations in a big ring, then 4 standing, then 4 seated, with cooldown and warmup. Easy peasy, right?
Yeah, for most people they would be. The seated accelerations went fine, no probs, and I was pulling wattage in the 1200s... nice. Couldn't wait to crank it up in the standing stomps, then we'd see what this new PowerTap can do.
So I got to West Potomac Park, threw her in 53:13, stopped, held a trackstand for a second, and blasted off. I didn't go quite as hard as I was able - my standing sprinting form is a bit off, not having really done it since last September. But I still put in a credible effort, about 20 pedal strokes, brought me up to 32 or 33 MPH in about 15 seconds, then I slowed down. There was a *hell* of a lot of front derailer rub all of a sudden, but I didn't think anything of it.
A little while later, I was on Hains Point, and repeated the same routine. Only when I stomped (and pulled up with the back leg, I rock the good form always) the chain blew off the big ring and looped over my foot. "Hmmm... that's weird," I thought. "Must have hit the index on the front derailer, must have bumped the shift lever or something." So I maneuvered the chain back on, ignored the new pain in my knee, came to a stop a half minute later, and stomped hard with the opposite leg. "Greglelgleglsedfrtld...." Same result, the chain slewed off immediately.
And so it went. I tried it two or three more times, all with the same result. At that point I remembered Art M. had counseled me that I would probably have this exact problem until I shifted to some really solid chain rings - he has a very similar power curve to mine, at least at the short interval peaks, and basically turned his Dura Ace big ring into a cheap frisbee every time he did a stomp, also throwing the chain. He fixed it by switching to heavier, clunkier but apparently stiffer Ultegra chain rings.
I limped back to the office, worked, and limped through the homeward commute, noting some grinding noises emanating from the crank area, and trying not to lay down any serious wattage. The post mortem at Family Bikes indicated that the chainring - a rather flimsy bit of tin foil - had been bent. Likewise one of the spider arms on the crank was bent, and one of the chainring bolts was sheared vertically - from end to end, rather than through the middle. As Jonathan put it, "never seen one of them break that way..."
So I guess we'll try to get a warranty claim in on them. I'm hoping for a merchandise credit or something like that - no way am I sticking with the Race Face Cadence crank. Maybe they make good stuff for mountain bikes - in fact I am sure they do. But this crank is their attempt at a roadracing crank, and they sell it as such. Now I am a big dude and lay down some wattage - the pass that broke it had a peak power of 1510, 20 second power of 1220 - this is pretty high for a rec rider but pretty commonplace figures for a sprinting road racer. This crank should not have failed under this type of use. Their web site indicates that they have a lifetime warranty on this crank... we'll see if Race Face stands behind their product. I hope they do - but regardless, I will probably be going with something uglier, heavier, and stronger in the future.
Whoops. That didn't work out quite as planned. Coach Bill G. gave me a pretty simple work out - 90 minutes of riding, stop every 5 minutes or two to do a stomp - first 4 seated accelerations in a big ring, then 4 standing, then 4 seated, with cooldown and warmup. Easy peasy, right?
Yeah, for most people they would be. The seated accelerations went fine, no probs, and I was pulling wattage in the 1200s... nice. Couldn't wait to crank it up in the standing stomps, then we'd see what this new PowerTap can do.
So I got to West Potomac Park, threw her in 53:13, stopped, held a trackstand for a second, and blasted off. I didn't go quite as hard as I was able - my standing sprinting form is a bit off, not having really done it since last September. But I still put in a credible effort, about 20 pedal strokes, brought me up to 32 or 33 MPH in about 15 seconds, then I slowed down. There was a *hell* of a lot of front derailer rub all of a sudden, but I didn't think anything of it.
A little while later, I was on Hains Point, and repeated the same routine. Only when I stomped (and pulled up with the back leg, I rock the good form always) the chain blew off the big ring and looped over my foot. "Hmmm... that's weird," I thought. "Must have hit the index on the front derailer, must have bumped the shift lever or something." So I maneuvered the chain back on, ignored the new pain in my knee, came to a stop a half minute later, and stomped hard with the opposite leg. "Greglelgleglsedfrtld...." Same result, the chain slewed off immediately.
And so it went. I tried it two or three more times, all with the same result. At that point I remembered Art M. had counseled me that I would probably have this exact problem until I shifted to some really solid chain rings - he has a very similar power curve to mine, at least at the short interval peaks, and basically turned his Dura Ace big ring into a cheap frisbee every time he did a stomp, also throwing the chain. He fixed it by switching to heavier, clunkier but apparently stiffer Ultegra chain rings.
I limped back to the office, worked, and limped through the homeward commute, noting some grinding noises emanating from the crank area, and trying not to lay down any serious wattage. The post mortem at Family Bikes indicated that the chainring - a rather flimsy bit of tin foil - had been bent. Likewise one of the spider arms on the crank was bent, and one of the chainring bolts was sheared vertically - from end to end, rather than through the middle. As Jonathan put it, "never seen one of them break that way..."
So I guess we'll try to get a warranty claim in on them. I'm hoping for a merchandise credit or something like that - no way am I sticking with the Race Face Cadence crank. Maybe they make good stuff for mountain bikes - in fact I am sure they do. But this crank is their attempt at a roadracing crank, and they sell it as such. Now I am a big dude and lay down some wattage - the pass that broke it had a peak power of 1510, 20 second power of 1220 - this is pretty high for a rec rider but pretty commonplace figures for a sprinting road racer. This crank should not have failed under this type of use. Their web site indicates that they have a lifetime warranty on this crank... we'll see if Race Face stands behind their product. I hope they do - but regardless, I will probably be going with something uglier, heavier, and stronger in the future.
Monday, June 04, 2007
Rest Week
Sweet, blessed rest week.
The land of .64 IF rides... the place where your heartrate only breaks out of zone 1 if you win the Orbea in the local bike shop's raffle. The training sequence that actually makes your legs feel good for a change. Riding with non-racing friends and letting them dust *you* for a change. The one week in four where you can sleep in and skip the 5:30 AM start to training rides. The one week in four where you can stay up and watch television until 11:00 PM without being wiped out the next day. The one week in four where you actually get faster and fresher as the week goes on. The week where your bike gets clean, and stays clean. Where you break out the fixie for fun - and where you don't cry looking at the fixie thinking about the new kinds of agony it's going to inflict on you, because, by God, you're not going to climb any hills on the damn thing. The week where you have time to actually pay your bills. The time where you can actually do your daily stretching routine at night without being so tired that you pass out on the floor.
Rest week.
It's the best thing since lightly chilled Accelerade.
The land of .64 IF rides... the place where your heartrate only breaks out of zone 1 if you win the Orbea in the local bike shop's raffle. The training sequence that actually makes your legs feel good for a change. Riding with non-racing friends and letting them dust *you* for a change. The one week in four where you can sleep in and skip the 5:30 AM start to training rides. The one week in four where you can stay up and watch television until 11:00 PM without being wiped out the next day. The one week in four where you actually get faster and fresher as the week goes on. The week where your bike gets clean, and stays clean. Where you break out the fixie for fun - and where you don't cry looking at the fixie thinking about the new kinds of agony it's going to inflict on you, because, by God, you're not going to climb any hills on the damn thing. The week where you have time to actually pay your bills. The time where you can actually do your daily stretching routine at night without being so tired that you pass out on the floor.
Rest week.
It's the best thing since lightly chilled Accelerade.
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