Water Bottles: I'm Twentysick.

* Michael Ball says the Tour of Georgia agreed to let Rock Racing compete on one condition: "conduct yourselves in a manner that doesn't freak us out." Ball seems a little surprised by this, but what I think he fails to grasp is he could get away with a lot of the flamboyance, have a blast, and given his marketing prowess could perhaps build a team that makes pro cycling its (richer and ultimately happier) bitch, like what Al Davis and the Oakland Raiders did for the NFL, back before Al Davis went insane. Ball would be embraced by pro cycling and by the grassroots of the sport, racing amateurs, touring riders, hard core commuters - people who actually follow the sport, and would attract the casual riders/casual Armstrong fans. They would embrace a team if it had an interesting mix of top riders and was interesting as a team, that is capable of doing some excellent thigns. Who knows, maybe the combination of heavy metal, profligate displays of hot girls, bike racing and mild lunacy (versus the current jackassery) could even make roadracing a mainstream sport in the U.S. Last time I checked, we're still looking for a 7th national sport (behind NASCAR, Hockey, and Pro Wrasslin'). Ball could be a beloved figure and maybe a billionaire instead of a millionaire. And all he has to do is turn the freakout factor from its current level of 11, to about 9.5. It's there for the taking; like the Tour de Georgia organizers told him, he just has to stop doing things to intentionally freak everybody out. He can still be a little crazy, but he has to lay off the "I'm so crazy I just might jeopardize your business" crazy.

* CNN News talent Richard Quest was busted the other day in NYC's Central Park with methamphetamine "n his pocket, a rope around his neck that was tied to his genitals, and a sex toy in his boot. It wasn't immediately clear what the rope was for. . ." Who hasn't been caught in exactly that predicament? According to the NY Post, which only reports on serious news such as "Headless Body in Topless Bar," "the officer at the scene was able to ID the drug because of his prior experience as a police officer in drug arrests, observation of packaging which is characteristic of this type of drug, and defendant's statements that . . . 'I've got some meth in my pocket'. " I predict Mr. Quest's attorney is going to have a rough time getting that evidence suppressed.

* It was a day of firsts.

• The first long L2 ride of the year to occur in thoroughly pleasant weather. It was 47 at ride start, 67 at ride finish, just a lovely, long ride in temperate weather. I literally *never* broke a sweat, nor did I stop pedaling for the entire ride, taking off the arm and knee warmers on the fly.
• It was the first time my son has ever thrown up all over the livingroom. He had a bad stomach and sore throat, and just blew a huge load of grapes (literally, no metaphor there) all over the carpet. Purple grape stains are fun to get out of a (formerly) cream colored carpet, let me tell you. I told him to think about throwing up on the dog next time, since the dog is easier to clean. Later on, when I asked him if he felt better, he said he was still sick. "How sick?" I asked. "Twenty Sick" he said. He said if he felt good he'd be "Zero Sick." So I guess 20-sick is about as bad as it gets.
• It was the first fresh corn-on-the-cob of the season. It wasn't local-local corn and 3 hours removed from the stalk, but it was locally grown enough, and fresh enough, to be exceedingly tasty. The real big day comes around late June to early July, depending on the weather, and that day is the First Locally Grown Corn of the Year Day. We're talking about exquisite tasting corn when that happens. But that's merely gravy, the champagne of corn-on-the-cob. For now I'm happy just having fresh corn again.

* Boring-ass of interest to nobody but me training note: toward the end of the morning's long aerobic spin I spotted a couple triathletes about 600 yards ahead, and spun up to them as we approached the nasty three-tiered St. George Barber Road hill. It's always weird coming up on unfamiliar riders as you hit a hill or some other geographic feature that is a natural test of strength on any group ride. What do you do - lag back to try to avoid the inevitable biggest schwantz contest? Ask to sit in with them and match their pace, whatever they go? Try to blow by them? I decided to rationalize what followed - which was either Roadie Cool or perhaps BikeTrailGuy Pathleticism - with the excuse that it never hurts to open up the legs for a few minutes. So I kept the same cadence and gear, held my pace, spun up to them, said hello, and at the bottom of the hill never bothered to shift out of the big ring. I just stayed there and mashed like a sonovabitch, grinding up the hill. Eventually I downshifted a little but kept moving pretty fast, doing a short standing effort at the 20%+ grade section, but otherwise just grinding along seated the rest of the way. Ahhhhh... instant extended 700 watt effort. The result? Other than searing leg pain at the top of the hill, a 2-3 minute climb consisting of three separate pitches, there was no result. What, you're waiting to hear how I embarassed myself, blew up, and got passed by two guys in sleeveless jerseys? Nah. Didn't happen. The triathletes were long gone by the time I cleared the top. I sort of forgot about it until I downloaded the Powertap and checked out my power chart, and saw this incongruous "Python Eats a Whole Pig" bulge in the power chart.

Today's Power Chart: Suspiciously Lumpy

Turns out that I set a new personal best for mean maximal power for everything from 50 seconds, up to about 2:30. Totally blew out the old power curve. It seems like the enormous hole in my VO2max Power:Weight ratio is slowly being filled in with a composite made of pain and sweat. My VO2 P:W is still sucky, but it's no longer the anomalous hole in my otherwise fair-all-arounder/strong sprint power profile. This is thrilling to me (and nobody else) because I've been worrying about that enormous gap in my fitness for a solid year, it's been bugging me because that limiter (along with being a fat bastard) was hurting me in cross races with repetitive climbs last year. At Granogue, for instance, I blew up *each lap* roughly 25 yards before the tower, just totally lost gas at the tail end of the two minute climb, and lost maybe 2 spots per lap. Maybe this signals I'll be over the hill before blowing up this year. Then again, maybe I'll get to like, 10 yards from the top before blowing up on each lap. We'll see.