Shoot 'em up.

No firestone for me. Can't see dropping the big change for a NORBA license that I might only use once this year. Plus, I have work to do to prep for tomorrow (clearly what I am doing now).

And seeing that I was not going to be racing, I went ahead and drank a few last night. Part of that, though, was fueled by talking to some grad students about mess of a program that I am trying to land a permanent position in. What a quandry. The progam is a wreck, so why would I want to be part of it? However, I see what it might be, and I want to fix it. Unforturnately, those who are driving the train off the cliff are making the hiring decisions. Oh, gotta love the academy. Might have to exit to the real world soon.

Anyway, back to riding. The first option got called off. Some excuse by Gavin about a client or something or another. Option 2, standard Sunday dirt ride. When I get there, it is only Dean waiting. Good enough. Dean has not been riding that much, so he will match my lazy, hangover (or at least feeling slow) state of mind. Up shooters, down Botanicala and Morning Glory. Good enough for me. And again, here's what the toy said I did.

Going up shooters feels a bit slow, but by golly, Dean is really slow. No problem, though, seeing that i do enjoy the quiet time atop the hill looking out hte Chorro Valley and down the coast. Dean's pace was a function of his back tightening up. After a little thought, he decides to ride it out over to Botanical at least.

Nothing too eventful coming down. I really do need to change out the pads, though, cuz things are getting a little sketchy in the braking dept.

So, race free weekend. Kinda nice. It will be Cat scratch fever next week. But in the mean time, gotta work. Social Equity lecture at 8am, experimental design at noon, and watch them take an exam at 6, so I only have to decide what questions to toss at them. Maybe a little Madison's federalists 10, seperation of power v. parlaimentary system.

Up and Down Old Creek

Took the new toy up Old Creek today. Click here

Come to think about, I've only gone up that central coast classic twice since I've been back. Hmm?

Anyway, me and my Berry boys Gavin and Ben, along with Geoff and Joel hit the road up the coast.

A lot of tinkering around today. Geoff got his new ride and was trying to find the G-spot.

Over Whale Rock, no real effort. No big. But in the valley before the climb, I start to pick it up. Some old, same old. What I can't remember, though, is the starting point of the climb (for measurement purposes that is). I pick a point, but think that it is earlier than usual. Oh well, I want to establish a standard for the toy. Click the lap button and go.

Going up, I don't feel great, don't feel bad, just grunt. A couple started up the road, and I pick the one off half way up, and the next after the hairpin. He had the gall to say "good job." Of course, I am such a snob to think that was a gallish thing to say. Anyway, grunt away. Over the top, I give it a dig to keep up with my new goal, never slow down over the top. The speed must increase all the way over.

11:44 for the two miles. I seem to think that the distance was 1.8, and that I used to be able to crack 11. If the distance is 1.8, then I'm not far off the good ol days, even though it did not feel like it.

Now, the descent. Used to be my favorite, and have certainly gone down it in the past at a rediculous speed. A bit more reserved today, but a good clip anyway. Hit 50, which is darned fast for the narrow, twisty number.

Dig it over the back side of Whale Rock, and make the boys chase into Cayucous. Unfortunately, they are not up for keeping it up. The Payne man stops to adjust a slipping carbon on carbon post, and then we meander through MB. A little dig over the golf course, and even an effort on the col de Turri, but it is tame. Even the kick ass LOVR tailwind does not get the boys excited. Okay, Joel is over that silly stuff, Gavin has moving pains, and I don't know why I could not get anyone else excited. Oh well.

A little coffee time, and the day is done. And, clearly I'm back in the racing mode, cuz I'm thinking that there was not enough hurt on hte ride. What is wrong with me?

Double dose and a new toy

Tuesday, so we all know what that means, mini noon race/not race.

First, I'll admit it, I am scared by tri guys. Especially when they wear something that looks like a valley gal with hang over between the singlet and shorts. Oh my, fashion faux pas. Anyway, a tri guy shows up, and a few others that made me feel a bit elitist. Oh well, time to ride, and ride hard.

The rotating on the way out was a bit disorganized. To be expected. However, tri guy was not so bad, but I could not get over the flesh squeezing out between his top and bottom. Stretch marks and all.

Going up to the Col de Turri, it happens again, they sit on me before the bump. And again, most of them will be adios. Over the kicker, the kid hits it again. Ken tries to get him, but he remembers he likes the flats. He and I go over togther and catch the kid.

Kick ass tailwind today on LOVR means that it will be high speed boogie time. When the kid pulls off, I do the subtle dig to make life a little difficult for him to get back on. Apparently this puts the hurt on Ken a bit. I knock it hard coming home and feel pretty good. Sure, I let them have the sprint, but I put in some good pulls making some hurt. Good stuff.

Now, Kenny and all who rode the TOC got a little Garmin toy. He does not want it, and I don't need it, but want it. So, I drop him some change and take it home. So, I must check it out, and take up ol' Sterl McB. on his Tuesday evening mt ride (after all, I might be doing a mt bike race this weekend for some idiot reason). Anyway, hit Madonna (really is Cerro San Luis) with Sterl and Brian. For a look (those who might be interested), click here. Gotta love new toys.

No Diesel, No Nitrous

Wente RR. Up and down, get blow around. Oh yeah, burr, cold.

All started out well. Try to sit back, don't blow yourself early, that's the plan. Phipps should be hitting it on the climb, but there is no way he is going it alone. Way too windy.

On the second lap, Copperopolis again. I drop my chain after passing over 580. No power, and I come to a dead stop mid pack (I think I now fixed it, though I should have taken care of it earlier (not quite fixed, but now shifts back on without having to stop)). I put my hand up, but can't help but feeling like the idiot for the midpack dismount. I keep it calm and get it on, but now it is time to get back on.

Slow and steady, I claw them back, but now I am in the back, and it takes most of the lap to get up front without violating the centerline. And when I get up there, something is gone. Oh no, here it comes again, urge to chase.

Of course, all the right teams (wrong from my persepective) are represented. I keep the pace up an bit, but not full throttle, cuz I don't want to get spanked by the counter. HK reminds me of my tendency to help others at the expense of helping me, and I slip back. But on the little bump on the back side, a split happens, and I am now in a chasing group. Game on. We catch the group at the old start finish line, and I look to protect my nose from the wind.

Penultimate finish climb, and I make rookie error in my positioning. I'm toward the back. As the line stretches, I snap. Sleepless week. Damn academy. Can't ride on Wednesdays hurting my training. Dam academy. One more time, damn academy.

Well, I see the lead group go, game over. Oh well, ride hard with my fellow stragglers and get a workout. We claw back half of the deficit by the final climb, but as I said above, game over.

Afterwards there's time for a mini lap with HK. He knows where he is going, but stops to ask an attractive course worker directions. Dirty ol' man. While going through the post race analysis, I start to bonk. That must be what that gooey stuff and bars in my back pockets were for. But wait, they were hidden under the vest I was wearing, no wonder I forgot to fuel. Stress too. Damn academy.

Maybe I'll do the get dirty thing next weekend.

Carrots

It's Tuesday again, which must mean lunch time is suffer time.

Heading out, in fact, kinda realized that I should have been eating lunch instead of expending calories that I seemed to be low on. Too stressed to remember to eat, I guess.

Heading out, rotating peacefully, Kenny boy decides that he does not like the organization of things and lets a few rip. This makes for a quaint group of 7 rotating out to MB. Mui Bueno. Better workout, and a bit safer.

On the Turri flats, me and the new young speed demon find ourself off the front. Maybe, then, he will take a turn going up. But wait, Ken and a few others come up and roll through. I can't wait, though. Hill, me push, uhg. But today, the kid has more kick, or I have less. He gaps well, and good ol' Frankie M gets me a bit too. Pretty sure that I did not put myself in full pain. Just did not feel it.

Going over, the kid lets it rip and me and Frankie hook up. After chasing him all the way down LOVR, I'm making the prediction that he'll come back from Lawrence KS with something. Maybe even some stars and stripes. I put some serious digs in, but we could not get him back. The three behind could not get us, so I figure that it we were not piddling about.

Of course, Ken decided to sit out the chase. Things would have been different. And C. Black notes that if I would have dropped back, we would have caught the kid. However, it is a traing ride. It's not about tactics, those you can do on a chalk board, it is about pushing your limits. And boy, that boy made me push my limit. So close. Oh so close.

Six Hours in a Car for 40 Minutes of Racing, Not Today

I thought that I would have some team mates to hitch a ride to SC, but no go. So, as much as I wanted to do the SC Classic, I could not convince myself that a solo drive up and back was worth it. I went to bed thinking that maybe I would, but I forgot to set the alarm clock (intentional maybe), so that answered that quesiton. Had my coffee, watched the Gran Prix of Bahrain (it's turning out to be a good year in f1 even without King Schumi), and walked the little one.

Road ride or standard Sunday dirt session? Screw the skinnies.

So, it was the trails today. Probably got more of a workout than a short crit. Hit it hard on shooters, rolling especially hard over the top, giving me a good hill workout and plenty of time to enjoy the view and watch Sterl and the rest of the group come up.



Then hit the bumps on TV tower road hard as well.

On the way down Pick 'n Shovel, La Trinidad and Dairy Creek, it was full shake and bake heading down. Lost a bit of an edge going over the rocks, spending too much time on the skinnies the last few weeks, but it was still eye-watering pace down Dairy Creek.

And since Dean took a shortcut, he made for a nice carrot on Hiway 1, putting me into chase mode for a couple k.

I have to say, that I kinda wish I was hitting that climb up 3rd street in SC, but it will be there next year. Maybe I will too.

Corkscrewed

Is it in my head, or is it not in my legs? I could get me self up the steep part of the pitch on the Laguna Seca circuit no problem. And when Pizza man Phipps kept on popping it, and I'd hop on no prob, except for when it flattened out over the top. Ouch city.

I let him go, though, once, thinking that he might wear himself out a bit. Okay, that kinda worked. Let him out there for two laps, then hit it on the bottom of the climb and pulled the TGIF guy and Alaska man up the steep pitch, but then TGIF guy weezed by me with Alaska man in tow. Dig, no dig. They're gone down the screw and I'm a lonely boy.

Wait. Did I let that happen? Argh!

How embarrassing. Like a damned broken record. Me lacking the kick. Kinda makes for the irony for my handle. Don't let the kids call me doc, and don't got the kick of the nos.

Alright, so sit back and see of they can be brought back, but you know it ain't so. Save some juice, then, and give 'em the slip on the final pop up. Bell rings, bell hill, ring their bells. I gave my group the slip, and it looked good. I also realized that since I had more of a kick on the bottom of the steep, than over the top that I should have worked that in earlier. Too late now, need top five.

Get down the hill, then crank up the hill by the pits and it's still looking good, even though it is not feeling good. Going by the pits, they are chasing, but I should get it. Pain, pain, pain around the final bend, but that gap has not yet succumbed to my pain. Coming over the line blue and red streaks by on my left and I get nipped for fourth. Who cares, I get 5th. Race paid for. And, at the tummy eater classic, it's good for a podium stop and a medal. Nothing more.

Of course, for the big money entry fee you pay, you get the serious pro organization. Only had to wait 2.5 hours to get a kiss and a medal.

Race fee $55
Top five team pays

Gas ~$30
~$30 worth of Cytomax stuff

Run into Gilles at the Time booth
New pair of mtb pedals

So, it looks like my return to the tummy eater (it was not the classic the first time I did it since it was the first time they put it on) was a profitable one. Even got some interval training in.

Wax On, Wax Off, Wax on, Ken Off

Well, today is Tuesday, so we must be doing the Tuesday noon race/not race. The ride I always dred showing up to, and wish I could just convince the guys to go slow, even though I always end up being a full-fledged participant in the painfest.

Well, today I have a new focus. Olaf offered some training advice, and I'm pretty sure that he is trying to keep my in diesel mode throughout the year. So today, I was committed to do some efforts before the ride, and do some sprinting and attacking during the ride. Especially after last week when I did the traditional long pull up the cote de Turri just to be outsprinted by the new hot pair of legs in SLO, and Kenny, who subsequetnly left me in never never land over the top. But that was last week. Things will be different.

Same ol' song and dance going out. Rotate, then ask yourself how much is it worth to risk your skin for the Morro Bay sprint. Not much. The real stuff was to come.

Get on Turri, and low and behold, I find myself in front heading up to the hill. No one ever seems to want to pull through. Always thinking that they will get a free ride, but they usually just get left behind anyway. So, no biggie. I put in the push up the steps. Save a bit, your gonna sprint for that KOM today, even if you pull 'em up the hill. Keeping the pace high, there were no early attacks, just the sound of a weezing and grunting C. Black fading away. Sounds naughty, but it seems to work for him. Hit the sharp bend, and wind it up. Where are they, the boy in yellow, and the boy in red? Yellow makes his move, and instead of keeping it steady, I dig more. He gets a length, but I lock on and make the tires, and my legs and lungs, scream. I don't get the KOM, but I'm on his wheel, and I'm ready to make him hurt on the tailwind fest home. Just you wait, boy.

But wait, where's the boy in red? Tired from the US Open and his kickass top 20 finish? No, the word is that boys are down down the hill. The kid asks me do we go on or turn around? It's just a training ride, we don't leave any men behind. Back down the hill, Ken, Blake and Black are inspecting their bikes and limbs. Everything looks good, in that it does not appear that 911 needs to be dialed, but the thrill is gone.

Ken's chain hopped the track, down off the front chainring, when he stood up to accelerate up the pitch. Thankfully no one was really hurt. And the bikes looked alright as well. Eric, and Blake dog piled Ken, who apparently makes for a soft landing. Ken, though developed a bit of a derailleur problem. At least he's got the pro sponsorship.

Anyway, while the wind was still whipping down LOVR, begging for a full speed boogie in high gear, the wind is out of the sails of the key playas. Soft shoeing is the name of the game for most of LOVR.

But wait, this is exactly what Olaf is hoping for. Long, slow and steady. Must push it, even if I do it in my diesel way. Over the top, I go 11. Bye bye, y'all, full tilt boogie time. I'm alone, but that's fine, training can be a lonely game.

Not quite was I was hoping for, getting reading for the tummy eater classic. But at least my skin is intact, and I pushed myself a bit harder over the hill, even finding some motivation to put in the solo dig down LOVR. I really do need to get top five on Friday so I can get the mini fortune I paid to race down the corkscrew 15 or so times this Friday.

Why does it feel so good to hurt so much?

Hats off to the survivors of the 07 edition of Copperopolis.

Good stuff.

Hats off to Hernando and his boys. Once again, showing us how it is done*.

Hats off to the AMD Geezers. Nice dig on the last lap. Sorry I could not help more.

Hats off to the Buddy Holly Biker. Come to think of it, it was the acronym themed chases today. Second lap, EMC, third AMD.

Hats off to that big buy in the white green and yellow kit. How you got your big lump up over the hump and still had the juice to chase...well that's some serious torque.

HK, bummer for the mechanicals. You would have been a valuable asset, saving me from my own desire to get up front and chase myself into oblivion.

Bummer for Hutch, too, taken out by a mechanical. Surely you would have been a playa today.

Now, I think that it might be time for a new nick name, cuz clearly I don't do it justice. Sure, I could motor, but no jump. Doesn't nitrous give you a quick burst? If I have that, I did not have it today. Maybe cuz I dropped my chain on the second lap, and used it catching back up on the back climb. Maybe cuz I had an off day. Or maybe, just maybe, I don't have a jump. Does this mean that I have to start doing intervals if I want to keep the name? Might be easier to give it up. HK, got any ideas?

Anyway, the race was the real deal. I thought that there would be more attrition, but there was some serious depth in the pack. The speed was kept up on the flat land, making difficult to have energy to launch an attack on the climbs. And the descent. Oy. I'm still getting used to the whole gravity thing again after living in the flat lands too long. Damn you Texas and Kansas (for serveral other reasons, also, than being just being flat). Plus, it took me a while to figure out that new smell. The smell of carbon wheel pads. Kinda freaked me out.

*However, at the risk of being flamed (assuming anyone reads this), it's poor etiquette to interfer with a chase, even when your guys are up the road. Sit back, and enjoy the free ride. If they are brought back, then use the fresh legs to counter attack.

Jan's Juice Bag and Cycling's Prisoner's Dilemma

It ain't no sloppy lab work.

It ain't no French conspiracy.

One of cycling's strongest is exposed. Fuentes had a bag marked Jan, and low and behold that Jan was the 97’ TDF winner.

I do think that Jan was one of the most naturally talented cyclists in we've seen in years, if not lacking a bit in the discipline area. But he was caught in the prisoner’s dilemma that has had a stranglehold the pro peleton forever. I think that it was Hinault that said that drugs don’t turn ponies into race horses, and I think that he is right. But the horses don’t trust each other, so they feel the need to get jacked up on the juice. If they could trust each other, everybody would be better off racing clean. No wasting money paying slimy docs. No risking their health taking suspect drugs. No tarnishing of the beautiful sport.

Of course, they would have to contend with more horses. The ones who did not want to enter the Kentucky Derby cuz they knew it was rigged and they did not want the pressure. I’ve known a few, and that the biggest shame of the whole process.

So, easy to gripe about this. I’m saying nothing new. So here’s the solution to cycling’s prisoner’s dilemma (along with every other sport): Amnesty. I’m not saying let em dope. I’m saying come clean and tell all. Everything. Much like the Truth and Reconciliation courts in South Africa. Uncover the networks and methods. Even let those on suspension come clean and back in. Of course, they would have to agree to the kind of testing that Slipstream is doing. But if they start clean, the physiological profiles will tell all.

I can’t think that there is one cyclist in the peleton that would rather be on the juice. Make it easy for them to give it up.

I Was On Top of SLO County, or No I Did Not Race

So, now that I've done a couple of races, I guess that is all I'm good for.

"Nick, are you racing this weekend?" "Nick, where did you race this weekend?" said time and time again. Regardless of me saying time and time again that I was celebrating my friend's b-day out in the middle of now where, without any race numbers, primes, sprints, etc.

However, it might have been easier on my body if I went racing. The belgium beers do a number on you, especially when you starting drinking at 4.

Ah well, even though I woke up with a sore back (thermarest was not that restful), woozey head, and a stomache that was a bit in a knot, it was worth it. Dry out there at Carizzo Plains, no wild flowers, and fairly boring technical wise ride up and down to and from Caliente Peak, but still pretty majestic views down on the valleys (picture coming). And good company.

Back in the class in a few hours.

Back on bike Tuesday.

And for those asking, "yes, I will race this weekend at Copperopolis."