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.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Sunday, April 15, 2007
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.
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.
Friday, April 13, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
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.
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.
Saturday, April 7, 2007
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
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.
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.
Sunday, April 1, 2007
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."
"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."
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