The Uphill Battle: Cycling

Doze, yo.

Tue, 23 Oct 2007 01:43:44 GMT

I wrote an article for work recently about sleep. I don't think they plan on using it—there's a conflict of interests that I was fully aware of when I wrote it. Maybe I'll submit it somewhere else. In the mean time, you get the athletic short end of it.

Face the facts, as athletes, sleep matters. It can make a huge difference between your recovery and feeling like absolute garbage. Sleep, you may be aware, is the time your body uses to restore and repair muscle tissue damaged during training or racing—the micro-tears caused through the inflammation process in your body when you work out. Sleep is the time when your body releases natural HGH. Sleep is how you get stronger.

So how do you capitalize on it? In order to answer that question, I must first do some esplaining: Ahem, sleep is managed by two body systems—your homeostatic system and your circadian rhythm. I wish I was still in contact with Botched, 'cuz he was actually doing some really fascinating research on the circadian rhythm when he was finishing his PhD. Yeah, my job sounded pretty pathetic compared to his.

Anyway, the homeostatic part of your body's sleep system revolves, as far as we know, around a substance in our bodies called adenosine. You may recognize that from the term "adenosine triphosphate," our basic unit of cellular energy along with its companion adenosine diphosphate, depending on the energy system at work. In your brain, however, adenosine functions as a soporific agent that causes you to sleep. When you wake in the morning, your adenosine levels have usually been cleared from your blood during the night. During the day, adenosine accumumlates, slowly making you more and more tired until nighttime when you lay down and do some shleeping. Then you wake back up and start all over again.

Then there's your circadian rhythm. As I understand it, your circadian rhythm is extremely sensitive to light. It also sticks pretty closely to a set schedule. Like I said, if Botched were still around (and if you are still reading, Botched, feel free to weigh in on this with your PhD intelligent-ness) then he could shed some greater light on the subject. But for now, we're going to stick with the facts I do know.

Okay, so how do you take advantage of your newfound sleep knowledge? Like this:

1. Sleep on a regular schedule. Sounds easy enough, right? What about on Saturday mornings when you get to sleep in? Yeah, stick to your schedule. Sundays? Stick to the schedule. Holidays? Schedule. 'Nuf said.

2. Avoid caffeinated beverages, foods, etc. Caffeine is an adenosine inhibitor (Botched, again, if you're reading, do you recognize that term?), which means basically that it resists adenosine in your body. "That's great!" you say, thinking that it's nice to get your cup of jo in the mornings. Okay, here's the problem with it: caffeine has a half-life in your body of about 3–7 hours. That means it could be 18-35 hours before you get your cup of jo out of your system. Even then, one of caffeine's metabolites is theobromine, which is also an adenosine antagonist, meaning it also inhibits your ability to sleep.

3. Use light to your advantage. Your circadian rhythm is sensitive to light, remember? So when it's time to go to sleep, turn the lights all off. Make it as dark as it can get. Then when you wake up in the morning, don't grope in the dark, turn the lights on and wake your body up. Make the contrast more severe and it will bode well for your circadian rhythm.

4. Milk. As I understand it, tryptophan really does cause some release of some neurotransmitter that makes you feel sleepy. So how do you get tryptophan in your system? I've heard it's in turkey, but who wants to eat a bunch of turkey chunks before sleep? No one I know. Milk has tryptophan in trace amounts. How much tryptophan do you need? I dunno, maybe only the amount available in milk. Even if it isn't enough tryptophan, milk is a base and will suppress acids that would otherwise cause acid reflux, heartburn, whatever ails ya. And the protein, saturated fat, lactose, etc. will be useful for your body during the sleep-recovery process. Got milk?

5. This goes without saying, but be a little more active. Greater activity levels are associated with higher adenosine in your blood. So if you're more active during the day, you should be more tired at night. I suppose if the rest of this doesn't work, you can try taking a nap early in the day (perhaps during a coffee break in which you are no longer drinking coffee?).

These are my ideas. Take 'em or leave 'em. But really, my one-year-old can testify to the effectiveness of most of these techniques (though she's never really had a coffee addiction—probably never will), of course, she also needs to learn how to talk first. How 'bout y'all—any sleep ideas? Thoughts on the subject?

The Magic Key to Saving Our Sport(s)

Thu, 27 Sep 2007 21:39:00 GMT

Even after all of these years, some folks haven't figured it out. I'm not even sure Lance himself has it pegged. Either that, or he just doesn't care—but I find that hard to swallow too.

Welcome to Marketing 101, where we're going to have a little (one-sided) discussion about why cycling gained so much popularity over the past seven years. Think about this in your own head: Why did cycling suddenly make such big gains? I can see the wheels turning in your head already.

"Ethical appeal," you say, "Lance was promoting it, and he's a very persuasive guy."

I don't think Lance is even that cocky. It wasn't ethical appeal in the traditional sense. Okay, we'll go half points on that answer, because it sort of was, too.

But the real question is, Why did everybody latch on to Lance so much? And the answer to that is, they identified with him. See, it wasn't Lance's race results that caught everyone's eye, it was his personality. He came out with a widely read book (yes, some people in North America still read) describing this childhood that most men in the United States can identify with (abandoned by his father, consumed by recklessness—does that resonate with anybody?), then he proceeded to win consistently. But it wasn't his winning that caught everyone's eye; it was his humanity, his personality. People started talking about him—this American white guy who was out winning a European sport, kicking everybody's butt after he had cancer, someone who persevered despite having some daunting obstacles in his way, someone who could tap into the deepest realm of his physical abilities to make things happen at just the right times.

People related to the guy. Bottom line.

So how do you rescue cycling now? More exciting commentary? Shinier Dura-Ace components? Less modest podium girls?

Nope. The only way to do it is to help people connect with the riders. That's tough to do when all of your riders are poking themselves with needles filled with erythropoeitin and testosterone during the night before a race. Nonetheless, even the dopers haven't had too hard a time drawing an audience—as long as the spectators can relate to them. I've already written plenty about the phenomenon of undying support for Marco Pantani in Italy despite the fact that he almost undoubtedly doped.

Here's my suggestion for the cycling industry folks: get the microphones in a little closer. Tell us a little more about the riders. We heard all of these things about Levi Leipheimer during this past Tour, but they were all the standard recycled facts—he's from Montana, he's lived in California and Utah, he worked hard on his TT position over the winter. None of that stuff reveals anything about Levi the person. Is he married? What has his greatest triumph been in cycling so far? How about his greatest disappointment? How did those things affect him as a person? What motivates him? What does he think about while he's riding out there? Why did he take it so conservatively for the first 2/3 of the Tour?

Cycling, in my opinion, does a terrible job of telling us enough about the riders' personalities.

Just suppose for a second that you're having a conversation with someone about the Tour, that Michael Rasmussen is still leading, and that you want to peak your conversation-partner's interest. Are you going to tell them:

A) Michael Rasmussen was a world champion mountain biker who won the polka-dot jersey for the best climber twice before this year's Tour

B) Michael Rasmussen can climb a mountain above 1700 VAM (I don't know if this is actually true), which is meaningful to people who read Cyclingnews.com all the time

or

C) Michael Rasmussen's nickname is Chicken. While it was suspected that he gained that nickname for his scrawny white chicken legs, it was actually because his roommates were watching some Danish cartoon about a cow and a chicken back in the day when he walked into the room. They all looked at each other, said, "Chicken" at the same time, and busted up laughing because of how funny it was at the time.

or even

D) Rasmussen crashed a half dozen times during the final time trial of the 2005 Tour de France, dropping from third place to about seventh (I think). Since then, he dedicated himself to conquering the world of the wind tunnel.

Which one do you find most interesting?

It doesn't have to be that personality stuff. The difference could be made simply by getting the microphone in close enough to hear a rider gasping for breath as he cranks his way up a mountainside in the Tour de France. It could be just getting a close up of his face as he winces with pain, sweating rolling off the tip of his nose, before getting out of the saddle and charging for the summit. Whatever it is, it needs to help the spectator connect with the competitor, and I'll admit that's risky in a world where you don't know if your rider is pumped full of human growth hormone or not.

Take a page from another sport for a moment:

Triathlon's golden moment came in the early '80s when Julie Moss finished second in the Ironman World Championship. Yes, you read that correctly, she finished second. Ask any triathlete what the name of the first-placed finisher was that year—they won't be able to tell you. Here's why:

Julie Moss was just a normal person, a student doing the Ironman as part of a fitness project. She'd been leading the women's race for most of the race. It looked like she had a clear shot to victory as she came within sight of the finish. And that's when her legs gave out. Like, as in, gave OUT. She hit the pavement, rested for a half second and then got back up and started running again. Only a few seconds later, she hit the pavement again—and this time she wasn't getting back up. Instead, she started crawling to the finish line. And I don't mean bear crawling; I mean hands-and-knees crawling. She was finished, but she refused to give in. In the last few meters before the finish line, another competitor finally caught and passed her.

It's now known as one of the greatest moments in sports history.

So who do you introduce to the audience next? Whoever's in front of the race. Take a risk, talk about your movers. If they turn out to be dopers, well, them's the breaks. C'mon people, we have a sport to save.

What a weekend

Tue, 18 Sep 2007 17:22:15 GMT

My Saturday morning was again occupied with a mountain bike excursion to Kelly Canyon. We took some different routes than we were used to, which made things a little more interesting. After about two hours in the saddle, I turned to my bro-in-law and said, "To be honest, I don't have a clue where we are right now."

The trees around us were tall enough that we couldn't see anything in the way of landmarks. My bro-in-law said he figured we were probably headed in the right direction, so we just kept going.

"Heck," I joked, "you've probably seen enough Man Vs. Wild episodes to keep us alive right?"

Eventually we found what looked like a main road (it had gravel), so we started following it. When some people on ATVs drove past, I flagged them down and asked for directions.

"This is the way to the ski hill right?" I asked.

"The ski hill? No, man, you're a few miles from Rexburg."

That meant we were at least five miles off course and headed in precisely the wrong direction.

"Oh, I s'pose we'll turn around then."

It would probably be less embarrassing if I just kept the story to myself, but what's a blog for anyway? Besides, I figure you have to get lost on a bike once in a while or you're just not doing it right.

It ended up only being a two-and-a-half hour ride, so that wasn't too bad. Still, we were a touch nervous there for a minute.

I wish I could tell you the rest of my weekend went well, but that just wouldn't be true. Sunday, I had this enormous gut ache that left me napping on the couch for most of the afternoon. Monday night I woke up scratching and itching all over my body. I went into the restroom, took off my shirt and turned on the light to see large patches of puffy red skin underneath. My initial thought was that I'd had a bug biting me in bed, so I took a shower (at 3 a.m.) and then woke up my wife to ask her if she'd been itching too. When she said 'no,' I became a little concerned.

"Look at this, honey." She came into the restroom with me and saw my red skin.

"Those aren't bug bites," she told me. "That's some kind of rash or something."

I had hives—the worst I'd ever had them.

Monday, when I got up for work, the itching was still there and the stomach pain was back. I felt like curling over into a little ball and puking, but I went to work nonetheless. I lasted until about noon.

By now, I'd more or less figured it out, but a visit to the doctor gave me the opportunity to get a prescription medication to help with the issue. Sure enough, the doctor agreed: "You've had an allergic reaction to something you ate." We tried to brainstorm a list of foods I'd eaten just before I broke out, but we couldn't seem to figure it out. And I still don't really know.

One way or another, it's made for an interesting start to the week.

Some sort of Homecoming

Thu, 14 Jun 2007 06:08:01 GMT

Yep, that's right, my wife ditched me--despite the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth removed on Friday. Something about a family reunion, I dunno.

So I came home to an empty house after work today with just one thought: time to ride! I hadn't done a half century since early last year, and the road bike was itchin' for it. Never mind that it's the most beautiful season for this area.

So I loaded everything up, including a Camelbak (yes, I know it's dorky when roadies use Camelbaks, but I took my bottle cage off and didn't feel like putting it back on), a seatbag, and my jersey pockets. I was set for the long haul.

The most demanding half century in the area is a little something I refer to as the 'END OF THE WORLD,' which I thought appropriate given my dire circumstances. END OF THE WORLD goes out as far as the pavement will take it into the Big Hole Mountains--home of Kelly Canyon and much mountain biking--then you go back to the dry farms, again, as far as the pavement goes; then out for a loop near Newdale, Idaho, through Sugar City and back up onto the 'Bench.' The scenic stuff all comes at the beginning, and there's no shortage of difficulty at the end. But today, I added an extra element of difficulty: I was going to aim to keep my heart rate aerobic the entire ride, a task made difficult by the fact that some of the steeper roads are along this route along with some of the rolling-est hills you'll ever cruise.

The first 30 miles felt great. It was sunny and warm, and there were plenty of irrigation ... things spraying me and the road at precisely the right time. The scenery was as I expected it would be: gorgeous. The end of the pavement at the foot of the Big Hole Mountains puts you high enough to scope out the entire valley (ask me why I neglected to bring a camera--go ahead, ask). Everything was dusky and green and the Menan Buttes held a prominent presence, overlooking miles of flatness until the Sawtooths begin on the other side of the valley--at least I think those are the Sawtooth Mountains in the distance. Correct me if I'm wrong.

My legs felt great. I knew at that intensity I wouldn't likely be running out of gas anytime on the ride--I only hoped my knees held up. A forceful wind from the south kept things interesting as I rocked and rolled my way to the other side of the half century. And that's about when the mood shifted--yeah, around mile 30.

Suddenly, instead of being fun and energetic, I felt a twinge of fatigue. Most of my rides this year have been under an hour and a half, so fatigue isn't a sensation I'm nearly as acquainted with right now. The sun was setting in the distance and taking my glycogen stores with it. By the time mile 40 rolled around, I could sense I'd need some extra pep--in the form of a Gu energy gel--to make the rest of the distance and feel good about it.

Do you ever feel there's something dramatic about your long rides? As though the credits will start rolling as you round that last corner before your house and mutter some sort of trite phrase like Bear Grylls would on the Discovery Channel-- "Right now, it's time to GO HOME" [emphasis on the extremely obvious]. I think that's what prompts me to do long rides, that feeling of melodrama at having flirted with falling apart on the roadside despite being nowhere near the extremes those RAAM guys experience; just some taste of what it might feel like to return to a home you weren't totally certain you'd see again, like after a nuclear war that fizzled into an incident at the firework stand or something. And that's what it felt like today. Not bad or good, just a little hyperbolic.

But when you think about it, 50 miles is a long way. Can you imagine walking that? Or, heaven forbid, swimming 50 miles? That's a heckuvalot of pavement passing under your tires. Even without any crazy happenings, that's an adventure--and for me it's an exhausting one.

So I came home and immediately called my wife to let her know I survived (and don't worry she didn't LEAVE me, she just left me--for a few days until I drive up to meet her at this family reunion thing), and then I went out, bought a pizza, brought it home, realized I can't eat it yet, stuck it in the fridge, and crashed.

So much for bach'in it.

Tailwinds Suck

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 03:54:33 GMT

Not even joking.

I left home with one intention today: keep at the same heart rate throughout the entire ride. It wasn't even a tough heart rate. Let me put it this way: if you were to keep that HR on a trainer, it would not be considered an intensity session.

So into the headwind I started, pushing against my old friend the wind, knowing I wouldn't be done with it for at least 45 minutes. For the only mile and a half of the course where I wasn't facing a headwind, I felt like I was flying. For the rest of the time, I felt like a chin hair dodging a razor blade. And when the turnaround came, it was blessed relief, I thought.

That is, until I looked at my heart rate monitor.

I was, once again, flying, but my HR wasn't anywhere near where it needed to be, so I ramped up the gears a little and started to crank. Forty-five minutes later, I arrived at home, my back, quads, and particularly butt felt like I'd been clenching for the entire 45 minutes. Ouch. I felt like I'd just done a squat session at the gym. And let me tell you, the hot shower I took when I got back felt SO NICE!

So here's my scientific conclusion: climbing, I think, results in more inspiratory muscle (the muscles you use to inhale) and aerobic fatigue. Hammering on the flats into headwinds and with tailwinds results in more neuromuscular fatigue in your "cycling" muscles.

Addicted (and not to tyrathlons)

Sat, 10 Mar 2007 05:54:03 GMT

So I've had this issue lately. By now, you're probably aware that I finally learned to swim this past winter and decided to do a triathlon sometime. What you probably don't know is that the triathlon I've chosen is coming up awfully soon, and that I'm starting to dread it a little bit. Why? Well, because of my 'issue.' See, I know that, as a cyclist, I'm probably in better riding shape than most triathletes and that if I really want to survive this thing with flying colors I need to run and swim a little more. Herein lies the problem:

I LIKE RIDING A BIKE TOO MUCH!

Can you relate? I think to myself, "Oh, I should probably go pound out a few miles on the pavement" or "The pool's only open for a few hours tonight, I'd better get some swim time in." But then I come home from work, and on my way home from work I notice that the weather conditions have been awfully favorable lately.

"Certainly," I tell myself, "it's still too early in the season for riding the road bike outdoors."

But then I take a drive down the road from my house to the only spot on my favorite bike course where I might run into trouble, and I notice that it's not all that bad right now.

While it takes me 20 pathetic minutes to find all of the stuff I need (and I still didn't find that second arm warmer on time), it's not long before I'm out cranking out a short time trial on the Archer Highway. And it's not long before the locals are welcoming me back ... by honking and clenching their fists as they pass by. Of course, I waved back with all five fingers, because I love a good Friday-afternoon time trial. And it doesn't even bother me that I'm barreling headfirst into one of the meaner headwinds I can recall on that road. And I'm not even bugged by the fact that I can't remember how to change my bike computer over to miles per hour instead of kilometers, or that I'm stuck guesstimating my speeds. Nope, I'm loving every second of it--at least until my lazy wuss body remembers how difficult it is to time trial into a headwind like that and turns me around.

But yeah, I'm pumped, y'all. I want to get this tyrannical tyrathlon finished with so I can get back in the saddle and get up that stinkin' pass a little faster. I want to hit it hard and get back into last year's fitness. I wanna ride again and stop worrying about how I'm going to clean up the stupid black rubbery stuff that's coming off my trainer's resistance flywheel as I ride.

And you know what? I think I'm going to get what I want this time.

Pass Time

Tue, 06 Mar 2007 05:00:00 GMT

When you climb Teton Pass, you come up one side of the mountain that starts out sorta shallow, but you know you're climbing because you can see the road rise up above the ground beneath you--which ground is at the same elevation where you started. After perhaps a half mile, the road starts turning and steepening. Before you know it, you've dropped off into your granny (one year I did it without touching my granny--incidentally also the year I puked at the top--and it didn't even raise my speed) and you're crawling along in the single-digit speeds.

Then you wind around the road a little more and see this--this towering mountain rising above you. Granted, the link is to a snowy tilted photo of Mount Glory, but that's the monolith waiting for you along the road on the opposite side of the valley. You get a brief relax moment as you round the corner at the end of the valley, and then it's back to the quad-burning climb.

Lately, I've had this place on my mind (actually, it's on my mind just about anytime I have spare time), and I've been thinking about my goals for this upcoming season. There's something special to be said about spending all that you have and then going a little extra, and for me, that has happened most dramatically on the Pass. Nonetheless, I got a little obsessed with my time there for a while. I don't think there's anything wrong with wanting a new PR on a particular course, but it's occurred to me that it's a little silly to expect race day to be the day when you set that PR. It's also occurred to me that I tend to perform better when I don't feel any race pressure on my back.

So what's to be done about that sort of thing? I have a funny new perspective going on in my head this year, and it goes something like this: Race times, they don't matter. Races exist for pure enjoyment, so enjoy 'em and don't worry about your time. Training times, that's where I'll achieve my goals. Think about it--if you don't meet your training goal one day, you can always shoot for it another day. Perhaps you'll even find more favorable weather conditions or something the next time you try. But if you have a rotten day during a race, you'll end up thinking you 'messed up' or that it's somehow your fault that your body just happened to pick that day to completely shut down. Why add the stress?

I have two performance goals this year: first, I want to complete a 10-mile flat time trial in less than 25 minutes, where my previous PR was about 26 and a half minutes. Next, I want to climb the Pass in less than 40 minutes where my previous record was 41:20. Last year's record came without any sort of warm up. I just spent a little time riding the Pass and the air didn't seem so thin anymore. If I don't get a new PR one Saturday, I'll probably just use some of the 200 vacation hours I have saved up to go up another time when I feel up to it and try again. Barring some catastrophe, the Pass will still be there before and after race day, as you can see from the photo, so why get all stirred up about setting a record on one day of the year? I can't think of a good reason either.

Here's a thought:

Wed, 13 Dec 2006 06:42:10 GMT

I've got to thank Jason for his comment (also for being the only one to comment lately) today, since it sparked an epiphany for today's post. (Forgive me for being so zen and the art of riding a bike-ish lately, but I'm onto a deep thought now).

Somehow, Jason's mention of accomplishments got me thinking about a completely unrelated subject: why doing a different race is so much darn fun. And, you know, my conclusion on the subject is this: (BOLDED FOR EMPHASIS) doing new races is so much darn fun because you don't have a personal record to beat--whatever you do that minute IS your personal record for that course. And that's a cool thought. At least, it is for me.

Okay, so bearing that in mind, maybe I want to switch things up a little this year. Perhaps, instead of doing the same old races I always do, I'll do a bunch that are completely different. That's not to say I won't still do the local time trial series, cuz, hey, there's a lot less time involved in that than there is in doing a three-hour group ride, but it is to say that I might not do Teton Pass this year.

I mean, what the heck, Botched might be doing the E100 50-miler the same day. Maybe I'll give that a shot. It kinda sounds like fun.

The Lotoja relay would also be something different (and something I wouldn't have to devote a whole lot of time to training for), so, for now, that one's still on the calendar. I'll have to scan the local race calendar and see what I can do.

Heck, there's even a mountain bike triathlon I've thought about trying, just for kicks. I guess the point would just be to try something different--to set my own personal record at some different races.

One mountain bike race I'd love to do (but can't because I have work obligations the same weekend) is the White Knob Challenge. I've heard it has a wicked awesome climb followed by a gnarly downhill (feel free to weigh in here, Jason, since you've actually done it). That just sounds sweet to me.

And it would be even sweeter to do all of the mtb races on this bike frame.

P.S. I don't know if it's Montezuma (or perhaps some character from the latest Mel Gibson film), but someone's getting his revenge on me. I've experienced some serious gastrointestinal distress in the past three hours. Whew, I've lost three pounds in the past couple of hours and I haven't done anything athletic in that time.

Teeter

Sat, 18 Nov 2006 23:26:54 GMT

You may recall that a few weeks ago I went to Utah and haphazardly ended up at Fatty's house, where I rode his teeter.

Yesterday, Fatty got some photos to me from the experience. I'm a little pressed for time, but I thought you might find this interesting.

Hug a Cyclist Today

Sat, 11 Nov 2006 05:12:39 GMT

It finally happened. The cutest kid on the planet (who just happens to be in a bassonet in my bedroom) finally drifted off to sleep as my wife was studying pathophysiology in the next room. I took a moment to peruse the video on Fatty's site when I was overcome with an epiphany: "Why don't I just go for a night ride?" This came with full knowledge that I would have no time to do it tomorrow morning, despite careful planning on my part.

So out into the night I rode. I left the road bike at home and took the Caloi, mounted with big, clunky BMX pedals (which I'm sure don't help my already weighty bike). To start off the night, I decided to visit some of the old routes I used to take to class when I was a college student at the campus in town. I'm sure my reflective vest caught more than a couple of weird glances as I cranked up the ol' switchbacks to the Hinckley Building--where I was a construction worker during my sophomore year. Oddly enough, the climb felt much easier on the legs than I remembered it, even when I rode up some shallow stairs instead of taking the long route (thanks to the Fall Moab crew for the inspiration).

I weaved in and out of traffic as I descended. I even spotted a group of college-age kids out on mountain bikes for a ride. Based on the observation that there was an even girl-to-guy ratio, and since they were all wearing blue jeans, I'd say it was someone's creative date idea. I'm curious as to how that one went over with the girls.

I came back up on the route I used to take home from class when I was a 4 a.m. janitor. Every morning, I'd get sprayed in the face by a sprinkler on the way down (sometimes even during the winter months), and three hours later I'd sweat and slave my way back up to my apartment to get showered and prepared for the day's classes. Tonight, it was no big deal. I started from a lower elevation and rode to a higher ending. Nonetheless, as I came to the finishing straits--a south facing uphill road filled with a gale-force wind (only slight hyperbole there)--it got a little tough.

And here's the point: just as I was really feeling it on the steepest, windiest part of the ride, I spotted a couple getting out of their car. The boy, whoever he was, said something I couldn't hear over my own panting, and then said, "JUST DON'T GIVE UP!" It was the perfect advice for the moment.

Can I just say that I love it when people do that?

When I first came to this town, you were more likely to get harassed by passing drivers in pickup trucks than you were to even get silence. Now, I get to enjoy encouragement. That either says something about the acceptance of cycling in the world today or the quality of people who live here now. I'd like to think it's the latter.

That wasn't the last hill I rode tonight, but it was the most lasting part of the ride. It reminded me of the last time I climbed Teton Pass. A motorist had gotten out of his car to overlook the pass and, as I came rolling by at the blistering pace of 7 mph, he exploded into a frenzy of cheering-- "C'MON! KEEP CRANKING! C'MON! WOOOO! CRANK IT UP!!!" He was clapping and cheering like I was his son or something.

I didn't really speed up for him because I'd already planned to take it easy on that particular part of the climb--but sometimes I wished I had. That was pretty cool of him. Nowadays, my wife thinks I'm weird because every time I see a cyclist carving it out on a tough climb or during a windy triathlon, I roll the window down and hoot and holler at him. I don't know if they all appreciate it, but I'd like to think they do.

So that's my advice this Saturday: you'll likely see a cyclist out somewhere. When you spot one who's really churning it up, roll down the window and give him a yelp of encouragement. Go on; make the world a better place.

I Hate Being a Late-Season Bloomer

Sun, 24 Sep 2006 06:00:04 GMT

I attempted a flat 10-mile time trial the other day. Now, you may recall that I did one of those back in June or so and managed to come in somewhere in the second third of the entrants. Honestly, I was pretty excited about my spot where it was at the time.

But now things have changed. I added a set of aero bars to the bike. I picked a course that, although it has no turn around, it also has no tailwind section. But those are the only major differences--and I figure they balance each other out.

So what was the result: I'm about a minute and a half faster now. Why couldn't that have been the case four months ago? I dunno, motivational issues perhaps(?). Either that, or mebbe those aeros make a bigger difference than I think.

P.S. I think I figured out how I can publish blogs from work. I'll tell you more about that later.

Cadence Against Cancer

Sat, 16 Sep 2006 22:45:08 GMT

I was cold, I was tired, and my back hurt, but getting up to go on the Cadence Against Cancer bike ride this morning really wasn't much of a sacrifice. Actually, I thought it was pretty fun excuse to pull out my old winter cycling gear. So that's what I did first thing this morning.

When I first arrived at the booth at the high school this morning, the temperature was supposedly around 37 degrees (for you celsius folk, that's probably around 2-4 degrees) with the expectation being that it would drop progressively until about noon. I was a little surprised to find myself the only cyclist at the booth at that hour (although in retrospect, who shows up for a charity bike ride 45 minutes early when the temperature's close to freezing?). I bought a t-shirt and headed off to warm up on a nearby hill.

Sure enough, when I got back most of the gang had shown up. There were a couple of guys who were doing the 25-mile ride, but most of the group was doing the 50. Of course, then someone asked me what distance I was doing. "I'm doing the 10." "How many miles are you doing [Caloi]?" "Why don't you just broadcast it to the world--I'm doing 10 measly miles while you guys are all doing 50!" I managed to get a few chuckles out of the group with that one. But that also lead me to the only other guy who was doing 10--Sam. He was on a junky looking bike (at first he came up to me and asked if I wanted to trade), and he was dressed in a hooded sweatshirt and some sweatpants, but he looked pretty cheerful. Perfect freezing-weather bike company, I figured. The two of us got lined up together while the 50-milers started off.

"I have to get this done pretty quickly--I have somewhere to be," Sam said.

"Yeah, I heard you tell the other guy--you have somewhere to be at 10 a.m.?"

"No, 9:30." Which meant we had a half hour, and we were starting a little late. "You think we can do it?"

Sure. Why not? That meant that instead of a leisurely recovery ride, we were in for a little fun. Immediately, we bolted to the front of the main group, announcing the whole way, "10-milers, coming through, watch out." Again, a few chuckles. Ahead of the main group was a small breakaway (it's not like it was a race or something) containing Jason, whom I've ridden with a bunch before, and a cat 2 racer named Rob, the president of the Idaho Cycling Enthusiasts group that was putting on the event. I figured, what the heck, why not keep up with the 'fast guys.' So we hard-charged and quickly caught and passed those two. I mean, heck, it's not like we needed to save our energy for something.

I think our passing got the egos a flarin' because the breakaway started hard-charging after us, and when I came to a point of hesitation--where the course said to turn when I was sure we were supposed to go straight--they caught up, and we blended. I'd already spent almost the entire time on the front, so I was okay with sucking the energy out of two 'fast guys' who were still in the warm up phase of their ride.

We drifted off the back as we came to the far corner of our ride--where our courses would stop overlapping. I moved off and let Sam take the front for a while into a beastly headwind. We rode about a mile in that direction until we turned final and headed back to the race point. Sam was keeping a good pace--especially when you take into account the fact that he was riding a junkier chromoly bike and was wearing some decidedly un-aerodynamic duds. Nonetheless, when it came time for me to take my pulls, which were appropriately a little longer, I'd have to let up a little and Sam would struggle to get on my wheel--especially on the backside of the course.

I left him behind just a little at the end of the ride before we got back, and then I let him know how tough he'd been. I was impressed to say the least. "Heck, on a better bike and with some slightly more aerodynamic garb, you'd have been kicking butt."

For me, the ride was just a fun reminder that I do enjoy the occasional group ride, even if it's been a while since I've been on one. Maybe I should get back into that scene sometime. I'll bet it'd be fun.

P.S. I'm suddenly realizing that none of this has anything to do with cancer or cancer research, except for the fact that our money went toward that cause. Don't go thinking I'm heartless or don't care or something, because I do. I've even had a relative die from cancer, but that wasn't really on my mind when I agreed to do the ride. I hope we make some serious progress in the field of cancer research (special thanks to our very own cancer researcher, Botched).

The Onset

Fri, 15 Sep 2006 23:54:23 GMT

As of this morning, I hadn't completely given up on the possibility that I might just be able to still pull off getting up Teton Pass in less than 40 minutes. In my feeble naivety, I hadn't come to grips with the idea that yet another season was over. I have my reasons, though. Let me explain:

1. I'm a late-season bloomer. I make this statement based on facts from my first year of road biking. That year, as of July, when I bought my bike, I was getting dropped by the Tuesday-night ride group. By late August, everybody else was sandbagging when I stormed up the climb next to the Menan Buttes. Only the top cyclist in the group could keep up--and he even saved passing me until the very top of the climb. I dunno, maybe he just wanted to see how I did or something.

Of course, there's no guarantee of being a late-season bloomer. Heck, things always look better in retrospect, right?

2. I'm skinnier. I've lost somewhere in the range of 4-5 pounds since our baby was born just a few weeks ago. Actually, I think I lost most of it in the hospital where I ate regular meals ... of peanut butter M&M's while the hospital staff brought my wife three meals a day. Go figure, the peanut butter M&M diet really works. Actually, there's a little more to that, but I'll tell you about it later.

But yeah, since climbing's supposed to be a power-to-weight-ratio-type activity, I would've benefitted by having a few pounds less to haul up the mountainside with me.

3. My Poleline PR. This year, I have the additional evidence of the fact that, just a few weeks ago I rode Poleline, the local toughest climb (yes, it's a mere 300 feet in a mile--but hey, this is Idaho, we gotta take what we can get) a whole 10 seconds faster than I'd ever ridden it before--2004 included. Forget my glory days. By that account, and the fact that I also managed to kill my Teton Pass PR (that's "personal record" in case you didn't know) by 40 seconds, it appears I am (or was a few weeks ago) in better shape than I've been in the past. That's promising.

So yeah, I had a little confidence saved up. My legs were feelin' good, and I dare say I even had a plan in place as to how I just my gain a little more power in my thighs and possibly knock off the big 4-0.

That is, until I saw THIS.

P.S. In case it's already blown over, I'll spoil the surprise by telling you I saw a huge foggy, soggy snowstorm through that webcam. Forgive me for spoiling what (I'm sure) would have been an extremely tense moment. Still, isn't this webcam thing cool?! Heckya. It's facing the Victor side of the Pass, by the way, so that's just the very end of the racecourse you're seeing on the road there.

Theory of relativity applied

Mon, 11 Sep 2006 18:01:08 GMT

In cycling, everything is relative. Anytime you hear, "I can do [insert climb or windy road here] in [insert astronomically low time here]," you have to stop and think, "So can I ... in a car." And that's the nature of cycling. Until you either ride together or race against each other, you don't really know how good or bad that fellow rider is.

You may be aware that the race of most importance, at least on this blog, is not the Tour de France, but rather the Teton Pass Climb--a race outside of Jackson Hole, Wyo. Lately, I've been seeing names from the Pass Climb on other race results pages. You may have read where I refer to the Pass Climb as the "toughest 40-some minutes I've ever had," but that's just relative. I know you read that and think to yourself, "Pfff, I could finish Teton Pass in 25 minutes easy. Heck, it's only 4.7 miles." Thus to provide some perspective for you, I've provided a list of some other Teton Pass climbers and some of their other race results. Check it out:

Jay Petervary scored a 34-minute time at Teton Pass, good enough for ninth place, and about the same time as number-one-in-the-world ranked triathlete Barb Lindquist did in 2004. Jay later went on to the Park City E100, where he came in third. Wow. I should also mention that he did the mtb portion of the Pass Climb, and came in pretty high there too.</p><P>

Eric Jones scored a fourth place at the mountain bike National Championship in 2004. He also won the overall Pass Climb this year with a time of about 30:30.

Perhaps you've already read where I mentioned Sam Jurekovic, the member of the U-23 National Mountain Bike team who won last year with a time of 30:30-ish. Sam didn't do so hot at the World Championship, DNF'ing out of the U-23 race. Heck, I know I can't beat him.

The road bike record on Teton Pass, at least that I'm aware of, was set by Matt Shriver in 2004--about 28:30 or so. Matt, interestingly enough, came in 16th at this year's US Road Championship (in case you didn't know, George Hincapie came in first).

Hey, with a list like that, you can't totally blame me for doing a little name dropping. I feel no shame about the fact that I'm about 12 minutes behind those guys. Heck, I'm lucky it's not more.

Weezin' the Juuuice!

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 22:46:36 GMT

Okay, I do have photos to add to this blog, but I can't seem to get my computer to actually extract them from the camera. So I have yet another technology barrier to break. Heaven knows what's next.

Two weeks ago I went to Kelly Canyon for a ride by myself. I started off with a 40-minute climb, most of which took place on a road, but some of which took place on some singletrack at the end of said road. After that, I moved on to a well-known switchback climb that includes some really steep sections to it. After the switchbacks, I rolled around on this trail I found on the top of the mountain (it's really more like an oversized molehill, but it does boast a ski slope on it), which included some really technical sections that I'd been previously unaware of. Oddly, though, I managed to get most of them on the first try.

Contrast that to this week: I went to the exact same technical areas, specifically two difficult powerclimbs, and got my rear handed to me. One of the climbs, I got on the third try. The other looked absolutely impossible. I have no idea how I pulled it off two weeks ago. It was covered with so much lose rock and shale, never mind the clumps of powder-thin dirt underneath the jagged rocks. I know I took most of those climbs at a lower gear last week, but I'm really baffled by how I pulled them off with such ease.

So here are a couple of ridiculous thoughts in my head about why I did so well before but am getting killed now (or excuses, whatever you want to call them):

1. I inflated my tires before riding today. And in doing so, I discovered that I'd been riding on mountain bike tires inflated to a mere 20 psi or so. Why would that help? Softer tires allow for a greater grip on the trail, or ice or snow or whatever. Softer tires grip better.

2. Crosstraining. No really, I decided to try some other methods of staying in shape (since my season has already ended) this week. I ran, I ran stadium stairs, I did push-ups, and I thought long and hard about doing squats in the gym. Truth is, my legs were already a little sore before the day started.

3. My brother was with me. And he kept taking pictures of me because he had the camera in his bag. So there was greater pressure.

4. I wasn't as warmed up as I was last time. Yeah, my legs were still getting used to the terrain. That's it.

5. BMX pedals. Actually, I really do think this was the reason. I was having some issues with my clips, so I took those pedals off and replaced them with these big, clunky, sharp-pinned BMX pedals. When I arrived home with my shin bleeding from the stupid pins, the first words out of my mouth were, "Those stupid BMX pedals are goin' on eBay!"

What? So you're looking at me like I'm full of it. So what?

Okay, so the truth of the matter is that sometimes you got it, and sometimes you don't. And sometimes you're just lucky. I'm sure each of these excuses was a contributing factor, but the reality is that I really just didn't have such a hot day on the bike. Jord, my brother, on the other hand, had a pretty strong day. I think he might be the one to take out the beginner race at Kelly Canyon next year. I guess we'll see.

Caloi Lives!

Sat, 12 Aug 2006 22:13:35 GMT

Sorry to be gone so long. I'm aware that everyone's probably moved on to other blog interests, but in case anyone's reading, I'm back. Why was I gone? AOL dial-up, etc. etc. Why am I back now? We just got hooked up with high-speed internet. No, seriously.

I was over at Blogspot for a while, but even with that site, I was having trouble posting photos and feeling motivated to write when nobody was coming to read. Not that anything important is happening in my life right now ...

Okay, here's the latest: My wife's due next week, officially, so we're on the edges of our seats all day, every day, waiting for it to happen. I had a long work conference the week of the software changeover, so I hadn't been riding much anyway. Now, I'm back, and there's some seriously windy weather outdoors. So, yes, I've ridden the bikes a little, but it's been short time trials or hill climb sessions. I've had ideas for blog entries come and go throughout the past week, so I'm hoping that one of these days it'll all come spilling out. I know you're hoping for the same thing, I'm so sure.

In other news, Fatty's been following the Tour of Utah, which looks like it's been a pretty interesting race. It's cool to see some pros make their way through an area not too far from here. Heaven only knows, maybe a Tour of Idaho is in the future somewhere ... or not.

Anywho, instead of the Tour of Utah, I've been following a different stage race, the TransRockies Challenge, which is taking place in my home area, Alberta, Canada, and making me wish I'd gotten into mountain biking during my teen years a little more. The extra-nifty part of this edition of TC is the fact I've actually met one of this year's racers. Dave Harris is riding this race with partner Lynda Wallenfells. At the very beginning of the 12 hours of the PC Endurance 100 (which is in desperate need of a shorter name), as I was laying my bike down for the lemans start, the guy next to me cracked some kind of joke (which I don't remember). I recognized his face from one of the Park City videos on the E100 web site, but it wasn't until I saw the photos on Dave's web site that I realized that he was the winner of the solo category at the 12 hour for the past two years. So we can add his name to my list of semi-famous folks I've met while doing bike-related activities.

Anyway, I do have a blog entry to write, so I'll get posting here in a minute.

Mighty High Praise ...

Thu, 27 Jul 2006 04:11:50 GMT

I hope the companies who own these ads don't mind, but at the bottom of this blog entry, I have my two favorite bike magazine ads. Why am I sharing these with you? My blog. Enjoy.

Ad Number One: 25th Anniversary of the Specialized Stumpjumper

Why do I like this ad? For the simple fact that not even Cadillac (and yes, Cadillac makes bikes) can make their bikes look this cool. Whether you intend to ride the bike is completely immaterial. Regardless, you're left feeling that the Stumpjumper itself is indeed the Batmobile of full-suspension mountain bikes. Instead of dreaming about clawing up the trail with this thing, you can imagine yourself moving along the bumps like a bead of morning dew runs along the contours of a leaf. Heckya!

And in case you're curious, I did get a chance to test-ride a Specialized Epic today, albeit a large--about two inches too big for me. The green test bike performed beautifully, at least on pavement. The shock took a half-pedal stroke to stiffen up after a bunny hop but then became a solid hardtail--at least until my next curb drop off, when it immediately reacted to the increase in gravity. When the front shock was locked, there really was little or no pedal stroke absorption.

Oh yes, she will be mine ... someday, I hope.

Ad Number Two: DT Swiss and 'Pua' Sawicki

Somehow, this ad does it for me like none other. After flipping through the magazine and seeing this, I suddenly experienced a strange urge to be cold, muddy (perhaps even bloody) and completely exhausted out on some racecourse in the middle of nowhere. I don't even know if the premise of the ad itself "works" (really, what's the point of 'why worry?'), but with such a compelling picture of sport-related suffering, who cares? For once, a company (not surprisingly based in Grand Junction, where Rocky is from) has really tapped the edge of mountain biking that appeals to those who participate in the sport: pushing your limits and getting dirty doing it.

Specifically, take notice of the fact that her eyes aren't fixed on the camera itself. Sawicki is caught late in the race with a desperate look on her face and nature all over jersey. The pro marathoner is stretching her legs to lengths most of us couldn't imagine. It's a thing of beauty.

As to the effectiveness of the ad, the last time I needed mountain bike wheels, I took a good, hard look at DT Swiss ... at least until I discovered that each wheelset costs $1,200+. It caught my attention, and I dare say it looked cooler than most of the photos actually featured in the magazine itself.

So there you have it. What grabs you guys in a bike ad? I know we've more or less been down this road before, but really, what speaks to you as a rider? If the marketers knew, would they put away the pictures of people jumping concrete barriers and start trying to appeal more to the cross-country crowd? Or would they aim a little more for the road bike crowd?

I did have one other favorite bike mag ad. It was a Subaru ad, but it got scrunched before I could scan it, sorry. It showed Lancer, his face close to the handlebars in a sprint, but grinning like he was loving the lactic acid. The tagline read: "When you're tough, every road feels flat."

P.S. Forgive my lack of content lately. Work has gotten a lot busier (I'll be out of town for the last half of next week, in case you're curious), and ride time takes priority over blog time. At least, it should. Ride hard!

Teton Pass 1, Caloi 1

Sat, 15 Jul 2006 19:10:43 GMT

Aka 'the Caloi weight-loss program'

No, I didn't beat 40 minutes, but I'm considering 41:20 a victory because it's 40 seconds faster than I've ever done it before and because it's 1:40 faster than I've done so far this year. Besides, I think I've really gained some strategy ideas for how to pull the sub-40 off. I rarely write useful information on here, but that's what I'm going to attempt to do today.

Today's strategies (that worked):

*Get out of the saddle a little more.

Okay, in mountain biking, getting out of the saddle really doesn't pay very big dividends unless you're going over a quick technical rocky section (Botched would know more about this than I would). But in road cycling, getting out of the saddle can mean a 1-2 mph difference (in case you're not already aware, that's huge). But it's a trade-off. As well as some small speed gains, your heart rate raises by about 5-10 bpm, thus rendering your condition anaerobic. As we all know, it's pretty tough to stay anaerobic for long.

*Take advantage when the gradient lessens.

When you find the gradient tapers off a little, it's not time to soft pedal and regain your strength. On the contrary, those can be some of the best places to make up time. Think about it: when you're on a 10+ percent section for 20 minutes, your best efforts to turn those pedals harder will result in fractional speed increases. When the gradient lessens, hammer it and make up some time.

*Get your electrolytes into your system the day and morning before.

When you're up on the side of that mountain slapping mosquitoes off your legs and trying not to breathe in too many of the burning brake-pad fumes (which were present much higher than I thought they'd be today), you've got to have a bottle of clear, clean water to spray yourself down with. Yes, you should rehydrate during the ride, but gulp down your electrolytes in the day and morning prior to the ride so you can replenish with water instead of some syrupy, sugary, sticky energy drink. Nothing like a Gatorade shower to cool you off, eh? Just ask Jan Ullrich about the Alp d'Huez TT in 2004, I'm sure he'll have some reflections on the subject.

*Wanna lose some weight?

Okay, it's down to crunch time. You've got your weight watchers weigh-in only an hour away and you know you've had one too many ice cream sandwiches at work this week. What do you do? Simple, just take your bike to the base of a 2,280-foot climb and ride up in the blazing sun. If you're really desperate, ignore the above advice and don't take any rehydration with you. Yes, you'll probably keel over at the top, but you'll make your weight loss goal, and that's what's important.

No really, I was weighing a whopping 147 pounds when I got out of bed this morning (the local restaurant here has really good Navajo tacos, if you ever have a chance), and I came home from Teton Pass weighing about 141. So much for my fat complex ...

Teton Pass 1, Caloi 0

Mon, 10 Jul 2006 13:15:56 GMT

I'll keep the details to a minimum, but I got my rear end handed to me by a mountain on Saturday.

I rode up the first two-thirds of the road at a decent clip (I passed two other cyclists like they were statues), but I'd been telling my self the whole way along that if I just got to "that turn," the only major turn in the road, in 30 minutes I'd be good to go to beat 40 by the end. Well, I got to the turn in 27 minutes and thereafter faced Medusa and turned to stone myself. I finished in the slowest time I've ever recorded ...

Excuses: I actually have a pretty good idea of what I did wrong. For starters, I took about a week off riding in general after the 12-hour (my back was killing me for the first few days anyway). But judging by the sharp, stinging headache I had after getting in the car to go home, not to mention the four pounds I lost while I was there (remember, this took place in less than 45 minutes), I'd say dehydration played a role.

Hey, but at least Italy beat France in the World Cup. And it looks like Floyd's moving to the top of the favorites list in le Tour.

Next Year ...

Thu, 29 Jun 2006 15:28:59 GMT

It's true. This whole 12-hour experience has caused me to reevaluate my gear a little. I did have gloves, but I didn't bring them with me to Park City. I did have sunglasses, but I decided against wearing them. In the end, I had a bunch of crud in my eyes and some missing skin on my hands from where they were rubbing up against my shifters.

But it also made me reevaluate my bike choice. For a long time now, I've been a hardcore advocate of the hardtail because, heck, around here that's all you need. But after that rocky middle section in Park City, I'm starting to think dual suspension thoughts ...

The most popular bike I noticed at the 12-hour was the Specialized Epic Pro. It even has the super intelligent suspension on the rear end. Cool. But I'm pretty sure it also costs a mint, so it's really not an option for me. So here are my picks for next year's potential dual suspension buy:

If you've been reading for a while, you already know about the Gary Fisher Race Day (the orange one) and the Cannondale Rush 400. My budget is going to be right around $1,000, and purchasing one of these will depend mostly on the deal the salesman gives because their listed prices are about $1,200. But I also have the Trek Fuel 70 in the mix because, hey, its listed price is only $1,050, and my lbs sells Treks (meaning they could order one for me and probably give me a discount like they do on everything else).

The Trek offers another advantage: my mtb goal (for now) for next year is going to be the solo Park City Endurance 50-mile, which supposedly includes about 12,000 feet of climbing. The trek rear triangle and rocker-arm design is supposed to be pretty stiff during climbing and bounce appropriately during descents and drop-offs. Both of those could be very good things ...

Disclaimer

Fri, 23 Jun 2006 02:30:43 GMT

My wife and I were chatting on the way home from Teton Pass the other day, and we decided that I'm really not an 'extreme' cyclist. So I hope I haven't given you the impression from my blog that I am. I don't know that I quite qualify as a rec rider either, but I definitely don't devote enough time to it to qualify for the 'extreme' category.

This weekend, rather than take the doubles category, I think I can write for both Botched and myself when I type WE'RE JUST PLANNING ON HAVING FUN. I'm definitely in no shape to be holding race pace for a full six hours--though the prerace e-mail does say they'll be handing out free Red Bull--so I'm half-expecting to blow my legs to pieces on lap number three. On the other hand, if I make it, what the heck, there'll be some serious celebrating Saturday night.

Let's save some money together ...

My biggest concern before this race is that my velcro bike shoes are getting less velcro-ey all the time, and it isn't just because of the occasional fluff that gets in there. In discussions with Jason, he expressed his opinion to me that velcro-only bike shoes are probably just designed to be discarded after one season, which is probably true. Despite knowing that, I, in my constant desire to dodge paying the big bucks, have been checking out alternatives.

Thought I wasn't able to find a shoe shop in town (what kind of town is this, really?), I came up with what I think are two decent alternatives.

1. Paperclips No, seriously. All you really need to do is force the contact points of the velcro together, and the friction alone will take care of the rest. So of course paperclips were my first novel idea.

2. Electrical Tape Did you know electrical tape costs a mere 84 cents a roll? I didn't know that either, until today. In case your quantitative reasoning skills are dull, I just want to point out that that's a heck of a lot cheaper than buying another pair of $75-$150 shoes. Just wrap the tape all the way around the shoe, including the velcro strap. Good news, too, electrical tape comes in more than one color, so you can probably find something that will go along with your shoes, if you were concerned with that aesthetics of having tape on your bike shoes.

Alas, that's what I've decided to go with for the 12-hour--just the tape this time. I'll let you know how that goes over.

I have more blog to write, but I'm going to save that for another post ...

The Best Part

Fri, 16 Jun 2006 03:33:30 GMT

I love riding--sincerely, I do. But I think I've decided that I love something else about riding even more.

When you've been out for a ride in the rain or the snow, and you've had water spraying off your fenderless tires and onto your back for hours on end, soaking through your 'moisture-wicking' clothing until it's sitting right up against your skin where the wind can get it nice and icy, forcing your leg muscles to a state of near crampage, there's nothing in the world (at that moment) better than replacing that water with nice, hot shower water. Oh yeah, sitting down in your shower (which shouldn't be done unless you clean it regularly) and just allowing the heat from the water to absorb into your frigid muscles--particularly in the lower back and shoulders. Nothing better.

Conversely, after a ride in the 90-100 degree dry heat, when you've had sweat run across your nose like someone turned a faucet on at your forehead, having it sting your eyes and any open wounds, feeling it dry in the wind until its salts are sticking to your cheeks, watching it crust over on your toptube, there isn't a whole lot nicer than getting into a shower, turning it as cold as it will go and standing in the stream until you're more frozen than the vegies in your freezer and the last of that crusty sweat has been rinsed off. There isn't much better, but I can think of one thing ...

... just one ...

... the cold pool at Green Canyon. And yes, I meant the COLD pool at Green Canyon. Nothing better.

And, by the way, my record for staying immersed in the cold pool up to my neck is one minute and 19 seconds--right after a 30-mile ride. Beat that.

P.S. Major condolences to Botched for having his bike stolen. That just makes me paranoid about my own. In fact, I think it's unlocked outside as I write this. I think I'm going to go remedy that situation ...

Botching Up Moab

Fri, 26 May 2006 17:38:45 GMT

I asked Botched to give me a review of his recent Moab trip. I must admit to some mountain bike sacrilege in the fact that I've never actually been to Moab with a mountain bike, but it sure sounds fun. Anyway, here's the scoop from Botched:

Back in the day, virtually all the rides around Moab were excellent. Now, the BLM (and others) have graded many of the (formerly) jeep trails and many of the other trails are very rocky and loose. Slickrock and Bartlett Wash are still awesome, and it was almost exclusively in these two areas that I rode.

Slickrock:

• Most people ride the Slickrock Trail all wrong; they slavishly follow the dashes on the rocks and somewhere about mile 4 start looking forward to the finish. It is much more fun just to doodle around looking for “moves” or jumps or sweet downhills or awesome views of the Lasal mountains, Arches National Park, or Spanish Valley. I’ve ridden for 3 hours on Slickrock before and never gotten more than 2 miles from the trailhead.

• The Practice Loop is not that much easier than the rest of the trail and the single hardest move on the Slickrock Trail (that is part of the “dashed” trail) is on the practice loop. The practice loop is shorter, the climbs on the practice loop are shorter, but the practice loop is just as technically challenging as the rest of the trail.

• The Practice loop should be ridden as part of the regular loop (if you are going to do a loop at all).

• The areas of Slickrock that are the most fun are not on the trail.

• It has long been suggested that the “harder” direction is in fact easier, and the “easier” direction is harder. I rode both directions on consecutive days to decide for myself. The “harder” direction has the best downhills and is slightly faster, but there were 2 places I couldn’t ride (sand traps). The “easier” direction did feel a little more difficult, but I was able to clear the entire trail without ever having to put my foot down.

Bartlett Wash:

• I think Bartlett might be better than Slickrock. At least, this time I had more fun riding Bartlett.

• Bartlett is quite a bit smaller than Slickrock.

• Bartlett is an excellent place to get really hurt or really lucky.

• Paradoxically Bartlett is both more and less technically challenging than Slickrock. If all you’re going to do is ride out and back and you just want to survive, Bartlette is easier than Slickrock. If you want some really challenging terrain with lots of drops, ledges, and bowls, Bartlett is tougher than Slickrock.

It’s really HOT in Moab.

Next topic:

Is there an implicit “Double Dog Dare” when someone makes a move?

Humpty goes splat.

Blood on the rocks (sung to the tune of Neil Diamond’s “Love on the rocks”(ain’t no big surprise, pour me a drink and I’ll tell you some lies).

Weekend Extra!

Fri, 12 May 2006 22:18:19 GMT

So I'm not certain whether I've alienated half my readership or if we're experiencing the typical Friday afternoon lull, but I'm going to attempt to chase the readership off yet again with my wild and unruly opinions. Rather than discuss whether I think Mark Weir could beat Lance Armstrong in a mountain bike hillclimb, I just want to answer the question that I'm sure has been burning in all of your overworked minds: "Caloi, if you could afford an inexpensive full suspension mountain bike, which inexpensive full-suspension mountain bike would you buy?"

What? You've never wondered that?

Well, it's a good question, particularly when you take into account the fact that I should be riding for a good couple of hours tomorrow morning on a bike with nothing but a suspension fork, which is progress for a bike luddite like myself. If I were looking for a full-suspension racing bike, and I wanted to save some cash, the contest would be between the Gary Fisher Calibur and a Cannondale Rush 400. And, yes, I realize they're practically the same bike.

See, that's part of the issue: the Rush 400 is priced just right for us mortals at $1299 (at least, that's the price I found with a quick google search), where the Calibur doesn't yet have a price tag on it. But for some reason, perhaps because it's the same color as orange sherbet, I'm thinking the Fisher might be less expensive. One way or another, they're both low-weight aluminum bikes designed for cross-country racing. I don't know about the Calibur, but the ProCalibur was designed to weigh a mere 22 pounds, in response to JHK's request for a lightweight hardtail. The Rush, again the pro version, was designed as a lightweight also, but specifically to answer the call of those increasingly popular endurance races that everyone's doing these days. That, by the way, is the only reason I'd be looking at a full-suspension bike at all, to lesson the punishment on my weak, skinny body over the course of a real endurance test.

But, alas, the Caloi Sigma hardtail should do the trick for now. After all, what can really compare to having a seat that's moulded to your own rear end?

P.S. You can't tell because it uploaded all pixelly, but below is a picture of Big Tex, yes Lance Armstrong himself, riding in a mountain bike race. What ever happened to the possibilities of the Lancer hitting the NORBA series?

Reality Check

Mon, 01 May 2006 15:44:15 GMT

I did my first ascent of Teton Pass for 2006 on Friday. On a mountain bike this time, however. I'd taken my brother-in-law for a mt bike ride on the edge of Teton Valley when we were deterred by a snow-covered trailhead. When I asked if he wanted to do the Pass, his response was, "I'm up for anything." So that's what we did, albeit slowly.

We parked at the top to force ourselves to ride the whole thing and then we descended the Jackson Hole side. Now, my brother-in-law is still a novice cyclist, so we weren't exactly burning rubber on the way back up. And doing that ascent at bike-touring pace gave me an interesting perspective. I realized my memory of the Pass had a few holes in it. Allow me to explain:

I'd remembered the first gradual section of the climb pretty well, and then the next section where you round a corner and see the distant crest far above your head, and then the next corner where you see the mountain peak above that road. Those parts were all familiar aspects of my memory, as was the one major switchback at about the halfway point. When I imagine climbing the Pass, I usually think of those sights. But when we got to the mile after the major switchback, I started thinking to myself, I don't remember this section. Weird. It was like I'd never seen that scenery before. And then I realized why:

Oh yeah, the last time I was here, I was seeing stars by this point in the race.

I'd spent so much of the race in 2005 with my eyes half-closed and my head down, and then I'd experienced my own personal lazer-light show inside my eyelids when I puked at the top. It was such a contrast, soft-pedaling up this gorgeous green, twisty, partially snow-covered mountain pass, when compared with the blur of race day in July 2005. The scenery was fantastic!

And suddenly, my 40-minute time didn't seem all that slow.

When I got back home that night, however, I had another reality check: my wife let me know she feels like I've been spending a little too much time on the bike lately, and that I need to scale the training back. We talked it over, and doing the whole Lotoja just isn't an option anymore--besides the fact that after my 60-miler the other day, I decided that I really don't love spending hours and hours being tossed around in the wind while being buzzed by semi-trucks. I just don't have the time to train for a long-distance race just yet, so if Gart asks me, I'll probably still sign up for the relay, but otherwise, I think I'm going to put the big race aside. (Lotoja really isn't my personal Tour de France, even though I'm aware that it is for some of my co-workers.)

So Saturday, I ditched out on a planned weekend mt bike ride to spend some time with the wife. I felt pretty toasted anyway, so I was probably due in for a rest day. I still got my squats in at the gym, but no mileage that day. Fortunately, the Park City Endurance 100 12-hour race (in June) is still on my schedule. That means I officially have 54 days to get tuned up for that puppy. No pressure.

Latest & Greatest

Tue, 25 Apr 2006 16:53:22 GMT

Caloi Rider, image consultant

All right, so apparently Greg didn't get the memo before they did the paint job on his new carbon bike line. You'll notice they still have that ugly signature/elegant font thing going on the downtube. Greg, if you're out there, your bikes could be so much cooler if you'd just tweak the logo. Elegant fonts just don't say "masculine tough" to the general bike public, and when I actually get my Adobe Illustrator up and running, I'll try to give you an example of something better.

If only I had one of these, a free week in August, and a bucketload of bear spray ...

In searching for new races to ride in, I stumbled across a little piece of news about open spots at the TransRockies Challenge. Usually, I'm talking about fantasy bikes, but this would be a fantasy race, even just to finish. I think this would be awesome, but there's no way I could get my wife to agree to it--at least not at this point in the game. But hey, a man needs to do something for his midlife crisis, and this just might be the solution.

Feel connected

By the way, if you're not already visiting some of the links you see in the comments here, I'd encourage you to spend some of your browsing time doing that. Take a minute to visit Bike John, Dodger, Jose's Mt Bike Passion, Mike's Underdeveloped Corner of Suburbia, Cycling Geeks Unite!, Bobster (who's not related to Bobke, that I know), Olympic Mags, and, one of the best, the Psycho Cyclist.

Here lies The Uphill Battle ...

Have no fear, I really have no intention of sending my blog to blog heaven. Besides, with Teton Pass only an hour and a half away, I'm sure I'll have plenty of opportunities to ride it for training purposes. I can still probably pursue my goal of getting a sub-40-minute time on it and go away feeling good about myself.

And besides, this gives me an excuse to come up with something more "extreme" to do ...

The Brick Wall

Mon, 24 Apr 2006 16:09:06 GMT

Saturday morning was gorgeous--absolutely gorgeous. For once, and this is extremely rare, there was no wind at all, as far as I could tell. At least, if there was some wind, then I'm getting really good at riding into it, but I don't think that was the case.

First thing in the morning I went out for a headwind time trial only to find my bike moving a lot faster than I expected. I finished up with a couple of hillclimbs and then a leisurely ride home. The weather was perfect. All around me the brown had been, more or less, replaced by green grass. Above, there was nothing but crystal-ball blue sky with the occasional wispy cloud. Gorgeous.

As I came back to town, I found that the college triathlon was zipping past my apartment as part of its bike route, so naturally, I pulled over and watched. Those guys didn't look like they were having too much fun, but I can't help cheering for people doing sporting events. I even saw a couple of people I knew.

The Best (?) of Both Worlds

Saturday afternoon, me, my neighbor Dave (who built the triathlon bike) and newfound buddy Ryan (who knows every trail there is to know around here) went out to tackle a mountain bike trail on the Butte. I've done a lot of backtalking toward the Butte in the past because it's a sandpit, and a pain in the Butte to ride on. Nonetheless, we trusted Ryan's assurance that there was indeed a viable, rideable trail up there somewhere.

We parked and started unloading the bikes, and all of two seconds later, Dave piped up:

"Caloi, did you bring your chain tool?"

"No, why?"

And then I saw him standing there with two ends of his busted chain ... but he was a good sport. He elected to hike up and then just roll back down on his chainless ride. Ryan informed us that there would be plenty of hiking on the way up anyway.

Bypassing a whole bunch of "Do Not Trespass" signs to get onto this sandy trail (Ryan says the trail's banned to motorized vehicles, but not to horses, so we qualify for access under some middle ground reasoning), we immediately found the sand too deep to ride in. So, as predicted, we hiked, and hiked and hiked. Nothing like a little bike n' hike.

I'll admit the details to be a little sketchy, but at some point we got to riding again, until we came to what seemed like an impossible climb, where the three of us were hiking together. Dave cracked some joke about, "C'mon Caloi, you can ride in this, you big wuss" just as I was getting over the top, so I hopped on the bike and got riding. And the trail turned upward. It was sorta technical--volcanic rock mixed with patches of sand, mixed with gravel, mixed with more rock, but I managed to keep riding for a while in the second chainring. It was one of those classic mt bike climbs, where you turn a corner, climb some more, turn another corner and then climb again, so you never have time to be intimidated by the trail because you can never see more than 20 feet in front of yourself anyway. Awesome.

Finally, I pulled over to the side to let the other guys catch up. And I waited ... and yelled out for the others ... and waited some more ... I didn't ride that fast up this trail, heck ... and finally along came Dave on Ryan's bike, slowly working his way up the trail. I pulled my bike out of the way and invited him to keep right on going. He stopped right in front of me, caught his breath, said something about his granny gear and then tried to get going again, but ended up just jerking back and forth until he rolled over the crest.

A moment later, I realized I'd stopped 10-20 feet from the top of the climb, and that if I'd just kept going, I could've had a chest-pounding heroic moment. Weak.

The descent was a fish-tailing, sand-kicking blur of rock and tread. It was a lot of fun, but I'm sure by now you know better than to expect much excitement about descents from me. Let me just say I didn't break my neck.

A Wrench in the Works

Sunday was a day of religious observance, as all of my Sundays are. Monday, for whatever reason, I went to the web site for the Teton Pass Climb and discovered that this year's race falls on a Sunday. Now, I don't know about you, but I won't even do casual rides on Sundays because, as I just mentioned, that's not what I do with my Sundays. So this means that despite all the talking up, preparation, consternation, intestinal distress, sleepless nights, torture at the hand of stationary spinning bikes, and winter ride frostbite I've endured out of dedication to this race, I actually won't be racing it--this year. So that's a bit of a blow to my summer race schedule.

So now I'm sorta wondering. The whole point of this blog was to talk about my preparation for that race, and now that I'm not preparing for that race anymore ... hmmmm ... I guess I've got to make some decisions about the blog, eh? ...

Or find another hillclimb ...

To be continued ...

The Club Ride: in person

Wed, 19 Apr 2006 15:20:49 GMT

Yes, after writing that diatribe, I went to a club ride last night and proceeded to break as many of those rules as possible--I was definitely obnoxious, I did my fair bit of wheelsucking, I had a brief solo breakaway, I did way more talking than I did listening, etc etc. but it was a blast nonetheless.

I must preface this by telling you that on Monday night I went weight-lifting for the first time in two or three months. As a result, I could barely walk up stairs yesterday when I mounted my bike (a bit of a problem when I live on the second floor), and you can guess as to what effect that had on my ability to ride.

But actually, once we got going, it wasn't so bad. It was just barely snowing (flurries) when we took off, but after a couple of miles I found that I'd really overdone the winter clothing thing. I was wearing long johns over a layer of lycra and under a layer of spandex on my legs, and I had three shirts and a fleece on my top half. Yeah, slight overkill.

As we warmed up, we rode through some slightly wet roads, and I got my face sprayed and muddied, hence my photo (see below, and no, I'm not wearing really cool sunglasses in this picture). I told 'em I was just warming up for cyclocross season.

The group was small yesterday, and that meant I got to spend plenty of time in the front. We had one kid in the group who looked about 12 years old (riding a custom road bike frame--how do you like them apples?) and he sat on my draft for about 75 percent of the ride. His dad told me he brought him along to learn a thing or two about cycling group dynamics, but that the kid had participated in the national kid time trial event last year. Cool. I didn't even know such a thing existed.

Finally, we were coming on the home stretch (the last seven miles or so) when the accepted Alpha Male cyclist of the pack, Brian broke off in a solo sprint. Jason gave chase and I pathetically coasted my way back up to the break. We rounded a few more corners together, and, after discovering that all hopes of forming a legit paceline were off, I gave a quick sprint myself--getting up to 30.5 mph. I'd maybe gained 100 yards on the group when I sat down and waited for the chasers to come, which they did. Jason and Alpha Brian zipped past me another two football fields worth of distance between us, and then I became the chaser. And it took until we got back to town to catch 'em. Pathetic.

When I got there, the conversation went something like this:

Alpha Brian: "You started that one."

Caloi: "Yeah, I just couldn't have lived with myself if you guys didn't get some kind of a workout in today."