Whoa - Big time in the old town last night. Me and Herself went on over to the Tri Store (yes, home to the GTSC team of one). I thought that I was feeling good, emphasis on thought, and that I would do the planned workout, no problemo. Guess again slacker.
Planned workout: Spin class + Ole' Paris = one big old can of whup ass.
We did an interval workout on the CompuTrainer by Jamie Church - 55 minutes of get it, with the final interval being 130% of max sustainable power. I kicked it hard for the last one and cooled down and got dressed for part two. I did notice a slight twinge in my knee whilst dressing but thought nothing of it. Ride it off.........right? And good times were had by all. Law....... did I suffer! Two and a half hours on a tuesday night, just like summertime. I have to admit that it does leave me wanting more today. I guess that all of the time off has served it's intended purpose.
Ride on.............

If you ever wanted to see a Cyclocross race : Kansas City Cross Nationals

I have undertaken to start up a bike racing division of the Go Tri Sports racing team. To that end I have freshened up the site a bit and included their links and logos as they have graciously allowed me to compete in the GTS livery. The kit Rocks! I guess that it is no secret that I love blue (a proper colour for a bike).
Cheers!

Blog Update: I never did post a race report about the Greenwood Olympic Triathlon. Nor did I post about any of these other things; my first crit, The Greensboro Omnium, The Greenville Cycling Classic, first (and second) cross race, road riding at night with lights, et al. I should probably just give up on the whole blog thing due to a serious lack of motivation to write about crap that no one gives a rip about. Okay, except maybe two or three people at most. And the good stuff will only alienate me from the rest of the active community in and around these parts. Oh well……… EFF IT!

Greenwood Oly: Hot as a cat in a tin boot. Freakin’ hot……..Oy! Let’s just start by me saying that I can’t run for crap…Okay.............Happy now? Skinny and can’t run……How’s that. But I do have all the gear (well, except for the pair of shoes that I left there). So my race plan was simple, have fun in the swim, ride as hard as possible, and try not to blow anything out during the run. I will have to say that I executed my plan perfectly as I was having so much fun that I got passed by some of the fast girls in the swim. Good transition to the bike and it was game on. I would not say that I was ripping it up or anything but not very many passed me and I passed many….On yer left……… ON YER’ LEFT! Freakin’ triathletes cannot get out of their own way. And on to the run, I just tried to keep a nice steady pace and not overheat too much, hit all the aid stations and took one water to drink and one for the head. It did take most of my age group five miles to catch me. Good times was had.


Lexington Crit: Dark, fast, under the lights and dangerous. I was so freakin nervous! I did remember to bring my trainer and then warmed up too long, resulting in me getting to the line late, just in time to get to the back of the pack and Bang! I really did not know how my bike handling skills would be, but I found out they are just fine. We were cat 5 combined with masters racers so it was full on gas the entire time. I found a good wheel to get on and stayed there the entire time except for the one pull that I took. We were just starting to pick up some of the racers that the masters group had chewed up and spat out and then it was over. Holy crap was it a rush, barreling down the back stretch elbow to elbow, in the dark, at 20 plus mph, eyes straining to see, and then into the lights and hard over into the turns. Up the slight uphill front stretch at ten tenths then keeling hard over, clipping the apex and down the chute to the back stretch, tires chattering and skipping over the rough asphalt. Rock on!


Greenville Cycling Classic: Nothing much to say except that I suck. Oh, and I must not know much about team racing because the guy that won the Cat 5 race (my race) was “helped out” by one of his teammates by strategically getting dropped.


Hendersonville Cross Races: Not only do I suck but I also don’t really know what I am doing. Saturday’s race I just wanted to get the feel for the course and use it as an opener for Sunday’s race.
Saturday: The bike worked great, the tires were hooking up, and I found that I could catch and overtake on the technical sections but a lack of fitness prevented any real movement from the back of the pack. I did what I could and went home.
Sunday: I knew that I would have a little more snap and tried to nail the start, only to see most of the pack hammer away from me in a cloud of dust. Some hard lessons from Saturday about “the wall”, and other parts of the course let me carry more speed and conserve energy. I tried to think and strategize about the race, finding a wheel to stay on, on the long pavement stretch. I also stayed in the big ring and hammered away the entire course, attacking all the up’s and letting the bike roll through the rough stuff. The course started to get a little loose on the last lap and I watched crash after crash unfold in front of me. I even slid my wheel a few times but managed to stay upright and not loose much time. Last lap, last climb, the guy I had planned on attacking (my wheel as it were) got caught up in some fred’s and I hammered around him as he had to unclip both feet. Eyes bleeding after an all out attack, I washed out both wheels in the loose stuff and had to dab. But I thought no way would I get caught, I was all out, all in, and I never looked back. I gave it my all, only to get caught by him in the last 100 meters. I told him “Good Show!”

Side Notes:
1. Please……….If you get beat up by my pathetically tragic skinny ass, do NOT say,
”But I have been sick!” I don’t care if it’s true. Take your beating like I do and get on with it.
2. If I rode your wheel all season, I’m sorry, but again……I suck, and I hope to redeem myself next season.
3. If I say “But I have been sick”………..I really have been sick.

Beers All Round!
Cheers!

Festival of Flowers Oly

This is (was) my first Olympic distance race and those of you who know me, you know that I have been having a bit of trouble with my feet. The dreaded planar faciatis in one foot and the (idiotic-evil) toe thing in the other. These issues have reduced my run training to pretty much nill. I thought of removing the toe by violent means, but decided to punish the evil toe by racing on it instead. This has seemed to be a very effective means of punishment because the evil toe has been very unhappy (Take That!).

I will update for race info later but for now, here are some pics.

Rob, Phil and Jill

Rob, Clevy and Tate

My former charge and I - ergo, the Bobsey twins

The finish chute. Yes, it is as steep as it looks.


I let (this guy) borrow a wheel. Yes, it's true........... I Rock!


The run start or The road to hell.

Wow. I had such a fantastic time. Thanks to my lovely girlfriend Lynn for being the photographer, masseuse, navigator, head scratcher and bike holder (here, hold this) behind this operation .

More pics and details to follow.

The Only Thing I Ever Won

Flash back to 1997, when all the world (mine anyway) was ablaze with the fervor of cycling. After having gotten my first real (albeit too large) bike during the summer, I had commenced to training with a purpose. My goal,”Tour Terror”. Tour de Bloom, Tour de’ Paws, The Fabulous Fourth, I was tearing it up as any good poseur should, and I was culminating my season with the Cherokee Foothills Ride for Life metric century.

This ride was in October and as anyone from the upstate knows, our weather can be most unpredictable and we were having a pre-winter cold snap. So the morning of the ride I had my “race proven” breakfast of McDonalds pancakes and had donned my entire PRO race kit which consisted of Pearl mesh summer jersey, shorts and socks. Bear in mind that the temps were in the low 40’s at 8:00 a.m. but hey, it was ON. The Michelin Classic crit was being held the same day so I knew that the field would be soft and besides…………..I had a plan.

The so called "plan” was to line up at the front and launch an all out TT effort off the front and hope no one chased, so when the gun went off, I was on the gas. Kick the tires and light the fires we’re goin racin’ (well not really…but close enough). As it was, no one did chase, but I can just imagine the comments of “what’s up with the skinny dude?” Man, I was just a rippin' it going down the road but within a few miles I began to go hypothermic. But I kept the hammer down trying to build heat, knowing that it would eventually warm up but lord have mercy I was suffering like a dog! Holy human popsicle, I was having a real hard time staying focused, my eyes were watering, and I was starting to shiver uncontrollably, teeth chattering in the breeze, but still nobody was giving chase.

Twenty miles in I was really starting to get my groove on at twenty plus mph. The solo break was working! Then at mile twenty five I encountered a pack, and I mean a large, ten strong pack of wild dogs in the middle of the country. I say, bring it! Snick it into the big ring and drop the hammer! I tell you I was flying at full song, geared out, the pack of dogs howling and chasing except for the lead dog who never made a sound but who was matching my accelerations paw for pedal. I put my head down, kept that big gear a turnin’ and took the sprint with a big two handed victory salute.

At mile thirty five the route intersected with the Pumpkin Town Parade. I kid you not, the route was intertwined for a mile or so with the parade. After assessing the situation for a few minutes I see some other cyclists catching up to the parade, but I also see my chance. There is a Boy Scout troop following the tractors and when they got to me, I filed in with them, into the parade. The other cyclists see me, walking with my bike with the parade so they too enter into the fray. So here we are, the lycra clad wunderkind, in the Pumpkin Town parade, with our bicycles! The scout troupe kindly ask me what I am doing and I tell them I am in a bike race and I continue clickitty clack down the road, the other racers a few feet behind.

We soon reach the dissection point and off I go, with three other riders in tow. All is well as I keep the pace high and I can see that two of them falter every time we hit a hill. As we reach a set of rolleurs, I roll on the gas and the two lessers roll of the back. And then there were two. I discuss the hills with the other rider, Bob is his name, strong guy too. We take turns pulling and he proclaims to be much stronger than most in the hills and over long distances and I think, Vee shall Zee meester Bob. Ten miles to go, nice rolling climbs, my turn at the front and with the patented “look”, I make my move, punching it up the climb and over the top. Bob cannot hang on, not even close. No sir, today is not for you meester Bob, but for me….. I roll across the line……….. First to finish.

Note: At my first (ever) triathlon in 2007, I see this super fit looking dude milling around packet pickup and I am thinking, "I know this guy, but from where", and then it hits me in a flash. "The 1997 Cherokee Foothills Ride for Life"! I walk over to him and introduce myself and say, "Did you do the 1997 Cherokee Foothills Ride for Life? Bob thinks for a moment and with a puzzled look says "Yes I did that ride". I then relate how we met,............. he says that's pretty freaky..............I agree.

Race Rehash: Upstate Cycling Weekend, 4-12-08

Race Rehash:

Upstate Cycling Weekend race report. Alright, so this was my first ever cycling road race. The weekend consisted of two days of racing, Saturday at Donaldson Center, five laps, 35 miles, and Sunday at Walnut Grove, two laps, 56 miles. For those of you not familiar with Donaldson Center (heretofore known as DC) this is an airport slash industrial complex that hosts the infamous “Donaldson Center Tuesday Night World Championships”, and is a seven mile loop with one hill and lots of wind. Walnut Grove is described as “a 23 mile loop with nine rolling hills”, however when rolling along at 20 plus miles an hour the term rolling translates to “my tongue is rolling out of my head”.

Anyone who knows me (not in the biblical sense) knows that I have a tendency toward nervous excitement and come Saturday morning I was nervous enough to poop my narrow britches. But I did manage a .001 mile warm-up after pinning my number on, and then toed the line with all of the other Cat 5’s. Holy shite, there are some squirrelly dudes in the Cat 5 pack. We (barely) manage the first lap without any crashes and after going up golf course hill for the second time this guy attacks off the front. No one seems concerned (except me) cuz’ I love to chase and BANG, off I go in pursuit. I catch him and we put our heads down and get into a nice (horrid) pace. After half of a lap of all out suffering it begins to rain and we are joined by another rider. We try to work together but by now the chase was on, and after one full lap of being off the front, we are caught. The peloton however, does not come around, they just sit on our wheels. I look over at my guy and say WTF? We just laugh and say Eff it, lets roll. We roll it for another quarter lap or so but I am getting baked like a potato so I pull off and drop in. Last lap, last hill, the pack drops the hammer, drops me, and my compatriot in pain. And even though we got shelled, we slap hands in salute of a job well done, happy that we at least tried to make something happen and not just sit in the whole race. Jolly Good Show! The rest ov’m.....Wankers the lot….Ha.

On to Sunday I say! Actually I did not plan on racing again but after a huge lunch and 2.5 gallons of sweet tea, it was on! After the Tour de’Bikeshop, I settle in at the Tri-Store, as that’s where they hang on to most of my money for me. I stroll up to Sir Randy and declare that I just might possibly have a “friend” that would gladly take those ratty old used 2007 Zipp 303’s (really….07’s……the horror!) off of his hands for him, as a favour to him of course. Sir Randy declares this to be a right and proper gesture and helps me dispose of a rather large chunk of take-home pay that had been such a bother.

Sunday morning, toeing the line with the Cat 5’s and sporting my 303’s, but sans breakaway buddy, shucks. I have decided to find a suitable wheel and see what I can do. Rolling out, I am pleasantly surprised to find that we are cooking along at a medium boil from the get go. As we hit the first climb though, the pace intensifies and I can sense that this is going to be “it” and it is full on afterburners. Gas it, up we go, and off the back goes half of the pack. Hide from that. As two small groups go up the road, we quickly form a chase at the top of the climb. The pace is at my absolute limit but I hang on and take a pull when I can, though they are short. I think that we are at mile ten at this point. As the race rolls on, it is evident that the climbs are going to make or break us, and it seems that every time we hit one of the steeper slopes, a rider gets shelled. After we hit the second lap I try to take a gu but I can only get about ¾ of it down before we hit the next roller. As we start going up, I can feel the intensity getting to me, causing me to have a moment of self doubt when I realize that they are going to drop me if I let up for one second. I knew that if this happened, my race would be over. At that point I just snapped and thought hell no, I am not going to go out like this, I am going to fight until there is nothing left. Dig a little deeper and up we go. The chase group at this point is down to six or seven riders and we continue to shell a rider here and there until there are four of us at three miles to go. Guy number four, who is taking heroic pulls at the front gets dropped on the final climb but manages to bridge backup and it is still four of us. As we hit the final stretch to the line I snap it into my big ring and give a final push to see what’s left. Not very much evidently as I am way over geared and the other three out sprint me to the line.

Official results: 11^th overall

A wicked good time if there ever was one!

Killing Time

How much time can one kill in a coffee shop? A lot evidently. So a recap of yesterdays race is in order I guess right?...............right!
3 am alarm, four hours sleep, drive 2.5 hrs to race (rain) site, setup transition, put on rain jacket. Nice! Yes, it raining, thunder, etc. Race delay and hilarity ensues. So Phil and I belly up to the Hammer gel bar for a few shots of the sauce (apple cinnamon for me) and we try to make the best of it. This makes warm up kind of iffy with the thunder and lightning and such. In retrospect I think that I should have gotten to the swimming in a big kind of way because I did my patented (pending) choke on the swim. I can't exhale underwater.... WTF! I am sure that it is a combination of factors but still...WTF! On to the bike and I proceed to drop my chain in the first five minutes, which will not get back on no matter how I coax it, calmly dismount, chain on, off I go. I am ripping it pretty good as only one rider passed me. Then on to the run, which was my biggest concern, given that my feet are having a rebellion against me and my new lifestyle. Oddly enough, I set a PR on the run. I know, I know, that is a PR? And yes, for me it is. I'm skinny and slow, sue me. Take home message? I don't know...........Practice? Relax? All of the above. Take it race by race and learn.
Anyway.......A big shout out to all my peeps from Green Vegas and a big congrats to the Bean for another age group win.

Wot's this?

Well well well...........My first blog ever, after reading like seven million other blogs. What? why a blog? I guess that my performance yesterday at the Langley Pond Triathlon, or lack thereof has sparked my creative juices to begat life in the form of a tri-blog.