Bicycle Explosion

Last week, we bough two DesertBikes, bringing the total number of bikes in our garage up to 6.5 (I figure the tandem counts as 1.5 bikes).

Last night, I returned the beautiful silver Cannondale to its rightful owners, JL and KL.  At the same time, Swift returned home from their place -- with the opening of the new restaurant, KL's been working a bazillion hours a week and hasn't felt up to riding.  I can't say I blame her -- if I was working the hours she's working, on my feet all day, I probably wouldn't ride much, either.  I would simply be too tired.

I'm actually delighted to have Swift home.  As much as I like Turtle the SodaBike, Lord of the Desert, etc., I think Swift is a better grocery-getter, and it'll be nice to have a more comfortable machine around for DD -- one he can take on rides with me and Hg.  Likewise, Swift may wind up going out to BurningMan, since his components and wheelset will eventually going to need replacing anyway.  I'm not too worried about the alkaline dust messing up his frame, since I'm planning on stripping and repainting it at some point in the not-too-distant future, anyway.

At any rate, it now looks more or less like a bike factory blew up in our garage ... or maybe a bike museum, considering the diversity of makes and models in there.

I'm really struggling with the debate over purchasing a 'cross bike.  I now definitely have more than enough money to cover the purchase, but with our still-unplanned wedding looming ever-nearer, I'm having serious pangs of doubt about spending my money on what essentially amounts to yet another essentially unnecessary, purpose-specific bike (especially since, with the return of Swift, I've lost my 'but Denis will be able to ride it' justification -- Denis likes Swift just fine).

For that matter, I'm having serious pangs of doubt about dropping $60 on a racing license and another however much on entry fees.

The alternative is to re-home Swift, thus creating a necessity for a 'DD bike/backup bike/guest bike.'  I may yet do that.  In fact, I might even know someone who would like to have a bike like Swift, so he can keep up with me when I force him to play bicycle death march when he visits on longer rides when he visits and so he can do more long-distance riding at home in Lexington.  Or, for that matter, someone who would like a bike like Swift so he can ride at all (I actually have a non-bike riding friend who is interested in 'cross!!!).  Before doing that, though, I would want to swap out some of Swift's components, and maybe his wheelset, to make sure I'm handing off a bike that's going to be really reliable and ride-able for someone who isn't an experienced wrench and rider.

Of course, at this point, I really have until the middle of October to make up my mind about 'cross season anyway, since AppleCross and the OVCX opener are both out.

I am feeling a billion times better, but still wary of potentially exploding my spleen, which limits my ability to both train and race right now.  I'm back to riding on the road (a bit, anyway -- I think I knocked out a whopping 30 miles last week, if that, and I still get tired faster than is normal for me), but I do want to clear the 4 - 6 weeks from time of diagnosis before I seriously think about riding fast in a big, tight pack on the grass; hefting bikes over obstacles; and otherwise putting myself in situations where I'm more likely to fall and burst some important organ or another.  I still have a bit of tenderness in the spleenal area, so I don't really want to take unnecessary risks (especially since I don't have health insurance).

I really do want to do Bloomingcross and Storm the Greens, and I'd love to do King's Cross again, even though it is now, insanely, in December.  I figure racing on a a monstrous beast of a course like King's in December probably captures the spirit of the mad, bad ol' days of cyclocross...

...as well as anything in this modern day and age possibly could.

PS: Notice that the guys in the leftmost picture are wearing what more or less appear to be ladies' bathing suits.  Back then, it was probably a rule: I am sure that they did this simply to make 'cross even more psychologically demanding, and to ensure that only the toughest racers -- those most secure in their own masculinity -- would dare to approach the course.

A Most Unusual Bicycle Race

Yesterday evening I participated in a bicycle race.

The course started at the intersection of Eastern Parkway and Willow Ave, from whence we bold racer types ventured forth at varying rates of speed (some of us faster, others more leisurely), looped through Cherokee Park, and then ... returned to the starting point after but one lap.

Perhaps the most shocking revelation is that nobody wore a helmet!  Not at all!  And I never saw a single paceline.

Oh, and did I mention that we weren't on bicycles, either?

In fact, based on the clothing and shoe styles of my fellow racers, I suspect that the race in question may not actually have been a bicycle race at all.  It may have, in fact, been (GASP!) a foot race.  You know, one of those running things, that runners do, without bicycles at all!  (At least a couple of people who rode to the start, though.)

...

Okay, okay.  All joking aside, last night I joined my friend Brian from Charter and Republic and Muay Thai along with some of his friends from MT/MMA as well (either from Eric Haycraft's gym or Core Combat Sports) and took part in the Fleet Feet Fiesta 3K.

I wasn't actually entirely sure I remembered how to run, but I try not to let potentially being laughably bad at something stop me (after all, I had spent like all of 3 hours in my life on the 'cross course prior to King's Cross last year, and this year entered that short track race even though I almost never ride singletrack and so forth; I also insist on wading into games of Monopoly and the like even though I am a terrible, terrible strategist).  I was very concerned that I might have trouble figuring out the shifting mechanisms of my running shoes.  Once I realized that my running shoes are single-speed (apparently, the speed in question is "middling"), I felt much better.

When I arrived to register, I was intimidated by many of my fellow races, who appeared in actual running apparel, while I sported my favorite IU shirt and some grey gym shorts over my non-cycling compression shorts.  However, the three other guys in my group also arrived in comfortingly non-technical apparel, and I felt better:

(Image totally ganked from Angie Staley's facebook!

...Also, Denis didn't run. 
And the third guy in our group isn't in this shot because he wasn't there yet.)

The ladies, as you can see, put more effort into looking 'runner-esque.'

Prior to the start, I was a bit concerned about the possibility of simply having to collapse by the side of the road somewhere, what with the whole recovering from mono thing.  That fear did not come to pass.  During the race, I also became concerned -- due to a pain in my side -- that my spleen might be trying to explode.  However, I decided that it might just be one of those things they call a 'stitch,' and that if it didn't get worse, I probably wouldn't die: it didn't; I didn't. 

While I did sleep like the King of All Babies last night, and am feeling a hair on the loafy side today (though, bizarrely, some part of me wants to go running again) I did not find myself to be inordinately tired during the race, except during the first 1/3 of the second of the two major climbs, which was up Dog Hill in Cherokee Park.  Knowing that I could climb that hill no sweat on my bike, however, made it psychologically much easier than it could have been, as did knowing the landmarks of the climb intimately (oh, look, it's that one tree!  It gets flatter from here out!). 

Moreover, I managed to avoid totally flubbing up the whole running part, though I did trip over my own feet a couple of times.  Most importantly, I did not fall while cornering or crash out the group.  I'm not sure if that happens much in running events, but it seemed like a reasonable possibility in this one, since we were running in the dark and there were monster power-climber dudes with strollers, one of whom passed everyone in the that group I started with, much to our collective humiliation and awe.

During the race, I learned a few things:

1. Brian Darlage is faster than I am.
   
2. Cycling and running use completely difference muscle groups.  Really.  They're not just saying that on all those websites that talk about the importance of cross-training because they hate you and they want you to suffer.  Okay, well, they do hate you, and want you to suffer -- but it's also true.
   
3. I have not run any distance in a really long time, and as such my running muscles are ... um ... pathetic might actually be the technical term.  Seriously.  My butt hurts.  What's that about?  And don't even get me started on my hip flexors.
   
4. Nonetheless, I am still quite capable of mostly-running a distance of 5 kilometers (that's roughly 3.5 miles) on a hilly course.  When I'm struggling, I use a trick I learned from the join-the-Air-Force-workout (long story): I count strides.  I run for 200 - 300 strides, then walk for 50 - 150 (the most I was willing to allow myself to walk last night was 150 strides). 
   
   This method yields a really neat psychological trick: say you're pushing up a hill, going for 200 strides, but your legs are screaming bloody murder at you.  If you can get to 50, you know you can get to 60.  Once you hit 60, you can easily get to 100 -- and it would be shameful and embarassing not to make it to 100, once you've hit 60.  Once you hit 100, if you click on over to 110, you're pretty close to 150 ... and so forth.  You can actually do this almost indefinitely.  After a while, in fact, it becomes largely automatic, and there's usually a period in the middle of the run during which the pain goes away and you feel awesome for a while.
   
   For the record, I do this on the bike, too, though rarely.  When I'm feeling cooked but working to catch some bunny who is blissfully gliding along in his big ring and doesn't even know some fat idiot is trying to catch him, or when I'm riding hill repeats in Cherokee Park and absolutely refuse to slow down as I approach the top of a climb, I'll count my cadence.
   
   Sometimes I even count out loud -- except I only count off every tenth stride, and I count by tens (because I can do that without losing my place).  It must be very strange to be passed by some dude shuffling along and occasionally exclaiming, "Seventeen! .... Eighteen! ... Twenty!"
   
5. 90% of athletic success really is simply finding some way to ignore your body when it whines about stuff.  The other 10% is learning when you should actually listen.
   
6. Running is harder than cycling.  At least, for me, right now, running is harder than riding the bike.  Yes, I said it.  I meant it.  I won't say this race was as hard as King's Cross, but it was tough.  I suppose I could have made it less tough by walking more.  Walking -- which I can do literally all day -- is not harder than cycling.  Unless you are carrying like 5 gallons of water or whatever on top of your head, in which case it is probably harder, after all.
   
7. Beer tastes just as good after a foot race as it does after a bike race.  Food, likewise, tastes just as good after a foot race as it does after a bike race: which is to say, I don't really bother with tasting it while I'm shoving it down my gullet :)

Oddly enough, I do think I will probably do this 'running' thing some more.  If only because, you know, you have to run in cyclocross, so I might as well get better at it, right?  (Ahem.)

That said, I draw the line at any kind of formalized swimming.  I love swimming, but the minute one adds 'swimming' to one's menu of cycling and running, one veers dangerously in the direction of the triathlon.



PS: My finishing time was about 41 minutes, 42 seconds or thereabouts.  Apparently, not too shabby for someone who doesn't run like, at all, ever.  I was probably faster back in the day when I used to actually run, but I never ran an actual race back then, so this counts as both my fastest and my slowest 5K time ever!

Desert Bikes, Time to Reflect

This weekend made a delightful respite from the staggering heat and humidity that have characterized this summer.  Temperatures were in the 80s -- comfortable, after several weeks of 100+ highs with heat indices one didn't even want to consider -- and a powerful storm on Saturday evening broke the humidity a bit (not to mention breaking a number of power lines and leaving 20,000 or so Louisvillians without electricity).

Of my seven tomato plants, one has produced a single tomato, which had finally ripened by Saturday morning (apparently, tomatoes don't like to ripen in extreme heat).  I picked it but haven't yet eaten it.  It's small, so I think I'm going to slice it into decorative rings and throw it on top of a salad.  After ceremoniously presenting it to DD, I set it on the counter in the kitchen, and then we went out to hunt for cheap bikes.

Why cheap bikes? you may be wondering, Why not a nice 'cross bike, or a good mountain bike? 

In a nutshell, the bikes in question are going to the desert at the end of the month -- specifically, the Black Rock Desert, which is a high plateau surfaced in bike-eating alkaline dust.  We're going to Burning Man, where bikes are the primary mode of transit.

The bikes in question are coming with us.  While I intend to strip them, clean them thoroughly, and replace any corroded parts when we return, we didn't want to put a whole lot of money into a couple of machines whose major purpose in life will be to roll around in the dust for a week once a year -- so the goal was to find a couple of inexpensive fat-tired bikes, preferably singlespeed cruisers, but anything with a reliable frame and two more-or-less round wheels would have worked.

In the end, we spent less than $100 for the two bikes and wound up with cheap, used 'mountain' bikes, but that's cool.  DD found his bike -- a BigBoxMart Roadmaster with front shocks and a rather unusual frame -- prior to this weekend.  On Saturday, I happened across a green-and-white Canada Dry bike with no shocks at all (shocks were a dealbreaker for me, the ones on cheap bikes are simply too heavy and annoying).  It has crappy components, but it isn't ridiculously heavy (having mono has turned me into the ultimate weight weenie, for the moment), and the frame is actually surprisingly decent, with neat, solid welds and comfortable, upright geometry.

When we get back, I might strip it and pop some better components on -- alloy wheels, for example, would both be lighter and more resistant to the wrath of the desert in future years than its current all-steel, all-the-time wheelset will be in this year.  I think it could be a pretty comfortable ride; slow but steady.  In fact, the SodaBike might just become my grocery-getter.  I am debating whether to call it SodaBike or Turtle (because slow and steady, like Aesop's Tortoise, which is not as much fun to say as 'Turtle").  Or both.  "Turtle the SodaBike, Lord of the Desert, Bearer of Groceries" sounds like a suitably overwrought title for this, the humblest of my bikes.  Plus, it gives me a theme for the stickers with which I intend to plaster the frame: turtles.  I <3 turtles anyway.

I am, as you might have guessed, looking forward to playing with it.  It will be nice to have a humble little getting-around bike with no aspirations to become much of anything else.


Speaking of aspirations, I am actually feeling grateful for this random bout of mono at what initially struck me as a really bad time.  It has given me both impetus and, in a weird sense, permission to step back and re-evaluate what I'm doing with myself and why.

As I often do, I've been driving myself too hard in recent weeks.  I have had trouble seeing that, because I'm not driving myself to the extent of human limitation.  I know it is possible to push a human body further than I push mine, and so I neglect to account for the notion that I may have pushed mine as far as it's willing to go at this juncture.

I have been driving myself too hard because I've been frustrated with myself: frustrated that I managed to gain 17 pounds somewhere along the line and still haven't lost most of it; frustrated that I have missed so many of my cycling goals; frustrated that I don't seem to actually know how to set reasonable goals in the first place. 

I have a rather unfortunate tendency to that question in black-and-white: how far can the human body be pushed, not how far can my body be pushed at this particular moment in time? or even, how far should I push my body right now?

Likewise, I'm not really great at knowing how to back down.

Well, I'm backing down, now.

This isn't to say I plan to quit racing, nor that I plan to skip 'cross season -- only that I think I'm going to re-evaluate my training goals and so forth for the next year.  I am going to try not to feel like a failure if I miss a race or two this fall.  I am going to try to keep remembering that I ride bikes for fun, and that fun doesn't have to mean driving yourself into the ground.

I've also realized that I sometimes use riding the bike as a way to escape the difficult emotional stuff.  I have some really tough times behind me that I've been trying to sort out through therapy and also, in a less direct sense, through the relationships I have with the people in my life now.  Sometimes, instead of taking my difficulties to the people in my life who love me and could help me work through them, I take them away on my bike and ride until whatever is torturing me from the inside shuts up.  Then I can go back to acting like my usual happy-go-lucky self, as if there's nothing wrong, even though some people in my life -- especially DD -- know that I'm basically full of crap.

Sometimes I ride like the Devil is on my heels because, in a sense, the Devil is on my heels -- my own personal devil, the arbiter of my own personal hell.  Endorphins do an awesome job when it comes to knocking pain, anger, and fear back into some dark corner somewhere -- but so do drugs, alcohol, and so forth.  I don't suppose I can think well of myself for being someone who doesn't use drugs at all and who drinks only rarely if I am, instead, misusing my bike.

This isn't to say that going out and riding hard when you need some kind of emotional release or escape is always wrong.  Sometimes it's okay.  But when you do that all the time instead of doing the work to get free of your devils, of your own personal hell, then you are in the same boat as any drug addict, any alcoholic. 

When I start really riding again, my challenge will be trying to keep a grip on that behavior.  If nothing else, it is wrong to use something as beautiful and good as a bicycle, as beautiful and good as cycling, in that way.

Today, though, I'm just going to stay home, try to get the laundry done, maybe take a little walk, and rest a bit more.  Tomorrow I have things to do that will take me out into the world, I and plan to ride some bike or another (on a bike, you can coast if you get tired).  I'm not quite sure which bike I'll ride -- maybe even Turtle -- but I think I'm going to try not to ride Hg, because I always want to ride fast and hard on Hg (and also because, frankly, I don't know if I can handle standard road gearing yet).

It will be nice to ride slowly and easily and gently in this nice cool weather and imagine the coming of fall.

Louisville Short Track 2011 Finale: My First Mountain Bike Race!

(or, My First DNF)

 
This weekend, I borrowed a nice Cannondale from my friend JH.  Actually, it's really nice -- it has a carbon derailleur, is startlingly light, and rides like a dream, even on the road.  It's also silver in color, which means it's destined to wind up in my stable if he ever sells it :D

I borrowed it so I could ride my first mountain bike race -- the last race in the Louisville Short Track Series, co-hosted by Rogue Racing Project and Bob's Red Mill.  After my asthma kicked up a bit riding a practice lap, I thought long and hard about whether or not to race ... and then figured, "What the heck?  It's $15 ($10 for the race, $5 for the one-day license).  Even I can afford $15, and it'll be fun.  I'll just be careful and sit in at the back."

So I signed up and rode around for a while to warm up a bit more, and also because I was too nervous to stand still and watch the kids', Juniors, and Cat 3 Womens' races.  I also got to finally meet one of my team-mates -- we've been trying to track each-other down and plan a regular training ride for like three months now, so that was cool.  After a while, DD arrived bearing water and bananas (he's still the best soigneur/team car driver/masseur/etc. in the whole universe).  We chatted for a few minutes, I warmed up a bit more, and then it was time for my race.

I decided to start at the back.  I wasn't there to win, just to ride with a bunch of other crazy people (DD and I talked on the way home about why I want to race, because I still have trouble grokking it sometimes).  One of our charming co-hosts (I think it was Seiler, but sadly can't tell who anyone is without bike helmets on!) did a sort of roll call to make sure we were all in place, and then off we went.

Through the uphill singletrack section right near the start, I held on to the tail of the pack just fine (strangely, I found it easier to ride the singletrack bit with other guys  right in front of me, perhaps because I was paying attention to them instead of being freaked out by big scary roots that might jump out of the ground and try to kill me).  I backed off the pace a little on the grassy descents that followed; I was riding slick tires because I forgot to swap them out for knobbies, so traction was a little iffy.  I felt pretty confident and rode fairly fast through the next section, a rolling grass stretch, and I was no longer last at the bottom of the long grassy climb that followed.

However, halfway up the climb, my lungs started to feel sketchy.  I ignored them and kept pedaling.  That's kind of how racing rolls, and I think that's a big part of why I race -- to challenge my own limitations; to push my own boundaries.

I made it to the top of the hill wheezing, but did not die.  Through the curvy, rolling stretch that followed, I managed okay.  My lungs were still hurting -- not the burn that you feel when you're pushing yourself, but the curious I-am-going-to-burst-if-I-can't-get-a-proper-exhale-going that comes with an impending asthma attack (at least for me).  I decided to ride that section sloooooowly, made it back to the start (after rolling over a log I couldn't seem to hop properly) and began my second lap.

On the second lap, I was alone on the singletrack section.  I could see the other racers up ahead, some already pouring down the grass descent, so I still had bunnies to chase (which helps).  That said, I spent too much time worrying about the roots, and lost my momentum at one point, after which I had to push the bike a couple steps to get rolling again.  (Note to self: Try not to stop, even by accident, when climbing rooty singletrack.)

The second time through the grass descent, I felt more confident.  My wheel touched the tape at one point, but I rode it faster.  I flew happily through the grass rollers, then hit the bottom of the big climb ... and sucked.

I had caught a couple other riders, but during the climb my asthma kicked in hard.  I started to cough, and actually had to stop for a few seconds, which is not a good sign.  However, I was on the back half of the course, and figured if I could maneuver well enough I might be able to keep going.  Besides, I had a bit of riding left to do before I got to the start of lap three, so down I went, through the rolling, grassy curves on the other side, and back around past the start.

By this time, my lungs were starting to feel really tight.  I was trying to push through it, but coughing and experiencing the early effects of oxygen deprivation.  Then I nearly wiped out coming around a corner on the grass, and suddenly there was DD with his camera.

I pulled up and asked, "Will you lose all respect for me if I don't finish this race?  My asthma's kicking my butt."

He said, "Nah.  Of course not."  So I stepped over the tape, handed him my bike, and sat down on the ground so I could hit the inhaler and sit with my arms folded over my head.

After three puffs of albuterol and a few more minutes of controlled breathing exercises, I was able to cheer on the remaining racers -- especially my teammates -- a bit.  Then the race was over.

I had my doubts for a little while.  The thing that made me doubt my decision to pull out of the race is the simple fact that my legs had a lot more in them -- but legs don't work when lungs don't work, and whether or not the legs work at all is totally irrelevant when you're rubber-side-up in the singletrack because you didn't have the sense to call it quits when you started feeling seriously woozy.

Denis put it best, I think, when he said, "I'd rather know where you are because you decided to stop than have to find out which hospital the ambulance took you to."  That about sums it up.

In the end I had a great time, and I learned that I can DNF and be okay with it.  That was also a big challenge for me: I didn't know if I'd be okay with a DNF.  I was afraid it might upset me a lot more than it has -- but I DNF'ed, and I'm fine with it.

Basically, when I race, I'm not out there to win.  I'm out there to have fun.  My goal is to finish, but I am okay with not finishing every race.  There are times that it's better to say, "Okay, enough is enough, and this is enough."

I think, as DD pointed out, that the reason I race -- instead of just sticking to group rides -- is simply because it's a different experience.  Everyone goes all out.  You put everything you have into riding the bike, and for a little while that's all you're doing.

It made something funny about last year's experience at King's Cross make sense.  At the start, I was on the front line.  I was having toe-clip issues, so a bunch of guys passed me before I got up to speed.  I was sure was was dead last -- but when I looked at DD's pictures, it turned out I was actually not far from the front for about half the race.

Especially in the beginning, it was like this...

Here's where I thought I was:

X-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Here's where I really was:

------------------------------------------------------X-----------------------------------------

It was all a matter of perception.  Because I couldn't see any of the guys behind me, I thought I was DFL, and I pushed pretty hard to hang on to the 'back' of the pack through the first couple of laps.  I wound up burning a few more matches than I should have done; I certainly would've finished better if I'd started softer (and also if I'd geared my bike better).  Lesson learned: this year, I'll start in the middle, know I'm in the middle, and simply work to stay in the middle.

It's all a learning experience, and ultimately a lot of it boils down to psychology.

I wonder if I would have been willing to quit if I felt I could've caught the pack, or if I'd known there was even one other rider behind me, when I bowed out.  I'm glad I didn't think I could catch the pack, and that I didn't know I wasn't last when I did step off the track.  I'm glad I stopped.  My race ended over two hours ago, and I've finally stopped coughing just now.  Bowing out and taking a DNF was simply the right call.

I feel pretty good about doing two laps.  The course was pretty intense, and I don't have a lot of proper mountain bike experience.  Likewise, I was surprised at how well I managed on the singletrack.

So now I have two racing goals:

First, finish a little better in 'cross this year.

Second, finish in the short track series next year.

There's another mountain bike race in August, too -- I think I'm going to go ahead and give that one a try.  I hope Jim will let me borrow his bike again (or maybe just hang onto it a bit longer), so I can get a little more practice in and ride that race.  That one's a bit different -- a MTB circuit race, sort of, instead of a short-track race.  It's one six mile loop, two laps (for Cat 3 men).  I'll have to ride around in the parks a bit more, but somehow that fails to seem like a burden :)

Ultimately, a big part of the reason I race is the same one that makes me love group rides so much: I simply love being around other bike nuts.  I think I'm going to try to do more of that, in the future.  It would be good for my emotional health, and it would also be good for my physical health and for my racing 'career,' such as it is.  One complements the other.

A few assorted loose threads:

First, DD got a bunch of pictures from the race, so I'm hoping he'll have them uploaded soon.  I'll stick 'em up here.

Second, Things are finally starting to iron out in my life.  I think I'm finally recovering from the depression that torpedoed the first half of 2011 -- and I'm actually looking forward to the back half of the year (and not just because it means 'cross season is coming).  I'm finally feeling like I can do stuff again -- like I'm capable of solving problems, instead of just collapsing under them.  I realize that's a fragile feeling, and I need to build up my problem-solving muscles before I take on the world (which is the mistake I've often made in the past).

I think choosing to DNF in this race, actually, was a good exercise for those problem-solving muscles.  A few months ago I probably would've pushed on (though, admittedly, a few months ago my lungs were doing better -- my asthma is a hundred times better than it was last year at this time, but it's definitely still there).

Third, on the way home I also told him I was thinking about selling the Allez.  He shot me a startled look and said, "Why?"  I answered, "It's so I can justify buying a 'cross bike.  I mean, I don't know if I can really justify owning two road bikes and a 'cross bike."  Basically, in a way, a 'cross bike is effectively just one more road bike in my arsenal.

DD looked at me and said, "You can sell it if you want to, but you don't have to."  I said, "Maybe I'll just hang it on the wall.  Then it won't count as a road bike."  I know it can be destructive to cling to objects -- but I'm not ready to let Quicksilver go.  I like the idea of being able to look at him and say, "This was my first real road bike" -- or of fixing him up and passing him along for free to someone who really wants to ride.  Like Swift, I would like to see him in service, but I also realize I'm not going to ride QS as much in the future.

Last, I got a ribbon for racing.  Everyone who raced today got a ribbon -- that was pretty cool.  The top three got prizes as well, and the rest of us got a ribbon that says, "Not Last."  I think this is probably the coolest ribbon I've ever received, including all the second-place ribbons I won back when I was showing horses (I never took first, always second, heh).  I hung it and both my race numbers on a wire penny-farthing that DD got me, and I was going to display it in an unobtrusive spot on the wall over my small bookshelf, where it would be out of the way, but where I could still see it.

DD hung it right over the door to between the living room and the dining room -- a spot where it can be seen from the couch and the loveseat, and also by anyone who walks through the front door.

Did I mention that DD is the best fiance/soigneur/personal trainer/masseur/team-car-driver/everything else in the whole, wide world?

Harry Potter is a Straight-Up Dude, or, Best. Race. Evar!

Disclaimer: I realize that this post officially marks me as a big ol' sap, and I should point out that my 12-year-old self, who is still very much alive and well, is rolling his eyes and going, "OMG PLZZZZZ don't humiliate us, dude!" 

Today I learned many things -- or in some (maybe all) cases, was reminded of many important lessons that I've learned along the way and possibly forgotten.  I was reminded that 'The Secret,' corny though the book and the movie may be, really works.  I was reminded that Harry Potter is a straight-up dude (more on that later).  And, perhaps most importantly, I was reminded that winning isn't everything.

I should probably begin by mentioning the fact that I didn't race today, though it seems like Seiler and the other fellow (Jim?) who run the short-track series together probably would've let me, at least for fun (at one point, Seiler -- commenting on the variety of bikes at the race, said as I picked my QS up from his resting place in the grass, "...And there's a guy with a -- we'll call it a drop-bar mountain bike!"). 

However, I still don't quite have all my ducks in a row, and as such have not acquired my UCI/USAC license for this year (d'oh), on top of which I didn't bring any cash to pay the race fee, because I was figuring that since I didn't have a mountain bike, racing wasn't an option.  I basically showed up to pound some stakes, cheer on a couple of races, and ride home.

That, however, doesn't stop me from learning things at this race.

The race, in particular, that struck me as a learning opportunity was the very first one -- the "kids' race" (not to be confused with the Juniors group), which gives kids who aren't ready for prime time a chance to have a go at bike racing and win some prizes.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, there were all kinds of kids in the kids' race.  The youngest were a pair of three-year olds -- so small they were pretty much relegated to their own de facto single-speed division, since their bikes were so small that any associated derailleurs would have dragged the ground (plus, I don't think anyone makes a geared bike in a 12" wheel size).  One was a little boy, one was a little girl.

The little girl had fallen over during her warm-up lap, but gamely lined up for the start anyway.  About five meters from the finish line, she was ahead of the little boy by a few lengths, duking it out in what Seiler called 'The Battle of the Threes' -- and there, though she was, in essence, winning her (unofficial) group, she stopped.

She put on the brakes (that is, she put her feet on the ground) and simply stopped and stood stock still.  She wasn't going anywhere, period, and nobody was going to make her ride so much as one more meter, let alone five.  Her dad, who had been patiently trailing along making sure that she didn't topple over (the boy's dad was doing the same), finally kind of shrugged, picked her up, and wheeled her bike off the track.

The lesson?

Winning isn't everything.  Even when you're five meters from the line.

Sometimes there are more important things in life.  I have no idea what was going on in that little girl's mind, but obviously something was way, way more important to her than continuing her race -- even though she was, in a sense, winning her own group, even if that group wasn't officially recognized.

This was obviously a little girl of strong will and considerable character.  I have a feeling we'll be seeing more of her both this season and in years to come.

Second: about 'The Secret' ... it more or less has to do with the whole idea of mind-over-matter.  It's something I've really struggled with, the past few months, as I wrestled with an on-again, off-again depression (one that continues to challenge me).  I have been trying to overcome the obsessive-compulsive thoughts that roar into my brain -- kind of like badly-timed freight trains -- to tell me how fat* I am, or how hopeless my quest to become a competent (if mediocre) bike racer looks, and how closely I resemble the Michelin Man in my team kit.

Today I managed to convince myself that I look and feel and am awesome on the bike.  Thus, I did feel awesome on the bike.  I don't know that I was actually awesome, but that doesn't really matter.  Likewise, my shadow looked pretty awesome, and that made it possible for me to visualize myself as I hope to look in a few months, when 'cross season gets rolling.

The idea, as The Rocky Horror Picture Show's opening title track puts it, is this: "Don't dream it -- be it."  Inside this chunky chrysalis, a svelte bike racer is preparing to hatch.

All this 'feeling awesome' put me in a pretty good mood.  I've noticed that when I'm in a pretty good mood, drivers seem to drive better.  Whether this is a 'law of attraction' thing, or whether my attention system favors nice drivers over grumpy drivers when I'm in a good mood doesn't really matter.  It is what it is.

Thus, as I spun my way home, I happened to notice a nice driver who pulled up behind me at a four-way stop, made no effort to pass me at the stop sign or in the intersection, and waited politely for me to wave him around on the next segment of road.  As he passed I shot him a smile and noticed A) that the driver in question sat at the while of a white Galant (appropriate, eh?) and B) the driver in question was Harry Potter.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't really Harry Potter, but he looked at least as much like Harry Potter as I do when my hair is short (which it totally isn't, right now) -- and I look enough like Harry Potter that I will probably never have to buy another Hallowe'en costume as long as I live.  I look enough like Harry Potter that I have more than once, while riding through the city in a sweater, white shirt, and tie, been greeted with cries of, "Look!  It's Harry Potter!"  I look enough like Harry Potter that -- well, I think you see my point, here.

So, anyway, long story short, Harry Potter is a righteous bro, and stuff.  He was nice to me at a point in the ride where I was pretty much cooked.  I had been out on the bike more or less since noon, excepting a brief break to walk around pounding stakes into the ground on the hills of Seneca Park and then watch a couple of races -- and I had rather hammered it home, since DD's Aunt C is coming for a brief visit tonight, so the consideration was deeply appreciated.



Notes
*WRT my fatness, or lack thereof: in my purely rational mind, I realize this sentiment is somewhat ridiculous, and probably not really something people who are legitimately obese want to hear -- the thing is, my personal psychosis about my weight is precisely that: a psychological disorder, and it applies only to me.  I also recognize that as someone who has, from time to time, struggled with an actual eating disorder, participating in a sport that is occasionally called 'a very expensive eating disorder' might not be the best idea ever.  Still, I love bikes, and I love riding bikes, so I don't plan to stop.  I just plan to remain vigilant, carefully sorting the sane thoughts about my weight from the totally-out-of-touch-with-reality ones, and to set a reasonable, healthy weight goal -- 145 pounds, instead of 125 pounds (I would be happy, though, with 155).  I have seen how I look at 125 pounds.  It's not pretty, though at the time I didn't know that.

Why Do I Do This To Myself?

Last year, in May, I think I was still in my 'maybe I'll race someday but probably not' phase.  Then I decided to do some 'cross, decided to give King's Cross a whirl, and had a blast (can you say 'masochist,' kids?).

Over the winter, I beat around the bush.  I told DD I might not race this season.  He said, "Are you sure?"  I said, "Well, no."  Later, I said, "I'm thinking about racing," and he said, "Weren't you thinking about not racing?" and I said, "I was."  Then I wavered back to 'not racing.'

And then, perhaps stupidly, I decided to see what's going on cyclocross-wise in the immediate area this year, and realized a race that I missed last year because I was too chicken or under the weather or something is going off again this year -- Huber's 'Applecross' festival, which combines apple orchards and bikes, two of my very favorite things.

There is also rumor of excellent jam and probably other food of some sort to be found at Huber's.

So I pretty much can't not go.

There's also a race in Fisherman's Park, which opens OVCX this year, called 'FishStiCX.'  How could I not want to participate in something called 'FishStiCX?'

Besides, it's nearby and the course can't possibly be as murderous as King's Cross was, or at any rate probably doesn't involve anything that looks like this:

The Cyclocross Steps in Boulder, CO's Valmont Park

And assuming I don't entirely run out of money by then, I would love to do 'Bloomingcross' in Bloomington, IN (16 October) and of course Storm the Greens, right here in Louisvlile (30 October).

That's about all the racing I think I could possibly manage during fall semester, and I don't feel a great impetus to pursue anything else on the OVCX calendar.

Right now, our shop-team-in-the-making has run into the problem of not owning a single proper 'cross bike between the lot of us (though most of us are of a height that would allow us to share one, if we weren't all destined to ride in men's Cat 4 except Erica).  Given dry weather (and possibly a different wheelset -- I'm not sure I really want to bomb around offroad on the low-spoke Aksiums that are on there right now), I would be more than happy to run Hg in a 'cross race, but he has no mud clearance to speak of (likewise, if I have my way, QS will never see another spot of mud or slush for the rest of his years).  Thus, at least one of us needs to acquire something 'crossy.  If we don't manage to pull it off, though, I will be more than happy to ride with Rogue again this season (speaking of which, the Short Track Series is coming up -- w00t!).

I think I might buy one of the shop's CX200s after all -- I don't think I'll be able to afford the Jamis Nova Pro I was hoping for, nor the Specialized Crux that I lust after in my darkest of heart-of-hearts (I assume this is the same darkest-heart-of-hearts that makes me look forward to punishing myself on the 'cross course this fall, I assume).  Besides, they look like they have nice road manners, and DD seems to enjoy road bikes but finds mine a bit scary.  The longer wheelbase and slightly-more-upright ride might suit him well.  Also, a CX 200 could pull double-duty as a grocery bike, thus freeing QS from his unending torment.  I am currently attempting to come up with a plan that will allow me to pull off purchasing a CX 200, making a fairly major purchase for DD as a wedding present, and still having sufficient funds available for school.

As you might have guessed, I am also starting to feel more like a human being again.  I woke up this morning, hauled my butt out of bed at eight on a day that I don't have to be anywhere 'til 3:30 (though I'm going to try my darndest to get over to the Portland Clinic and finish up my paperwork), looked at the house and felt well enough to both think, "Man, this place has gotten out of hand," and "I can do something about this," and actually did something about ... well, some of it.  Then I played the organ for a while.

Oh.  I have probably failed to mention that DD bought me an organ.  Apparently, they're hard to sell.  This one had been on the market for a while, and the seller -- who very much wanted to see it in the hands of someone who would actually play it, and not strip it for parts and turn it into something else -- was offering it again for $50, so now we have an adorable little Baldwin Orgasonic.  Built in 1966, it's both very pretty (I'll post pix once I get some good ones) and sounds quite good, though there's a short in the speaker for the pedals, which drives DD's engineering side a little nuts, since it makes funny popping noises from time to time. 

Needless to say, I -- for one -- am absolutely delighted.  I never would've imagined I would have my very own organ this soon, and would happily have settled for something quite a bit less pleasing to my ear.  With the appropriate settings turned on, this one sounds about as close to a real pipe organ as one could hope from such a diminutive instrument -- and that's actually pretty close indeed.  It also has two manuals and a full octave in the pedals, so it's an invaluable practice instrument.

So, I played the organ.  Then I came in here and looked for races.  Now I'm going to go put some sunscreen on so in twenty minutes or so I can wheel on out into the sun and enjoy the day (and, I hope, keep the rubber side down).  That said, I am trying hard not to overdo it (the mistake I usually make), so I don't plan on riding too fast or too hard (note that I use the word 'plan' to excuse myself from responsibility when, inevitably, I do ride too fast and too hard, heh).

Time to Build!

I brought the new frame into the shop to get the party started on the build. With the fork and headset, it weighs in at 4.09 lbs (around 1.86 kilos). Looks like a good starting point for a light, fast road bike. I've decided to name it 'Mercury.'

After a brief conference, Billy and I decided to build it up as a 9-speed touring bike, with a slightly more relaxed geometry than Quicksilver's and (OMG) bar-end shifters (they're a little less expensive than brifters, but won't look as wonky on the rather-more-modern-than-is-usually-my-style frame).

Billy is providing a pair of Mavic Aksium Race clinchers and an FSA carbon crankset, so the remaining parts for the build will probably run me around $300 - $400. That's a hair more than I was originally planning to spend (I was going to go with just the Mavic wheelset), but a really solid higher-end-than-I-was-expecting road machine for a total of about $500 - $600 (including the around $100 DD paid for the frame, after shipping) is actually a really good deal anyway. Next year, I'll probably stick some brifters on it and use it as my race bike.

We were planning to put a pair of older Shimano brifters (I forget the model number) on the new road bike, but scrapped that idea in favor of putting them on my old green GT, Swift -- which is becoming, in Billy's words, 'A legit 'cross bike.' I removed the old flat bar and the cables today, and Billy swapped in the drops and brifters from our spare parts bin. We'll need to order a crankset, since I'm planning on a 1x7 or 1x8 setup. The current crankset is a heavy -- and crappy -- triple.

As for wheels, I'll probably just roll with Swift's current wheelset for now. Lighter wheels wouldn't kill me, but the ones I've got aren't anchors, either. They're also bomb-proof, which is a good quality in a 'cross bike.

This process should significantly trim Swift's weight. I was amazed how much the flat bar alone weighed -- it was actually significantly heavier than the drops we've got on there now. The seatpost was also heavy. You could have used either to knock someone out (in fact, the flat bar was disturbingly well-balanced for use as a weapon -- eek!). I'm keeping the grips -- they might fit DD's mountain bike.

I think I'll see about a carbon seatpost and maybe -- if I stumble into some money, somehow -- a carbon fork (for now, I'm just sticking with the existing steel fork).

All of this couldn't be timelier, as we're seriously kicking around the idea of putting together a shop team (probably 'cross-oriented). Everyone actually seems pretty excited about it, which is awesome. The challenge, of course, will be organizing training rides, since most of the messengers (myself included) are also students -- but I'm sure we can figure something out. If nothing else, we can probably do 'cross practice on Friday after work. Fortunately, work just about two miles from the local 'cross course -- which happens to be where the 2013 Worlds will be happening, so we're all pretty excited about getting our wheels into it.

I'm pretty happy with how my life is kind of falling together right now, and pretty excited about getting more involved with 'cross racing. This means getting more serious about training, but I'm game for it.

Thus, I'm adding to my goals:
Drop 25 - 30 pounds by September (very doable)
Get the CBD Race Team rolling
Set up a weekly 'cross practice day (Friday?)

I'm thinking the 'cross practice should be combined with some kind of group outing involving significant others and beer afterwards, so nobody feels left out.

Training Goals for 2011

Overall Goals:
Garner as much enjoyment as humanly possible from riding the bike.
Continue to improve my health.
Don't overdo it.

Long-Distance Goal:
Yes, I'm going to try again for a 200k, if I can find one that isn't, say, the 19th of this month.  I don't think I'm likely to be ready for a 200k by next Saturday! 

If I don't manage to find an organized 200k, then at least one or two organized centuries.

In 2012, I would like to do a Super-Randonneur series, but we'll see.

Racing Goal:
Try new things, have fun, and try to finish races -- but not at the expense of fun!

Work Goal:
Continue to improve at providing fast, efficient courier service throughout CBD's service area.

 O-O

February Goals:

-Week One-

Long ride: 20 miles

Total Distance: 100 miles

-Week Two-

Long ride: 25 miles

Total Distance: 110 miles

Je suis le cowbell rouge ... I think.

So!

Today's race was my best race ever!

...And I could have said that no matter what happened, because it was also my first real, official race (with a number and everything) ever.

In fact, regardless of what this shot may imply...

From OVCX Kings Cross 2010

I didn't even crash into any other racers.

Sometimes I even looked like I knew what I was doing:

From OVCX Kings Cross 2010

Though once I also dropped my bike in the middle of the barriers:

From OVCX Kings Cross 2010

Um, oops.

I love the way I'm looking at my bike in this picture. You can almost see me saying, "Crap, where's my downtube?"

At least once, I looked pretty awesome:

From OVCX Kings Cross 2010

...Even though I was the only crazy dude on a flat bar bike with toe clips:

From OVCX Kings Cross 2010

Swift, it turns out, is not as effective an off-road machine as Quicksilver. I've ridden swift on trails and over grass before, but not really at speed. At speed, that is one rough ride.

I had some issues with my grip shifters — there was one big, steep climb, and whenever I tried to use my bars for leverage, I would trigger the grip-shift, throwing Swift into a bigger gear. Not what I needed, considering that I'd accidentally disabled my granny gear (yes, I really could've used it this morning, I admit it). I put up with that for one lap before realizing that I would not die in shame if I just ran that climb — half the field was running it, anyway.

The most important part is that I had a blast. Well, okay, the most important parts, in order, are that I did not die, my shorts did not split, I did not cause any disasters, and I had a blast :) In fact, I'm pretty sure that my race had only one spill — a fast fellow came around a sharp turn and wiped out. He was back on his bike before three of us could say, "Are you okay, man?"

The best moment, I think, was when another Rogue racer shouted out as he passed me something like, "Good job, Rogue! Stay strong!" That was awesome. It was near the end of the race, and I needed it. I found him and thanked him after I finished. Then I found DD and sucked down about two litres of water.

I haven't seen the results sheet, so I don't know if I was really DFL. Even if I was, I don't care. I had a great time, and I finished. There were four Rogues total in my race, and I think one of us did pretty well indeed. More will be out tomorrow, but I had to get back for church.

There is definitely more 'cross in my future. I may or may not do Shawnee Park on the 25th or 26th — it depends on the race details (time, entry fees, etc). If I do, and it's not soggy out, I think I'll ride Quicksilver.

Anyway, that's it for now. As you can probably tell, I am still somewhat addle-pated, and I will probably retire at some point in the not-too-distant-future and sleep like a log and dream about riding my bike.

Thanks to DD for all the pictures, and also for being the best soigneur/team car driver/boyfriend a fellow could ask for. DD, one of these days, I am going to win one for you!

Cognitive Dissonance

I'm racing on Saturday, so I picked up my team kit today. Of course, I had to try it on. Right away. While waiting for my dental appointment to begin (nothing takes the sting out of an enormous drill-and-fill job like new team kit*, I guess?).

Here's what I look like, all dressed up and ready to rock (or at least to go find my helmet and gloves, once I get done squinting at my phone):

From CyclingStuff

Here's what I think I look like in my team kit:

From No, I'm not sure what the cat is doing in the background, either. Epic backpack battle, maybe?

Here's what my legs look like in cycling shorts:

From Yes, really. That's about the size of it.

Here's what I think my legs look like in cycling shorts:

Just imagine these in cycling shorts. I'm afraid that my computer will crash if I launch Photoshop right now :D

As you can see, my perceptions might be a little skewed.

In the picture, I think I actually look pretty good in my awesome 2010-special-edition-Rogue Racing Project jersey. In real life, I'm like, "Does anyone have a bathrobe handy that I could put on over this thing? ...Because I totally feel like I'm naked." (But naked with three awesome pockets in back!)

This is what Bruce thinks of the whole matter:

a'Oh, Please.'

...So. I'm way behind on logging my mileage, though not behind at all on the mileage itself (in fact, I'm ahead).

This is because I decided to bite the bullet and take a really cool job that I was offered, which has meant re-organizing my life quite a bit. The pay is less than my old job (a lot less), but the work is more interesting and the hours are much more compatible with school, which means I can keep this new job next semester.

Moreover, I've been out playing on the 'cross course this week (yeay!) and had an exam tonight (took all of about 20 minutes, so I either aced it or bombed it). This morning I spent half an hour cleaning sand out of Quicksilver's drivetrain. Tomorrow I have work and then choir.

Life is going to be calmer, but I'm still settling into the new routine.

This weekend is Kings Cross, and the following weekend, we're installing a new Bishop (not sure whether that requires flat or Phillips...), so I'll be singing on Saturday and Sunday. The following weekend, I hope to sit on my duff and do basically nothing.

I'm going to take it easy on the bike tomorrow and basically not ride at all on Friday, so my legs will be fresh on Saturday. They've combined the Cat 4 and Cat 3 races (edit: it turns out they combined the Cat 4 Open and Masters' 35+ and 45+ divisions — much less intimidating), so I will cop to being a little intimidated — but I think I'll have fun, regardless. I'm still trying to figure out whether to ride Quicksilver or the somewhat-improved Swift (now with real 'cross tires!). I doubt I'll figure it out 'til I get there. I'm planning to bring both bikes.

Anyway, that's it for now. I'm going to try to get caught up on my mileage log, but I'm not sure I'll swing it before Monday.

Monday I have absolutely nothing going on except class, so I'm looking forward to just chillaxin' before I roll up to school.

*Except having the world's best dentist — which I do.

Cycling Tips!

Note: The faint of stomach and insect-phobic might want to skip this one. Fair warning!

Many authoritative books, blogs, and websites explain the important set of skills that one should master in order to become a competent group cyclist. However, I have noticed that many of them — maybe most — neglect a few key points.

As such, freshly back from a big group ride (in fact, the biggest group ride I have ever seen in person!!!), I believe I am in a good position to comment, if not-so-authoritatively, on them. Note that I'm just commenting here — not so much advising as just observing.

The first skill I'd like to address is an essential one — an unpleasant-but-important one that any cyclist who rides often enough will eventually have to employ, particularly during allergy season. It's the skill that allows us to clear our throats as well as our thoughts; to remove obstacles (from our tracheas); and to roll on even after aspirating the occasional mayfly. It's a skill that is also near and dear to the hearts of old-timey saloon patrons, runners, and thugs — yes, I'm talking about spitting.

Spitting

While nobody has performed a scientific analysis of the topic, I'm sure that we all agree that spitting, while totally gross, is sometimes necessary. It has taken me some time to become comfortable with the idea (and I still won't spit on the sidewalk, no matter how urgent the need), but there are simply times when one must, as they say, hawk a loogie, lest one drown in one's one sputum.

This is rarely a major issue for a cyclist — when riding solo, we may generally spit with abandon, and in a small group we can simply fall back or pull out of line just a bit.

In a large group, however, such as the main pack of a race, a charity ride, or a big municipal ride*, spitting without mishap requires a certain degree of grace and finesse.

This is especially true, I think, on non-competitive rides, wherein the riders come to have fun, not to suffer, possibly make it to within 43 spots of the podium, and earn another war story**. I suspect that I would be more willing to forgive the occasional ill-timed or ill-aimed goober in a race, assuming I even noticed it***. I tend to ride in a bit of a trance, anyway.

Among the first things I noticed (shortly after, Hey! I can actually keep up with these guys! Whaddaya know! and Crap, it's definitely time for a tuneup!) on my giant group ride yesterday morning is that I am the spittingest cyclist east of the Ohio River. West of the Ohio River, on the other hand, or east of the Eastern Continental divide, my allergies and asthma are much less bad, and thus I am less ... um ... productive.

But Louisville, she is a harsh mistress — and so I suffer through all the prime cycling months — you know, March through October — afloat on a sea of my own respiratory excreta. Or something like that.

This is especially true when one of my first orders of business during a ride is the aspiration of some kind of large insect (possibly a Mayfly?) during a climb. Normally, I can make it through a 20-ish mile ride without spitting 200 times, or even 20 times. Yesterday's ride, however, involved way, way more spitting than is usual for me, and probably doubled my annual loogies-per-mile average (an important cycling statistic).

I was concerned, at first, that it would be very difficult to, ahem, relieve myself of the bounty of my respiratory system's truly stupendous efforts without grossly (and I do mean 'grossly') offending some other poor soul. However, I quickly learned that a small set of steps can prevent catastrophe.

How to Spit in a Loose Group

1. Move to the edge of the group.
2. Check both your left and right sides — even if you plan to send your miniature missile sailing on the right, someone coming up behind you on the left might find it necessary to dart around you on the right. You might hear them coming, but if (like me) you are plagued with terrible allergies that also compromise your hearing, you might not.
3. If you're going less than 15 or 20 MPH, you can probably just turn your head to roughly 2:00ish and launch. Turn your head too far, and you're likely to wind up wearing it. Ask. Me. How. I. Know.
4. If you're moving fast, however, first check the immediate road for potholes and the like, then cock an elbow, tuck your head, and go for the hole shot.
5. Lastly: the idea is to spit down, not out. The faster you're going, the truer it is.

How to Spit in a Tight Group

1. Wait for the group to loosen up.
2. See above.

How to Spit in a Tight Group — Alternate Method

1. Pray.
2. Attempt 'hole shot' manoeuvre.
3. Apologize.

It may, of course, be that you're one of those lucky souls who never find themselves foaming at the mouth on a group ride. If so, please, share with me your secret.

Insects

I have noticed that group rides seem to attract pesky insects. On my first LBC ride, one of my fellow riders was stung by a wasp which flew into his shorts.

On my daily excursions, I have inhaled, eaten, been eaten by, and wiped from both glasses and bike any number of species of flying arthropods.

And, of course, yesterday, I managed to inhale one, thereby profoundly irritating my highly-irritable respiratory tract. I spent the rest of the bridge crossing wheezing and trying to cough up my lungs (not to mention my breakfast), but manfully succeeded in keeping all internal items in place and, indeed, in keeping my spot in the fast group, minus a couple of places.

Likewise, I did not die, though for a moment I was mildly concerned about that possible outcome, as the Second Street Bridge is riddled with joints and various large metal structural elements just waiting to exact their revenge on some poor, addle-pated cyclist, and it is hard to watch out for obstacles while hacking up a lung, as it were.

I have absolutely no suggestions whatsoever concerning how to handle insects, short of 'Insects: avoid them when possible.' However, that's really not very helpful, because it is impossible to avoid insects while hurtling down the road at 20 MPH or faster.

Additional Observations

I learned a couple other things on this ride.

First, I learned that I can maintain a reasonable pace — not blistering, but pretty good — while choking on insects. Also while fighting back the intense nausea that results from keeping up athletic effort while unable to properly breathe.

Second, I learned that there is at least one other guy who comes out on an old Allez for these things. I've seen another Allez of roughly Quicksilver's vintage once before; the one I saw yesterday makes three.

Third, I learned that I am extremely susceptible to the pack mentality. I headed out on this ride intending to pause along the way to shoot some pictures. All the pictures I took, however, are from the start and the end of the ride. This is because I rolled myself up to the back of the first starting group, the 'Competitive Cyclists' group, and once I found myself riding in the flock ... well, you know how it goes.

There was a lot of chasing, bridging, passing, and getting passed going on, considering that the announcer firmly admonished us: "THIS IS NOT A RACE. IT IS A RIDE." No organized efforts, perhaps, but I suspect many of us in the front group were, in our own minds at least, having the race of our lives.

I wonder how big a podium we'd need to fit all the winners? That's my kind of race. I grew up with Shel Silverstein, and while part of me is all about crushing the competition, another part of me is all about 'Hug-O-War'-style racing, where everyone**** wins (also known as 'randonneuring,' I guess?).

As for me, I didn't win, because in my fantasy race I was playing the role of 'star climber,' because apparently climbing is what I do well (when I'm not aspirating mayflies, and even then I'm not too bad at it). I'm confident that I led my (imaginary) team to victory, nobly sacrificing my own shot a the podium, and that's good enough for me. Besides, I'm pretty sure I finished in the top 50, which is pretty good out of a field of 6,000 (non-racers). Not that I care, or bothered to notice ;)

Lastly, I learned that The Jens Voigt Method works really well. If your lungs act up, you tell them, SHUT UP LUNGS! in your best German accent. If your legs start burning, you tell them, SHUT UP LEGS! in your best German accent. If your wrists ... well, you get the point.

Because Jens Voigt is The Man, and we should all try to be a little more like Jens Voigt, even when we're (AHEM) not racing.

Notes

*Do other cities have these? If not, they're really missing out. Monday's ride was awe-inspiring!

**This, by the way, is my racing plan for next road-racing season.

***I hope my fellow cyclobloggers who have actually raced in actual races where they give you an actual number, as opposed to the kind which begin with exchanges like, "Bet I can beat you up that hill!", will be able to confirm or deny this theory. Thus far, all of my races have been the less formal kind (and sometiems not all the participants knew they were racing — I should note that it's particularly humiliating to lose a match race with someone twice your age who doesn't know he's in a race at all).

****...who finishes...

New Month, New Route?

...Or perhaps not.

I tried a different route to work today, hoping to snag a little extra distance. It actually turned out to be shorter than my usual route from Willow Ave. Oops!

I'm debating whether going whole-hog and swapping the flat bars on Swift for drops within a span of 2 weeks is possible (if I can get the parts locally, I'm sure it is; if I can't ... ummm...). If not, I might just toss on a pair of Origin8's drop bar ends, wrap 'em, and call it done. It depends whether or not they're illegal under USAC and UCI regulations — bar ends in general are banned, but I think it's due to the 'no pointy bits' clause for mass-start races, so these might be okay. I've queried the Rogue peeps to find out what they think.

(Sidebar: the concept of rogue peeps is kind of funny. Makes me picture those little marshmallow chicks with ... like ... pirate gear, or something.)

I've decided to go with a single 48t chainring in a 1x7 configuration coupled with a 12-32 cluster (I was going to do 11 - 34, but I think 12 - 32 will do fine and is easier to find, apparently). This combo should give me enough speed for my Cat4 'cross ambitions without making the bike too mashy for less experienced folks who might right it from time to time.

I plan to replace the gripshift system with something less likely to invite disaster, and the RD with ... well, something decent. Fortunately, RDs aren't insanely expensive.

I'm guessing I'll probably have the build done at Bike Couriers', since they got to answer all my, "It this totally insane?" questions — but I think I'm going to stop by parkside and see if they have a reasonbly good-quality crankset and 48t or 50t chainring they'd be willing to sell me. Quicksilver is due for a tuneup, anyway.

Class tonight. I'm behind on my homework, so no 'cross practice for me tonight — probably Friday instead.

Pondering A Build

'Cross season is nigh upon us, and winter will follow soon after. Swift (who is much more 'cross and winter-friendly than Quicksilver) will be seeing a lot of action in the near future — and, as such, I'm contemplating some updates.

My goal is to simplify Swift's component set, preferably without adding a ton of weight (since I have the upper-body strength of an anemic 8-year-old, and 'cross involves — ZOMG — CARRYING TEH BIKE!!1 OH NOES!!!11!1). Since the idea is to take some stuff off (including two whole chainrings and a derailleur that I never really use), I don't think that's going to be a big problem.

I'm still debating whether I'm feeling bold enough to try working on my beloved Swiftie myself, especially when I live in a town with several very good LBSs that I like to support. I'll probably wind up sketching out what I'm looking for here, then taking Swift over to Parkside to see what we can accomplish.

It's possible (even probably) that slapping a bunch of upgrades on Swift will cost me as much as or more than a decent used 'cross bike — but I don't really want to add another bike to the stable right now. Or, rather, I want to, but I am trying to curb my impulse to own things I don't really need. A solid winter bike (that doesn't technically belong to my roomie) is a must-have, but if I can build one out of a bike I already own and love, I think it's a good practice to do so, especially if I can support the local economy whether I buy or build.

So here's what I'm thinking about doing. Please tell me if I'm insane:

1. Drivetrain:
   
   • Remove front derailleur.
   • Replace current triple crankset (170mm) with single 48t, 50t, or 52t ring on new crankset.
   • Add chainguard or bash guard, as situation warrants.
   • Add clipless combo pedals (the kind that let you ride clipless or not, as the occasion warrants)
   • Swap out 7-speed 12-28 cluster with 7-speed 11-30 or 11-32.
   OR
   • If feasible (both cost- and physics-wise), switch to 8-speed 11-32 cluster.
   • Possibly swap out rear derailleur*, as the existing one is pretty old and not that great to begin with, and could probably stand to be replaced.
2. Front end:
   
   • Swap out flat bars for drops, if financially feasible.
   • Add 'cross levers if drops are added.
   • Remove front shifter, as it won't be needed.
3. Wheels, tires, and miscellany:
   
   • Swap out wheelset with Traveller's (alloy rims = better stopping power in wet conditions)
   • Replace 700x40s with 700x32 'cross tires

The possible down side here is that my planned updates might make Swift a bit too much bike for friends to ride, unless I opt for the 48t ring up front.

Swift already has appropriate brakes for 'cross, as well as a set of clip-on fenders (maybe I'll invest in some not-so-clip-on ones?). Right now, he tips the scales at about 22 pounds, which isn't bad at all.

I haven't nailed down details like make/model of replacement bits — my plan is to get the best stuff I can afford (used is fine, as long as it's in good shape) so durability won't be a problem.

If I thought I had the chops, I'd say, 'Screw it, let's go singlespeed!' but I don't. Maybe next near :D To be honest, though, I like having the option of using gears, especially when commuting. It means I don't do stupid stuff and kill myself. Plus, I don't need to over-stress the tendons around my left knee before they're back to 100% capacity. I'm crazy, yes — but not that crazy :D


*I'm guessing that with the range I'm looking at, a mountain RD is probably going to be the way to go. That's what Swift has now, anyway.

"Courage...

...is going from failure to failure without losing enthusiasm."

--Winston Churchill (who else?)

There's a fellow on Road Bike Review's forums who has this in his sig file, with the appended note that he must be one courageous dude, or something like that :)

At the moment, I know how he feels. This year has been a doozy for failing. I didn't hit my August mileage goal because I spent much of the last week in bed with a whopper of an out-of-nowhere sinus and respiratory infection — but, to quote Monty Python, "I'm not dead yet!" (Three Internets if you can identify the source, -3,000,000 Internets if you can't.)

At first, I was kind of irritated with myself for falling short of a good many goals this year — but then I realized that you don't have the opportunity to fail when you're not out there trying.

Last year, I was really unhappy because I always felt like I wasn't doing anything that I wanted to do, and like my life wasn't moving forward at all. This year, I'm doing a lot of things. I'm doing things I would never have expected in my wildest dreams — making friends (non-internet friends, even!), riding a bazillion miles most of the time, planning to race, going to school and holding down a full-time job at the same time (for the moment).

I have a much broader circle of friends than I did at this time last year. I am a member of a community of people who notice when I don't show up and worry about me (I forgot to email my poor choir director on Thursday to tell him I wouldn't be at rehearsal due to illness, and he actually called me to make sure I was okay).

I'm not going to set my September mileage goal just yet — if I do, I will be inclined to start pushing myself right now, and I probably could stand to wait 'til I'm done with this course of antibiotics. Since I have a century coming up in October, I'm definitely going to try to get some good, long rides in, which should also help me rebuild my base for King's Cross (note to self: get on retrofitting Swift accordingly). I'll put my September mileage goal down next Monday: by then, I should be able to get a realistic sense of my capabilities, and pick a figure that stretches me a little, but not too much.

King's Cross Registration is open!

As you all undoubtedly know already, cyclocross season is fast approaching.

So, what does that mean?

Well, besides the tingling anticipation of cowbells, beer, and luchadors in polka-dotted tights (half the reason I joined Rogue Racing Project), this means it's time to sign up for races.

Yea verily, I say unto you: woe betide the man who does not register for King's Cross, for under the feet of the mighty the newbies shall fall.

In other words, please come out to OCVX #1, King's Cross, and kick my butt (I am registered for the Saturday 10:00 AM race — I'll be the fat kid in Rogue kit). Since I don't own a proper 'cross bike, have never raced bikes (at least, not formally) before — let alone in a cyclocross setting — and I am also (kinda) fat and (sorta) slow(at least off the bike), it is extremely likely that I will completely embarass my team and immediately be asked to turn in my snazzy jersey and commit seppuku. You won't want to miss that. Besides, if you aren't sure of your talent and fitness, but you want to do some racing and be able to beat at least one guy in Cat 4, you should definitely come to King's Cross, where you will almost certainly beat the pants off of me.

I do plan to train for this event. Nonetheless, I am trying to keep my aspirations in check. If I give them free rein, they will spiral out of control from "I must have fun and finish the Cat 4 race without being asked to leave the sport of cyclocross forever!" to "I must place well and do honor to my team!" to "I must lap the entire field ... TWICE!" My bike does not go to 11; neither should my aspirations. I will use this race to have fun and assess my strengths and weaknesses relative to my fellow cyclocrossers. Yeah, that's the ticket.

I assume that 'training for cyclocross' means I will be (oh, the horror) running on a regular basis. (I can picture this now — DD: "Where are you going, dear?" Me: "Out for a run." DD: "Um ... why are you carrying your bike?" Me: "Cyclocross." This is going to be my new excuse for everything — Coworker: "Why isn't that one project done?" Me: "Cyclocross.")

I abhor running on roads and sidewalks, so I will try to do my running in the woods, where nobody can point and laugh see my super-secret training techniques like singing show-tunes, berating myself, tripping over my own feet, and sobbing like a little girl at the top of every hill ... if I list them here, actually, I'd have to kill you. And, frankly, I like both of you way too much to allow that to happen. You can thank me later. I am happy to accept gratitude in the form of nice bicycles and/or ice-cream cakes. Extra points for ice-cream cakes shaped like bicycles.

In other news, this morning's ride was uneventful except for the Unlimited Stoplight Buffet. Apparently, while 6:30 AM is a great time to leave home if you want to miss stoplights, 6:40 AM is a great time to leave home if you want to hit them — all of them — from the edge of U of L's campus on in to down town. My ride took half an hour, and a significant chunk of that was spent sitting at stoplights. Argh. I also fought valiantly with my toe clips, and won three out of four battles. The fourth time I came to YET ANOTHER stoplight before actually succeeding in getting my foot into the clip.

Ummm, yeah. Still gonna have to say clipless is looking realy good right now.

I'm planning on using my lunch break to ride my bike around. This will provide me with the perfect excuse for the fact that I am currently wearing my cycling shorts under my pants. This way, if anyone asks (not that they will, mind) I can simply say, "Oh, well, it seemed silly to remove them when I was planning to ride my bike in a couple of hours anyway," instead of, "Um, yeah. I kind of forgot my underpants."