Mixed weekend caps off a mixed season

 

Astoria.  For those outside of the racing community, this small coastal town in Northwest corner of Oregon may only be known as the filming location of the 80’s movie “The Goonies”, but for the last few years its hosted a 2 day sufferfest/party of Cyclecross racing at the Clatsop County Fairgrounds.  Last year we had a great time and we were looking forward to this years event since the start of the CX season.

Unfortunately building something up in your mind often leads to letdown.

I took the day off on Friday to allow for plenty of time to clean the house and pack our stuff.  Traci’s workday just got more and more hectic as it progressed, but we still managed to leave the house exactly at the time I wanted to.  Her small-car Tetris packing ability never ceases to amaze me.  In the end, the Mini was stuffed to the gills with 2 days worth of racing gear for both of us, our mud bin, beer, food, 1 spare wheel, and 15 costumes for the team.  We both agreed that we were going to try and enjoy the weekend rather than race hardcore so the trainer / trainer wheel, and spare front wheel all stayed home.

A few of us booked reservations this year at a condo in downtown Astoria.  Traci and I were the first to arrive at 4pm.  The accommodations were beautiful albeit a bit cramped as 15 of us bunked down in a condo with beds for 8.  (There were a few very sore housemates in the morning.)

Over the next few hours the rest of the folks staying started to show up, and the weather progressively got worse.  Weather reports were continuously being updated on iPhones until at about 11pm a full blown storm was battering Astoria.  Sustained 20-30mph winds with gusts of 50mph we recorded, and our small condo perched on one of Astoria’s many piers was taking the full brunt of it.  The wind howled and whipped rain against the building.  Gusts slammed nearby doors and rattled the windows.  Every time I started to doze off another noise woke me up.  Eventually around 1:30am, the storm blew through and I fell asleep.

The next morning our weary crew departed to the fairgrounds for Day 1 of racing.  We hauled the first trip of our gear up from the parking lot to find someone had decided to pitch a quarter of their camping tent under one of the team shelters next to the course.   No amount of polite asking, dirty looks, or obviously directed “who the fuck put their campsite in the middle of our tent?” like comments prompted them move their stuff.  Srsly?

Since we arrived later that normal, race time crept up on me.  Before I knew it, I was on a borrowed trainer, doing a half hearted warm up.  Ok, I’ll admit really all I was doing was getting the embrocation on my back activated.  The course was super muddy, similar to how WashCo was last week.  Since the Fango’s had issues the previous week I decided to use Traci’s Bulldog front wheel and swap the rear cassette off my tubular to my Bulldog clincher so I would have better traction and not crash.. in theory.

The 8’s drew last position on Saturday which was good on a few levels.  First I didn’t have to put any “I’m in the front so I should at least try and race hard” pressure on myself.  Second, I got free beer for my effort.  Third, I wouldn’t get in anybodies way as we went through the course.  The whistle blew, and the race started.  For the next 42 minutes I played “lets see how muddy I can get without actually crashing.”  Answer, pretty muddy. 

At the end of the race I was bummed about how I was feeling because Astoria was a course I probably could have done well at if I was at 100%.  The climbs were hard, but not grinding like Rainer or Sherwood.  The sloppy mud sections I could probably power through, if I would have been able to put power into the drive train consistently.  At least I got some really good course recon that I was able to pass on to my friends and teammates who were racing later. 

A couple hours sitting around in the cold / damp made my legs and back hurt and by the time we made our way back to the condo, I wasn’t a happy camper.  A good hot shower, my SKINS and a nice beer did go a long way to improving my spirits though.

The group stayed in on Saturday night, choosing to have a big sit down dinner rather than going out on Halloween.  Traci and I cooked dinner for the team, and by 9pm the number of folks nodding off in the family room equaled those awake.  By 10 we were all in bed.

Sunday we awoke to a thin fog hanging over the shoreline.  We ate and packed the cars and cleaned the condo for our departure.  Sunday was a new day with a new race.  Costumes where the theme and many of us decided to ride as “Guy Fawkes” aka “The V for Vendetta Guy”.  It was a clever costume and had a great impact when there were a number of us all together.  Next year however, no masks. :P

Today was about fun for me.  I carried with me to the start line a bag of treats (candy) and tricks (plastic mice and skull rings and severed fingers).  Also included in the bag was a hand-down of epic proportions. I had tipped Cap’n Dave off earlier to be ready for it.   The whistle blew and I stayed with the front of the race until the first set of barriers.. where I promptly found Dave, pulled over and unzipped the bag.  Inside was a 4 foot Skull and Spine Halloween beer funnel and a 22 of Rogue “Dead Guy” ale.  The crowd erupted in cheers but sadly at this point no photos have surfaced of the hand-down.

I remounted my bike and sprinted off, quickly catching Javad and Mike who were waiting for me.  The three of us rode easy together in identical costume’s getting a great deal of cheers from spectators.  In the orchard I bit it on the off camber section and ran my bike to the next set of people, tossing out candy and prizes to those cheering.  We rode on, over the barriers and up the road, next stop was going to be the OBRA tent.

My chain didn’t make it that far.  With an audible snap and rattle of metal on pavement, my chain exploded into 3 pieces.  I passed the bag off to Javad and Mike with the instructions to “carry on the mission”.  I’m happy to report they did to the joy of the crowd.

I shoulder my crippled bike for the fourth time this season and set off at a run.  Terry Camp saw me from the bridge and yelled down that she’d radio ahead to the Shimano pits to be ready for me.  Through the Start / Finish I ran, barely able to see through my skewed mask.  You know you’ve had a lot of mechanicals this season when Splinter actually singles you out.

Eventually I make it to the pits where the tech is waiting.  Three minutes later I’m back in business rolling to the barriers for the second time.  There are coffins now, and a pumpkin.  I run through the barriers and b-line for the pumpkin where I jump on it and smash it to bits.  More crowd cheering and I’m laughing along with them.  The course is slick and slow through the stables and orchard, and I practice corning with a foot out of the pedals in these areas.  It’s something I had never done and will be adding to my skill set next year hopefully.

The crowd continues to go nuts by the barriers, and I try to entertain them.  Iron cross bike carries, dances on top of the coffins, its all in the name of fun.

My race ends early since I’m a lap down and in dead last. I roll directly to the bike wash.  There isn’t a line, one of the few benefits of having a really bad race from a placing perspective.

I have a lot of time the remainder of the day and on the long drive home to reflect upon the weekend and the CX season as a whole.  I had a lot of anticipation leading up to both, and in the end there was some moments of brilliance and delight in a series of unfortunate events, disappointments, and mishaps.   It could be the reality of it all or it could be my tired attitude and sore body after a very long racing season. Time will tell.

Recovery and reflection this week.  Plans are being made, goals being set, announcements are starting to leak out.  Next season is right around the corner.

Comeback Complete!

 

So last night, my journey back from my knee injury and subsequent surgery came to a close.  Tuesday was the first day of racing at PIR, and PV came out in force for the Cat 3 / 4 race.  Ty, Jeff, Flemming, Feig, Mitch Lee, B-Rat, Mitch Gold, Johnny, Kromonster and myself all lined up with 67 other racers to kick off the PIR season.

There were a few well represented groups out in the field tonight along with PV.  Ironclad, Team O, and Three Rivers all had some significant numbers.  Made for a painful night if you were flying solo as the average speed of the race was 26.5mph.

The race was a short one, being early season and still fighting for daylight.  10 Laps with a pair of hotspots.  My legs felt poor during warm up, so I let Ty know I'd wait for the finish if necessary.  The plan was to have Mitch attack early, and he did right from the gun drawing a mix of jeers and cheers from the field.   Once it was brought back it was pretty steady racing for most of the night.

Few attacks got away free, and PV made sure to be represented in all of them.  As with most early season races there were some tactical snafu's and learning experiences to be had. 

When it came down to the last lap, the pack was still together and teams were starting to get organized for the field sprint.  Ironclad and PV were controlling the front keeping the tempo high.  I pack surfed a bit and latched on my lead out man Brian with 2k to go.  The two of us hung to the left side of the field coming through the last corner and shot up the middle of the road on the final straight away.  The field went right and were bunched up against the infield wall making it hard to move around.

Brian showed some impressive power as he launched the two of us away from the field to the 200m mark, dropping me off to take the win by a good gap.  His lead out was so stellar that he hung on for second place after sounding like he was going to blow a lung in the final 200m.

I picked up my first win of the season, my first ever win in a 3/4 field, and my first win post surgery. It made for a good night at the Burrito Shack afterwards with the crew.  I may not have had the best legs last night, but I had the best teammates.

A big thank you to Dr. Rask of Hillsboro Orthopedic, Dave McHenry of TAI, and Russell Cree of Upper Echelon for getting me back on the road.

-Side note and a bit of a soapbox.  A pair of crashes during the sprints made for some dicey moments last night.  One early on when some wheels got overlapped during a prime, which unfortunately happens. But another in the final sprint which sounded like it was mid pack?  Sprinting for 20th is reckless.  Attacking from mid pack probably won't do you any good.  Take the opportunity to ride in safely with your fellow racers at the end of a nice evening.  I do hope those involved in the wrecks heal up quickly!

Love Thy Gloves

 

Portland Velo was fortunate enough to first make friends with, then work a sponsorship with the cats over at Ironclad Performance Wear.  You'll see a lot of us wearing their gloves and base layers our lounging after a race in one of the killer hoodies.

Ironclad makes some hardcore tough gear, and I was fortunate enough to be wearing a pair of gloves today when I had a momentary lapse of reason and pulled a totally boneheaded move.

My route today took me over a very small stretch of road which is basically gravel.  Like many road cyclists, after clearing the gravel section, I gently pressed my glove hand on my front tire to shear off any stuck glass, rocks, or sand that may have stuck to my tire and caused a puncture down the road.  After cleaning the front tire, I reached back to do my rear, a move I've done countless times over the years.... On my Felt.

My VeloVie has a much different frame, and the triangle of space that my Felt has allowing me to clean my tire does not exist on my VeloVie.  In fact, the VeloVie has very little clearance at all and the wheel sits very close to the seat tube due to a cutout to allow wind flow around the back wheel.

There is about enough room between the tire and the seat tube to get a finger wedged in there.  I tested it.

Your body reacts to pain and stressful situations very quickly.  The moment my finger got stuck a rapid fire series of things happened in the next five to ten seconds.  First, the impulse to pull my hand out and the realization that no, it was indeed stuck.  Second, I could hear that my rear tire was locked and I was skidding, and losing speed rapidly.  Third, pump the front break gently to scrub more speed but not lock up both tires.  Forth, unclip both feet since I had no clue which side my balance was going to be on in the position I was in.

Once I managed to get stopped, I actually had to roll my bike  backwards while pulling my hand had gotten wedged so deep.  I couldn't feel a portion of my index finger and I wasn't looking forward to seeing the damage.  Imagine my surprise when I saw that my gloves were still intact, and other then a minor rub mark completely unharmed.

I gently removed my glove and was shocked to only see a small pencil eraser sized gouge that was barely bleeding.  Sure, the finger was stiff and bruised and hurt like hell, but it was intact and functioning, and the feeling was rapidly returning.

 

 

My rear tire is now trainer fodder, a 4 inch strip worn down to the fibrous Vectran belting, but it got me 10 miles over to Bike'N'Hike in downtown Hillsboro where the guys let me change out to a new tire right in the store.  (Big thanks to Coleman and John for that.)

For the cost of a new tire, some Neosporin, a band-aid, and a crap load of pain, I was able to prove how bad ass Ironclad's gloves are. 

I'm not at the hospital right now because of them.

                   

Wednesday Random Collection

 

MRI 11am tomorrow, with Orthoped follow-up next Wednesday.  So in roughly one week I should know the full extent of the injury, when I can get in for surgery, and when rehab can start.  My left quad and hamstring have visibly atrophied.

PIR had to be some of the most fun I've had in a long, long time.  Kudos to all of the SSWC riders, especially any of them who enjoyed our beer at the off camber run down / up at the far east side of the course.  I really missed being able to race.

The cold Traci and I had is going away.  Last night was the first non-NyQuil night in a few days.

This granny smith apple I'm eating is very good.

Sunset Cycles / CycleOne gets a big public thank you arranging use of the fitting I won back in August at the Sunset Crit.  I hope to be back next year!

I finally got my NAS speaking to my PS3. Go go streaming movies!  Now I just have to convince someone to come over to my house and help me run at CAT5E cable in the crawl space since I'm not that mobile.  I have beer!

Beer transition!  The '07 "Top Sail" Bourbon Barrel Aged Imperial Porter I cracked open at PIR  has to be one of the very best beers I've ever had.  The Abyss was also very good, but I don't know if its worth the supposed $40 it is currently selling for on eBay.  I also heard the 2006 Rogue Russian Imperial in its monolithic gray ceramic swing-top was also very good.  I think Sal, Amit, and Cuz drank the vast majority of it. ;)

Astoria 2 Day Spectacular

 

What a weekend!  The races for me this week took a backseat to the all out team comradery PV was showing during the weekend.  Highlights of the weekend included:

• Friday evening get together at the Cannery Cafe for some really good food, and a purple monkey.
• Stopping by Molly's pad, walking upstairs saying "I think the door is up here" only to walk directly into their living room.
• Having a horrific race on Saturday, then drinking a lot of beer.
• Having a great race on Sunday, despite being in full costume.
• Super long wait for food / drink at Rogue due to how slammed they were. 
• Britt Millard sacrificing her race to help a fallen racer from Team O, and Team O giving her serious shout-outs for the help.  Class acts all around.
• Watching the 22oz fridge at Rogue turn into a self service bar.
• Sal's bread run.
• Traci's Hash run.. complete with shots of Ouzo.
• Heidi's bottomless bag of Stone Russian Imperials.
• Bigwheel ride's with Sal.
• Couzens getting TOTALLY SCREWED.
• Two words: "Fishstick Grenade".
• Kenji's pink foaming giggle juice.
• Brad Ross actually turning down a free beer I tried to give him at the end of the A race on Sunday.

As Traci and I drove home via route 30, we both had big grins on our faces.  We might not have raced the best races of the season, but I don't think we could have planned a more entertaining weekend.

Barton should be interesting.  :)

Reality on the grounds of Insanity, Pain in HD

 

I'll let you decide which one is more real!

Yesterday was Crusade #2 and a brand new course down in WIllsonville.  The event was held in a subdivision that is being built up on the grounds of the old state mental hospital.

The course seemed more like a short track mountain bike course than a cross course.  A single run up, a trio of barriers, but beyond that the course was 100% rideable once you got out of traffic.  Course was super technical as well.  I'm happy that it didn't rain as the dirt section would have been almost impossible to navigate if wet.

The course was brutal to tires.  I think I saw more people with flats in this race than I saw at Krugers, PotP, and Alpenrose combined. The one-two combination of bumpy terrain and very very hard surfaces complete with broken chunks of concrete and bits of metal everywhere (yes, there were pieces of flashing on the course during warm) beat the tar out of people and equipment alike.

The event was huge just like last week.  My field had 145 people who finished in it this week opposed to 121 last week.  Results for me were not as good this week, although I felt great the first lap and a half.  I need to not go out and do 50miles on my fixie the day before.

Mounts and dismounts felt good, so good I ripped my jeans during warmup.  Bike handling was a bit sketchy with all the loose gravel sections.  I don't like loose gravel.  Loose gravel and I have a bad history.    This race was a serious gut check for a lot of people it seemed.  Anyone who made it to the finish should be complemented on their insanity, and anyone who had to go to the medical tent to pick gravel out of their hip is a stronger person than I.

At the end of the day, a lot of us got a hard as hell workout and a few cuts and bruises to show for it.   Afterwards we ate some great food and drank a lot of beer. 

Speaking of beer, the homebrews were a big hit.  Sal said the Purple Haze was like "drinking cake".  Kenji was the recipient of the other bottle of Purple Haze and went giggling off into the women's field with his bottle spewing pink foam everywhere.  When next I saw him he was channeling his inner Mr. Roboto in a killer Super Relax kit.   Heidi went from the running machine to chilling in the tub after taking on pretty much an entire bottle of my Russian Imperial.

 

 

 

 

 

Last update on PotP until next year most likely. 

Burk Webb from Portland Velo came out to Pain on the Peak last month and filmed this masterpiece.  The video below just doesn't do justice to Burk's creation and filming ability.  I get goose bumps every time I watch this in HD.

Pain On The Peak from Burk Webb on Vimeo.

Huge thanks to Burk for the surprise.  Beer for you!

A kick in the cross

 

Unless you were locked away someplace, you probably know that Sunday was the first event of the Cross Crusade series taking place up at the Alpenrose Dairy here in Portland.  The turnout was nothing short of epic, with close to 1300 riders doing battle on course condition that changed a huge amount over 24hrs.  I've spent so much time reading the accounts of others that I neglected to post my own!

My weekend started Saturday morning with the maiden voyage of my new Redline 9-2-5 fixie winter bike.  There are a few things I need to tweak on it, like getting a shorter stem with a bit of a drop, and a smaller rear cog, but overall I'm pleased with the new investment.  It should provide good training and reduced wear and tear on my Felt.

After a quick bite to eat, Traci and I loaded up the car with the cross rigs and went to the Dairy to get our numbers and do some pre-course scouting.  We met a few of our teammates there, got our numbers and jumped on the bikes.  The first few laps were a bit chaotic as the course wasn't 100% setup, but after a short bit the course became more and more clear to us.  We did a bit more scouting and felt very comfortable with how things were going to play out the next morning.

We drive home, pack the Mini with most of what we'll need and layout the things that don't get packed for a quick departure the next morning.  I crawl into bed and fall asleep listening to the rain falling on our glass patio table-top outside.

The morning comes earlier than I'd like, and it takes me a while to get moving.  By the time I get food into me, Traci is already dressed and packing the day's needed snacks.  The weather report has completely changed over the last 12 hours and the partly sunny skies that were forecasted turn into periodic rain.  Perfect Cross weather.

Eventually I get geared up, we get the car packed quickly and leave for Alpenrose.  Our timing is divine as 10 PV folks arrive in the space of 5 minutes.  The second 20x10 is erected next to the first giving us the PV Palace.  Trainers drop down under the front tent on the course while chairs, coolers, and gear end up in the back.  Kender and Sal dub this the "Mullet Configuration". Business up front, party in the back.

Once we get settled, I gear up for one last course checkout, mainly to see the section on the north side of the velodrome.  I'm happy for the additional barrier placed before the run-up to the velodrome ring.  It will force everyone off their bike and I won't have to deal with people attempting to ride it in front of me and crashing.  After a quick stop at the Ironclad tent to say hello and get some air for rear tire I make my way back to the tent and start my warm-up.

About 15 minutes into my warm-up I see a familiar face up on the road.  My buddy from HS and college, Josh Hanselman from Team 343 spots me after I yell to him and come to find out we are both riding in the same division today.  Good times!

With about 20mins to go, I test the blood sugar (woo dialed in), eat a ShotBlok, and make my way up to the start gate with Josh, Jeff and B-Rat.  We run into Joel from Team O and the 5 of us park ourselves about 5 rows deep on the left edge of the start chute.  After announcements I take a last swing of water from Traci, hand her my coat and clip in.  

The whistle blows and almost immediately there is a wreck in the first row directly in front of me.  Two Yakima riders tangle up and one goes down, I navigate through the carnage and manage to see a broken steertube in the mix.  I feel for the guy.  After flatting during the 25mph "neutral roll out" in my first race of the season, and flatting during the hole shot of the first Krugers, I know how frustrating it is to pay $25 to race for under a minute.

My start is pretty decent considering the wreck.  I'm in the top 30 going into the first two corners, and have a great line entering the gravel.  I make up a huge chunk of ground on the first decent riding the right line instead of following the herd on the left side.  I see Jeff out in front about 30m from me.  My plan was to work for him as much as possible since he was in contention for an up-cat.  His hole shot put him in a great position so the amount of work I can do is limited right off the get go.  I stick on the tail end of the chasing pack for a good portion of the race, losing ground in the meadow out-and-back, but gaining it in all the technical sections.

I keep track of Jeff ahead of me and yell for him every time our paths cross on the switch backs, making the mental note that he's putting distance in me every lap.  The only person I let past me without a fight is Ron.

My sole wreck of the day comes on lap 4 in the hairpin before the velodrome run up and it was fairly unspectacular.  I entered the corner too early and fall on my left side, even thought I had my left foot out of the pedal. The impact knocked my left brake hood askew making rear breaking fairly difficult for the remainder of the race. 

My race becomes one of survival at this point.  There are some stronger riders behind me and I see Josh moving up in the pack, joyfully taunting me every time we switchback on each other.  He gets within 5m of me a few times on the last lap before he bites it going into a corner and looses ground.  My fight becomes solely to keep those behind me at bay as the traffic in front of me is out of reach. 

A guy in a full Nike kit on a mountain bike and I battle it out the last half lap with the two of us swapping position half a dozen times between the our teams tent and the finish.  I pass him before the rock barrier and dismount and hear him bunny-bash-hop over the rocks.  He passes me as I remount and I chase him into the winding turns before the run-up.  He's more controlled into the corners but I'm faster out of them.  The final pass happens on the run up when I channel my inner mountain goat and sprint past him on the inside.  I ride the corner entering the velodrome cautiously as the wood is slick with mud now.  I get some breathing room on the final set of barriers and ride hard through the finish.  The post race euphoria quickly sets in.

I make it back to the tent, get cleaned off and swap roles with Traci, playing domestique for teammates who earlier helped me out.  Traci puts her game face on, ear buds in, and gets lost in her pre-race thoughts.  The role reversal takes over the tent at one point.  The ladies lined up 5 across on the trainers in their kits, with the men hovering around grabbing water bottles and fixing numbers.

Nervous excitement fills me as I get to watch Traci race her first full blow Cross race.  She starts well and rides strong through the course, finishing mid field and scoring some beer in the process.  I'm hoarse by the time she's finished.  The remainder of the afternoon is a haze of packing, cleaning, and attempting to stay awake past 9pm.  I'm beat, and its just week #1...

owie...

 

I raced a few cross events last season and had my share of spills.  I've managed to topple on my road bike a few times as well, almost always a slow speeds and in really embarrassing ways.  Like on the very first ride I did with clip pedals.  I started in too low of a gear, got no forward momentum going up hill while managing to hook the back of my chamois on the nose of my seat almost pulling my bike shorts off while falling over next to a school bus filled with kids coming home from school.

Yeah that was a good one.

Anyway, nothing really to write home about crash wise until this weekend.  A number of us PV folks decided to go out and race at Krugers to get prepped for cross season with a bit of Kermesse action.  The course was fast and hard.  Hard as in pee blood and liquefy your organs hard.  I managed to survive a bunch of warm up laps only to flat my rear tire during the hole shot.  Joy.  A "quick change" (fail) of rear tire only put me a good 2 minutes off the back of the pack and far out of contention, so I decided after some convincing from my teammates to get back out and do the work and get the practice in.

So for 4 laps I rode by myself, trying to remember the lines I took that were good and avoid the ones that made me question why got back on the bike after my mechanical.  I managed to catch a few folks after a bit and I felt like I was turning decent lap times.  I used the laps as more of a mental check list of things I needed to do to my Veloforma CX1 before the season kicked into high gear... shorter stem, re-wrap handle bars, tighten down left shifter assembly, lower seat.. *BAM* .. remove seat from colon... check out some new brakes..

I eventually was passed by the trio of leaders from the B's who started about a minute ahead of us, just before I finished lap 4.  I traveled through the S/F to begin lap 5 and lined myself up cut the apex of the first right turn.

Some accidents happen in slow motion, others happen so quick you don't know what hit you.  One moment you are riding along, and the next the bike is out from under you and you are trying to carve a trench in the ground with your chin. 

I laid face ground in the dirt and did a system reboot.  Legs.. check.. hands.. check.. teeth.. check.. didn't hear any cracks on impact.. face hurts a lot but I can move.  Off in the distance I hear "dude, you need to get out of the way, there are racers coming."  I'm dimly aware of the comment, and some part of my brain wants to tell him that the racers should be able to see a prone guy on the ground in pain and go around him, but I do my best to push myself up on my hands and knees.

Blood is running down on the rocks and dirt below me.  The guy who called out the warning is now off going to get the medic.  Another nice gal who saw me wipe out has come to the corner and picked up my bike.  She grimaces when she sees me.  I take off my helmet and my glasses, neither of which end up being damaged.  The nice gal and I walk back up course towards the medic who's on her way towards us.

I get to know Bonnie pretty well over the next few minutes, even if I forget her name the first time she tells me.  (I'm horrible with names to start with.)  She goes over the standard questions to check for concussions and I'm able to answer them all.  I see Traci heading towards me with a "what did you do to yourself" look on her face.  Bonnie informs me I'm going to need some stitches on my chin, and probably should get a tetanus shot as well.  The other PV boys come by and check in on me before they head over to the start of their race. They make fun of my face.  Bonnie finishes cleaning me up, puts some steri-strips on the wound, and finally wraps some cling bandage around my head to hold it in place. 

It's the next hot thing in headwear don't you think? 

The remainder of the day was spent waiting at the ER to get the stitches and tetanus shot rather than drinking beer with the team.  Oh well.  The team did very well taking home a trio of category wins.  Grats to Paul (Mstr C), Ron (Mstr A), and Kristin (Women's B).

Pain on the Peak is coming along well.  Everyone is pulling some serious hours to get this thing rolling for the OBRA CX community, so come out and enjoy what's going to be an amazing event.  Luciano Bailey will be the VOICE OF PAIN for the event. :)

Pre-registration is open for those who want to save a few bucks.  The updated web site will be online shortly once the code has been pushed.  We've also got a number of announcements coming over the next few days.   Starting off with a bang, KEEN Footware has ponied up a free pair of shoes for all category winners, plus five additional pairs to raffle off at the end of the day.  That's twenty pairs of shoes in all!  How cool is that?

Spring Storm, Part 2

 

(Note: This is Part II of the story, Part I can be found here.)

I try to distract myself from the miserable conditions by visualizing the climb ahead.  Spin, don't mash.  Stay under LT, accelerate through the harder sections of the climbs.  I notice I have a tailwind on the ride out.  The ride home might really be painful.  I approach the base of the climb, a left hand fork in the road that in less than a half hour will assure me that my month and a half of racing on the flats haven't hurt me too much.  In theory.  I've climbed once in almost two months, and it was the previous Saturday.  I take a big swig of water and notice that I haven't touched my bottles since I left the house.  I never drink enough when it's raining.

I make the turn and set the interval on the CPU at the sign.  I've already shifted down into my small ring, a pre-emptive reminder to spin my gears.  The first minute of any sustained climb is a shock to my system.  I stay under a wattage I know I can maintain for five minutes  while my body adapts to the stress.  I unzip my jacket and jersey and wish I brought a hat with a brim on it for under my helm.

The road levels for the first of many times, and I feel good.  The rain continues to fall steadily, but I'm long past the point of getting any wetter.  My wool socks squish in their shoes on every down stroke.   I concentrate on the sound, maintaining the rhythm of the noise throughout the climb.  I finally crest the first climbing section, into midpoint of the ascent were the road flattens out and actually descends a bit.  The fast twitch muscles in my legs cry out in glee as I shift up to the big ring and get out of the saddle.  I know I need to push harder on the flat than I would up hill.  No rest for the weary.

The road pitches up again and the pavement changes.  While chip seal is rough, the water tends to seep into it and travel in the carved grooves of the road.  The upper half of the climb has the wonderfully smooth pavement but the water is a sheet across the road, running in tire-covering rivers in some places.  I want to run the big ring, powering through this section, but relent.  I know the hardest part of the climb is ahead and I'm beginning to tire.

I think of my teammates, using the images of stronger climbers ahead of me to pull me along the long run up to the Horning's Hideout.  There's something about this section that saps my body, the top always just out of sight to the left.  I've blown up on this section many a time, always pushing too early only to die as the road kicks up in the final hundred meters.  I pace myself this time, riding once again below my five minute max.  Spin the gears, accelerate the legs, shift up.  The pattern continues a few times and I feel the lactic burn in the legs for the first time.  I decide to ignore it knowing there is another false flat just over the rise where I can recover some. Hitting the flat I shift into the big ring for the second time, using my momentum to carry me along while the legs flush themselves.  My heart rate is running close to my early season max, but I know from recent races I have another few bpm to spare.  Regardless of the overall result of the climb, I achieve a mental victory.

Ahead I see steam hanging over the road.  The rain has let up some in this section and the radiant warmth of the pavement is making the air thick.  I pass a few houses beyond Horning's and ride through an unseen cloud of smoke that smells like pot.  At least on the way down it will go by faster.

The last few sections are painful.  I know each false summit by heart, but hope I somehow was further up the road than I actually was.  I reach the last false summit and switch to my large chain ring for the last dig.  The road ticks up and turns to the left at an off camber, it's deceptively steep.  I come up out of the saddle and immediately feel my rear wheel spin.  Wasted watts.  I settle to push the big gear seated, my legs protest but I know the pain will be over in under a minute.  The road flattens out, and I can see the finish through the scattered trees off to the left.  A final dip and a short climb to the pair of phone poles that have served as the finish line for countless club rides.  I try to push through to sprint for the line, but I hear a car behind me following me slowly.  I have no idea how long it's been there.  I coast through the finish and end the interval on my CPU.  I hit it a second time just to be safe.  I felt good about my climb, but won't know the true results until I get home.

The car turns into a driveway of the lone house at the top of the ascent.  There are no dogs today to greet me.  I chuckle thinking of how bad they would smell.  The hounds are in their kennels, content to stay under their overhangs and out of the rain.  I stop long enough to take a long drink of water and zip up my layers.    The descent is cold and dangerous and I'm once again thankful I brought the wind jacket.  The ride back isn't as lonely.  I have my squishing socks and oddly warm knees to keep me company.

I make it home shortly before 6:30 and smell dinner cooking in the kitchen.  Traci laughs at me for the sound I make as I walk from the garage into the laundry room.  My knees burn now that I'm in warm air and I get to the shower quickly to scrub the goo off.  A short while later the heat just switches off.  I can understand why people use the stuff during the winter.

It's not until later after dinner that I pull down the data for my ride.  It's a mixed bag of results.  I've set a new PR by a 1m50s, but my 20m max wattage and average wattage for the entire climb is almost identical to what I did back in March.  The numbers don't add up in my mind.  I head out to the garage to find my bike is relatively clean.  A quick rub down with some Simple Green and a rag takes care of the grime on the frame and chain.  I drop some chain lube and run through the gearing until I'm satisfied with the results and pack it up for the evening.

The next morning I mention to my friend Todd how puzzling the results of my ride were.  The potential answer came quickly to him.  Maybe it wasn't power, it was the power:weight ratio that made the difference.  When I get back to my desk I check my weight log for the 6th of March, 187.5lbs.  I weighed in at 183.7lbs the morning of my second climb.  The 4lb difference in my weight meant that while the wattage I produced was nearly identical, the ratio was higher and I was able to carry myself faster up the hill.  The difference of 4lbs isn't much on the flats, but could it be that over the long steady climb it was the difference in almost two minutes?

While I'm pleased with my progress, there are still a number of questions I have, and little data to make an accurate conclusion.  A third test is in the cards, probably in late August or early September.

Eventually I'll compare points on course to see if I rode noticeably faster on some sections than others.  With these small nuggets of information I can hopefully arm myself to weather the next storm up Pumpkin Ridge.

Spring Storm, Part 1

 

It's been roughly three months since my last ascent up Pumpkin Ridge Road.  During that time I've trained hard, raced hard, and seen some great results

Pumpkin Ridge Road, North Plains Oregon

across the board with my fitness.  I decided to use Pumpkin Ridge as my measuring stick for my fitness right now.  The climb is roughly 6.5 miles, containing a few moderately steep sections and a good number of false summits.  It's the type of climb that wears you down over time if you go out too hard too early, but also allows you a bit of recovery and respite if you work the sections correctly.

Back in March, my wife and I rode out on an oddly sunny and cool afternoon, skipping out of work a bit early to get the climb in.  We rolled out to the base of the climb, not stressing our bodies too much to put in a full blown effort on the climb.  At the base of the climb I gave her a good luck, set the interval on my CPU and started my way up.  About 28 minutes later I hit the top, lungs searing, legs burning, and thrilled to have shaved a minute off of my PR on the ascent.  I was greeted at the top by a trio of friendly dogs who live at the last house before the road goes gravel, along with a chorus of the dogs kenneled there who are not allowed to say hi to the bikers who stop at the top.  Their howls are my victory chorus, and my affirmation that my training so far this year has been on track.

I spend a minute or two at the top, don my wind vest and roll back down the hill to meet up with Traci.  I'm shocked and thrilled to run into her much further up the hill than I originally expected.  I slow as I approach and see a big grin on her face, she's spinning along at a great pace and breathing comfortably.  "You're doing great!  Really close to the top!" I call out as I turn around and catch up to her.  We ride together to the summit, me settling into the position I normally ride with her on the climbs.  I call out encouragement, letting her know how many false summits are left.  As we get to the final rise in the road, she pops out of the saddle and powers to the top, eager to finish the climb strong.  The dogs come out to greet us once again, forgetting I was there not 5 minutes earlier as dogs often do.  Traci's time is much faster than her previous climb and she feels great.  It's been a good day for both of us.

We sit at the top for a few minutes to enjoy the waning sunlight.  It's still early in the spring and the setting sun's rays are not as strong as they were when we set off.  We check our bikes, and roll down the hill.  Traci's a strong rider on the descents and I let her take point.  She cuts fast lines through the curves of the upper section.  Halfway down, the pavement changes from the smooth road all cyclists love to the chip seal we loathe.  We both sit up and share a look of disappointment.  The bottom section has the best corners, but the road conditions aren't safe to take at the speeds of the upper sections.  We hit the flats and roll home, happy to have had a great ride.

Today things are different.  It's June, and it should be Spring.  The sun should be out strong and late into the evening.  I should be leaving work early to sneak a ride in, but it's 4pm and I'm still at work and heavy grey clouds are visible as far as I can see.  I manage to make it home by 4:30, and frown at the few raindrops that have fallen on my windshield.  Traci greets me at home, she's been nursing a knee injury over the past four weeks and is seeing some progress in her recovery.  I change into my gear, deciding to try out some new embrocation that was recommended to us this weekend by Dimitri at Veloce Cycles.  I get into the garage, and open the garage door.

I'm immediately greeted by the scent of rain on warm pavement.  "Yeah, I'm going to need my jacket." I call over to Traci, who is standing in the doorway.  I'm already changed into my gear, with this minty smelling goo on my knees...  I might as well ride.
I strap on my helmet and affix my taillight to my bike, setting it to flash in the most annoying way possible.  Checking the time, I work out a rough estimate of how long I'll be out.  Its 4:50pm and I figure I should be back by 6:30.  I roll out of the garage and into the muggy air.  The rain is light and relatively warm, but steady.  The jacket was the correct choice.

The warm up ride over to the base of the climb is lonely.

(Part II will be posted soon!)

This is The Aggregate Cyclist

Aggregate: [adj.,n. ag-ri-git] formed by the conjunction or collection of particulars into a whole mass or sum; total; combined.

I'm a cyclist. Riding was my first mode of transportation, my first bit of independence. Today I train and race. It has become a the center of a large community of friends, many of which I now consider family.

I'm a numbers person. I'm lucky in this respect as the genetic lottery which is life dictates particulars that I need to monitor. I love looking at the chaos of raw data to discern a pattern or find a subtle trend.

I'm a lover of good food, especially when it's something my wife has made. I never ceased to be amazed at the magic she creates from what seems to be the most mundane of ingredients. As always, good food requires a good beverage. Beers, wines, sake, and mixed drinks all have a special place in my heart.

These are just some of the particulars which make up the collection that is me.

This is The Aggregate Cyclist.