Last ride of the year 2007, and goodbye to a friend

Yesterday I helped out with registration for Kringle Kross (Team Zoka's last volunteering gig before we become Cucina Fresca). It was not warm. I wore the poofy jacket, and at one point I thought I was warm, so I took it off, but within 5 minutes I needed it again. However, I was constantly aware of the liability of wearing a nylon/down jacket with a blasting propane heater about 3 feet behind me. It helped keep us warm, but there was enough melted clothing evidence presented by others working the event to keep me nervous the whole time. The race was not very well attended, which isn't too surprising, but the racers appeared to be having a good time. Christine from our team took 3rd in the women's 4's, and I believe Ian (a.k.a. DiRtY, although I might have the capitalization wrong) was top 10 in the 3's, which will be my group next year. I stuck around for about half of the elite race, but I was generally cold and worn out from hanging out since 7 AM. Plus, Bree and Emy were patiently waiting for me to come home!

This morning I woke up and made waffles, and then met a buyer for the blue bike. He rode it for about 50 feet, and said, "I'll take it!" It was the easiest craigslist sale I've ever managed. Now there is a very empty space in the garage, which makes me sad. It is always difficult to let go of a bike, since I always have such a fond psychosomatic response just by looking at a bicycle. Any bicycle, really, but with my own, it's like I can remember every ride I've ever had on it, all in a rush of both exhilaration and exhaustion. Luckily I still have a road bike. This sale in no way compared to when I sold my favorite Bianchi when we lived in St Paul and needed money. At the time, it was my only ride, but having $2500 collecting dust in the garage wasn't worth it. I really better write that post about the graduate school years of bike racing, in order to fill in the blanks between mountain bike racing and the sale of the aforementioned Bianchi. Soon!

I waited a couple of hours for the sun to provide a bit more heat, and then officially ended the week-long break from riding. Thanks to Kringle Kross, I actually made it to 8 days, which must be a record "break of my own choosing". I was hoping to get in at least 40 miles today, especially to take advantage of the sunny weather and 40+ F temps. I had a lovely 43.5 mile jaunt, with a surprising lack of wind (there are hardly ever "calm" winds here in Seattle), and even got warm enough to take off my jacket.

Tomorrow is the first ride of 2008, and the beginning of training for the season. I'll do my best to make this, the fourth time I have taken up road racing, memorable!

Farewell, blue bike - I hope you enjoy your next rider and don't miss my feet, hands, and butt cheeks too much! Don't be too jealous of my new ride...

It's so hard not to ride!

So, even though I didn't have a full racing season this last year, I felt I should still take the requisite, but dreaded "time off the bike" to refresh the body and mind. Many racers make this take anywhere from two weeks to a month, but the best I can ever do is a week. Sure, I'd use my bike for commuting to work, but I also have this week off work, so it truly is no riding for me. I actually managed to do no exercise at all for three days, but it helped that we had the in-laws visiting for Christmas, and the weather has been awful. I did do something I haven't done in a while - I went for a run. I used to run regularly, and when I was a climber I ran to get some aerobic fitness, but it's been at least 6 months since I ran more than when chasing Emy on her bicycle (which these days requires a full sprint). I've been a runner enough of my life to know that the first run after a hiatus usually sucks. This time it was surprisingly different. I ran a flat 3 mile loop, mostly on gravel and dirt, and managed it in 21:36. Not a stellar 5k time, but not too bad, and my heart rate never got over 140 bpm. However, that was two days ago and my quads still hurt! It isn't awful, but I definitely used some muscles that have been getting lazy.

I'll have to keep this up, though, in order to be ready for cyclocross season next September. I may have to incorporate running into my once-a-week "rest day", or get in a lunchtime run at work. Luckily, I don't have to do anything other than maintenance of the runner in me, until maybe July, when I'll have to get in some sprints and hill-run-ups in prep for cross.

In other news, I reorganized the garage to prepare for the new bikes this season. I'll be getting a track bike, road bike, and cross bike. We already have a road bike for Bree, and a small bike for Emy, so the garage is going to be pushed to the limit. We still have to have room for the bike repair stand, workbench, and all the other "stuff that lives in the garage" - luckily Bree scored some free closet organizer parts on craigslist, and I am pleased with the results.

Along those lines, I am now selling the blue track bike that I posted about back in July 2005 (craigslist ad), in order to make room for the new bikes. I'll sell my Felt road bike too, but not until I have the new one, or I'd be bike-less! I think that would make me lose my mind.

I'm living vicariously through the guys over at EuroCross Camp. Unlikely I will ever get the chance to do what they are doing, but if there's any way I can get good enough at cross to make a trip to Europe in order to race, I will do it in a heartbeat. This morning I made Liege Waffles in order to feel more Belgian. They were awesome, probably owing to the 1/2 stick of butter per waffle! (making it even more difficult not to ride just to burn the calories).

I'll probably get in some more waffles while volunteering this weekend at Kringle Kross, which looks to be the final cross race of the season here in Seattle.

Emy and I are sad that the weather forecast keeps calling for snow, but we've had nary a flake, except for a few on Christmas that melted when they hit the ground.

Cross Tips

Next year I'm gonna race cross. I've been reading up on it like mad, and it's killing me to not being racing this season, but I have neither a cross bike, nor a mountain bike. Next year!

These cross tips are funny - and I'm really enjoying the Bike Snob NYC's blog in general.

Here's some recent cross racing in Essen for you to watch:

Cold and Wet

So, I was all geared up to go for a team ride today. I awoke at 7 AM, it was still dark, and I thought of the coincidence that our team ride was to be 100 miles, on the shortest day of the year. I struggled out of bed, experiencing some of those "new" creaky noises in my recently-turned 34 year-old body. I slowly chewed my euro breakfast of muesli + yogurt and downed a cup of tea. I usually awake with coffee, but I've learned that if I have coffee too close to the ride time, the bladder gets a bit too excited about 20 minutes past the last bathroom opportunity. I have yet to practice the PRO skill of pee-ing while riding, but I look forward to giving it a try this summer! I'll be sure to blog all about that... Anyway, the sun still wasn't up, but Emy was, and we checked the radar together. While it was not raining now, there was a giant blob of green/yellow/red moving our way, pretty much right on top of the planned route for the "Hard Man Hundie" (No, I did not coin this one). The porch thermometer said it was exactly 40 F, which is fine when dry, but bound to be pretty awful when wet. Still, I had to go through the motions. I got all kitted up, rain jacket (gotta love surrounding yourself in PVC!), booties, tights, wool socks, and warm gloves. I briefly thought about how my Pearl Izumi gloves are not very waterproof, but thought "Aw, I'm sure they will be dry enough!" Gave Bree and Emy a smooch, and headed down to the garage. Bree's last words were "Wow, it is really raining. Good luck!" Yes, it was raining, but I wasn't cold. I got about 7 miles north on the Sammamish River Trail and started to get cold. Both my feet and hands were soaked. As I reached the meet up area for the ride, I lowered my head and tried to stealthily and guiltily spin by, hoping that none of the people who saw my earlier email about how I was "definitely going to be there, but only do a metric 100 (100 km)". I vowed to at least ride a total of 25 miles, so I continued on the trail. I was passing quite a surprising number of runners, but I think I only saw three cyclists on the 12 miles before I turned around. I made it back to Woodinville, where there is a very nice bathroom, and used the hand drying blowers several times to attempt to dry my gloves a bit and get my fingers through the burning/tingling cycle. I felt quite bad for my teammates, who were no doubt out suffering as much as I was - but with the camraderie, I'm guessing they at least felt a little bit warmer. I called Bree to tell her I was just warming myself, and no, she didn't need to pick me up (it's only another 20 minutes). When I stepped out of the bathroom to the outdoors, my body immediately reacted by shivering uncontrollably. I realized I was borderline hypothermic, but thanks to my stubborn streak, and perhaps the last vestiges of Minnesota winter adaptation, I got on the bike and sprinted the first 3 minutes. After that I was fine all the way home - it helped that I couldn't feel my hands. Thankfully it is level the whole way back, so I didn't have to will my useless fingers to shift. When I got home, I took the necessary hot shower, and snuggled with Emy on the couch, with a perfect cup of Victor's coffee, courtesy of Bree, superMom/Wife.

Later, I read that the team shortened the ride to a metric century. Kudos to them. I'll ride again tomorrow :-)

Bicycle Racing - The Undergraduate Years

OK, I realized this one was going to be "the collegiate years", but that implied I raced for the U of MN's cycling team, which I did not (I think it started up while I was a grad student). I think it also would have been too long, since I raced while an undergraduate, and as a graduate student, and the two periods were distinctly different.

The Undergraduate Years
The most distinguishing characteristic of my undergraduate years was a total conversion to mountain biking. I sold the Centurion road bike to Ryan Kuehl, the younger brother of a high school friend, Nathan Kuehl (who now lives about 5 hours away and is still racing road). I had quit North Country in favor of working for my dad (general contracting) and mom (systems administration) since the pay was better and the hours were more flexible. I enrolled at the University of Minnesota and eventually became friends with Nate Marks, who was in to mountain bikes. He had a buddy with a red Gary Fisher mountain bike that needed a new owner, so I cobbled together $400 and bought it. Thus began my introduction to riding off-road. Nate took me on trips to the local loops at Lebanon Hills Regional Park in Eagan, MN, along the Mississippi River Road in Minneapolis, and various other parks and hidden places. My first ride at Lebanon Hills began a yearly trend that lasted for several years. It was springtime, and the snow had just melted. We made a trip to Lebanon Hills, which, not surprisingly, is full of short steep hills. The total loop is short, so you do it many times, and if you're obsessive like me, you time each lap to see how they compare to the others. On the loop, there's a section of three hills in rapid succession, and at the top of the third hill, which I hammered as hard as I could, I threw up all over the trail (I was still rolling over the hill when I lost control of my digestive tract). I stopped and sat there, panting, and drinking water. Eventually, I felt better and continued riding the loop. I did four more laps, each one within 15 seconds of the previous lap. Aside from throwing up, it was the most fun I'd had in a long time (in a sport). I vowed to do this every weekend.

The next weekend, Nate and I went to Lebanon Hills again, and we noticed that near the end of the loop, where there is a long downhill right turn, someone had built a jump. We rode back up the hill, and gave it a shot. Nate was far more of a trick rider than I, and he made the jump look easy. I hammered down the hill, pointed the front wheel strait at the middle of the jump, and launched. I felt like I was in the air forever, and when I landed, I even managed to control the right turn and not crash into the trees just off the trail. However, my bike felt "wrong" - I was bouncing up and down, like I had suspension in the rear (which I did not) and when I looked down, I saw that I had cracked the seat tube right at the bottom bracket, along with one seat stay. The only thing holding me together was the head tube welds, and I was slowly going up and down like a see-saw. I rode the bike to the parking lot, and Nate and I pondered what to do. Then, it hit us - there was a lifetime warranty on the frame! We had to think of a bike shop that carried Gary Fisher, and drove straight there. The guys at Freewheel Bike in Minneapolis were totally cool, and only asked me if I'd been in a race. I said no, so they said they could get it replaced no problem. One week later, I had a new, much nicer and newer model frame (I went from steel to aluminum), and with a few replacement parts, I had a significantly sweeter ride.

Racing
It was inevitable that I would try racing on my mountain bike. I'd become friends with another bike lover, Tyler Bennett, who bought a GT mountain bike after I nudged him that we should go riding. We rode the same areas as I had with Nate, and Tyler was the one who suggested we give racing a try. It was November, and there was a race on Thanksgiving weekend at a local park, so we vowed to show up as long as it wasn't snowing.

You can see that in 1996, in November, in Minnesota, the field size was tiny. I think there were a total of 12 riders in the Mens Beginner's division. I'm the second from the left, in the grey t-shirt, and Tyler is the tall one in pink (I mean, mauve) next to me. Everybody was freezing, since it was super cold. Yes, I forgot to remove the saddle bag.



The race was a short loop that involved a stream crossing, a steep hill, and some singletrack woods. You can see in the picture on the right that
the hill was a run-up, which I guess makes this my first cyclocross race too. That hill was long, steep, and slippery. The downhill was fun, although the weeds were pretty thick and had a tendency to grab your feet as you went through. I lost sight of Tyler early on - he generally would get way out in front of me, and if there were enough hills on the course, I would slowly grind my way back. I was still really a road rider, with no technical mountain bike skills, but Tyler had a knack for the singletrack. In this race, I never caught him owing to me making the wrong choice at the stream crossing. We had the option of a off-camber traversing cross of the frozen stream, or a steep down and up through the gulch. I chose the up/down every lap except the last one, and was pretty unhappy, since the off-camber was much faster, and required no dismount (or soaking wet, frozen foot). Somewhere around the middle of the race, the field was so strung out that you rarely saw anyone. Still, I had a ton of fun. Tyler won a prize, and I wasn't last.

We did a number of other races at Buck Hill, which had a weekly series, and a couple of other courses in the area. Neither of us had any podium finishes, but we consistently started placing near the top ten.

However, in addition to mountain biking, Tyler and I were getting into Rock Climbing, which was more interesting to Bree (girlfriend at the time, now wife). Within a short amount of time, I was doing much more climbing than riding. Turns out that these two sports will be trading off time from then (1997) until this day. I look back on my mountain bike racing years as a great time, combining my love of the outdoors with my love of pedaling two wheeled machines. But, I wouldn't trade the climbing years for riding years either - both have a strong hold on my heart.

Next up will be the revival of the roadie in me - beginning in 1998...