Blind Consumerism - Or Bike Geek

My rear wheel has been squeaking and plinking on and off, and I had just been ignoring it. The wheels I have been running were the ones that came with my bike, and aside from a spare front wheel, the ones on the bike are the ones I have available. Well, yesterday, in the cold rain and sleet, the wheel decided it had had enough. The squeak became sort of a constant squeak-grind with the occasional feeling of slippage and clunking after coasting for a while (for those not in the know - wheels are supposed to spin quietly and smoothly). It's probably my fault, or, at least, the previous day's training ride was the straw that broke the camel's back. Wednesday, I did some crazy intervals suggested by Travis, our team president, and cat 2 racer, that involve grinding at a slow cadence of 40-50 rpm while maintaining a zone 3 heart rate. So, on the Sammamish River Trail, I did two sets of 12 minute intervals at a HR of 160-165 in the 53x14 with a 10 min rest in between. They were tough! It also didn't help that after I turned around to head back home, the headwind made it a struggle to keep the HR in a recovery zone! But, since the first two races of the year are time trials, these intervals should pay dividends.

Anyway, on yesterday's ride, the wheel got angry, and I resigned myself to probably needing a new wheel. Here's where the "Blind Consumerism" comes into play. I used to be a bike mechanic. I mean, I got paid to fix bikes, and I should know better, but when I brought the wheel in the Sammamish Valley Cycle (one of our team sponsors, and conveniently 3 blocks from our townhouse) I was surprised when Brian (who is on my team, and works there) said, "I think it just needs an overhaul." Grand total for this operation would be a whopping $30, including bearings. But, they said it might take a couple of days (panic - no riding?), and so I felt justified in buying some new wheel, just so I had a spare rear wheel. I shopped around with what they had, and ended up with a fine Mavic wheel with aero bladed spokes, and a reasonable price. The Bike Geek in me just couldn't help it (there were cheaper options). And don't get me wrong - the wheel is sweet and will be great for the aforementioned time trials. But, today, roughly 18 hours after I dropped off the wheel at the shop, I got a call that it was all ready to pick up. So you see, I never missed a ride due to this wheel. I feel just a little bit guilty for having purchased the new wheel - but it is so pretty! And it spins quietly and smoothly! And, thanks to the shop, so too does my old wheel - maybe it will make it another 4700 miles...

Hill = Fun

We had an awesome A-team ride on Saturday. Our team prez organized a wonderful selection of some steep and/or long grade climbs in Bothell, Woodinville and Kirkland. I was pretty stoked, since riding up hills is one of my pastimes. The ride began at the Bothell Park & Ride (OK, actually at the Lyon's Den coffee shop) which is an 8 mile ride North from our place - it works out to a nice warm up. We covered a number of hills, many of which were at least 15% and some must have had sections of 20%+. I split from the group about 8 miles from the planned ending, intending to ride straight home. But, I saw that I was only 7 miles shy of getting to 60 miles and only 30 minutes shy of a four hour ride time, so I persevered to 62 miles and 3:58 before I pulled in to our home. The average speed belies the hills on the ride - on at least a couple of them I looked down and saw 5.5 mph! Just as I pulled in to the house is started to get really wet, so my timing was good (I was soaked, but only having reached that state minutes earlier).

Emy had her first piano lesson while I was riding, and from all signs, she loved it. When we suggested we try to schedule a 10 minute practice time every day, she said, "Maybe, 12 minutes?" On Sunday she must have played for at least an hour total, and with our help, she worked through the next few lessons in her workbook. It certainly brings back memories of my childhood....

Sunday I got in an easy spin to loosen the legs after the hill ride. I started out pretty sore and slow, but the intention was to take it easy, so I played it by feel. After about 20 minutes the legs loosened up and I had a nice spin. I passed through a freak wall of sleet, wind and rain that lasted just long enough to get me covered with ice pellets and quite damp, but I was prepared with the rain gear this time. Amazingly, the sun was out on the other side of the weather wall, and it stayed nice for the rest of my ride. I was actually "HOT" for the last 10 minutes.

Today is the "run day" in my weekly training plan, which is the same 3 mile flat route every Monday (at least until we get closer to cross season in a short 8 months). Good thing today is for running, since the forecasted snow actually happened on schedule. They even closed Emy's school for the day, which, now that it is nearly noon and the snow is melting, seems like a poor choice. They didn't close the school the last time it snowed/rained, and that time it stayed below freezing, which actually made for treacherous driving conditions. Oh well, they just don't know how to handle WINTER here.

Its COLD, but that means I'm a wimp

I'm from Minnesota. It gets cold there in the winter (well, it used to, until Dubya created global warming). Really cold. Yesterday the temp was 23.9 F and I opted to take the bus to work. Mondays are my running day, so I didn't feel too guilty about not riding to work. But, after work there's a big letdown when I walk to the bus. Why a letdown? Because the bus is never there. Yesterday I was attempting to catch the 545 bus from the Overlake Transit Center at 4:08 PM. I left my desk at 3:56 PM, and I know it takes me 7 minutes at my usual brisk walking pace to get to the bus stop. As I waited to cross 156th Ave to get to the transit center, about 50 meters from the bus stop, I see the bus pull up and right on through. It didn't stop, because there was no one waiting, and it was MLK day, so all reasonable employers give you the day off to reflect upon the wonderful civil rights we enjoy in this country (even white males like me). I'm sure this was running through the drivers mind as he rolled through the stop at 4:03 PM and continued on. I watched helplessly, opting not to play frogger with the crazy driving of my fellow micro$ofties. I resigned myself to the 4:23 bus and sauntered slowly to the stop. It was warm (above 40 F) and sunny, and not having my bicycle, simply for the convenience of departing when I wanted, sucked. When I got home, I suited up for a run. The house was lonely, since Bree, Emy and Bree's parents went to the ocean for the day:
Despite my best efforts, I failed to find them a decent place to eat in Aberdeen, WA on the way home (Bree called me at work requesting an immediate Googling).

Today the temperature was 22.8 F out, but that wasn't going to stop me. I suited up, and added a neck warmer as a concession to the cold in addition to the same outfit I would use for riding in 40 F. When I rolled out of the garage, I was shocked at the impact of the cold on my recently shorn head. Usually I head North on the Sammamish R. Trail for at least 10 minutes before turning around and heading to work, but today my toes got cold after the first 3 minutes, so I cut it short. I guess I've adapted to the temperature here, since 20's would be a lovely high temperature in Minnespolis in January.

Of course, on the ride home it was warm and sunny (at least for January in Redmond), and I got in some great tempo riding (20 minutes at just below 160 bpm on the HR monitor), plus four "spinups" with 2 min rest in between. I love spinups. To do a spinup, you put yourself in an easy gear (39x15) and then pedal faster and faster until your cadence is so high you start bouncing. Of course, the smoother you are as a pedaler, the higher the cadence gets. I don't have a cadence measure on my bike computer, but I maxed out the 39x15 at 29 mph and had an imperceptible bounce. I'd estimate my cadence was between 150 and 180. I think that bodes well for the track season, and hopefully suggests I have my bike position close to spot on.

Tomorrow the low is supposed to be again in the 20's. And you thought it didn't get cold here! Oh wait - that's not cold!

Next Time I will Take a Picture

So yesterday on my road home I experienced sleet and wind. It was not pleasant. I rode with my head down, looking at my water bottle, with the occasional glance ahead to avoid certain death. This was almost my fate flying downhill along 520 (the trail! not the freeway) when I happened to glance up and see I was about to ram a slowly moving mountain biker in the middle of the trail. I swerved, said something I wouldn't want Emy to hear, and then promptly put my head back down. When I got home, Bree was amused that I immediately switched into my running shoes and went for a 20 minute jog along the Sammamish River. The sleet switched over to snow on the run, and my wet clothes from the ride just barely kept me above hypothermic levels as I got back. I figure it was good training for cross season in the Fall. Anyone who knows me knows I was loving every minute of it.

Today I awoke to a light dusting of snow everywhere, and a temperature of 32.6F. I wasn't worried, since I had that extra 0.6F to ensure there would be no ice on my ride in. Yeah, right! The ride in was on crusty slush, which held up amazingly well, and offered a reasonable amount of traction. When I got on the trail I saw there were at least three other skinny tire riders who came before me, and so I figured if they could do it, then so could I. There were only a couple of times when I worried I would start going backwards as I made my way up the 6 to 12% gradient along 520, and at one point I was surprised to see I was going 4 mph (fast walking pace)! The ride in would have been uneventful except for the hasty minivan driver that almost took me out in a crosswalk. Unfortunately I had to dab my right foot, which loaded the right cleat with ice, and for the remaining one mile I could only balance that shoe on top of my pedals (which are Speedplays, so it is kinda like balancing your foot on a lollipop).

The ride after work was smooth as butter. Funny - there were not too many people riding today!

Withdrawal

I'm going through a bit of cyclocross withdrawal. There's not as much happening, although I guess the tension is building before Sven Nys wins the world championship in two weeks. Last weekend was the national championships for most of the European countries, and most of the winners were predictable. The USA holds ours in December, but according to this, it looks like we are trying to follow the European lead and hold ours on the same January weekend. I agree with the linked blogger - it seems OK for us to be different, in the interests of allowing our country's finest the best, uninterrupted European campaign leading up to Worlds. But, if we do move it to January, I'm betting it won't be held in cities such as Kansas City, since coming from the midwest, we know that January's weather is typically even less hospitable, and perhaps "too cold for cross". Perhaps that's good for Seattle and Portland - maybe we'll host Nationals more regularly.

My withdrawal is the usual doldrums of not much happening in the professional cycling world, but thankfully, now that I have found cyclocross, the doldrums will be much shorter! It used to be that when the road world championships were over (in the Fall, after the Vuelta), there were just a couple of races left, and then I had to hold out until February of the next year. The minor lull in cross racing activity now means there's really only a two week hiatus from results, live and delayed video coverage and commentary. I guess it is OK - I can catch up on reading books (when I am done reading all the cycling blogs I follow!).

A Call for Help, and Trail Rage?

So, today included a couple of firsts for me. I headed out for a planned 25 miles on the Sammamish Trail, and at around 10 miles out, there were two guys riding and chatting on the trail that I would soon need to pass. One was on a mountain bike with extremely wide handlebars, plus a mirror, and he was riding on the left side of the trail. His buddy was riding in the middle of the trail on a road bike with two empty panniers. They were chatting about which saddle the road bike guy thought was the best, blah, blah blah, and so, to play it safe and not disturb them too much (although in my head I was thinking "Couldn't you guys ride on the right side of the trail instead of the left and middle?"), I announced my pass - "On your right!" Of course, this threw road bike guy for a loop - he swerved right, and I yelled, "No! I'm on your right!" He swerves back to the middle and starts swearing and yelling at me about how you "cannot pass on the right" and "what is wrong with you", etc. I calmy say, "Well, your friend was on the left, and you were occupying the middle" (I might have used the terms "hogging the middle", oops) "so I felt the safest thing to do was pass where it was clear." He yells at me some more as I am now already about 10 meters past them, and I turn back to say, "Please relax sir, we're all fine now." He said something under his breath, but we then had to slow for a stop sign where the trail joins a road for a short stretch and he catches up to me, still yelling about something. I sprinted a bit and said, "I hope you both have a really nice day!" in as friendly a voice as I could muster. He again muttered something like, "we will after you're far away." I got to a stop light, willing it to change quickly, which it did, and turned left up Juanita Dr hill. They did not go this way, thankfully, and I was surprised to have had this incident, since I have never encoutered such vehemence on the trail. I got to the top, turned around, and started down. About 1/4 mile down the hill I hear the dreaded sound of my front wheel going flat (I earned this by bragging on yesterday's ride about how I "never" get flats these days!). I pull off Juanita and start changing the tube. During the install of the new tube (my only spare) I hear the telltale sound of air escaping again - I must have pinched the tube between the tire and rim while installing it - no surprising since it was raining on me and I was hurried. That's it - no more tubes, and tearing off duct tape from my fenders to use as a patch failed miserably. Right about then I started thinking of my own misery as it starts rain/snowing on me while I sit on someone's driveway. I did the unthinkable - I called Bree to come and pick me up. I considered hailing one of the many riders flying down Juanita, but they are all going 30-40 mph, and it's raining and snowing (did I mention that already?). Bree and Emy rescued me about 20 minutes later. I was quite the novelty in the little neighborhood where I waited - I was offered food, shelter, a bathroom, tea, and just plain "help" but I politely refused since this all happened about 5 minutes before I knew Bree would pull up. When we were on the drive home and I finished telling the story, Emy said, "Daddy, why was the man angry?" Bree and I explained to her about how some people react to surprise and embarrassment with anger and frustration, blaming their embarrassment on the others involved. She said, "Like I do sometimes?" We tiptoed here a bit and said that many people do this sometimes, but there are people out there who just can't accept blame or easily blow off incidents like I had - they just don't know how to deal with a mix of fear and shame.

All I can say is that I have no problem with how I dealt with the situation on the trail. I can only hope those guys learned some sort of lesson and at least moved to the right side of the trail. If I have to take the fall for them paying a little more attention on a Sunday afternoon ride on a crowded trail, then so be it. I just wish the next thing to happen to me wasn't a double flat in the freezing rain. Please tell me I erased all my bad Karma today?

Looks like tomorrow's forecast will be more of the same - but I have two spare tubes now!

Foul Weather Friends

Yet another rainy and cold team ride today, but we had an extra bonus - high winds! Here's what it looked like on the radar when I woke up:

(image from wunderground.com)

The temps stayed below 42 F, and we all got quite shivery waiting for a flat tire fix about halfway through the 48 mile ride. But, there's really nothing better than suffering in the weather with a great group of like-minded people, all working toward a common goal - getting in shape for the racing season. First official race is Feb 24th "Frostbite TT". I'll be there, of course...

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...

iPod or Zune?

Can you make a choice, if you care about the Environment?
I was all set to get (OK, ask for) a 4GB iPod Nano, but I dared to Google "environmental impact iPod Zune". Ignoring the war of words going on between Greenpeace and Apple, it is still true that neither company has a satisfactory record on avoiding the use of toxic plastics, mercury, etc in the devices. In the case of Apple, they have announced they will clean up by 2008, while Microsoft is all the way out to 2011. You could argue that by getting one of these devices I will significantly reduce my environmental impact if I buy music through their online stores - avoiding the need for jewel cases, plastic wrap, ... Maybe I should just wait for 2008 and see what Apple does. At least they have a recycling program in place already.

Bike Fit and Lego Fun

A Day Off, and fun with childhood toys
Today I took the day off to get a bike fit from Erik Moen, which included new custom insoles and a slight tweak to my right cleat. I'm a bit hypersensitive to my bike fit, and have been fiddling for what is going on seven years now since I last felt "perfect" on a bike. After the fit, I went for a 25 mile jaunt on the Burke-Gilman and so far, so good. It was a nice excuse for a day off from work at the evil empire.

I'll get to the promised next chapter in my bicycle racing history (The College Years) soon, but I've been preoccupied lately since Emy has rekindled my love for playing with Lego blocks. She and I flew to Iowa to visit my mom and the rest of the Beecher clan for Thanksgiving, and while there we played with Legos and my dad's (and now mine) slot car racing set. Amazingly, the cars and track still work quit well, even after over 40 years!

(Grandma Jane and Emy drive fast!)

Emy really loved it, but I swear I will not become a NASCAR dad. I don't even like car racing! Also while in Waterloo, Iowa, we sought and scored two good coffee shops for my mother to frequent. She's starving for good coffee since moving down from the Twin Cities, Minnesota. If you're ever in Waterloo/Cedar Falls, and need a good cup, I recommend Vibe Coffee Shop on the University of N. Iowa campus:



And, Cottonwood Canyon, which is run by a Jamaican/St Paul, MN native, who has ties learning the trade in Madison, Wisconsin from Victor of Victor's Celtic Coffee in Redmond, WA. Small world!


Anyway, when we got back home Emy immediately wanted to dig out the Lego collection (they all used to be mine, plus a few recent craigslist and thrift store supplementary purchases).


We've been playing with them each night, well past bedtime. Today I made a coffee shop/pizza bar:


I'm pretty proud of it.

Bicycle Racing - The Junior Years

Let's pretend I just started this blog
Never mind that I have had this blog for quite a while - the complete lack of posts for over a year is a clean slate, in my mind. I won't erase the old posts, since I wrote em, and I felt em, but I'm making a fresh start. Odds are, you're going to have to put up with a bunch of posts about bike racing. I've found it again. Seems worth recapping my sordid past in this sport (long post).

First up - my junior years...
June 1986: during the presidential physical fitness test during the school year, I failed to complete a pullup, and also walked the last half of the half-mile. I weighed 152 lbs., which is exactly what I weigh right now, but I was 5' 2" tall, versus 5'11" today. I was a tub (as are many boys at age 12-13, but still)! Perhaps this is why my mother was willing to pony up $100 to buy a Huffy road bike (27" wheels, black and white, I think it was a Huffy "926") from one of my friends who was not so gravitationally endowed, and wanted money for basketball camp. This was a lot of money for my mother to spend out of the blue - she was a single mother, running a graphic design business out of the home. Thank you Mom! I promptly rode the bike the 4 miles to my friend Allen's house. I thought I was going to have to quit on the only small hill, after 2 miles of the trip (I didn't know I could shift gears). I made it there, and drank like a gallon of water. Man, did my ass hurt in my bermuda shorts. Allen, on the other hand, was thin, and rode his bike often with his parents, who were into touring. He had a snazzy Rayleigh technium bike made out of aluminum alloy. It was much lighter, and simply functioned a lot better than my bike, but who cares? The next day, he took me on one of his favorite rides, a 12 mile trip to Stillwater, MN for breakfast - 99 cent all you could eat french toast, if you got there by 8 AM on Sunday. We left at 7 AM, and if not for Allen's constant encouragement, and letting me draft, we never would have made it that day. Thus began a regular ride, all summer long. The freedom of riding the bike was so intoxicating, that we rode almost every day. By the end of the summer, we could leave at 7:20 and still just barely make it. We practiced rotating, just like we saw the pros do in the Tour, which we watched religiously on ABC's Wide World of Sports. Phil Liggett had hair, and Greg Lemond was our great hope, but the Tour was all about the rivalry between Hinault and Lemond. That Tour is ingrained on my memory forever, as is 1989 - but that's another story.

September 1988: Meanwhile, Mom noticed my enthusiasm for riding, and was presumably quite pleased with her now healthy and happy son. That Christmas, I received exactly the same bike as Allen rode, a blue Rayleigh technium! I had to swap out the handlebar tape in order to prevent confusion between the two bikes! I went with the fashionable neon green cork ribbon. I didn't ride much that Fall, but I joined the cross-country running team, as did Allen, and while we didn't completely suck, it was clear that my riding legs didn't exactly translate into running legs. I improved from a 30:01 5k to a 23:29 5k that season. I also joined the XC skiing team, and learned to skate ski. By the end of that season, I was the best boy on the JV team, which isn't saying much since I think we had a total of 8 boys and 4 girls, but I was starting to discover that maybe I had some ability when it comes to endurance sports.

June 1989: I was 15, and able to get a part-time job. At Tartan High School, I met Mike Plante, who was racing as a junior, and had a job at North Country Bike & Ski, about 5 miles from my house. He also had a friend who could drive, and they took me to "the shop" in Saint Paul, Grand Performance. I have had a seriously loyal relationship with this shop, but I didn't know it would happen then... What was awesome about this shop was the consignment bikes. I was entralled with the array of racing steeds, hanging all over the shop, with prices that seemed in reach. I vowed to buy one of these bikes and replace my Rayleigh, which while infinitely better than the Huffy, was not a "racing bike".

I applied to work as a mechanic/salesperson at the aforementioned North Country Bike & Ski, at the suggestion of Mike. They told me to come back the next day. I came in and hung out. They told me to come in the next day. This went on for about a week. Finally, Joe, one of the managers, took me to the back of the shop, pointed at a big cardboard box, and said, "assemble that bike in less than 30 minutes. If I can ride it, and everything works, you can have a job." He then sat on the counter, and started a stop watch. I had never been the back of a bike shop. There were strange and wicked looking tools everywhere. I'd never seen a bike stand. And, upon opening the box, I was sure I would fail. It was a Trek 820 - Mountain Bike! I'd never touched a mountain bike. In fact, I think the only ones I had seen were during the previous week loitering around the shop. But, I pulled out the partially assembled contraption, and noticed that the bike stand had a clamp that looked like it might hold on to the top tube. I put it in and clamped it down. Joe said, "Interesting." I tried not to notice. It must have been obvious I had no idea what I was doing. But, I gave it my all. I somehow figured out cantilever brakes, adjusting the pads so they didn't squeak. I adjusted the derailleurs, which were "indexed" - I had heard of this, but having only used friction shifting, I struggled a bit until I discovered the cable tension barrel adjuster. Anyway, I got the thing together, minus air in the tires, right when Joe called, "Time's up." He allowed me to fill the tires, using the compressor. I am sure I pumped them up to something like 50 psi, and was only lucky that I bumped the valve with my foot - otherwise the tube would have blown not long after. Joe took the bike out the back and disappeared. He came back, about 5 minutes later, riding a wheelie through the front door. When he got back to me, where my jaw was on the floor, he said calmly, "OK. you're hired. Come back tomorrow - you'll work 10 - 2, 3 days a week, and 10-5 on Sundays."

I was in!

I saved everything I earned. I think my Mom still has my first paycheck for about $120 dollars. Once I made it to $500, I asked my mom to drive me to Grand Performance. I was going to get a racing bike! When we got there, the shop manager Dan (who is now the owner), measured me up and announced that I needed a 54 cm frame. There were three to choose from, but only one in my price range. I bought a green and white Centurion "Ironman Dave Scott" (I had no idea who that was at the time) with Shimano 600 (Ultegra nowadays) and Look clipless pedals. I bought some Lake shoes, and since you got a discount on the bike if you joined the shop's racing team, I joined the team and got a jersey. My wife can still fit this jersey, and even wore it to her first race - again, that's another story...

On this bike, I was a menace. I trained like a fiend. I once rode 62 miles, by myself, with one water bottle and a snickers bar, in just over three hours (I would be extermely happy with this performance, even today). I still rode with Allen, but soon started leaving him in the dust (hey, we were teenage boys, best friends, but we still competed for everything). Our rides to Stillwater became crazy hill-fests, where we would do repeats of the infamous Myrtle Hill, after eating the french toast (which sometimes wanted to come up each time we reached the summit).

September, 1989: I entered a crit race in Minneapolis racing with the Juniors, and had one teammate - the previously mentioned Mike Plante. Two laps into the crit, it started sleeting on us. I laughed maniacally, and attacked the field. I nearly lapped them after being off the front for about 10 laps, and was feeling awesome, but then I got a horrible cramp in my right hamstring. I tried to pedal with only the left leg, but it was agonizing. The field caught me, and passed me. I dropped out right after they lapped me. Two laps later, Mike sprinted for 4th place. Mom took me home.

June 1990 - I entered the Iowa race weekend - it began with a street sprint. It was a one block sprint, in heats. The top two advanced to participate in the criterium later that day, followed by a road race the next day. We didn't have enough time for the whole weekend, so I was hoping to place well enough to get in the crit. I asked an adult rider on my team what gearing to use, but he rudely replied, "You figure it out." He must have thought I was in his category, which is ridiculous, since I was a junior, but maybe he couldn't tell with the helmet and sunglasses on. So I started in the big ring (52, which for all I know may have been illegal for juniors at the time) and the 14 in back. The gun went off, and the other 4 riders flew away from me. I was so overgeared, but somehow I managed to pass all but the first two by the end of the block. End of my race weekend.

However, that spring, I had met another Junior rider, Chris, whose mother became friends with my own. He and I rode together often, and he asked me if I thought I could go to a junior cycling camp in Wisconsin, run by the 7-Eleven team. I asked my mom, and she said it was way too expensive ($700 for the week, plus she'd have to drive me to Madison and pick me up a week later). I asked if I could do it, if I paid for it. She agreed, especially when Chris's mom offered to drive us there, if my Mom would pick us up a the end of the camp.

Chris and I were so excited. The camp was going to be staffed by members of the 7-Eleven team! When we arrived, we were greeted by Tom Schuler, Chris Carmichael, and a woman whose name escapes me (sorry!). The camp consisted of a ride each morning and skills clinic in the afternoon. The first day we had to do a time trial to seed us into four groups. We started alphabetically, and right when we got to the S's, the weather changed dramatically from calm and sunny to windy with thunderstorms. They started us 30 seconds apart, instead of a minute for the earlier riders, and even though I rode my heart out, the cross wind was terrible. I was sad to learn that afternoon that I was in the 3rd group, while Chris (whose last name started with G) made the second group. The 1st group was composed of much older boys, and as far as I recall, there were no girls. That evening I beat a kid in the 2nd group in a chess game that was apparently the highlight of the day - the kid I played was a complete jerk, but since he was a solid rider, people wanted to see him "put in his place" in some way other than on the bike. I still remember the cheer when I checkmated him.

Next morning we had breakfast, cafeteria style. We were told that since the Superweek series of races was going on (now called the International Cycling Classic, which is good, since "Superweek" was actually two weeks long), we could include one of the races in our camp. I didn't have enough money to enter a race, and was totally intimidated by the field sizes. The juniors field appeared to be over 50 riders, and was insanely fast. I don't remember a lot of the camp, except for three incidents. First, we did go to cheer for a couple of our camp-mates in the races. We screamed our lungs out for Neil, who attempted a solo breakaway on the first lap of a crit (Sheyboygan?) and stayed away until the bell lap. But, he scored a bunch of primes. And then there was Ian, who was 18. This guy was in the final 10 riders sprinting for the line, when the two guys in front of him touch wheels and go down. Ian has nothing to do but crash, right? No way - Ian bunny hopped both a bike and the rider laying under it, and won the race. Standing right next to me, screaming a the top of her lungs, was sixteen year old phenom Dede Demet (now Dede Barry, retired awesome racer). We all had an immense crush on her, and Neil even had the guts to ask her out that day - she declined. The final incindent that sticks out in my mind was the last training ride, which included some crazy hill repeats up to a water tower. What was amazing about this day was that I stuck on Tom Schuler's wheel for every repeat, and managed to beat him in the sprint for the top on the last repeat. He told me something along the lines of "you sure can climb hills for a midwesterner!"

September 1990: With no guidance for racing, and an increasing interest in females taking serious hold, I stopped racing. I continued to ride a lot, but did not enter any more bicycle races until I was an undergraduate at the University of Minnesota.

Time to end this post - the next chapter will be "The College Years"...

Mom, if you're reading this - do we still have any pictures of me racing as a junior? (She just found the price tag from the Centurion the other day, which brought back some serious memories)

It's Official
I am now middle aged. I found a grey hair. On my arm. Not on my head. I studied it for at least 10 minutes while I waited for the bus to ascertain whether or not it is bleached-blond from the sun, or an actual, honest-to-goodness, well earned by life experience, grey hair.

Then I found another on the other arm.

Thankfully, I recently shaved my legs so as to maintain my elitist standing among the recreational cyclists on the Sammamish River Trail (a.k.a., the Burke Gilman Trail). While I was at it, I shaved my chest and back (this required help). It's amazing how much stronger you look without all that body hair covering it up. So, the lack of body hair relieves me of finding any more greys (I plucked the two arm hairs).

Is this because I am back in the corporate world?

It is high time I started blogging again. I have at least one reader out there, and she is very tired of Chuck Norris facts!

Part 1: How to find yourself a service that doesn't violate your ethics.

Recently Bree and I wanted to join the world of in-the-mail movie rental. The obvious choise for us was Netflix, but my manager at work said they are right wing! He based this claim on a friend of his receiving right-wing videos just before the 2004 election, that upon contacting Netflix, was told "They are on the house." He cancelled his subscription. Now, from what I have found since then, this is an isolated incident. Why didn't we choose Blockbuster? The association with Viacom meant they were at least whacko pro-lifers at the executive level, but tonight my buddy tells me they split up long ago. So, here we are with a Netflix subscription, and I am confused about whether I can support giving them my money.

Why do I care? It is simple - if I can choose to give my money to a good enough service provider (e.g., movie rental) that supports causes I believe in, and none that I do not, then I will choose that one. But how to find out? Part Two of this blog entry will explore some basic ways to find out if you should stop going to that favorite restaurant chain (e.g. Chipotle before they split with McDonald's), or stop buying from Whole Foods (are they really the Wal-Mart of organic grocers?), etc.

I will try to post back sooner this time...thanks for your patience!

This may be the funniest thing I have ever read:
http://www.chucknorrisfacts.com/

In other news: it is still too warm for winter.

Dubya and the Weather
I blame King George for this lame Minnesota winter. In the three winters we have experienced since our return from Redmond, we have gotten either no snow with cold snaps that lasted a short time, or a bit more snow and rain with temps so warm any snow goes away in a hurry. And now, with last year being one of the warmest on record, we are looking at a super lame winter. (note: I like a cold and snowy winter - it means you can actually do winter stuff, which I like) The forecast for this coming Wednesday is in the mid 40's!

How can I blame W? Let's compare data from Minneapolis from
January 8th for the past 11 years:

Year     Actual High          Departure
1996     21 F                     +0
1997     28 F                     +7
1998     36 F                     +15
1999     10 F                     -11
2000     37 F                     +16

2001     23 F                     +2
2002     45 F                     +24 (record)
2003     54 F                     +33 (record)
2004     20 F                     -1
2005     20 F                     -1
2006     34 F                     +13

Now, you might argue that during those five years of Clinton we had some above average temps, but you'd be forgetting about El Nino (1998 was one of the warmest on record). I think that the two record days speak for themselves. 2005 was one of the warmest years on record, despite Jan 8th being normal (Nature, Dec 21, 2005) and there's no El Nino effect. More climate digging reveals that we had a number of warmest ever winter days during King George's reign, whereas other warmest days are scattered throughout the record for the last 30 years. You could also argue that the climate moves slowly, but you'd be both right and wrong, as it can respond quickly. Face it - it's his fault.

We'll be moving to Seattle in a few months, and while this year looks to be better for snow in the Cascade mountains, last year's drought could spawn more. Dubya's administration discounts global warming and eschews pro-environmental policies based on establish science, claiming they hurt the economy. I only hope there's still time to correct the disastrous pro-industry, record-emission-pumping ways of this country's republican leadership. I want my winters back.

Examples of the use of the decision graph:
Snowboard: this one is easy. I haven't used it in two years, and I intend to switch to skiing. The board is hardly used, is still current in model and features. Clearly then, we go with "get rid of" and it is "worth $" "to me" and "will sell locally" as this is Minnesota. So, I listed it on craigslist.com and got multiple offers within a couple hours. The first guy was a no show repeatedly, but the next in line was happy to come over from Wisconsin and pay my asking price in cash.

Jogging Stroller: Emy wasn't happy about it, thanks to fond memories, but it never gets used. It took a bit longer on craigslist, but still sold easily.

AD&D books: yes, I did play this game up until about 6 years ago. They sat and sat on craigslist, and so, my initial suspicion that they would "sell locally" was in fact in correct. So, I should modify the decision graph to point both directions between eBay and craigslist. The lot of books sold easily on eBay.

Box of wood scraps acquired by Bree: we used some of them, but had way more than we needed. Using the graph, we follow "get rid of" - apply own judgment and determine "worth $" to "somebody else" so Bree listed it on freecycle. It hasn't budged, even those there's been some interest. I think this one will soon follow the path of "nobody wants it" - "trash it".

in other news:
I got in my first cross country skiing of the season on the Como golf course. It was wonderful. I've often thought that we lived close enough to ski to/from the loop, but this time I tried it (for the return trip). It wasn't too bad, so hopefully this can be my new winter exercise program, in addition to the indoor climbing and outdoor ice climbing.

Emy is a sledding machine! Last year she got cold pretty quickly, and also she didn't like going too fast. Well, she is now the no fear kid. She even attempted to go down a hill standing up ala snowboard style. She only made it about ten feet, but then she just sat down and rode it out. We took her to some bigger, steeper hills on the Como golf course and she loved it. She had two major wipe outs, one of which she laughed off and the other was a bit too much of a face plant to be funny. But all in all I'd say she inherited her father's braveness (or lack of good sense to be scared)