I am not a ‘crosser. Maybe I will be someday but today I am not. And I certainly was not on November 29th at So Cal Prestige Series Turkey Trot Cyclocross Race. I raced the Single Speed 3-4. I would tell you how the race unfolded but a more accurate description would be of how it unraveled. I managed not to come in dead last but the technical and demanding course took its toll on my body. I haven’t felt so beat up since hell week in my college football days. I hurt in places bike racers shouldn’t hurt. Note to self: More upper body strength work.

Despite crashing 3 times and nearly crashing as many times I managed to enjoy myself. I kept reminding myself why I was there and too look at the big picture; which by the way, is hard to see when you have fatigue and O2 debt induced tunnel vision. My less than stellar placing was a direct result of equal parts suck and poor fitness. Without regret I blame my week-long recovery on my prep in the days leading up to race day. From Wednesday to Saturday it was non-stop cooking, eating and drinking and little to no bike time. It’s not often I get to drink with my brothers so I took full advantage of the opportunity. For those of you who don’t know me, I eat everything and drink everything. Usually, moderation makes is my middle name but during the Holidays the gloves come off! And I never paid too much attention to the “mixing” rules and often will follow a shot of tequila with a good Merlot and dark beers are just plain good anytime. With the exception of the turkey, Thanksgiving meals are pretty much a starch-fest. I don’t think I fully digested Thursday’s meal by the time I toed the line on Sunday.

So by race day, while I was not hung over but neither was I well rested or well prepared for the hell those PAA bastards plotted out. Note to self: Look for PAA guys at the first crit of the season and give them a real dirty look! But in the end, I achieved two of my three race goals:

1. Finish -check
2. Don’t come in last -check
3. Win

Two out of three is not bad. I think my cross season is over this year. My personal race budget was unexpectedly slashed to nil but there is food on the table and a roof over it so I can’t complain. I do still owe my cross benefactor and thank him for his patience.

Next year I would like to actually plan for a more full ‘cross schedule and give it a real “go”… to the extent a 48 year old family man can get it going. Right now I have to figure out how I’m going to make the 2010 road season happen for me.

For your consideration: Does Obama really deserve the Nobel Peace Prize? Talk amongst yourselves…

Next, I’ll be discussing my goals for 2010 and the effects of having your own personal cheering section at races.

Post Race Interview with the Lemond

I caught up with the Lemond after the race. He agreed to answer a few questions:


CTB – You started your career as a roadie designed by one of cycling’s legends, modeled after the classic European rides of the time. What happened?

LM – I don’t understand your question. Are all your questions going to be like this?

CTB – I mean, what path lead you to such a…or rather, to this point in your “career?”

LM – You think just because you’re talking that I can’t see your “quotation marks?”

CTB – I’m just saying…

LM – Out of politeness I will answer your “question.” Without an ounce of bitterness I will say Technology has brought me to this phase of my career. Riders today want technology, flash, obscene price tags; whether or not performance is included is not important. If you don’t podium blame your bike, shoes, helmet or sunglasses. “The carbon layup on the bottom bracket of my new frame did not suit today’s course conditions…” Forget that I ride like the classic Euro stars, I don’t look cool so no one wants me. Lugged steel may be perfect for Sunday mornings at the café but heaven forbid showing up at the Sunday crit on it.

CTB – you’re right, you don’t sound the least bit bitter.

LM – It ain’t fair, man.

CTB – Soooo…now you’re a ‘crosser. What’s it like?

LM – It’s good. I’m just taking it one race at a time, you know? I thank God for the opportunity. I’m just here to help the team anyway I can and put the sponsor’s names out there. It’s a great experience and I’m just glad to be here.

CTB – Rrrriiiight. Watching you out there today, looks like your plan is to bring your form along slowly, very slowly.

LM – Hey, talk to Mr. Beer & Donuts up there. I’m the one dragging his ass around most of the time. I’m embarrassed to take him out of the car at races. Man, talk about paying for your past transgressions…

CTB – Nope, not a hint of bitterness. You’ve also decided to go single speed.

LM – I may not have the tallest stack out there but I sure have the biggest bearings!

CTB – TMI! TMI! How did you make the transition from tarmac to terra firma?

LM – I’m not embarrassed to say I had some work done. Nip here, tuck there, some implants, bada bing, bada boom, I’m a cyclocross bike.

CTB – You put mayo on your frites now?

LM – Not me. But it feels like lard butt up there puts mayo on everything.

CTB – You are the oldest bike out the…I mean, you’ve got some years…You’ve seen a lot in your career. Did you have any sage words for the youngsters in the field today?

LM – Kids today! All hopped up on goof balls, playing their hippity hop music, they are all bling and no brains. The only thing I have to say to them is, “Get out of my way!”

CTB – Looking at the race results it sees it was more like, “Am I in your way?”

LM – Hey, I hear VeloNews is looking for someone to clean their toilets…

CTB - You must be tired from your effort today…and a little cranky too…so well wrap this up…

LM – Where’s that guy from PEZ?

CTB – and good luck in Glendale on November 29th.

LM – Eat me.

Special thanks to Jon Grinder.

Race Report (Finally)

With a hectic week following Spooky Cross on 10-24-09 I’m finally getting down to getting my race report down. Let me preface my report with 2 things:
1. I haven’t raced ‘cross since the last time I was in Colorado Springs about 12 or 15 years ago.
2. I raced on a single speed bike purely for time and monetary economics figuring with fewer moving parts I’d save a little more of both.

So I go into this race with OK fitness as I haven’t raced at all in 2009 but with no ‘cross skills. The last time I dismounted a moving bike was the last time I crashed a few months ago. Bust soft landing surfaces gave me the confidence I needed to perform the ‘cross ballet without mishap managing to look only somewhat inept versus completely incompetent. My saving grace was that I was able to ride the steep pitches and sand without dismounting which prompted cheers from the spectators lining those parts of the course.

More to the point of the actual racing…I sucked. In a 35 minute race I managed to finish over 2 laps down to the leaders mixed in with stragglers from the “geared” cat 3-4 race that started w minutes behind us. From the gun I was red-lining trying to stay with the guys who already had 6 races in their legs and probably a whole road season as well. My mistake, I brought my competitive spirit with me instead of my 34t chain ring. After a few laps I settled into comfortable, oxygen depleted, lactate induced stupor and managed to stay upright for the rest of the race. When I heard the leaders get the last lap call I could barley manage that thought of a smile as I calculated that by the time the winner crossed the line I would still have about half a lap to go.

I learned something about racing single speed cross: There is no rest for the stoopid. I mean, you can’t shift up and rest on the flat or easy parts of the course. You have to stay on top of you gear the entire time just to maintain some semblance of speed.

The funny thing about cross is that it’s not fun until it’s all over. Back at the car I literally threw my bike into some bushes, cleaned up and went to heckle the next race. The recovery drink flowed freely from on of the race sponsors so I took full advantage. Temps were in the mid 80’s and staying hydrated was a big concern as I was flying solo w/ no one to hand me drink while out on the course.

As I drove home I decided, yes, I did have fun and, yes I wanted more. I’m thinking next year of goin’ geared. Look for a post race interview with the Lemond in my next post. Hopfully my next report will inlcude some pics of me in "action" at The Turkey Trot Cross from Glendale, CA.

One For The Road...

It has been about three weeks since my "new" 'cross bike arrived from Grinder Bikes. Since that time I've been tweaking it here and there to dial in the fit and adjustments. It seemed appropriate that the morning I finally got to take it (I don’t believe in giving my bikes a specific gender, sometimes they can be a mo’ fo’, other times beeaaach) out the weather was cool, overcast with just a hint of moisture in the air. The ‘cross gods knew it was time.

I close the garage door behind me and ran across the front lawn rolling the bike beside me; did my best Sven Nyes impression as I mounted ‘cross style; jumped the curb and pedaled down my street giggling like a jr.

There is something very liberating about riding a cross bike and even more so when it is a single speed. First, you can go places where you wouldn’t and couldn’t take your road bike.

Second, there is the unique giddiness from the feel of 700c wheels on rolling over dirt,
grass, mud, etc. Different from 26” or 29er’s on mountain bikes. Is it the speed? Maybe. But I don’t want to over analyze, I just want to enjoy.

Third, there is the worry-free state of mind that comes with the simplicity of a single speed. While I love my road bike, my instincts are always on alert for irregular noises, rattles, feelings that signal something may be wrong. Bikes in and of themselves are, mechanically, relatively simple but there are a lot of moving parts, most of them very small. Like a Tell-Tale Heart, the constant, rhythmic clicking from an ill-adjusted derailleur can turn into mind drumming madness and ruin what started out to be a really good day.

But on a single speed, there is only the hum of the well lubed chain as it floats over the peaks and valleys of your chain-ring and cog like soap over your girlfriend’s body…but I digress.

So went my ride as I took every opportunity to get off the pavement and ride over our Mother Earth: other people’s lawns, parks, empty lots, the occasion green belt. I even rode the entire grassy medians on Huntington Dr and San Gabriel Blvd in San Marino. Thought I was one wild and crazy guy until I came across a guy in PAA kit doing the same thing in the other direction.

On more than one occasion I found my fingers searching for the shifter as I cruised along. I’m so used to shifting and down with any change in the road but now I find myself wondering if the shifters are more pacifier than anything. I shift because I can, because they are there. On the single speed, if I wanted to go faster I pedaled faster. If the road pitched up, I stood up. If I spun out, I just stopped pedaling and coasted.

Now I’m not saying shifters are for pussies or that they don’t have their place on the bike. I’m just saying, ride your bike, don’t let your bike ride you.

I was hoping to race my first cyclocross race since I left Colorado this past weekend but I had to attend a funeral for the son of a good friend of mine. Seeing what she was going through a ‘cross race seemed a poor excuse to miss the services. I’ve got 25 more opportunities before the road season starts again so look for my first race report coming soon.

Close Encounter

My 6-year old daughter, Carla Rose, was spending a few days with my brothers in San Diego so last Sunday I took the opportunity to sleep a few extra hours before hitting the road for my training ride. With no pressing obligations to bring me home early I planned a longer than usual route with some sustained hill work. However, the pull of households tasks long left undone persuaded me to change my plan so I opted for a 90 minute interval session along the San Gabriel River bike trail.

Things were going swimmingly and I was pleased and motivated by the effort I was able to put forth considering the spotty training in the days prior. I broke out the new team kit that day for some reason. I had only worn it a few times before not really feeling worthy of it yet. Maybe that had something to do with the way I was feeling.

The trail is never really crowded so I took not notice of the number of trail users that morning. Being a little later in the morning than normal there was a little more "traffic" but not a perceptible amount. Once you roll down the driveway the time of day is quickly forgotten and you are only aware of the passing scenery and where you are in relation to where you want to be.

I was about 7 minutes into my third ten-minute threshold interval, mentally calculating at what point on the trail I would end this one. I don't normally do intervals on the trail but it is an ideal place for it: straight, relatively flat, no cars, little of any other form of locomoting traffic.

As I was approaching one of the several entry/exit points along the trail from the surface streets I saw a rider coming down the ramp entering the trail the same direction I was going only much slower. He was riding an old, blue, price-point mtb; the kind favored by the homeless in my area. He had a white plastic grocery bag hanging from the handlebars with a few bottles and cans inside.

As he merged onto the trail I moved to the left to pass him. I was about 20 yards behind him traveling 25 mph when he decided he was going in the wrong direction. Without turning his head me makes a u-turn on the path. As I comprehend what is about to happen I notice the rocky embankment to my left and two Freds with road bikes stopped on the right side of the trail: Fred 1 is resplendent in his team LPR kit and brown slip-on Van's; Fred 2 is looking Freddy in a brown cycling jersey, baggy shorts and his helmet pushed waaay back on his forehead. Then right in from of me is Magellan. For a split second I thought about going right and taking our the Freds just because. But a quick calculation told me the least damage would be done by staying on target.

It is funny the volume of thought that goes through your mind those milliseconds before impending doom: Options... probable outcomes...pain...costs...will I have to buy a new bike? I've only worn this kit twice before...call the wife...shit, my phone's in my jersey pocket...will I be able to ride home...?

So I hit this guy nearly full gas as my breaking distance is reduced to nil because of my speed and his spontaneity. I hit him at about a 70 degree angle with the right side of my body. I see a flash of light as the right side of my head nest to my eye hits his left cheekbone (I know this because of the large red mark on his cheek and my blackened right eye). As is out instinct to do I get up quickly and assess my situation. As quickly I realize I am not on the last lap of the local crit and I settle myself down. Magellan is down and not moving a whole lot but he is breathing...Fred 2 walks over to the guy, bends over and observes. He doesn't say anything, just looks. My bike is about 5 feet from where I am and I check to make sure my phone is still in my jersey pocket.

I walk over to see how the guy is doing and begin talking to him just to see if I can get a reaction and assess how bad he is or isn't. Rather than tear him a new one for making a bone-headed move I simply explain to him that he has to be more careful. A minute later he's lifting himself of the ground and I help him the rest of the way up. Fred 2 has taken a half-step back but his posture and expression have not changed. Fred is on his feet and somewhat steady. Feeling sure he's not going to fall over I pick up the blue mtb and set it up on the kick stand. The seat post has been sheared just below the seat clamp. This is not going to make the ride "home" comfortable for him.

I take out my pocket tool and remove the seat post and seat from my bike and try to swap it out for his busted post but the odd diameter of his seat tube won't work with my post. Sorry dude, I tried. Feeling kinda bad I offer him one of my water bottles still in their respective cages. He says thanks but no thanks and begins walking in his new direction. I take a few minute to straighten all the tweaked parts on my bike and body before remounting. All this time Fred one and Fred 2 are standing off to the side, slack-jawed and silent like a couple of idiots. I was thinking that these two guys are the quality of the species that is ripe for alien abduction.

With my interval session cut short I was making my way home sincerely hoping Magellan was OK. My thighs were bruised, I cut the bridge of my nose where my sunglasses hit, my eye was black and blue and my right shoulder was rapidly stiffening. The bike seemed to be OK with almost no damage except for the out-of-true wheels. I'll likely hang it up and and give it a good dose of TLC later. I'll be sore tomorrow but back on the indoor trainer or running. My new x-bike should be here soon and I want to be worthy of it. More on that later.

I would like to take this opportunity to say a word about Specialized water bottle cages. These things ROCK! 25 mph impact and both bottle still resting comfortably in their cages. One cage is about 12 or 15 years old I purchased in CO. Jon told me a story back then of how he drove back to Denver from Moab with the bikes on roof racks. After several hours of 70-80 mph highway driving the bottles that were inadvertently left in the Specialized water bottle cages were still there. Since the day I heard that story I've only ever used Specialized cages and have NEVER lost a bottle since.

What I Did Today

Tuesday nights are my nights to volunteer at the weekly elementary school bingo game. Bingo is a big fundraiser for the private elementary education facility all my kids have attended and my daughter still does. Tonight I got home from work, ate dinner, got some face time with the family for a few minutes then off to bingo. I didn't get home until 10:30 PM. Then I spent 30 minutes in the garage putting a new chain on my bike. I was in bed by 11:30. Needless to say my usual wake-up and work-out time the next morning came and went sometime during a deep slumber, I don't remember.

But I was determined to get a Wednesday workout in. After work, family, etc. I finally got off the indoor trainer at 9:30 PM, showered and wrote this entry in my journal to be transferred to the blog at a later time.

I was a high school and college football player with a strange passion for spending hours in a hot, stinky room with other guys chasing large pieces of iron around the room. 25 years older, if not a day wiser, the thought of heavy lifting just isn't that appealing. I satisfy the need to strengthen my legs by doing high resistance-low cadence intervals on the indoor trainer. I usually crank the resistance level on my trainer to the max, shift my bike into the biggest gear and pedal somewhere under 70 rpm for timed intervals.

This night I watched an old VHS of the 1996 Tour du Pont, later the Tour de Trump and then the Tour defunct. Old footage of Lance suffering keeps me motivated and passes the time. I was also trying out my new box fan...nice an cool! It was a good evening!

As Time Goes By...

I must say that it has been a difficult "season" so far. I didn't enter the new year where I wanted to be. Then dealing with my mothers illness and subsequent passing made it difficult to fine the time and motivation to train. Since that time it seems like it has been a constant parade of family and social commitments, overtime/weekends at the office and honey-do's. What little time that has availed itself to training I've just been too tired to do so. Not to say I've haven't done anything at all but let's just say I can't wait for the 2010 race calendar to come out.

It's very had to stay motivated when the light at the end of the tunnel is so far away. It is too easy to say, "I've got time, I'll do it tomorrow." If I were recovering from injury, that would be one thing. But when I am still trying to build up my fitness reading the results my team is posting I feel as if I've been left standing on a rainy train platform. I also does not help being reminded the season is half over.

Mentally, I've raced every weekend. I've pictured myself in the peloton pushing, pulling and suffering for my teammates. Spiritually, emotionally and physically I haven't felt more removed. So once again I am back to re-tooling my training program hoping to carry enough fitness into the fall for the So. Cal Time Trial Series. You know, buying new gear always seems to change the mood. Maybe I'll just go out and get that 'cross bike I have always planned on and take on the dust and blood.

I know the only excuse for the state I am in is within myself. If I am hungry enough I will find a way to satisfy the rumbling in my competitive belly. I've got to get that hungry feeling back, get mad, get motivated! I dealt this hand, tossed the wrong cards but I've got to finish the game. My 2009 may be over but I've got a hell of a head start on 2010. Plus I've got that new 'cross bike to look forward to.