road to nowhere . . .

So, now that I’ve been to Paris, and back I’ve been wondering what to do with this site.  I can certainly continue on with my ramblings about my daily rides and upcoming races.  But, I like to have some goal I’m working towards.  There is no shortage of events that I’d like to try.  Though I can’t pull it off this year, I’d still really like to do La Ruta.  I’ve never done a 24 hour race, and after hearing Chipper’s stories about TransRockies I am really interested in trying my hand at one of that genre.  After talking to lots of folks who do the cyclosportifs in Europe, and my own experience at the Granfondo Pinarello last year, I’d also like to try and include a European race/ride on the calendar as well.  Too many things to try and do!  And now they add this foolishness to the mix?

In an age where the grand tours are being criticized for being too long and thus creating an atmosphere where drugs are necessary for recovery, America steps up to the plate (pun intended) with our own grand tour.  The Tour of America promises to be the longest, hardest, best paying bike race in the world.  Its a little far from April, but I’m really sort of thinking that this thing is a joke (does anyone knows who these organizers are?).  Supposedly the real dish comes out at Interbike today.  But a 30 day tour, with stages as long as 260 miles?  I know some Randonneurs who would do an event like that, but I think you’d be hard pressed to get a pro tour team to commit its riders to something like that.  You’d need a team of riders specifically for that event, that didn’t do another race all year (barring a few warm ups prior).  Of course, if the just decided to open it up to amateurs?  Say, run it as 27 separate 1 day events (eliminating the team time trials), and anyone who wanted could compete in all 27 stages?  Well, that is the kind of stupidity I’d sign up for in a heartbeat!

So, the road to nowhere.  I’ll start posting thoughts about events to do next year and maybe figure out where the road will go next.

Heatwave

This heat is getting to be a bit much.  Monday night, out at the field trying to motivate myself to do sprints and run-ups was made all the more challenging by the late day heat.  There is something inextricable about the connection between fall weather and cyclocross.  Why, when the weather is warm and beautiful, would you want to stand about all morning for the opportunity to ride in circles with scores of other idiots for an hour?  But when the weather is cold, and an hour of sprint effort is the only palatable serving you can stand, well, then give me mud and hurdles.  So, with the last few days in the 80’s my mind has drifted from the short track.  Thankfully, I can’t really stomach riding my road bike right now, and I don’t have time after work to go on a long mountain bike ride, so ‘cross it is!

Yesterday Sophie and I went to play in Scotia.  She dragged a bit at first and I had to stop frequently to give her water.  In the summer I think a lot about making sure she gets enough hydration, but in late September I didn’t think that would be a great worry.  On the ride back into town, the bank thermometer read 88 degrees at 7:14 PM.  I realize that the bank is not the most accurate reporter, but the sun was setting and any reading over 80 was way too hot.   Rumor has it that Fall is on its way.  Rain in the next few days will make the ground soft and spongy again, skinny tires will dig ruts in the grass and kick mud up in my face.  The arm and knee warmers will return, and the climate will finally have caught back up to the cycling season.

Dogstock

Saturday morning I rolled over at 6:30 and chose not to get up and run, or do a quick cyclocross workout.  Instead I slept in until a leisurely 9:15 and had a quiet breakfast with Sophie.  At 1o I rolled quickly down to the Trips for Kids Swap which was more of a social event than a useful place to look for bargain prices swag.  At 11 Nita and I loaded up the dogs and headed out to Kirkstock.  The bands were still getting ready and we joined the staff in the Green Room, which was overflowing with baked goods.  The early talk of the day was how to make to dark without drinking too much; a conversation that we, of course, had over a round of pints of Ottp’s Double D.  Spectators trickled in all day, but never in the kinds of numbers we’d hoped for.  It was almost surely a money losing venture, but I have yet to hear the extent of the damages.  On the up side, the music was great, I ate Clem’s all day, and Sophie and Bo got to run around with one of the most varied dog packs I’ve ever seen (labs, goldens, two sculpted poodles, and a chihuahua in a tracksuit).

The highlight of the night was when 25 of PA’s finest rolled up in 10+ squad cars to respond to a complaint about guns fired.   It turned out to be a misunderstanding and after initially shutting down the PAs,  they left amicably and the music was allowed to resume.

Home at 2AM I was not planning anything too crazy for Sunday.  I was unable to rally any of the local troops for a mountain bike ride and had to be my own motivator.  At 11 I headed out for a turn around the beautiful single track of Cooper’s Gap.  The sun was out and it was a spectacular day to be in the woods.

Yesterday was also the MABRA series opener at Charm City.  In a perfect world I would have been fit enough to be there, but I still need a bit of time to get my head back into racing, though the legs are starting to come back.  Initial results are that our boy Wes threw down and managed to split up the Italian duo of Davide Frattini and Luca Damiani to take the number 2 spot on the podium.

I think I have my eyes set on the Hagerstown race to start the season off on October 6th.

banked

Kirkstock tomorrow!! 

The pain vault, pain locker, pain bank, pain cave. Call it what you will, we all have concept of a physical place where we store the pain from training so that we can draw on it on race day. I’m kind of thinking that my balance is overflowing from this past year, but unfortunately cyclocross uses a whole different currency that I was not saving away as conscientiously. Wednesday night cross practice informally started at 5:30 this week, but we were mostly puttering around until 6. There was a solid group, such that the starting sprints actually had the feel of a real race and I made a point to take a few starts from the second row, since I’m unlikely to be further up that that at any point this year. The exciting addition to cross practice this week was Tig’s new wooden barriers. It’s a whole different story rolling into a wooden wall that will hurt when you hit it as compared to flimsy PVC tubing that you can run straight through if need be. By the end of an hour I was whipped, in a good way. I had finally made a serious deposit into the cyclocross pain bank. Its a bit late, kind of like starting to save for your kid’s college fund when they’re in highschool, but with any luck I’ll be able to convert some of that long distance fitness that I have in spades.

Thursday night saw another concerted effort to revive the weekly trip to Otto’s. I made a long night of it, starting at 6:30 and heading home at 11. I started the night off reliving the PBP stories with my spiritual mentor. For a long time I was sure that Mike was full of s#!% for years when he told me stories of racing bikes 30 years ago. The fact that his wife never contradicted him was puzzling, but I figured the was just indulging hist flair for exciting story-telling. But he trumped all doubt a few years ago when he showed me the race program from the 2nd Athen’s Twilight Criterium which listed him as “one of the riders to watch” and featured him in an ad for Lowenbrau in full kit looking like a extra from Breaking Away. His stable has been slowly dwindling over the years (and I’ve benefited from some from some of the housekeeping) as mine has been growing, and (despite some sketchy accounting) we are finally at the point where we have the same number of bikes in our garage. So we are equals on one level, but I defer to the master on most others.

dark times

Floyd is banned for 2 years retroactive to January. The yellow jersey is forfeit.

Cyclingnews:

http://www.cyclingnews.com/news.php?id=news/2007/sep07/sep21news 

Velonews

http://velonews.com/news/fea/13354.0.html 

At ESPN

http://sports.espn.go.com/oly/cycling/news/story?id=3029089

Summer redux

I don’t think it can actually be called Indian Summer until after the first frost, certainly not halfway through September.  But I’d started settling in to the idea of colder days.  I wore a sweater to work yesterday and kept it on much of the day.  And I’d started to settle into the idea of riding primarily my cyclocross bike for the next few months.  So it was with slight disappointment that I watched the mercury climb into the mid 70s today.  Last evening I headed out on the cross bike for a couple of laps in Scotia; there is a short lap, not far in from the Greenbriar trailhead that I like to do for intensity.  Its short, but mixes up the surface, from hardpack, to rocky, to sand.  Has one power climb, one dismount, and one long, flat straightaway.  I managed 4  quick laps before I started getting worried about the fading light (it gets dark in the trees quickly) and headed back into town (a flat on lap 3 didn’t help matters).  On the way home I swung by the stadium for a quick lap on the practice course and got home just at dark.

Today Sophie and I went for a quick turn in Scotia.  Just the standard 45 minute loop.  She had a hard time focusing on the trail, but I finally started to feel good on the bike.  I was able to keep my cadence high and left the trail wishing that I had more time to play.

Sunday

There are few things in life simpler and more fulfilling than a crisp Sunday in the woods with no sounds but the rustle of fallen leaves, the jingle of dog tags, and the buzz of my rear hub.

Of course, I’d largely forgotten this for most of the day as I languished on the couch, working and trying to overcome the powerful urge to call the cable company and get channels for my television. Yesterday was an epic fall day, 65 degrees, bright sun, and I very nearly fell victim to the temptation to begin the descent into winter torpor. Finally, around 3, I roused myself. Sophie (who’d been waiting all day for this) and I piled into the car and headed up to the forestry lot. I was still feeling like the tank was a bit empty and wasn’t sure how the initial roll up Laurel Run Rd was going to go. We climbed up to the top, turned down Little Shingletown Trail, then descended Sand Spring. I was a little shaky on the descent, but held it together and hit the climb back up the other side of Laurel Run with a bit more energy. Then up to the firetower and down Old Boalsburg. Over 3-bridges and on to Lonberger I finally started to feel good again. I didn’t feel fast, but my cadence was high and there is really no hiding on a singlespeed. On Upper Lonberger I was disappointed to find that someone had been doing some trail re-routing. At first I thought it was just some fallen trees or something in the last 5 weeks since I’d been here, but the built up rock approaches to some of the bigger log features had been removed, which must have been deliberate. I wouldn’t be surprised if this was the work of a scorned hiker since Lonberger is one of the more heavily trafficked hiking and biking trails. We hit the Ridge and rolled along the through the open burned areas with the late afternoon sun casting a beautiful orange glow over the new vegetation and skeleton trees.

Sophie and I returned home and made the fall vegetable stew that I’d cooked up in my head along the ride. As darkness fell, Nita, Sophie, Bo, and I all faded as well, bellies full to fight off the first frost of the year.

slowly

I’m slowly getting back in the saddle after two weeks of apathy, fatigue, and, um, my real job.  My return to the office was met with several 12+ hour days as I struggled to get back on my feet at work after too much time on vacation.  I was deep into Monday before I could pick my head up from the keyboard and breathe a sigh of relief that I’d finally managed to wrestle my most recent project into submission.  The several long days, which left little time for the restful sleep and regenerative eating that I should have been doing then took the rest of the week to shake off.  Thankfully, Herwigs was running a 2-for-1 entrees on Wednesday night after cyclocross practice which went a long way to set me straight.

Saturday morning found me back on in the old routine: up at 7:30, breakfast, coffee, armwarmers, knee warmers, and a 9AM rollout on the cross bike.  When Billy and I went looking for Steve, who was characteristically late, we found Cecilia at home making french toast and bacon with the kids. Hard as it was to pry ourselves away from her kitchen we managed to roll on.  Before I left, though, she commented that this was the first time she’d seen me smiling since I’d been back, which was encouraging that I’m coming back around to my old form.

We rolled out for a classic short loop: out to Penns Furnace through the secret training grounds, up and over to Harry’s Valley, pausing to admire the glorious early fall view down Stone Valley, down the jeep trail and out to 26.  Rather than press our timing out to Tussey, we chose to climb back up and over 26 to Pine Grove Mills and got home about noon.  Two and a half hours, my longest ride since I’ve been back.  The legs felt alright on the climbs and I’ve still got some work to do getting the spring back in my sprint (ok, ok.  I never really had much spring in my sprint.).

Nita and I spent the afternoon out at the Kirkstock site helping to get things ready for the festivities next weekend.  You’ll have to wait for the concert documentary for all the good stuff from that excursion, but the highlights involved a healthy sized fire to burn scrap wood, and me towing around the decrepit Kirkstock van with the Jeep.

Sunday looks to continue the classic crisp fall weather which is as equally well enjoyed atop a fat-tired, titanium steed as from deep within the creases of the couch, wrapped in wool, caressed by the rising steam of a big, big coffee and lost in the fiction of the closest novel at hand.

Live action

New video on Youtube from the worlds course.

http://youtube.com/watch?v=Ro-oOUvqoUY 

and the rollers race

http://youtube.com/watch?v=bBb7atCtrHA&mode=related&search= 

 http://youtube.com/watch?v=o9oSg75xP0w

and a bit of the chaos from our own backyard in 2005

http://youtube.com/watch?v=ZKaxsLXunnw 

cris-crossed

The temperatures are slowly dropping, night time lows dropping into the 50’s and skirting the 40’s.  The streets and sidewalks of State college are now packed with herds of increasingly younger looking students with their right hands glued to their ears.  Yes, my friends, its time for cyclocross again.

Wednesday found me at the Spikes stadium for the traditional cross practice.  Not a bad turnout: Chris, Billy, Roman. Jordyn, and a new guy, Pete.   We started off with the standard follow-the-leader around the practice course before getting very serious and doing some sprint starts on the gravel.  After 2 we were ready to move on, after 5 we were ready to go home.  I threw out a few suggestions for more structured drills we could do, but thankfully no one wanted anything to do with structured riding and we decided that our time would be better spent having fun on our bikes, getting used to turning on grass and hills again, working on transitions, and generally tearing up the Penn State athletic complex.  We did that until the evening sun painted broad pink swathes across the western sky.  On the way back I noticed some severe flat spots in my rear wheel that hadn’t been there before.  Apparently, in all the back and forth between grass and pavement, I’d managed to crimp the hell out of the DT Swiss rims that had faithfully carried me through the Adirondacks, across the cobblestone streets of Paris and the rolling hills of Bretagne.  Miraculously, though the rims had folded, the tire still held air and I was able to limp home with the flat spot thumping out my pace.