A Quote about which you should actually THINK.

First off, this quote is about doping & cheating in biking but it applies to every single sport, life action, etc. You like baseball? Yes, it applies to you. Football? Yep. Soccer? Damn straight. Curling? .....probably.


I present to you...

Adam Myerson, on bikes/doping. And, as always, on life itself:

"No one's saying these dudes should be put to death, or that they're not allowed to find some kind of peace and happiness in life. It should just be outside of cycling. If you care about bike racing, don't cheer for them. Don't buy their products or merchandise, don't go to their camps, don't like their pages, don't do their fondos, don't welcome them back like all is forgiven or even worse, nothing happened. If you find you can't do that because you're haunted by what you might have done in that situation, do it because of those of us who were very clear about it. Do it for the guys that walked away or said no and kept racing anyway, the Scott Merciers and Darren Bakers and Matt Johnsons and Kevin Monahans. If those are the guys you want to be able to cheer for and believe what you see, at the very least, don't support the ones you know did it wrong, even if you understand their choices. Otherwise, you might as well hire Bernie Madoff to do your investing."

"WE" are part of the problem. By supporting people who doped you are in effect giving current dopers a promise that doping won't actually cause them long-term harm. And when a given action has little negative effect on your future, then that action is well worth the risk.

Quote taken from a recent post in discussion of an article, "Hey Ryder, Fuck You", which addresses Ryder Hesjedal, partially in response to his recent admission to doping (without penalty, persecution, or concern).

Sweet Potato Stew

On a whim, with a smattering of ingredients, I made a sweet potato stew in the crock pot. I just got my last farm share and had too many to put in my fridge. The celeriac (celery root) I had no idea what to do with and didn't want to throw it out...so I chopped the rooty third off and just sat the cut side down into the stew so the top stuck out a little. I did this on a complete whim so I have no clue how much of the spices are in it. So, go by the ingredients then spice to taste!

Ingredients:
2 Sweet potatoes (at least medium), into 1cm cubes
24oz can Crushed Tomatoes or sauce (all I had was Hunt's Pasta Sauce Vegetable Medley)
2 small (1 Large) Red Onion
3 cloves Garlic, minced
1/2 Leek stalk, somewhat chopped
1 large bunch Kale, chopped
1 can of Beets (with juice!!)
1 Celeriac (Celery Root), with rooty part chopped off
~2tsp Cumin
1tsp dried basil
1/2tsp Ginger
1/2tsp Chili Powder
1tsp sea salt (more or less depending on how you like your flavor)
Water, to cover almost all

I'd suggest adding something for spice, whether it is ground chipotle chili pepper or Frank's Red Hot
I threw in 2 jalapenos, chopped thinly. I'd highly recommend starting with 1 or omitting all seeds.

Directions:
It's a dang crock pot. Put everything in, add water to almost everything is submerged. Then turn it on. Low 6-7 hours should do well...but High for 3 worked great (as I was going to be nearby and didn't want to wait 6 hours). Serve and I suppose you could garnish with Leek greens, but I wasn't that patient when it was done...

Enjoy!

That Question: "What Should I Do?"

This exact thing bugs me most of the time I hear it.

Everyone asks this question. Everyone acts like they need an answer. Maybe some people actually do. Most really don't. Some people ask it and could really care less; I still don't know why someone asks for your opinion then doesn't consider it and keeps on...keepin' on. Ya know?

What this is about isn't actually "What I..or you...or he she they it...should do?" This is about a simple question, that is seemingly harmless and sociable, but tells a lot more than most people realize. Asking this shows a host of things. Uncertainty in one's self is the most common and strongest tell in this question. Why not hold off, and take a damn 'leap of faith'. Even though the leap of faith you'd be taking isn't anything big in the grand scheme of things. How badly could it REALLY go if you don't rely on someone else to make a decision for you, how horrible could that be? Hey, maybe you will even learn something about yourself. Jeez, now that'd be a really sad thing, wouldn't it? In a world where we rely on almost everything and have such close contact with almost everyone...we have become less of ourselves. And that sucks.

People are becoming less of themselves and more like the first person who responds to a text message. Think about that for a second.

[Pause. Seriously, think.]

Now, I understand well that every once in a while it is a genuine concern for direction in unknown territory, or asking someone who is, comparatively speaking, and expert in a field. To that, I repeat myself:

"How badly could it REALLY go if you don't rely on someone else to make a decision for you, how horrible could that be? Hey, maybe you will even learn something about yourself."

So, you know what? Next time you're thinking "What Should I Do?" just make your own damn decision. Don't ask someone just to show your uncertainty or need for input. You'll realize that it is a freedom with which you very well may have lost touch. Or maybe you'll think to yourself it was idiotic and why did you ever consider what I wrote here in the first place.

Well...at least someone made you think, for yourself, today. And if that is the case, then you're better for it.

Chris Horner

I'll say it here, as I've said it before: Chris Horner is clean. So many people I know were speaking in complete doubt by the time he won stage 10 at La Vuelta. But this is not about doping, I just had to get that out of the way for all the doubters out there. I might expand on my 'why' later on, but I'll just go with this:

<blockquote class="twitter-tweet"><p>If you don&#39;t think Horner&#39;s performance is believable, you haven&#39;t been paying attention to the little details of his career.</p>&mdash; Adam Myerson (@AdamMyerson) <a href="https://twitter.com/AdamMyerson/statuses/378908857495347202">September 14, 2013</a></blockquote>

<script async src="//platform.twitter.com/widgets.js" charset="utf-8"></script>

Adam Myerson is a class act. Especially when it comes to doping/anti-doping topics. I had the good fortune of spending some time riding with him last winter. I saw him (at 40 years old) come back from his offseason. I went from riding ahead of him, to getting dropped on a 1% grade in the matter of 3 weeks. He said himself, that his FTP has improved and the only part of his riding that has fallen off is his peak power. Which makes sense: It has been long known that muscle composition is reduced in Type II as we age (especially following 30+ years).

The real reason for this post is about how much I like Horner and the fact that he has not yet signed on for a team for 2014. I'm 'new' to cycling, and don't know a whole lot of its history. The first year I really even watched the Tour (de France) was 2011. My favorite rider going into it was Chris Horner. He was by far a longshot, but I watched some of the Tour of California and was enthralled by his ride there. I had no clue how small or big his chances were, but I was excited to see him head to the big race. Sadly, he crashed early on and was out of the race. My interest dropped quite a bit. Nevertheless it was formed that he was one of my favorite riders in the peloton.

Now, following an injury-ridden midseason, he was able to come back and get 2nd at Tour of Utah and then get on the squad for the Vuelta. He made his underestimated presence known, when he was "let go" on Stage 3 by the "Big Names" and took a stage victory. It was a summit finish, so a decent selection was already made. With 1K to go, Horner attacked and people just looked at each other. If it was 2K left, the result would have been VERY different. But the short lack of response/concern with such a short distance left gave Horner the gap he needed to win. He lost the lead the next day (intentionally?), and thus the team was not under pressure. Horner went on to take stage 10 as well. And the overall victory. An unprecedented feat in a Grand Tour for a 41 year old to do (even the stage victories hadn't been done).

So, Horner did something that has never even close to been done before. That's pretty awesome. He is 'old' in terms of pro cycling, and is fragile - reinforced by his broken ribs at Worlds (although, if I fell on a coke can in a hard crash I'd be busted up pretty good as well). How much more time does the guy have left? Well, for one he's clearly in the best form of his career. He's a class act and is responsible AND respectful of his sport and his peers. That alone is reason to hire him. I don't know what sort of money he wants and what he's being offered - so that is likely the full reason why he has not yet signed.

Teams are hesitant to do an unprecedented thing - give a lot of money to an guy his age. But didn't Horner just prove his capabilities and riding at his current age are exactly that? Should he be getting a two-year high paying deal? That is debatable. He definitely deserves at least a good, solid 1-year contract. Then that team gets a nice boost in WorldTour Points...who knows what extra he could have gotten if he hadn't crashed out of Worlds!

I really don't think having Horner on your team causes any real doping concerned threats. His history of even mention in any doping scandals is less than most of the 30 year olds in the peloton (that would be zero, to my knowledge). He doesn't carry baggage like Contador, Basso, or even Frank Schleck and Danielson. He has 2 flaws: age and injury.

So, ProTeams, hire Horner. Just listen to him. Expect him to dictate the terms of his own training. And don't over-race him or throw him into crits or Paris-Roubaix. Maybe have him try to double up on the Vuelta by racing early, skipping part of mid-season, and no other Grand Tours.

I think Horner's a badass and deserves a reasonable, good contract. He's a talent whose capabilities are unprecedented, don't let that go to waste.

Quenton Cassidy has what is probably the Best Book Quote. Ever.

Again to Carthage, John L. Parker, Jr. Quenton Cassidy, in a note to his college girlfriend and good friend about returning to racing.

"When you're a competitive runner in training you are constantly in a process of ascending.  It's a simple idea, but the more I thought about it, the more profound it became to me.

It's not something most human beings would give a moment of consideration to, that it is actually possible to be living for years in a state of constant betterment.  To consider that you are better today than you were yesterday or a year ago, and that you will be better still tomorrow or next week or at tournament time your senior year.  That if you're doing it right you are an organism constantly evolving toward some agreed-upon approximation of excellence.  Wouldn't that be at least one definition of a spiritual state?

When I was a runner it was something we lived every second of our lives.  It was such a part of us that if we had ever given it any thought, it would have been a mental lapse, a sign of weakness.  Of course I am getting better every day, I would have said, what the hell am I training for otherwise?  As if there were only one alternative, as if the arrow of improvement necessarily parallels the arrow of time, and in only one direction.

You might say that we're just talking about an artifact of youth.  That when you're young it is only natural to grow larger and stronger, to learn things, to master more and more of the skills and techniques of life, to get better, to improve. 

If that's true then how do we end up with so many monsters, trolls, dickheads, and pyschopaths?  So many Pol Pots, Joe McCarthys, Ted Bundys, and Lee Harvey Oswalds?  Or Nixons for that matter?  They were all young once and relatively harmless, and in a better universe they would have stayed that way.

Or consider the religious aesthete whose piety and serenity and good works increase and multiply as the years go by, into middle age, into old ago, onto the deathbed.  She's working on it too, and what keeps her going is the absolute conviction that every day she's getting better, saving more souls, that she's getting closer to God.

My point is that this way of living that we once took for granted isn't necessarily a "natural" process at all.  It's not like water flowing down to the sea, not like aging.  It takes effort, determination, conviction.  But mostly it takes will.  It takes a conscious decision to follow one difficult uphill path, and then the will to stay with it and not waver, to not give up.

Our fellow students at Southeastern back then, all twenty-five thousand of them, were getting better some days and worse some days, and they were doing so at different things and at different times.  There were athletes in other sports who had better sophomore years than they had junior years.  There were athletes who were better in high school than they would ever be in college.  There were some who were good or at least average students when they arrived and then discovered beer or the opposite sex or both and were never good at anything else in their lives.  Generally speaking, most of them probably knew more when they left than when they arrived, but then again what they ended up knowing might have been wrong.  

I'm not saying that we ourselves did not have setbacks, doldrums, bad luck, and reversals of all kinds.  We got sick and we got hurt, certainly, often because of our quest.  We got waylaid and distracted by fads, false idols, wars, and rumors of wars.  I'm not saying we weren't human in every way you can be human.  I'm just saying that all things being equal, by and large each and every day we were getting better at that one singularly difficult task and goal we had set for ourselves.

And I'm also saying that win, lose, or draw, just being involved in such an undertaking was itself ennobling.  It was an uplifting enterprise that we all intuitively understood to be such, and I now know that almost incidentally the spiritual force of our effort created a slipstream that drew all else in our lives along with it and made us better in other ways as well.  Better, happier, more complete human beings than we would have been otherwise.

And Andrea, I missed all that.  The arrow of my life was going one direction one day, another direction another day.  I had people who thought I was wonderful when I won their appeal, or secured custody of their child, and I had legatees who hated me because they didn't end up quite as rich as they thought they would.  Some of it is satisfying, some interesting, but precious little is in the least bit ennobling.

This is not ennui, not nostalgia.  I am not numb or jaded.  I've had revelations in deep waters and gone all light and airy inside listening to good music made by friends.  I appreciate things, I really do.  I can be made happy on a cloudy day by as little a thing as a stray sunbeam on a branch of elkhorn coral.  All of that.  I've been blessed and blessed and blessed and only a scoundrel and ingrate would complain about any of it and I'm certainly not doing that.

But still, I miss the spiritual certainty in the direction of that arrow.  And when recently I looked around and saw people in my life dying of natural and unnatural causes it occurred to me that I myself would not live forever and that I had long ago given up the certainty of that arrow before I had to.  It also occurred to me that I had a little bit of time left to reclaim it.  To be a runner again, to know precisely what it is I'm trying to accomplish every day.  It won't be the same, I know.  It can't be.  But it can be something.  

That's what it's all about."

300 not on 100. How to jump into what you may not be ready for.

So, most of you know that I rode the #300noton100 ride with the very well known Ted King (TK) and Tim Johnson (TJ), and the lesser known but gloriously entertaining Ryan T Kelly (rTK)...where I remain as the unknown other TK. Much like my days at Rochester, where Tyler Kieft preceded me on the XC team.

The past iterations of the ride, 200mi rides in one day, have been growing in popularity and participation. This one was no different - a 2day/300mile party. I decided (late) that I was going to do the ride. Ted kindly offered to provide hotel shelter for anyone daring to do the full monty, which need be listed in bullet form due to high volume:

• Me 

So I was the lone ranger, hopping aboard with the well-acquainted three amigos. Fortunately, I knew Ryan from racing and have a few overlapping contacts with Ted. Tim, however, remained unknown to me aside from the guy who has won so many CX Nats I lost count....and is sponsored by Red Bull (thank goodness). I quickly knew I'd like Tim as he gave us the safety/etiquette chat @ D^2 Java, which was very kindly paid for by LOCO Cycling (thank goodness, again). I've never met a rider more dedicated to safe group riding and a mutual responsibility for keeping the road safe for all users. I bet VW is very happy to have him as a sponsored rider.

Another bonus was Andy Levine, Chad Jacobs, and Stephane Dumont of Duvine Adventures. Want an amazing luxury cycling trip? Do this. And no, Andy didn't pay me to say that...although he did provide much amusement to all except himself over the 300 miles!

Anyway, we took off from D^2 (not DD!!) with a hefty group, which slowly dwindled as we approached the Maine-NH line...where we saw A BRIDGE!!! If you'd like to LAUGH YOUR ASS OFF, open the link then immediately open in a second tab. Or click here then here. I rode 125 miles without putting my nose in the wind, which is about 10 times longer than I've ever done that. Well, except I took lead navigator through Portland...but bike paths at 15mph doesn't count as a pull. Speaking of Portland...SCRATCH BAKING CO. Go there. They are awesome and they love bikes too. And they support Healthy Kids Happy Kids (so should you)! Speaking of which, there was a massive gathering that met us at Scratch and more people joined on between Portland and Brunswick. After Bath it was just TK, TJ, rTK, Me, Andy, and Eliot Pitney (who joined at Scratch, went to Boothbay, then rode solo home to Brunswick).We say ANOTHER BRIDGE!

After 125mi: RED BULL (Thanks Tim Johnson fueled by Tim Johnson). Then I took 3 pulls...although I think Tim remembers only one as I recall him saying "You had a good pull there Travis." Maybe 2 were just that weak?

I hung out with our wicked cool support crew Chad & Stephane, met Lyne Bessette, and cleaned the $25,000 beauts of engineering prowess. 4 Cdale's and 1 awesome Giant.

Day 2: I'm a bit tired. Yesterday was my longest ride ever and despite barely doing any work...it was still tough. Luckily I took no chances on refueling. I likely gained a little weight Tuesday. But if it meant surviving Wednesday, then it was necessary. Wednesday started off hard - 1700ft in the first hour, and being warned by Tim "plan for the whole day" when I took some early pulls. The first couple felt GREAT, then my legs felt like they should have, so I smartened up and sat in.

This happened:

Then THIS, which was followed by more RED BULL then a double espresso after 600m of riding.

Poutine @ Duckfat

Lastly, this:

Old Man Sweat, AKA Bike Killer.

It was awesome to do the full event, and I definitely appreciate Tim, Ted, and Ryan for so happily having me partake in the journey. Next year I'll be in much better shape and very much hope to participate in the full once again...whatever crazy adventure arises. I was thoroughly impressed how long Andy held on, Ryan (an expert on acknowledging when a person cracks) estimated a minimum of 4 consecutive cracks on Day 2. An impressive number, to say the least. Andy held on with a valiant death grip and made it farther than anyone anticipated, chapeau!

I definitely learned a lot (mostly intellectual and not physical) on the ride and that was by far my biggest takeaway. Mostly how respectful Ted and Tim are, on and off the roads...and how friggen funny Ryan is when he cracks...or when bridges happen...

Here's the Teaser Video and Ted's Blog.

Green Mountain Wrap Up, belated

Green Mountain Stage Race is something I've looked at as the culmination and best of Northeast stage racing. This would be my first chance to race it, but I went in knowing I wouldn't be in proper overall placing form. Fortunately, due to a good friendship with a rider on the Grinta Cycling Team (and their whole team being a bunch of good guys), I was going to be able to make myself useful as a support rider for their squad.

We arrived Thursday for the Friday-Monday stage race, in good spirits and with a high level of excitement...because, well, it's Vermont. Maine is amazing and does have the good ol' Atlantic. But this was the first time I've really appreciated the beauty, purity of nature, and terrain that Vermont offers. I like it. Anyone have a ski house in the Green Mountains that I can tend to and take care of the upkeep on a bit next summer?

To the races: Day 1: Time Trial, strong uphill, fast downhill (but nets with some noticeable elevation gain). With my current (lack of) training there are two things I have lost bigtime: climbing and TT-ing. So this was going to be rough. It hurt. The kind of hurt that happens early, often, and flat out bums you out. Because weeks or months earlier that hurt wouldn't happen at this effort. But, today, it sucks. Your only reprieve is to attack that misery and do your best to harness it, even though you know it won't be resulting in a good performance. It was one of the hardest time trials I had done for this exact reason. You are giving it everything, and getting out seemingly nothing. But, life goes on...even if you do get dizzy, can't sprint at the finish, and throw up in your mouth a little. I ended up in a expectedly disappointing 41st place, 1:30 back on the leader - fellow Mainer, Eric Follen, who has shown exceptional form for months on end. The man I picked for a top GC spot. Fortunately, our (Grinta's) top rider - Johan - showed up this weekend with 9th @ 40 seconds back, and only 15 seconds from the podium.

Day 2: Circuit race. Today was for the big sprinter on the team, Jason Barella. I'm a good sprinter, but as a guest rider I was going to be helping keep the pressure off of Jason, Johan, and Reid who would be the finishing crew. Alex and I covered attacks and got into moves. I picked up a few sprint points and got into two breaks, one of which I really thought was going to make a run for the win. I spent a few matches (which, I later learned was ALL of my matches when I cramped up on the last climb). Jason held STRONG - not getting dropped as he did in the Cat 3 race last year - and would come ready for the finish. A group of 3 got off the front on the last lap and the field would fight for 4th. Jason, with a ballsy and strong leadout aid from Reid and especially Johan (the guy who normally would be saving energy for Day 3), nipped off 4th in the field sprint for 7th on the stage. With my cramping, I pedaled in easy 8 minutes back...making myself zero threat for any contender.

Day 3: Road Race, 100 miles, 4 climbs, one sprint. Summit finish on the epic Appalachian Gap. There was a long neutral roll out until the official start. The plan today was keep Johan saved up for when the last 30 miles came along, which would decide the final standings of the overall race. I had a few sprint points and decided to make a move I had never done. The official signaled the start of the race. Everyone was cruising at 18mph. I attacked, no one with me, and put my head down. Looking back periodically I noticed minimal response from the field. It was clear no one else desired to ride 100 miles out front today. I was ready, whether or not I could survive it. The gap to the field floated between 50 and 200 meters, until my teammate Reid made his way up to me - safely and alone. We worked it really hard to get the sprint points for me at mile 13. Once it was set, I thanked him and told him to keep it steady but conserve. I would do what I could to keep the pace high: we had averaged nearly 27mph for the first 45 minutes of the race. I was riding stronger than I had in the 15 minute time trial two days prior. I was, as we say, feeling wicked good. Shortly after, a good group of seven made their way up to us. I greeted them, "Welcome to the party, boys!" There was no response...they had to have been absolutely crushing it to get to us. I was pretty impressed (and happy to see more people) actually. Jurgen, a good friend and mentor, insisted that I rest a bit because I had been out front for so long. I did after he told me more sternly. Fast forward to mile 65: our break was now down to 6 and showing notable cracks in the foundation. We were all still working together, but the whole working thing went from "hard" to "whatever I can still do". It's a long day, being out front like that. I now understood. First up baby gap and I'm hurting. Clearly my shot at making a stage placing is out. On the descent, I was left with Alberto from Dealer.com, and a group comes flying by us. As the pass my brain makes a realization: "JOHAN IS IN IT. SHIT, I NEED TO GET UP THERE." I barely have enough to catch onto their group and immediately get to work. Johan is going for a top placing and this group is a couple minutes back as the remaining distance dwindles. I put it all on the line, as I know with 10-15 miles to go there are a couple short uphills that will likely end my day. I tell Johan that the next uphill will likely see me getting dropped, and sure enough it does.

The rest of my race goes as follows: get caught by group, get dropped on uphill. I'm SPENT. I eat/drink every last thing in my pockets. Drink a Coke on the final feed zone within 100 meters. 5 miles of (mostly) climbing and then I finish.

The rest of the important part of the day goes as follows: Johan's group makes its way to the leaders. The large group doesn't work together at all. Johan tries to get people to help out. Proceeds to tell everyone to "please go away" in a not-so-pleasant way, because no one is being agreeable, and attacks. He rides solo with a lead into Baby Gap. He is eventually caught by a mere 3 other riders, taking FOURTH (WOOOHOO!!) on the day. He would be in 3rd GC after the "Queen Stage". Everyone on the team makes the time gap, and we live for....

Johan's call up. With Grinta! clearly showing a serious presence.

Day 4: Criterium. Hard, technical, uphill, downhill. In one word (if I were fit): "FUN". In one word (today): "ohshit" haha. Today would, in theory, be for 2 things: 1) get me the sprint jersey and hopefully a top placing on the stage. 2) keep Johan on the GC podium and hope even that first or second might lose time. One of those theories held. Someone slammed into me at the start and, bending my derailleur hanger, I went from second row to last few riders. My shifting was now off, and accelerating was showing an unhappy drivetrain. I had to pit twice, and nearly needed to get a new bike from the pit. But, thanks to SRAM Neutral Support's diligence, I was back in the race. At this point I was toast and was in survival mode. I was no bit on top of my game. I wasn't riding smart or strong. I tried to get up near the front of the pack but failed. I ended up surviving the day and both Reid and Johan did incredible work. Johan would hold onto 3rd place GC and make the entirety of our weekend worth it all!

The Squad. Tired, but happy.

It was nice to seriously ride with/for a team for the first time since I started racing. Thanks, Grinta, for having me. It was a fun and enjoyable weekend. Next year, I won't be finishing 48th of 53....that's for sure!

Seven Seconds: The Separation (of a Shoulder) from a Dream

This is not a rant, not about being steadfast with rules, and not about making noise.

After writing this, I realized this was an expression of nervousness (for Ted King), hope (for his health AND continuing on in the Tour), and a sort of frustrated sadness (or sad frustration?)...all because I can't imagine what Ted King feels right now. I say "Ted King" and not "Ted" because I am not one of the many fortunate individuals who knows him personally. Although from the hundreds of stories I hear about him, I really need to meet this awesome guy! My only hope is that whatever the day holds tomorrow, he can recover - emotionally and physically - and grow for the part of cycling's future that he is.

Let me begin with this: It was the start of the 2012 Dempsey Challenge. It was miserable. 41F, steady rain, and the pre-ride proceedings felt like an eternity as all the riders stood (shivering/convulsing) in the rain while the required speeches, thank you's, and introductions were made. If this was a race, I would have been annoyed, but this was a wonderful cause, so the emotion of the event made the misery far more bearable. The pros who attended the race were in the same boat as all of us...except maybe a touch better dressed with their sweet sponsor clothing. It was going to be a very long, and very well earned 100 miles...

After the opening kilometers, we caught up to the VIPs and Pros. While riding through this group, I rode next to (and talked to!!!) Ted King for a minute or two. If you knew me 10-15 years ago, my life revolved around skiing. My heroes were guys like Jonny Moseley, Eric Bergoust, Nikki Stone, and Veronica Brenner. Chatting with a guy like Ted King, it was the first time I felt the excitement of that which I had when I was a little kid. That one time I got to "try on" both Jonny Moseley's Mogul & Nikki Stone's Aerials Gold Medals from the 1998 Nagano Olympics...in the same day.

I (unfortunately) do not know Ted King like many of my friends do, but I hope to really get the chance to meet him somewhere down the line...maybe on a 200 Not On 100 event.

So, to the 'recent events'. I know that this REALLY SUCKS about Ted King, given a separated shoulder and only a mere 7 seconds of time for missing the cut. I know he is very highly respected by his teammates, sponsors, and all his competitors and colleagues. He is absolutely loved by the people who like, enjoy, and love the sport of cycling. He represents everything cyclists want to be - as an athlete and, more importantly, as a person. However, these are the rules - sometimes they work as intended and make sense...and sometimes they work as intended and really seriously screw over a really great human being.

Better put: Professional cycling (and the world as a whole) needs more people like Ted King.

That being said, I have every expectation that the actual time for Ted's finish (which seems a bit unsure) should be re-evaluated and ensured that it is, in fact, correct. If it does remain 7 seconds short, I also expect the race organizers to take the fact of stage one's finishing time neutralization into account when passing a judgement on ending Ted's Tour.

If he makes it into stage 5, I pray he steadily gains strength and health AND doesn't permanently damage his body in hopes of recovering enough to complete this first Tour of his. If he does not make stage 5, I look forward to his speedy recovery and him training even harder (if such a thing is possible) than he has in the past to prepare to support his team for the rest of 2013...and to prepare for whatever squad is lucky enough to have him in 2014.

One BIG thing is that clearly he can still ride sufficiently with the separated shoulder. He absolutely CRUSHED a solo TT, instead of the TTT he would have hoped to help crush with the Cannondale squad. The biggest thing though, is if he can recover quickly (or at all) to be the Ted King we all hoped to see in this year's Tour de France. That is up in the air with the seriousness of his injury. He needs to survive 5 more stages and time cuts, two of which have a pretty damn hellish amount/difficulty of climbing...and another that has a lot. Then he gets ONE REST DAY. At that point stages 10-13 are "easy" (ha, 'easy') except for the individual TT, which will be hellish on the shoulder. After that the mountains are here and if he hasn't recovered a lot it up to that point it will be damage control and him playing a support role on Cannondale.

I'm no expert and do not claim to be. I feel like I'm a reasonable person and - most of the time - think before I speak or write. I've only broken my collarbone (and "only" once). When it happened I did ride the next day, but I rode on a trainer for a few weeks and didn't hit the road until I was well healed. So I can't imagine the absolute toughness or horror or fear of future damage that Ted King (and all the injured riders in races) is going through.

#lettedride - whether it be tomorrow (well, technically, 'today' for him) or in a future tour.

Look at this guy. How could you NOT like him!

Purgatory RR: In bullet points.

The Race: Attack, fail, more attacks, fail, break got away, attack extremely hard, get pulled back, assume position of "pack filler" with no more attacks left. Feel like shit on climb #2. Sit in middle of pack. Miss big crash, smell lots of burning rubber/carbon, thank myself that I wasn't up there in the attacking this lap. Fell like crap on climb #3. Work with fellow stragglers to rejoin pack. Sit in literally the back of the pack. Feel okay on climb #4. Feel good after climb #5...three guys get away through the start/finish. Take a BIG pull on the downhill, someone (John Harris) attacks just before the feed zone, somehow I match the attack with one other.

The three of us (Harris, Eric Follen, and I) go balls out (at least I was going that hard) and separate from field. I say "oh crap" just before the finish of the feed zone hill because I thought I had imploded. Muster strength to get on wheels of the other two. Work our asses off to catch the 3 who got away 1K before us. Catch those 3. Establish lead over field, catch remnants of break and immediately drop them...except Keith Kelly (who cramped horribly) who is beast enough to survive with us despite said cramps.

Only 4 guys up the road (they would place 1-4), with our group of 7 in a clear gap of the peloton to take 5th-11th...until, when I was feeling absolutely pumped about the final climb - the first time in the race when I wasn't concerned about how I'd get up it, 4K to go when suddenly (while pedaling totally steady and not hard at all) my groin locked up horribly. I had to jump off my bike. Tried stretching, couldn't even clip in, stretched again, no dice, stretched again (knowing the pack was coming soon), tried pedaling single leg, no dice. Tried walking, no dice. Field passes me. Stragglers pass me. Still can't do anything to rid myself of cramps. DNF.

Got a ride back from a kind gentleman...who offered me a beer to which I kindly declined, he had a road beer - that lifted my spirits and made me chuckle. Internally, of course.

My take: I rode an aggressive race to start - and simply missed the break because I was in between attacks and not because I was away from the front of the race. I was extremely patient and recovered once I knew that bridging to the break was out of the question. Slowly, I regained strength, and put it ALL on the line when the moment seemed right. It was. I put myself in position for a great result in a very strong field. I rode smart in the chase group, not overexerting and not covering gaps that opened. I had never ridden like that (intelligent) in my life. For some reason, without a major stimulus (I didn't do anything to spark it) and simply from the wear and tear of the race, I cramped up like never before: in Tucson and Battenkill I had really bad cramps but was able to land 4th and 15th (top group) in those races.

I'm happy with Purgatory this year - especially with how dumb I was last year. Just didn't quite have it in me. I'm quite bummed about how it ended, I would've understood if I exploded to my demise on the last climb. But not on an easy false flat. I proved a few things to myself yesterday and, for that, I am pleased.

Time to train it up and prep the body (and mind) for the next race...whenever it may be.

Killington 2013: Where the Stages are known by Weather, not event

The weather was looking primo for the race weekend. That went to absolute trash on Tues/Wed. Rain, cold, wind, chance of snow Saturday night into Sunday.

Also - no pictures posted yet...sooo there is minimal photographic evidence that the weekend even happened...

Ford Transit - award for "Best Bike Race Car" of the year.

This is how we warmed up for the Circuit race:
Simultaneous Tour of Belgium & Giro spectating!

This weather only made the very dangerous circuit race even more dangerous, thanks to numb hands, inability to think, and slick roads/poor visibility. Our circuit was reduced to 3 laps by the start (54mi vs 72mi). The 15% descent with a tight turn was crazy. FULL on brakes, still moving fairly fast. Luckily there were no crashes here. I want to state right here, the new BBS rain/windjackets are out of this world. The VOMax jacket with the Invexus coating is phenomenal. Both Andrew and I were dry under out jackets. Hands were obliviously pretty cold. With about 6K to go on lap 2, the referee comes by telling us that we are only doing 2 laps instead of 3. I knew this late in the lap it was going to lead to one situation known as a CFS or, among cyclists, "bat-shit crazy". People immediately began launching attacks off the front, but it was clear nothing would stick. Serious crosswinds, hard rain, and FAST finish meant one thing: more danger than we anticipated. With 3K to go, I was moving up and I heard the classic pre-crash noises: crunching, shouting, scraping. Then I saw it: mid-pack there was (likely) a touch of wheels, then 5-6 guys go down, sliding at about 35mph on the slick road. I immediately bail to the right, off the road and into the dirt. Success. This made me decide to finish the race in the pack and not go for the sprint. Result: Same time, 40th or so place, and 12sec behind the leader.

This is what happens when 6 guys take over a 4 person condo...insanity.

Road Race: 75 Miles, 2x7Km climb, 1x3K dirt climb, 1x8K (very hard) summit finish. This was the stage that will set the GC basis, with the final TT allowing some small place changes. It was "decent" weather: sporadic light rain, windy, and about 45F. The race was of a normal pace for the early portions. Andrew had a valve issue with both wheels that resulted in needing a double wheel change at mile 3 of the race. This was not a great start to the day, but fortunately I was nearby when the issue began up the initial climb from the start. I dropped with him for the change/chase, which actually was a pretty serious effort to get back onto the field after losing about 1 minute! After that it was recover and relax on the long (15mi) downhill section. First time up the 7K climb was hard, but nothing big happened. I worked to try to get off the front after the KOM point, and (finally) after a handful of efforts a group of 5 of us got some distance...I did not know we were hitting this same - rather brutal - climb again or I would have sat in conserving energy - which ended up not being my theme of the day, more to come on that. The mini-break got about 20-30 seconds into the next time up the climb, which was very quickly erased. I quickly realized the cost of my move - the big guns whom I had pegged (Keith Kelly, Dereck Treadwell, Anthony Clark) were pushing the pace HARD...and I had no legs to hold their speedy climbing, especially when coming into the climb on a hard effort. I tried to stick to them with Eric Follen (who was in the small break effort) and we really tried to mentally keep each other on target, but both of us soon became detached and were suffering just to hold the front of the main pack. After the KOM point, it was clear that the break up ahead had a notable gap and the firepower to be a serious race winning threat. The peloton didn't chase, but didn't sit up. The gap remained steady while Keith Kelly got far ahead from the rest of the break. What happened next I still can't figure out why I did it. We were 1K from the feed zone, coming into a long 2-3% grade and I just slammed on the gas, hard, from the front of the pack and didn't look around for about 20 seconds. I had gotten off the front by about 15 meters. I kept the effort high and now had 25m and could see I had moved towards the break, which had about 1 minute on us. Settling in, eyeing the break, I quickly realized I could make the solo bridge - especially if they decided to slow down and take on water/food in the feed zone - but it was going to be tough. I did a couple looks back and forth, and then committed. Shortly thereafter, I checked to make sure I wasn't being chased down.

Yes, snow.

What I saw was quite a shocker: Andrew got away from the bunch with John Herrick! I refused to slow my chase, as I had found a perfect rhythm for my chase (and I knew Andrew/John easily had the strength to swipe me up without me slowing). Through the feed zone we worked and then caught the break. I thought to myself, "This is it - we have made the winning move". Pacelining, the 8 of us built up what could only have been a pretty solid gap on the field. Over the next 25 miles we worked our asses off to keep steady and smooth. Regardless of our strong effort, the Hot Tubes team was not going to be okay without a rider in the break. A group of 8-10 got away from the peloton and (impressively) chased us down. We were now 17 guys, who definitely would be battling for the victory and GC spots. Only problem with such a large group...you get a lot of dissent and refusal to work for the group. Our group of 7 was doing a great job, and so was the other group of 10. Combined, however, was much different. We still kept moving (into the massive headwind), but it was neither smooth nor steady at this point. With 10 miles to go I knew I didn't have the legs to make a contending effort up the Cat 2 finishing climb. I convinced myself I had a single option: bank some time from the group that wasn't working together. I attacked 3 times and got nothing. Chad Young (Hot Tubes) rolled off the front and no one chased. After he got a good gap, I attacked and bridged to him solo - thankfully dragging no one with me. We caught Keith Kelly and worked with him, trying to gain on the group behind us. I was so burnt at this point that it came my turn to pull through and I literally couldn't get around Keith to take the lead...this was the defining moment that came about 5 miles too soon: the entirety of the climb would be survival for me, rather than the last 1000 meters where it gets ugly.

Rolling into the climb with a 20 second gap, I knew it was only a matter of time until we were swept back into the break. What I didn't know - is how freaking quickly it would happen. Dereck Treadwell took to the front with the purpose of a man who wanted to win this race for the second year in a row. He was also fresher than the rest because Keith (his teammate) was up the road the ENTIRE day, so he was able to relax and not work in the breakaway. (Actually, he did take a few pulls to keep the break's pace high enough to fend off chasers but not high enough to reel in his teammate. Sadly there was no way to do both of these with the Hot Tubes squad and their impressive chase...overall Dereck ended up doing the smart thing). As the group came through, I did my best to accelerate up to their pace, but just couldn't do it! It was now simply a matter of suffering and not letting the stragglers get away. The race was already blown apart 500m into the climb. I knew a top 5 was long gone and the chance of a top 10 was disintegrating fast. Finally, one last guy came by with about 1K to go in the first section of climbing. Without actually speaking, we agreed to pace the climb then work together on the ensuing flats/downhills to save ourselves from losing as much time as possible...we were both struggling, wanting to recover before the final kick of the climb. He started to cramp right when the road went upward and I knew that pushing on alone was the only way to reduce my losses. There was a MetLife guy up the road and I hyperfocused on him. He had 200m on me with 1K to go. I came into the final climb and told myself that I could not go into a gear smaller than my 39x24 until I caught him. This actually worked until I was about 50m back when I could no longer turn the gear. I shifted and just worked to bring down the gap. Finally, with just under 500m left I came past him and made sure to not hesitate for an instant. Tomorrow was the TT and I was absolutely shelled (along with everyone else), but needed every last second of time gap on those behind me. I ended up finishing 14 seconds ahead of the MetLife guy (Landen Wark-Acebo) and in 11th place. Ugh. All that and I barely missed the top 10! Nevertheless, I was now in 11th GC - easily in the upgrade points, which was something I wanted to be in for this weekend. Top 10 or 5 was really what I desired...so it was all up to the TT.

The TT rig, known as Rabbit. So far it has lived to the name of going out too hard and dying...
Thanks to my Coach, Kurt, for setting me up with some laaagit wheelz!!

TT: 11miles, insane winds (head/cross), and actually nice weather! I was hoping for a big day today, as I was only 22 seconds from the top 10 and 24 seconds from 9th place. Warming up, I knew it was going to be tough, but I focused on the task at hand. Landen (the guy who was only 14 seconds behind me in GC) missed his TT start by about 15 seconds...which meant that my buffer from 12th place was now about 30 seconds, which helped settled my mind a bit. I went out on the TT with the effort I expected to hold for 25 minutes. I felt labored (as expected) but strong, considering. I caught Landen within 2 miles and worked to keep the effort steady and drop him as I forged on, now with my focus 100% on gaining time on those who were behind me (higher placed riders start later - so they have the advantage of seeing the competition who are placed lower down). Whatever momentum I had going was completely gone. I had no gas left and felt like I was running on fumes...it was only 3 miles into the 11 mile race! Landen passed me, and we would yo-yo within 5 seconds for the entire rest of the race. Not a good sign for me gaining a place in GC, but at least it meant my nearest competitor would not overtake me.

I was passed by Jonathan Brown (the guy in 10th place) at the halfway point, which sealed the deal on me beating him. I tried to use Jon as a motivation to keep pushing on, but there was nothing to give...my heart rate couldn't even get above 170bpm - I usually can hold a 180 HR for over half an hour! I focused on getting through the race as quickly as possible...but the "# kilometers to go" signs seemed to go by even more slowly. The last little rise on the main road nearly brought Landen and I to a standstill. Ouch. We were both about as ugly as we were the day before. The last 2K is mostly downhill, so I absolutely gunned it around the turn to get up to speed. I pushed through the finish and felt like I was done for with 500m to go. My effort was exactly as hard as I wanted to go, but my performance was rather poor. I finished in 26:53 and 27th place. Brad Warren, the guy who started 24 seconds ahead of me finished 11 seconds faster, so I did not gain a GC place. I actually lost a place overall and slipped to 12th place GC.

As crappy as the performance was, I went as hard as I could have and only lost 1 place. The highlight of my day was my teammate Andrew, who absolutely crushed the 11 miles course...riding but 5 seconds slower than the Cat 2 winner. He got a decisive 2nd place finish on the day! It would have even been good for 2nd place in the Pro/1 Race. It was a phenomenal race and effort, especially after he was in the break with me all day. He also chased on early in the road race from that double-flat...and chased on again because he flatted once more before the second climb. Chapeau to Andrew for the awesome performance...and the only photo in this report, because none have been posted yet.

Andrew, a mere 5 seconds from THE Keith Kelly. Everyone else was so far back they kept the podium to 2 people.
(Okay, fine, 3rd place didn't show up)

Andrew's effort gained him a massive 8 places and put him into 13th GC, right behind me in 12th. It was a good weekend just to sack up and race hard, it was better that we were both able to make the break on Sunday and finish in the points for GC.

Tour of Dragons, War of Attrition, 50 mile 'solo' to 'victory'.

This race was known as an absurdly difficult weekend of racing. An 11 mile TT with some good elevation gain Saturday morning, then a 65mi circuit with some climbing in the afternoon. Sunday would be a 125mi road race with serious (10,000ft+) climbing. On paper it sounds pretty bad. In reality it was far worse.

The TT was exactly as expected: hard, grinding, and a bit tiring although given the next two days not a huge GC effect...this race was about keeping your legs under you. The circuit was far worse than anyone anticipated: it was a 16mi lap, but 7 miles was recently grated gravel/dirt. Loose, rocky terrain took out some of the field due to flats. The climb on the loop had a better dirt surface but it was still not great. The road race was properly savage. 5 miles of road, then 2 pretty damn challenging dirt climbs, on rocky dirt as opposed to regular dirt. People were getting flats left and right. There was no organized neutral support. I think a few fans reacted to this absurdity by volunteering support?

The Race:

TT: I had a bit frantic of a start - while backpedaling to get my shoes clipped in, my chain slipped off the gear. Hopped off the bike to get it back on and started the TT unclipped on one foot. Nothing serious, just frustrating. As a result I definitely ramped it up a bit harder than I should have. I hit a good, early groove and felt like I was devouring the pavement at a good clip - thanks to Andrew letting me borrow his 808/Disc Combo - neither of which I had ever ridden before. The first hills came and went with me digging a bit deeper than expected as I had my 30 second man in sight on longer straights. After that I tried to keep the speed high before more hills and passed one guy (my 90 second man) who was clearly not racing the TT. I got caught behind a horse trailer at one of the turns, made a relatively gutsy move, and safely got through the intersection. I caught my 30 second guy before the BIG downhill - hitting 50mph on an 808 front wheel is quite the thrill...if you like skydiving! He passed me on the downhills after that. I re-passed him and then snagged my 60 second man before the steep pitch at 8 miles...where I was overtaken by my 30sec man, who was crushing it! I couldn't hold him on the hill and he became my target for the last 2.5, fast miles...helping me catch my 2min man with about 1K to go. I was pretty deep in by the last uphill (as planned) and did everything I could to keep aero and keep pushing through the downhills. The last 500m were pretty damn miserable, but I hit the 200m uphill in good stride and kept speed until about 25m to go when the screws fell off! Except for going out a bit too hard, I laid down a real good TT - my heart rate was definitely lower than I thought I could push...but I guess my legs are still not quite back to being able to push my cardio.

Stats: 27th/75, 26:19, couple mins back on the leader (expected)

Andrew and I grabbed some awesome avocado tacos at The Rattlesnake in town for lunch before the circuit race. They were wicked good dude!

Circuit Race: 65 miles, 4x16mi laps, 7mi per lap on a KOM of dirt...rough dirt. This was hard. A lot harder than anyone in the field anticipated. And about as hard as I could imagine the race to be, given the firepower that was in the field. The circuit was mostly easy on pavement, then totally crushing it for the 7 miles on rock/dirt - a surface rather unnecessary to hold a non-cyclocross bike race on for more than a few hundred meters. First lap: heated as expected. A break went, pace was moving fairly well. No KOM contest in the field, but clearly the expected early race pressure. It was tough up the climb, especially not knowing what to expect. A few people got totally dropped, many more got gapped and then worked back to the peloton, but most of the pack held together. Lap 2 was a different story. I anticipated a similar pace, with more surges as people made efforts on the paved section. However, as we hit the dirt it was clear the mood had changed. The pack was fairly strung out, and gaps began to open even on some of the lesser (but still significant uphills). We turned right towards the KOM start and it was heated. People were flying out the back as we hit the 2 steep kickers to the KOM. I was unsure if a chase group could catch the pack, so I made sure to keep fairly close contact. A group of 10 of us caught the 25 up the road pretty quickly, and a bunch others got back on the fast downhill back on pavement (the pacemaking slowed a lot after we left the dirt). Lap 3 was very tame - Erik Levinsohn kept a smooth, slow pace at the front as his teammate was up in the break, especially due to a horse on the dirt section up to the KOM and I yelled to the group that horse are VERY easily frightened in these situations. Thanks to a very skilled rider, the horse wasn't able to buck her off and she regained control as the pack slowed to a crawl to reduce any further disruption. The last time up the climb was obviously going to be the batshitcrazy race to the finish, that would not have any slow like there was on lap 2. I quickly became redlined, held the tail end of the pack for the first part of the KOM and up to the second steep section. I started to drift as I hastily analyzed my options:
1. Completely max myself out to keep contact through the KOM. Good thought, but the ensuing next 1K of dirt with 2 false flat sections would easily pop me unless the paced slowed drastically - which it was not going to by any chance. This would leave me completely fried and not with the lead group.
2. Let it go, try to push the false flat and crush the early downhill to regain. Unlikely, but at least I wouldn't go beyond redline for nothing.
3. Sit up, wait for others, then work to reduce time losses.

I went with 2, especially because finishing Sunday's 125mi RR was kind of important to complete the whole stage race thingy. I lost sight of the leaders, caught sight of them, then they were totally gone. I saw no one behind so I tapped out the best effort I could manage for the final 6K, attempting to gain places on those who might be chasing. Sure enough, I saw three guys in the rear view gaining. I kept rolling, but with the understanding they'd catch me. As soon as they joined, I hopped in the paceline and absolutely crushed it to cut my and our losses. We came in a surprising 2ish minutes behind the peloton...clearly they were thrashing it out until the finish - which made it clear that choice #1 above would have been a huge mistake.

Stats: 75 starters, 65 finishers. 27th place (again). Moved up to 25th GC. Had I made the lead group - I would have had 18th place GC...

Road Race: One word. Savage. The first two dirt climbs were AWESOME...if you did it on a less than 4 hour training ride. In a 6 hour, 125mi race not so much. The day after a TT and a brutal circuit, it was insane. Not to mention the stupid number of flat tires that occurred. It was like someone asked an elementary school class what 2+2 was...everyone had their hand up (in bike racing, you put your hand up to signal that 1) you have a mechanical so the field can avoid you as you slip backward and 2) so the support vehicle knows it has someone in need of help). The first climb dropped over half  the field, with a much smaller group grueling its way back to the pack than during the previous day's circuit. The second climb was like someone had put land mines on the course. People were popping and blowing up everywhere. It was absolutely insane. I was one of them, and people were telling others to "let them go" as they knew what was ahead. Dean Phillips, this guy Jason, and I (and a couple others whom I don't know by name) made huge, and I mean really really serious, efforts to claw back the leaders. They were in sight and we were closing the gap. I yelled to our group of 15 or so that if we could just rotate a few times we would regain contact. Amos quickly rebutted my prodding with "we are on a climb" and then "it's 4K long and it gets steeper and steeper and steeper." I cursed myself for the huge amount of effort I put in. I had dug myself a hole that would only be recoverable if we had caught the leaders and sat in for a while. It was clearly going to be a LONG day, seeing that we were just over an hour into the race...

The next 35 miles went as follows:

• three times of (climb, group splinter then regroup)
• lots of pretty serious fatigue
• five times of (people really not wanting to paceline, finally getting a paceline)
• even worse fatigue
• feed zone
• a bit of "light at the end of the tunnel"
• dirt
• a bit of "holy crap we aren't halfway"
• more fatigue
• then resurgence of energy as we swallowed a couple guys dropped by the lead pack
• pass staging area/parking lots where people probably looked longingly in desire as our next time by here would be in 60 more miles
• Jeremy Durrin swinging through, took the wheel car 25mins to get to him due to so many flats because he flatted while in the early break

Here's where it got interesting. We came up to the turn onto the dirt road we hit on the first time through. By this point there were no signs/directions, police, support, or volunteers showing the proper route to take. About 100m onto the dirt we stopped and discussed if this was the "right way", thinking it too absurd to actually take this twice in a race...we were right but had no way to know as no one had a phone to check on where the course was supposed to go. Pee break, more discussion, some cursing, and a lot of 'this is stupid'. One guy reasonably stated "There is no way I am keeping my wife waiting for hours while I ride without a clue of where we should be going". The only two who were unfaltered by our cause to complete this damn race were Amos Brumble and myself. We bid our fellow racers adieu as they - maybe intelligently - accepted a DNF and a reasonable finish to the day's work. Amos and I chatted, then suffered, then chatted, then Amos got a flat. I was smart and brought a PitStop! "Take that absurd bike race - you can't outwit me!" PitStop failed. Amos' flat was still very very very flat. "Well, I guess that PitStop was good in theory." Amos headed back towards Manchester in hopes that was the simplest and faster way back...with no phone he was left to walk or ride his flat. Ride the flat, he did...as I think anyone with tubulars would have.


Now was the moment of truth. I was 70miles into a grueling bike race. The gruppetto went from 10, to 15, to 13, to 2. Now it was down to either 1 or 0, all up to me. It was a no brainer. I forged on, knowing that 50 more miles solo was going to be rough. And given that I was already pretty darn shelled...it could only get worse. I had no phone, no way to fix a flat, no support, feeders, volunteers, or police. All I had was a fair bit of water, pretty destroyed legs, and ample food - I still had a sandwich, 2 PROBARs, and a pack of PROBAR Bolt - the new chews laced with a little bit of caffeine. Most importantly I had singularity. One person. One goal. One cause. One option. Finish the race. I had never DNF'd aside from irrecoverable mechanicals or a crash. Technically, I even finished the Exeter Crit after a really rough crash because I carried my bike through the finish. I spent the next 3+ hours (yes, I was rolling pretty darn slow by this point) in solitary confinement. This was due to a pretty insane stage race, poor support, not having any sort of dictation on where to go, volunteers and police leaving posts, and apparently some dude on a motorcycle started taking down signs that showed the course. I saw a handful on Sunday cyclists out on their stroll, people tending to their yards, and one wonderful lady who filled my bottles with water from "Milton Glacier: some of the best tasting water Vermont has to offer", which was some of the best water that touched my lips. Had I not had this kind lady - or someone else to help me, I would have been out of water by mile 90 with no way to get more. She asked where I was headed and said the finish line was about 8 miles away. I told her it was around 30 more miles. She asked "Why 30? It is just down the road here". I had a race to finish. I knew by this point I was THE caboose, the laterne rouge, the one-man gruppetto. Thankfully there was no time cut or broom wagon to tell me I had DNF'd by default. Over the next 30 miles I just kept eating as much as I could chew and swallow, drank steadily, and told myself "you will not dismount this bike, even though you are a complete idiot bringing only a 26t cassette today". 10 miles later, I highly considered getting off my bike to walk a hill. 10 more miles, standing didn't work, zig-zagging just made me feel dizzy, almost topple, and really just want to turn the bike back downhill. I couldn't push 200 watts on the flats anymore. I gave myself a time cut of 6:30. I got to the point where I kept repeating Andrew's cell phone number in my head (which I thankfully had memorized) so if I seriously could not continue I had a safety net. I saw people wave, I waved back if I wasn't going uphill - otherwise I nodded. My head still felt okay, my body was slowly starting to fail. I had run out of food aside from the package of Bolt chews, which I would not open until 10 miles to go. I went through the last feedzone. There was not a single person. Apparently Andrew waited for me as the people manning the zone dwindled and returned to the finish, to wait for me to eventually show. I considered grabbing one of the bottles/bags in hopes it had something in it.

The graveyard of food (plus one sandwich) from Sunday's festivities. I would like to think that nothing could stand in my way of finishing...but, honestly, without all this I might not have.

When I got to 10 miles left I knew I would make it, more than 45 mins back from the leaders. I saw the 4K to go sign at the point where I began to get hit by the cloud of dizziness I had long pushed off thanks to bringing 2000+ kcal in my jersey pockets, thanks to those 350+kcal per Probars and my super dense homemade sandwich :). A car went by, I tried to draft it but I couldn't accelerate. There was no reprieve, except the mostly downhill last 3K. Sadly I would have to noodle the rest of the way and couldn't push to make it to the finish sooner. 500m...alas! I could see the finish line and made an excited "sprint" at 100 to go in anticipation of being done. I wanted to raise my hands as I finished, but I didn't want to crash as I crossed the line. Andrew was in his car chatting with a guy, who happened to be the race director, immediately past the finish line...as I told Andrew how insanely dumb "that friggen race" was (hahaha).

I told Andrew I rode alone the last 50 miles, he chuckled. I told him I needed to make sure that my time was taken down. I checked with the officials if they got my finish/time. They said I finished in whatever time it was. I hesitated and then asked them what place I was (I knew I was DFL - dead ----- last). 16th. I thought I misheard them. Wait "Only 16 people finished...?". "Yes. And that puts you into 15th place GC." I literally laughed out loud. 15th place usually means nothing in a bike race. But in a stage race, with over 50 starters, 15th is a magic number. It is the very last individual in the race who receives upgrade points...and by 'upgrade points' I mean upgrade point.

1 single point. That alone was worth the 50 miles of solitude. But, alas, that was only the smallest part of what I gained in those 50 miles. I didn't get to the point of suffering, pain, or desperation that one hits and reaches enlightenment, but I sure learned some things about myself of which I previously wasn't quite sure...

The Man Who Made Arizona Happen

You'd think that going to Arizona to train was simply a matter of having a little cash on hand, finding a cheap place to stay, and getting work to allow me to go. Those were the least of my concerns. The only thing that actually mattered was if everything at home would go okay while I was gone.

Short Answer: Not a chance.

Long Answer: Jason Kroot. He wouldn't let me not go. We got in an argument over Christmas, which resulted in me (edited) saying "I'm not going to Arizona, it can't work." He immediately stopped everything and told me that I would be going, even if it meant shipping me out there against my will (also possibly edited). Everyone told him that I needed to come back, especially because it came to be that we would be needing to put the house on the market a month earlier than planned - which essentially meant that I wouldn't be able to do a thing in preparation for listing (I'd say I got like 2-3% of the work in...if we're being generous).

So on top of his own work, running Northeastern Graphic Supply (with a huge amount happening up to and through the start of April), the dogs, my grandfather, training for the Boston Marathon, and fundraising over $8,000. By the way - if you haven't donated to him or Team Kroot's endeavors please visit his fundraiser page @ http://www.rundfmc.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=1039390&supid=253151052. Oh yeah, and having a life of his own. He's clearly been doing more than double his share in recent months...and I'm only divulging the half of it.

Anyone else I know of in the world (maybe 1 or 2 others might) would have folded as soon as March turned the corner...a mere 3 weeks after I left for AZ. However, he kept everything moving forward without my help for a whole other month. And, to boot, didn't want me coming back until I spent Easter in DC with Alexis, and our 'family'.

Now, I am known by many to have a pretty impressive tolerance for working hard when it comes to athletics. But what Jason has done makes me look like a wuss. I honestly have zero idea of how he survived intact and is still doing so much. He just ran the Boston Marathon in an INSANE time of 3:32:59. Last year he was 4:15:26. That's an improvement of over 42 minutes, something that most people will never even consider as a possibility. Fortunately he finished prior to the explosions and was well on his way to meeting us and his amazing fan crew (of which I am very proud - and jealous :p) when he heard the successive "boom"s. Instantly he knew it was something bad and thankfully continued straight to seeing us - we saw Jason before we heard reports of the explosions.

Final Mile! I was running like a freak trying to get ahead of him and snap a photo...and he said he was slowing up a bit. (Seriously my legs legitimately hurt today from the chase)

His normal routine would have been:

• Lots of hugs
• Quick chats
• Humbly receive congratulations on his amazing time
• Find out how other people did
• Hop into the Dana Farber team Recovery Zone for some serious massage and refueling

Yesterday it was:

• Lots of Hugs
• Hear the news
• Find out about everyone we knew
• Comfort other runners
• Comfort families who awaited their loved ones' arrivals (the DFMC team had 550 runners - most of whom do not run qualifying times...which put the bulk of the team behind the explosions)
• Grab a quick bite
• Make sure all his friends/supporters were set with their plans

The majority of the AWESOME Fan Base at Marathon Monday Home Base (The Yardhouse)

Then Jason tells Alexis to go back to her apartment so she can relax and tells me to stay close because he didn't want me getting near my car as it was near the course (in his loving concern - over a half mile was 'way too close'). I walked Alexis back when Jason went to recovery - well over an hour after his finish. At this point he was too tight to get any real benefit from massage...which meant getting out of the area was going to be a long limp to where we could find a taxi or get a ride. He refused to 'inconvenience' his friends and ask for a ride. So we slowly walked/hobbled a freezing cold mile (post-marathon and 75 degrees gets cold quickly...so 50's and windy is no good) until we found a place that was easily able to be reached by driving.

A year ago Jason was running in honor of Mom and support of Dad (and so many others). This year, it was sadly in honor of both. He got paired with a young cancer patient at Dana Farber, Colin, and ran in special support of this young fighter. Sadly, due to the events, Jason was unable to reunite with Colin after the race. Colin and his family were on their way over when the explosions happened, so they immediately left the city and headed home.

2012 Post-Marathon with our Dad

Jason and Colin Sunday night at the DFMC Dinner.
(photo from: Danielle Horn, Grafton Patch, http://grafton.patch.com)

A couple articles that Jason was mentioned in for his support of Colin: http://grafton.patch.com/articles/grafton-family-near-finish-line-when-bombs-explode &

http://thegraftonnews.com/blog/?p=2402

Battenkill Category 2 Race Report, BBS Style

Here's the race report you will see for BBS & our fans. Check out the squad at http://bostonbicycleschool.org/, things will be updated over the next week or two with team camp coming up woohoo! This was written on the trip home from Battenkill with Andrew, the mechanic/rider/driver manning the 'team car'.

First off, I’m pumped to be on BBS this year and to be authoring my first report. The crew for this venture to the infamous Battenkill was Andrew and myself (Travis). We learned that the Stan’s NoTubes team smartened up this year and is now riding Giant Bikes as well. The plot was going to be a “Northern Spring Classic” savage smashfest. The competition would be prepared and the field was pretty much as stacked as you can make a northeast 2 field. We drove over Friday morning and watched, with teary eyes, as our amazing roof-mounted bicycles became layered in 1/4 inch of ice. Yes. In April. Also, the roads were treacherous (33MPH on highway and a cornucopia of cars off the road) and so bad that if the weather was in Cambridge, NY like it was in Western NH it’d be a possible cancellation. Fortunately this was not the case, and it turned out to be well-packed dirt with some muddy parts and more potholes than desired.

He is quite a ways off the road. But was not close to alone.

In theory, this race was shaping up to be an “unleash BBS 2013 on the world”: Andrew is coming off a very impressive high-octane winter work ethic and I am coming off of solid Arizona base mileage. In reality, this was not the case as Andrew had a junk week thanks to a flared up left hamstrings tendon and I had trouble coming back from the 45 hours of driving from AZ & cleaning out my house to put on the market. We headed to Battenkill with knowledge it would not be optimal, but that we would rely on the previous months of work, and not the recent weeks of misfortune. This was capped off with 7 hours of driving and an extra hour of standing to clean our bikes that were properly thrashed by the elements on said drive.

The race: 83 miles, 6000ft, 20mi+ dirt (well…15 dirt & 4 mud & 1 potholes), 38F start temp. AKA Classic Battenkill. The race started off slowly and before we knew it a break had a 2:00 gap. On the field’s second turn up Juniper Swamp (600m, 18% max, dirt) an ambulance had to pass. We were neutralized for 10 minutes due to a nasty Pro/1 crash on a sweeping dirt descent. Shortly after resuming, the break had upwards of 3:00 which held for quite some time. The next 30 miles was a mix of dirt, rolling hills, and a couple solid climbs…all which slowly shimmed the 150-man field to under 100. There was an impressive moment where Andrew hit a deep pothole, got dangerously bucked, and somehow recovered. I was hoping A) he landed on grass and B) his fork didn’t shatter. Neither was the case, and his bike stayed happily together and wheels in perfect true. We caught fragments of the 12 or so man break, but 4 guys held it strong. By 55 miles both Andrew and I were confused at the leg cramps that were hitting us…we had trained well, but training only goes so far for an early race such as this. Coming into the two “selection” climbs – Meeting House Rd & Stage Rd, our field was still fairly large. Gaps, big gaps, started to open. Having course knowledge I was a bit better positioned for the first one than Andrew. I was in the first group and Andrew was quick to help bring the second group back up. Field status: 50. Into Stage Rd I had Andrew move up with me and we were well into the front half of the field. Note: since mile 40, Andrew’s tendon was really flared up and was heavily pedaling ‘righty’. This one slip up the right side sealed my fate. We both hit Stage Rd, completely locked up, and had an enlightening first experience of overcoming the leg cramps that plagued us earlier. Closing a couple big gaps I was able to make group 2. Hammering the descent and flat with 5K to go, my group merged with the leaders to make the final selection of 25. Andrew and Dean “the robot” Phillips worked to claw their group back in the final K’s. They would finish 30 seconds back and Andrew 4^th in the group into a 29^th place. Coming into the finish any punchy effort triggered cramps. I was able to grab 15^th place and $50 in the dodgy sprint finish.

The Bikes, Battenkilled. Or, in Andrew’s words, Batten-thrashed.

Andrew's Steed that survived a heavy blow.

Phoenix got a bit dirty on this gig.

It was a great kickoff for the Northeast racing season and a nice way to clear out the last 2 weeks of rubbish from our legs. Time to hit the reset button, recover, enjoy our team camp, and get ready Tour of Dragons. Can’t wait to spend next weekend in Beantown with Boys looking forward to the months ahead.