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.

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.

Week 2: Actual Update: Growth and Learning

I figured I would hold off from posting my real update until Sunday was complete. A good, long ride...my first century of 2013. Luckily it was with a group, as yesterday's 82 miles was solo with a very solid 3 hour endurance block with +/- 1500ft that easily topped 20mph, not bad for February...I did this in May last year and my HR was 10 beats higher. Looks like the year is starting quite well!

Yesterday I rode with Adam Myerson, a long-time pro cyclist and very well known rider and 'ambassador' to the sport in the Northeast. Most of you in the cycling scene know of him as I did - tatted up, clever, 'cross guy, wins crits, gauge earring, Twitter-pro - until about two weeks ago. It's cool to ride with someone who you simply knew as "be near him on the last lap and you'll place". As one would expect, there's a hell of a lot more to him. He's been kind, patient, and happily introduced me to some gems of Tucson. We rode to the top of Lemmon, reminisced old training he did a decade ago with Dan Vaillancourt, and had the best chance encounter on a ride that I have ever had. Spending 3+ hours at a time on a bike with someone you didn't know one bit is probably the best way to get to know someone. I rode with him a bunch that past 2 weeks, but 6.5 hours yesterday was pretty awesome. 3.5 hours of absolutely miserable headwind that makes most people want to quit biking altogether. We were going under 15mph for the full 3.5 hours. A one hour climb where Adam taught me the the difference between being fast and being fast when it counts, hours into a ride/race/workout...all without the exchanging of a single word. He calls it Old Man Power. I call it 'painful glory'. Towards the end of the ride we talked training, coaching, and all the skills you need across the board. I had written the rest of this post prior to the ride - and the stress Adam put on communication and learning only strengthened how important those things are in sport and life.

Here's some shots from my longest duration ride ever - due to elevation and winds it wasn't my longest ride ever, but it was easily my best long ride ever. And it was only 50F in Arizona.

As Adam said: "No Girls Allowed"

Yeah. Wind.

Flavors of the Southwest!

Beer #1 of Tucson.

This marks the first 20+ hour week of 2013 as well. By this time last year I had (foolishly and unstructured-ly) put in 3 and just hit mini-burnout #1. Luckily, I am a year wiser and have guidance that is more intelligent than "raw excitement and fun". I'm also more involved in the process behind my training than I ever have been.

I'm happy about my fitness, there is no doubt about that. But what I am much more pleased with is my understanding, both of myself and my training.

Now for a little insight into "Growth and Learning":

My involvement in my training is greater this year - when I have a coach - than last year when I was 'coaching' myself. How does that make sense? Communication. Which is the first thing I would tell anyone is the first key to finding a coach. It doesn't matter if that person coached an Olympic medalist or what their credentials are if you don't have good communication! My second key is be involved. If you're new to a sport, this might just be listening and absorbing ("knowing the work") rather than simply "doing the work". If you've been involved in the sport, you should be learning the "why" of each workout, then the "how" of progress, then begin to understand "what" the specific gains of each workout, block, or period. Once you have the understanding down, the next big (huge) step is "feel". This is the concept of learning one's own body; if learning things is an endless process (answer: it is!), then learning your body is an endless process that yields exponentially more powerful results.

Just like life, sport is a continuum of growth and learning. And the more you grow and learn, the more powerful your knowledge becomes - especially because you are now able to share that knowledge!

Share your life, sport, joy, and knowledge. Not only will you benefit from growth and learning, but someone will benefit from your teaching.

Yours in Glory,

Travis

If you want a bit more to read about a pretty cool Pro athlete who also has one heck of a crazy busy life, check this out. Otherwise, see you next time!

(As an addition to my above statements: I stayed with a guy in Tennessee (Craig Evans - self dubbed "Endurance Daddy") who can only be described in a LOT of words: Husband, father of two, medical device manager (his job is massively demanding), local cycling ambassador,  owner of triathlon shop, and - oh yeah - Pro Triathlete. The night I spent at his house, I didn't see him until the morning, known as 5AM for him, because he got home at 1AM from work...in Cleveland! Due to this busy lifestyle, Craig's former coach, who I am sure is a great coach, couldn't relate to him and wasn't able to work with his schedule. Clearly, this led to a gap in communication. Once he was able to find a great coach who could also communicate on his level, great things happened. He got second at the World Championships in Offroad ITU Triathlon...to a guy named Conrad Stoltz. Communication led to growth and progress, led to a silver at Worlds. The coach that had this great communication just happens to be my coach as well and he's very skilled at communicating with a 20-something starting out and a busy father, who is professional in many things aside from sport. To see an adrenaline pumping video about Craig, his lifestyle, and season go here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LRU_Bzgygjw&feature=youtube_gdata_player)

Purgatory Road Race 2012

Here is a debrief I wrote to an email group regarding the Purgatory Road Race in Sutton, MA on 6/10. I need a filler report before I delve into my write-up for the Tour of Washington County Stage Race (and Friday's Kick-Off Criterium).

Purgatory Cat 3 Race Report: A lesson on how not to race bikes (unless you are working for a teammate in the peloton. But even then, such racing is highly discouraged haha).

We were also set for a good 5 laps at 11 miles each, totaling ~4500ft gain. The course has a seemingly MASSIVE elevation loss and a noticeable, but not nearly as massive gain. (Hank et al, correct me if this seems incorrect). After the neutral start 12 riders got away, no one cared to ride faster than 20mph. The first thing Joe, myself, and a few friends of mine (who were planning an attack after the climb on lap 3 of 5) heard was 1:30 gap with 12 riders in the break. I had no idea this even happened because I - for the first time in my racing career - took the advice of many to stay away from the front as I tend to work myself for no reason.

The gap got to 2:25 (I think) and I was sick of the field making no effort. I slipped off the front when taking a pull and no one did anything, mini effort and I had 50m. I stuck my head down and rode hard. Quickly I had 30s on the field and half a lap later as the legs were getting quite heavy I was within 60sec (!!!) of the break. Sadly I was not fresh due to the Nutmeg races the day before, or I would have laid it all on the line in effort to make it onto the climb and go to war on that 1K hill to latch onto the break. However, the pack swallowed me up, but we were now withing 80sec of the break - which was slowly falling apart. Very few wanted to work aside from myself and sir Joe Lynch. We knew a couple things: 1) if we sat it wasn't going to come back and our best placement possible would be 8, even with the falling apart breakaway and 2) we didn't come this far to sit around with a pack of individuals satisfied with a poor placing.

Joe and I made attacks and drilled the field for the remaining two laps, each of us gapping the field on multiple occasions. The efforts Joe put in were (as expected) massive and unforgiving. At one point on the backside of the course where there was the 250m 3% climb, I thought I popped - I started to get the chills/goosebumps/cramps - and told Joe and another fellow whom we were off the front with that I had officially imploded. I slowed to something shy of 5mph and the field was on me before I could relax. I barely latched on and somehow recovered to continue to assault with Joe.

Now we were within 60 sec once again after falling back to 90+ sec on the third lap. It was clear we were devouring the pavement between ourselves and the breakaway because while taking a pull on a long straight I saw SRAM Neutral Support. 1K later, it was pulled into a driveway. As Bob Roll would say, "The referees have declared that the breakaway will be caught, the team cars are being stopped along the road." I must note that during the last feedzone a gutsy individual took it upon himself to win. He broke away from the breakaway and won cleanly.

We passed the SRAM car and it was on to the final climb. Taking the right-hander to the 1K climb, Joe was fully exploded and I was rendered something just shy of dead. We eased up the rest of the climb and called it a day.

Final result: the breakaway (except for the valiant lone ranger who went solo) did not survive and nor did we. The friends I had in the field and was hoping I would help did not have sufficient legs to place or collect money. Joe displayed his classic capacity to endure and endure, especially on a course that wasn't quite his forte. Although, when you can dig deep like Joe every course is your course. I made an effort to do (what I feel is) one of the most amazing feats in cycling, bridge the gap to a break. However, I could not sustain the effort and am a bit stronger because of it.

VO2 Test to the "Max"

As a quick intro (as this post could get lengthy), a friend showed me a study that is going on at Northeastern University. In essence, it is comparing the response of males (age 18-35) who are healthy and Type I Diabetic in the presence or lack of a carbohydrate as fuel for exercise. The total test took 26 minutes at which point I completely blew up - my VO2 began to drop even though I continued to pedal. Once VO2 drops noticeably, the test is over because, well, you're not going to get a higher VO2 Max! It was done @ 60RPM steady (for ease of calculating power as a resultant, and for the specified repeatable protocol) with 5x2min at increasing resistance, then 3min intervals continually increasing until you bonk or VO2 values drop. This ergometer (AKA a work measuring exercise machine) used resistance units (in kp) as opposed to power (wattage), so VO2 Max power calculations are only estimates.

 Taking it easy. Not a comfortable bike fit by any means though!

"VO2 Max" is a term athletes of all types love to throw out there. You might hear someone say, "If only I could get my VO2 max to 70 or above, I'd be crushing the 5K in under 15 minutes!" Sure, VO2 Max determines the maximal uptake of oxygen of an individual during exercise and is thus a very good predictor of aerobic fitness. But what people really miss is that there are hundreds of other factors that actually play into being fast. The most important things in any sport are efficiency and economy, how much work you put in compared to what you get out. Example: A short paraphrase from Joe Friel's Blog on VO2 Max: Frank Shorter VO2 Max: 72, Bill Rodgers: 78. Who beat whom? Shorter won quite regularly. Basically having a high VO2 Max says that you have a good, solid engine. But if that engine is not well oiled, or the pistons aren't moving smoothly, or the explosions of the combustion are not well isolated then it won't go anywhere. The combination of having a big engine and an efficient engine is what makes and breaks world records. One or the other and you're an aerobic king whose running is a hobble, or you're a silky smooth athlete with perfect form and nothing to power it.

The test  itself was quite well run, as it should be for any scientific research. I had vitals taken while at rest prior to the test: Blood Pressure, Heart Rate, and Blood Glucose. John (name changed) briefed me on the procedure and what exactly I would be doing, all the overseers were very helpful - I brought my own pedals for the bike and they allowed me to adjust the seat to something moderately comfortable...I suppose I could have brought my backup saddle haha. They would monitor HR, BP, and all the VO2 values via the breathing mask. The mask was hot, dry, and a bit annoying considering that I usually intake a huge amount of water in training. So I warmed up a little bit cruising easy on the bike just to get the legs alive. I was not prepared for the 60RPM riding, also known as grinding it out, so I did a little of low rpm riding and was struggling to go below 70...this was going to be a blast!

The test started out easy on a 2/7 on their resistance scale, kp. Each level went up 0.5 kp. I indicated relative perceived exertion (RPE) at every stage and my BP was recorded by BP cuff in the middle of every stage, which ended up getting to be a pain one I hit a RPE of 15.

We started the ramp up and it was pretty darn easy, but it's supposed to be. I was aware how hard it would be getting in 15 minutes, but nevertheless was anxious for the 'real' part of the test. At this point my VO2 was in the 30's, as expected when the body is not being taxed - it doesn't need to utilize high oxygen uptake because the amount of oxygen being inhaled far exceeds the oxygen required by the cells, muscles, etc. Once that point is approached and turns is when the fun stuff happens. So we ramp up the resistance, and soon enough my RPE is 15 and we are into the 3 minute stages of the test. I'm still rolling along at a steady 60RPM, but am feeling the toll of the work I am putting in. The continual increase of effort with no rest is like running a race against Pre (if you haven't seen Without Limits...watch it) or climbing a hill at a constant speed but that darn hill's grade keeps increasing - and you're next to Jens Voigt, a man who doesn't know the phrase 'slow down'.

Stage 9, or 19 minutes into the test, things start hurting quite a bit. Any slight increase and my form will become rough and there is no smoothness in my pedal stroke. RPE is 18, heart rate (which was low for me on this day - not sure why) was into the 180's and climbing. John ramped up the resistance to 6.5 for stage 10, telling me that the ergometer could only go up to 7.0. If I continued through that stage, I would just increase RPM's until I bonked. I quickly learned that was not going to be necessary. John and his colleagues were pretty seriously cheering me on at this point, I later processed that it was humorous to think that these people in lab coats were pushing me to go harder. I wasn't sure if I would make it to 7.0 but I was destined to not let up until my body simply gave out. Midway through Stage 10 I saw the HR go into the 190's and my VO2 jump a little. I took this as motivation to hold out longer and push myself harder.

RPE = very high.

Stage 11: 7.0 kp. HOLY HELL. Well at least my BP is still stable...because nothing else was. The very moment they turned up the resistance I felt like molasses. After 5-10 seconds I made the adjustments and was up to 62rpm from getting pushed down to 57. If I didn't get above 60rpm the test would be over, as I would essentially have bonked and thus my body gave out and my Max VO2 value would not get any higher. Everything is completely burning at this point and I feel like I can't breathe - note: this feeling is normal when maxing oneself out, but when you have a mask on you just want to rip the damn thing off!


1 minute at 7.0kp and everything is empty, I am still pedaling above 60rpm but it must be a hideous sight: bouncy, strained, lacking any resemblance to smoothness. I overhear that my VO2 value is not increasing anymore...I look up and it has gone down since 30 seconds prior. I muster up enough strength to press on, but John says that the test is over because my VO2 is starting to decrease and, to my understanding, I have aerobically bonked and my legs are very quickly packing themselves full of lactate.

It hurt. But it was a great workout! Plus, I got all the data of my VO2 Max test, so it's pretty cool stuff. Luckily I have the knowledge to be aware that VO2 values are not the bottom line...so whether it was high or low from what I was expecting, it wasn't going to change a darn thing. Luckily it turned out well and put me right in a range I was thinking I would be.

All in all, I'm looking forward to heading back down to Northeastern for the last two tests - anaerobic wingate, yeehaw!

My First Crash: 31.8MPH+Asphalt+Travis = ....

For those of you who know me personally, you probably already know that I broke my clavicle on Tuesday. I figured I would give a quick update before I meet with my orthopedic surgeon tomorrow. It appears as though it is going to be an optional surgery or non-surgery situation, but I will definitely listen to the advice of my surgeon and family friend (who happens to be an excellent surgeon and even better person) very closely.

Rewind to midday Tuesday. It was gorgeous out. Best weather imaginable: low-60's, light wind, cloudy. I opted to wear arm warmers and knee warmers for my easy-ish 30min warm-up to make sure my body was properly heated up for a killer 8x30sec all out accelerations from an approximate lead out speed of 26mph. I use a little hill (50m, 3-4% grade) so I can accelerate easily - as if I were drafting my 6 foot teammate :). Then, about 10m into the flat, I hammer. All out for just over a quarter mile, or 30 seconds, 'til my heart feels like it's going to pop. Did the warm up and shed my arm and knee warmers at my house. Spun lightly to the short, slight hill, pulled a 180 and was in my lead-in to interval #1. For a workout like this with 8 reps, they are misery for intervals #1 & #2 because the effort is insanely high and foreign. You feel like you're killing it for 3, 4, and the start of #5, because you hit the groove and haven't built up too much lactic acid. Then it is back to misery, but it hurts because of lactic acid...and you dig deeper each interval. It starts at midway through #5, then you're not recovered for #6 so it hurts within about 10 seconds. #7 you're lucky if the acceleration has any snap whatsoever. #8 feels like you got no rest after 7. Numbers 7 and 8 are what a lot of people say is what "separates the men from the boys". But this doesn't do it justice, because everyone is doing it. Getting yourself to the point where the legs feel like they're bleeding and your lungs burn is only the set-up, every one hits this. The key is denying it, being insulted by the pain, and digging deeper than you did the last time you did this workout. This is that beautiful place where races are won. Not by wheel-lengths, or meters. By centimeters, on a good day. To quote a classic movie (Fast and Furious, the Original) "It doesn't matter if you win by an inch or a mile. Winning's winning."

So, this is pretty much how excited I was for this workout, my last effort before a race Saturday where I planned to capture one sprint at a minimum. I was going through the workout just as described above. First two sucked. Then I settled in, #3 wasn't as fast as I hoped but still felt good. #4 came along and my heart rate was not fully recovered in the 3 minute window (started #4's lead-in at an HR of 132...for me, I consider rested mid-120's). I was working on properly gearing into the sprint and shifting as necessary (as, if you've been keeping up on my posts, this has caused me to spin out or not be able to accelerated properly in recent sprints). I started the sprint in my 53-15 (4th biggest gear), immediately went into the 53-14, a couple seconds later into the 53-13. This brings me up to just over 30mph on a flat in the headwind I was set-up with (that conveniently simulates the first sprint of Saturdays race!) at a cadence of right about 100rpm. Then comes the best part...that very moment you're spinning fast and smooth and put it into the very last gear you have. Where there is no concern but cranking every last watt, utilizing every ounce of muscle in your legs, core, and arms...something that is unique to cycling from almost any other sport in this exact moment - the no-cylinders-left-behind dead sprint. This, when fresh, can get me to 36mph in such a situation...but in a training cycle with a few intervals in me, I'll hit 34mph or so with that pleasant headwind.

I click the last gear. It hesitates (which has happened before...and with a recently replaced rear shifter and shifter cable is not a rarity), but it usually engages after 1 second. This time it didn't. Just before I would have shifted down then up again, it completely skips. This rockets my cadence up somewhere around 150rpm (my SRM showed 144rpm at this very moment), which is well above my capabilities...I think I can max it out at 135rpm, which is obnoxiously bouncy and dangerous at best. As my legs accelerate beyond their capacity, my chain catches in the 53-12. The sheer force from 150rpm and my biggest gear torques myself and my bike far more intensely than any theme park ride, ski crash, or personal experience I have ever had. I'm guessing it was something like the jerk of a pedal to the floor acceleration of a Ferrari. (Note: I'm not kidding). What happened next was the quickest turn of events of my life: the whole this happened crazy fast but when thinking back seem like freeze-frames. I was looking directly at the ground and within milliseconds I was pummeled into the ground at precisely 31.8MPH. Direct to my head and left shoulder. Going completely rag-doll, my hip lashes into the pavement and I slide on the pavement for a few seconds while my bike catapults off the side of the road; losing the bottles and my cell phone/ID/cash bag departing my back pocket as quickly as my Oakley Raders jumped off my face.

Here's the frame-by-frame low down: The torque lifted my rear wheel off the ground and I started rotating around my front wheel. This was far more torque than I could possibly put out in any normal circumstances (too bad my power meter wasn't working properly...). Think about full on revving your engine in neutral and jumping it into 5th gear. Your car would literally lift off. This is precisely what me and my wonderful Madone 5.2 did. So I'm riding on my front wheel, knowing nothing good can come of this, and then the bike drops to the left, the front wheel slips out, and bam! my head and shoulder crash into the asphalt. There wasn't really any pain. I knew it was going to hurt within seconds once the thrill/fright halted and I had my wits back about me. My whole body hit the ground. Yard saleeee! And I slid, relatively quickly, to a stop.

(The last thing my SRM saw: 31.8MPH, HR = 178bpm, then the low-balling cadence and power thanks to a toast SRM battery: 144rpm, 728W)

Considering this was my first cycling crash I was surprisingly, IMHO, very well collected. Being used to pretty solid spills while freestyle skiing, I had been shaken up before...but nothing at all like this crash. My first instinct has always been: "Inventory". This is that critical moment, immediately after such an event when you assess 1) your head/brain 2) your body 3) your situation. Yes, situation comes third...because if you have no brain or body, there's no concern if a car is coming. Fortunately, I was just a bit to the right of the white line and was, only moments before, travelling at approximately the 35MPH speed limit - so if I car was coming behind me it wouldn't be flying at 20MPH more than me...I hope. Back to the inventory: 1A) I was sprinting, my gear slipped, then I went down hard. I could recall being on just my front wheel and being flipped over and seeing behind me as I slid on the pavement. Brain, check!, no serious initial head injury. 1B) I 'feel' okay. I know exactly where I am (RT88, 0.5mi south of home, ocean-side of the road). I can see completely straight. Brain test 2, check!, likely no concussion at all. (Aside: if you're asking "did he seriously do this" the answer is a resounding yes) Next up...body: Left side is burning/numb, head is throbbing a bit. Body: intact, but quite shaken up...well beyond any previous experience...but nothing that freaks me out. Thirdly, situation: I'm definitely not in the middle of the road, I'm just to the safe side of the white line ("phew!"), and people are already getting out of their cars. At this point I know I'm safe, and I'm going to be totally fine. I remain laying down while two individuals (a kind fellow name Tom Patterson and a woman, named Liz, who was clearly more freaked out and reasonably more concerned than me). I collected my breath, wits, and relaxed a bit. At this point I was nearly certain my head was fine I told the two people I knew everything that happened and everything that was going on at the moment...and informed them I was likely going to miss my race on Saturday. Tom asked if he should call an ambulance, but I told him to wait as I felt fairly good considering and wanted a couple minutes to assess the situation before I made such a decision. At this point I didn't think I had really hurt myself. Head was good. Body was still resetting and felt like some bruising and solid road-rash (Yes! Badass points!). I removed my helmet (glasses had decided to remove themselves already) and then looked at it and said, fully audibly "Thank You".

Next, I stood up. Retrospectively this was a bad idea because had I actually (despite such certainty) knocked my brain around, I could have instantly collapsed, further injuring my body and head. As I stood I was very light-headed, but I managed to stumble and stay upright. At this point my sense of 'feel' was coming back and I felt something weird in my shoulder: it was definitely no pain (yet), but was an awkward tingly sensation that (looking back at it) reminded me of when I had a super small break to my wrist. I slowly reached with my right hand towards the most reasonable spot for any non-blacked out cyclist would: the good ol' clavicle. I touched it, felt a rather rigid bump under the skin, and came to the quick conclusion that I had some level of a fractured clavicle. This meant I was not going anywhere fast. I decided it was wise to return to my location on the cool, leafy pavement. In combination with being shaken up, the realization I broke a bone put me over the edge and my return to the pavement was choppy at very best. Controlled fall is a better description. Tom and Liz insisted that I not use a phone...thus, I had Tom call my Dad, tell him that I had crashed my bike and was fine, and was 0.5 miles south of the house on route 88. Because I knew the next stop was the hospital (and Tom only got my Dad's voicemail) I figured it was most intelligent to call an ambulance as no professional had cleared me of major head or back injuries...although I am clearly a reliable reference. So I grabbed a few sips of water while I waited, asked what sort of condition my baby (aka bike) was in, and the lady who lived across the street, Lisa Nolan, offered me a towel to keep me warm. Initially I said I was all set, but that's before the 60F pavement had settled in. I later took her up on this offer as we waited for the meat wagon to arrive. Tom said I busted a front spoke and thus it was totally out of true, but the frame looked okay (aka no major cracks). I have since looked over it and it appears okay, yay!

(Weaksauce road rash. Teaser pic...X-Rays are wayyy cooler)

As we "hung out" some cars whizzed by...literally everyone was saying 'what could people be in such a rush for that they don't slow down when cars are parked on the road and people are huddled around a person laying on the road'. Even though I was on the shoulder, I audibly agreed. Regarding the drivers, "what fools" I thought to myself "what if your son or daughter was laying here?" Tom called the Falmouth rescue, which is fair...because there is a station 1.25 miles from the 'crash site'. But they had to refer to Cumberland rescue, as we were in Cumberland, but that station is a good 5 miles away down Tuttle Rd. I knew it was going to be a while, which was fine because nothing was critical. But I was getting antsy...and, worse, pain was starting to set in and I wanted to get the hell off the ground. I talked to my Dad on my phone, which I located when the others were looking around for it (haha). Told him all was well and I busted my collar bone, but it was fine (fine to me equals no compound fracture or unbearable pain, thus no compound fracture. I don't know how a compound feels...but I don't want to. My guess is more like shock than pain lol). Made sure to let him know my head was perfectly fine: which was proven to the few onlookers when I eventually rattled off address, DOB, SSN, my exact location, how exactly the crash occurred (which I don't think a single person actually understood), no car was involved, and, yes, I crashed completely unaided by terrain/potholes or other vehicles...the only thing that actually sucked to admit. One other thing I told my Dad was the classic "Sorry for scaring you!" I also talked to Jason briefly. He asked if he should come back from business in NH, I laughed and told him "Dude, I appreciate the gesture, but seriously I am fine".

The first (preliminary) paramedic was a guy named George, who assured me that the 'big guys' were going to arrive momentarily, but he was nearby when the call came in. I figured it would be another 2 minutes or so. George basically ensured I was mentally aware and got the details of what happened first hand. The one thing I had difficulty remembering is who arrived first...my Dad or the ambulance...because it was a flurry of questions and concerns at that point haha. My Dad gave me the "Awwww shit, really?!" look when he first saw me. I'm sure he could tell I was in good spirits on the phone, whether he thought it was true or to comfort him is up in the air...but he usually has a good read on me so I'm guessing he was pretty sure I was okay. But I know he would be concerned even if I called him safely from home excitedly saying "Yo bud, I got some road rash today!". What can I say, he's a great guy :). I am pretty sure he beat the ambulance...and set a WR (yes, a world record) for fastest time from Allen Ave to the Foreside...absolutely destroying my brother's former WR/PR of XX minutes (Jason's secret remains safe). You might not think beating his time is impressive...but he had a girlfriend who lived over there and they were together for like a decade, which included highschool and collegiate shenanagans. My brother's time is 'erroneous on all accounts' as my Dad's was surely in the single digits, thanks to that Saab 9.5 Aero's killer engine! As my Dad's car pulled in behind where I was laying, on of the kind ladies said "Oh my god this person is coming in fast". I laughed and said "what kind of car?". She said, "it's black". I asked "does the license plate start with 113?". She said "Yes", confirming it was, in fact, my father. I told her it was my Dad and he can come in as fast as he wants as long as he doesn't hurt anyone. Knowing my Dad's licence plate further proved to me, and everyone else, I was fine. I was relieved to see my Dad more for his own good than my own, as I knew everything was okay...but he needed to see it to know I was okay. Lesson about my Dad: He's badass and awesome and will be by one of his children's sides in record time....even if he is told very firmly by me "TAKE YOUR TIME. I AM FINE. I WON'T LEAVE BEFORE YOU GET HERE!"

So there's Part 1 of my exciting sprint workout gone awry! Part 2 is going to discuss all the fun stuff of hanging out with the paramedics, the first two days of recovery, how freakin' lame pain meds are, and my consult with my orthopedic surgeon. Oh yeah, and a meeting regarding a potential job!