Shenanigans With TSK -- Tall Skinny Kid

Why I agree with the latest ruling on Contador: And it�s not because I think he�s innocent.

I�m usually busy enough these days that updating this blog just isn�t good use of my time. It was a fun outlet for expression�but now it serves merely as a moratorium of good times past. I miss bike racing sometimes, but not consistently enough to find the time to throw my leg over a top tube and roll around for 15 hours a week. Maybe in the future my time will seem less precious, or be in great enough excess to support such a habit. But until then, this blog will likely collect more dust, rather than less.

Sadly, the topic of doping in cycling is compelling enough that I felt the need to un-earth this blog from the internet-cobwebs that have accumulated. I�d prefer to be writing about my beloved sport in some other context, maybe with the heading: �Asshole pips Douchebag at Tour of Oman�. But let�s be honest, we like the fact that Mark Cavendish is kind of a douchebag and got served something proper today courtesy Theo Bos. Even if Theo Bos is an asshole too. That�s just fun sport.

It seems that just about everyone despises doping�not just cheating, but doping�with an undeniable ferocity. At the 2010 Tour I saw, with my own two eyes, �clean team� Garmin rider getting dragged up the Tourmalet via team car. Full resolution photo evidence right here. I forget which rider this was, and frankly, I didn�t care enough at the time to check to see if he made the time cut, got a time penalty for his transgression, or anything of the sort. I didn�t really care that he cheated. I was more amused that I got to snap the photo as evidence of cheating, than I was shocked or betrayed or�whatever else it is that people feel when they see that so-and-so doped.

But something about the term �doping� just seems to stimulate everyone�s �self-righteous rant� mode. And as evidenced by this blog post�I�m not immune to this effect.

I think maybe it�s an image thing. The image of a rider, bent over in some airplane-sized bathroom at the back of a team bus with his bag of blood swinging from a coat hanger above his head, with a dark-red colored tube leading from the bag, to needle, to arm. That�s not sport. That�s wrong. When a basketball player fouls, that�s part of sport. It seems more natural. The cause and the effect are obvious. The penalty is clear. One ref signals to another, a line of chalk is drawn, and if a fifth line is drawn, the player is relegated to warm the bench and drink Gatorade. With doping, we don�t know who�s cheating, how much he is cheating, and we read about it in the news for the 6 months after the race, rather than during. Cause, effect, and penalty aren�t so clear. You need an MD, a slew of specialized PhD�s, and a JD to work through just about any doping case. That�s not sport.

Anyhow, the point of this post was not to make commentary on cheating in sport, or under which constraints doping becomes cheating; as lots could be written about the arbitrary nature of what we decide is cheating and what is not. Caffeine. Altitude tents. IV saline rehydration. Hell, everyone�s favorite Midwest sprinter, Andy Crater, would probably mention THC�s questionable performance enhancing efficacy, but yet it remains on the WADA banned list. I accept that there is some quantity of arbitrary that must be applied�as long as it is broadly agreed upon, it�s acceptable to me. That�s as much a rule of life as it is a rule of anti-doping.

The point of this post was to discuss the recent overturning of Contador�s one year ban, and why I think it is a pretty important landmark case in the context of anti-doping in cycling. I also wanted to address R.K. Money�s twitter comments on the abbreviated version of this post.

So Contador got nailed for a pretty small amount of Clenbuterol found in his urine. As mentioned earlier, an MD, and a couple PhD�s would be helpful in the analysis of his positive. I could literally spend days researching the absorption, distribution, metabolism, and excretion of the drug. I could spend more time dissecting it�s mechanism of action, and it�s efficacy at the doses found. I could spend some time reading veterinary journals, and see if it is plausible that the concentration of Clenbuterol required to cause Contador�s positive could actually be found in beef, and waste my time essentially proving what the media already has told us that the experts have found: It�s a physiologically tiny quantity of the drug.

So then the question becomes, at what point does �doping� become cheating? When it�s intentional? When it�s �enough� to make the athlete harder, better, faster, stronger?

Well, how do you prove intention? How do you define what�s �enough� to make a difference? We could make clear cut, black and white decisions about doping: if you got X anywhere in your body, you are done. But is that really fair? As lab techniques such as the gas chromatography technique used to find a slew of illicit drugs on US currency (cocaine, PCP, methamphetamines, heroine, codeine) continue to improve, it�s increasingly likely that we will find something in the body of an athlete that is remarkably unremarkable. The important thing to ask is whether or not that substance is present in quantities that justify a suspension.

Some things are pretty cut and dry. You got Micera (CERA) in your body? You don�t find that on dollar bills and you couldn�t absorb it through your skin if you did. You can�t accidentally ingest it with your filet mignon. It has to be injected. At any amount that can be repeatedly and reliably detected, you should warm the bench.

Other things are not so cut and dry. Accidental Clenbuterol consumption from beef is theoretically and scientifically plausible. It is technically performance enhancing (although frankly, isn�t a drug that makes �sense� in the context of a grand tour�there are more efficacious, harder to detect doping methods), but at what level should it be considered a positive? That is a question that is tough to answer. Nearly all drugs have a dose-response curve and accordingly, any drug in any quantity (in theory) will increase performance. However, in a situation where you are far to the left of the steep part of that sigmoid curve, are you really doping? In the continuum of doping, are you really doping, and is it logical to presume so? Is �micro-dosing� at this level really helping your marrow pump out red blood cells at a performance enhancing rate? Or are you just blowing cash on dope that could be better spent on something like... a trip to altitude?

These are hypothetical questions, but when applied to each and every drug on the banned list, there are logical, reasonable, scientific answers. These answers are important in the context of doping.

This is not to say that athletes should not be responsible for what they put in their body. No one can ever truly prove intent. At the end of the day, if you have a performance enhancing substance in your body, and enough of it to make a difference, then you should warm the bench.

There are more shades of gray to this. Let�s say someone has a sub-threshold value of X banned substance in their body. Well, that could be because they dosed themselves long enough ago that the drug has been excreted/metabolized enough to not set off alarms. Well, unless you can scientifically prove beyond a reasonable doubt that the drug was ingested in performance enhancing amounts at a previous date, the athlete should not be accountable. Innocent until proven otherwise. Beyond a reasonable doubt.

It�s obvious to me that beyond a �reasonable� doubt is open to interpretation�and that�s where things get tricky.

At the end of the day, the system has to work in a way that each substance is systematically reviewed�its attributes and characteristics defined. There needs to be a high sensitivity and high specificity test available for it. The cutoffs for each drug need to be defined in such a way that critical thought is applied. Certain things, based on their biochemical nature, are impossible to be found in the body unless deliberately put there�these substances (exogenous entities only absorbed intravenously, for example) would receive zero tolerance. Other drug cutoff points should be placed at a point just below where the average person could reasonably benefit from them.

It seems to me that the real doping being done is less and less exogenous hormones and chemicals. It�s the athletes own blood�stored away for months at a time until the day before The-Big-Stage or the Targeted-Spring-Classic. Well, I think the right step is being made with the biological passport. I also think following levels of plasticizers is brilliant. OK, maybe the 2% increase in hematocrit the day before The-Big-Time-Trial could naturally occur. But what is the likelihood that particular event coincides with a three-fold increase in X plasticizer found in the bag storing blood? Cutoffs made by smart people educated on the topic should be agreed upon, and then enforced. Just because you have X ubiquitous plasticizer in your blood doesn�t mean that you doped. But a preponderance of evidence, and the expert opinion of well educated people at the head of these cases, should be enough to decide.

The important thing is that riders are given reasonable doubt. That they are innocent until proven otherwise. In the case of Contador�who probably did dope�it�s as if they are burning him at the stake. It feels like a situation where they are saying �We can�t conclusively prove 100% that you doped, our test for plasticizers isn�t robust enough to prove you took a transfusion, but we think you did, so we are going to use some other wholly ridiculous quantity of chemical we found in your blood to call you positive�. That doesn�t feel right to me. That feels like the arbitration losing its sincerity in justice. That isn�t sport, either.

So, the idea that they didn�t burn Contador at the stake is comforting. They didn�t have enough evidence, and he was let off. This is the sign of a robust system�one that can recognize errors in its operations, can analyze the defendants counterpoints and can apply correctly the principles behind the word �reasonable� in the phrase �guilty beyond all reasonable doubt�. While many view this as a step backwards�I view it as a step forwards. It�s more important to have a robust, scientifically and ethically sound anti-doping agenda than it is to bust Contador this one time. Science will catch up, and there will always be cheaters. It seems more important to acquit someone potentially lacking integrity, in order to maintain the integrity of the organization as a whole.

In other news, I went for my first �real� (as in kitted up, non-commuting) ride in� months. It was awesome. The sun shined, and I smiled.

Memorial Day Memoirs

It's been quite some time since I last reported on bike racing on this here bike racing blog. Life has been busy, but good.

This weekend I did what I've been doing for the past 5 years or so and raced the Memorial Day bike races out in IA. What a great series--a nice long Friday warm-up Burlington Road Race, Snake Alley, Melon City and Quad Cities "Cage Match" criteriums. This year was a different approach--going in I knew I was going to be a helper bee and not a winner bee (not that I've ever won any of these races, hah), and that helped me keep my head on straight when I finished near the bottom of the pack each day. In the past I'd have destroyed myself in an effort to finish top 20--if for nothing other than the decent payout at the end of the day. As a Cat 3 this was a well paying weekend...in the P/1/2 fields you have to be firing on all cylinders to pull a result, and that's with maybe a bit of good luck. That's what I love about these races, man. I get older, and they stay just as tough. (Insert Dazed and Confused reference here: "That's what I love about these high school girls, man. I get older, they stay the saaaaaaame age." )

Anyhow, here is how the weekend unfolded:

Friday started out as usual, fast, but easy. Getting sucked along during that road race by the draft means just about anyone who knows how to pedal and remembers to drink in the heat can be around for the finish. However, only 3 dudes were in contention for the vee at the end--and fortunately, my teammate Will "I can bridge a 3 minute gap in 3 minutes or less" Nowak got across to the winning break and nabbed 3rd. A super solid result. Back in the field was a dramatic implosion by the Roadhouse train trying to pull the break back, followed by the typical chaotic field sprint. I thought it was pretty funny just how chippy people were getting at the end of that race. We were bumping bars a solid 15 miles from the finish jockeying for position. It never stopped. I'm pretty sure one of the Kenda Pro riders who's name is near mine in the results could have benefited from a (large) dose of barbituates or quaaludes or benzos, or maybe he just wasn't hugged enough as a child--but what do I know. Anyhow, we kept Mike out of the wind and banged bars and elbows until about 1k to go when I got to the front WAY TOO EARLY and did a pretty crappy wind-up to catch an ISCorp rider just off the front. I made it another 200M after bringing him back to the fold before I blew and left Danny and Mike to finish the job. Mike definitely did finish the job and narrowly missed winning the field sprint by one spot. 3rd and 5th is a solid start!

Saturday: This race is crazy, and usually only 20-25 of the 100 starters finish. I knew I was not one of the 25 strongest guys in the midwest and refrained from racing. Instead, I sprayed the guys with water and watched the sufferfest. I saw guys going deep in the pain cave--and these were guys that definitely were in better shape than I was. Definitely a good decision not to duke it out. It was a tough race for all the guys--Will spent the better part of the Road Race in the break the day before and only had a 23 to race with, Mike didn't have his 202's, Ryan weighs approximately 350 lbs, and Danny and Waylon were doing the race for the first time. The hill was as steep as ever, and the clusterfsck at the base of the climb seemed as intense as ever. Still, a few money spots were nabbed, and despite the suffering, I think all souls involved will be back next year.

This is why I didn't race the snake.

Sunday was surprisingly easy--all the fastest dudes in the race, including heir Freund got in the break and rolled away midway through. It sounds like everyone in the break forgot that Marcotte won the last two, three, or six editions (I forget) of the race, and no one but Freund were willing to light it up and attack him at the end of the race. Guess who won? Marcotte. They probably just pre-write the winners check with his name on it. I was in the hunt for the last few money spots if things went right, but they didn't, and I ended up grabbing two fistfulls of brake in the bunch sprint when a leadout man went backwards in front of me. Despite someone running into me from behind I managed to a) avoid being sodomized, b) avoid eating poo, and c) not break anything on my bike. In my book, that is as good as the $50 I might have won anyways.

Heir 350lb Freund, and if you have good eyes, Danny and I.

Monday:
Ho geez, was it just me or did this race start fast? Normally I can move right up to the front at the beginning of races, pretend like I know what I'm doing, and then fade to the back as the real racing starts. But not here. Seemed like the dudes coming out of turn 6 were just THROTTTLING (yes, with three T's) the pace every time into that headwind. I did eventually see the front of the race by pulling a few Ryan "Cleaver" Knapp chops. Greg Christian made a move after the last sprint that was looking good, and Will and I were in it, but it was swallowed up in mighty short order when man #2 in line (Dahmoff?) didn't pull through. Not like I was going to be powering the poop out of that break anyways. Oh well. I never saw the front after that brief effort. 350 lb Freund made a brave move at the end but was sucked up by the train(s). Without a train like the other teams, Mike was left fighting for scraps in a tight and treacherous crit and finished in the money to win a few bucks with Freund.

In other news: Verizon U25 P/B ABD is the best team I've ever ridden for. Great bunch of guys, and weekends are not only fun, but well organized. Shit gets done, bikes are raced, and we don't cry into our beer every day we don't win. Heck yea. All these years I spent being pissed off and angry after bike races when I should have been having fun. I thank everything holy that I kissed Ebert's ass enough last year that he kept me on the team and I didn't leave bike racing with a bitter taste in my mouth.

OK, that's all. Peace.

Mental Health in Medicine.

Normally I leave this blog to light hearted topics of bike racing and other silly bullshit. Today I had an experience at a clinic, and I want to vent about it. Luckily, I have this little outlet for just that.

Mental health is under represented in medical education. I watched two 4th year medical students and an MD "treat" a bipolar schizophrenic heroin addict looking for help with detox today. After worthless exhaustive interviewing, he realized that we could do nothing to help him, so he left, irritated. After he left, his irritation was written off as "paranoid/schizoid behavior".

I agreed with the poor man's stance: why should we (the doctor) get paid by the government (medicaid) to do nothing for him? Why was he not sent to the detox program from the beginning? Why did we bring up painful memories of the deaths of all of his loved ones so we could just send him on his merry way?

His view (and my accompanying view) was not popular in the clinic.

"There are procedures we have to follow"
-"Why"
"We don't want to be sued"

Do you really think this homeless heroin addict has a lawyer? Or, are you making sure you have enough shite in your notes to have a billable encounter?

Even more frustrating is the fact that I sat there watching it all, despite knowing immediately that we were not a facility for detox. While watching the man twitch and writhe in the misery of withdrawl ... I should have interjected and said, "We can not help, we are worthless medical students just hoping to hear S1 and S2 (Bike racers: S1/2 = heart sounds). Leave for the detox program now."

Frustrating. Just because some MD diagnosed him as schizophrenic, or because he uses heroin, does not mean we should just write him off. The man knew the year he first started smoking, the date he used heroin first, the names of and dosages of all the (medical) drugs he was on. Shit, if half the patients I interact with remember the names of ANY of their medications, I'm happy. Usually it's just "the purple one". He knew specifically what each of his parents died from. He was as intellectual (or more) than anyone I've ever interacted with, but because he had the title "schizophrenic heroin user" he was immediately written off.

It's these people that need the most help. If you can dramatically improve the lives of the very bottom of society, it has a greater effect than say, slightly improving the lives in the middle. If you help this man with his addiction--maybe he won't rob your Mom on the way to grocery store. Maybe he'll convince his buddy to get clean too.

I think this man's problems were more important than the man before him--who had acid reflux from eating like shit, and wanted a prescription for Cialis. And yet, the man before him got way better care.

WTF Mate?

Ok, done venting.

Hillsboro this weekend.

Hillsboro this weekend. 87 miles of pain.

Yessss....

First time I've ever seen a P/1/2 race fill up this early in the season. This usually only ever happens at big cash/prestige events--Elk Grove, Downers ProAm.

It's like that one time I sold tickets to my bedroom. 125 brazilian super-models lined up with their $50 in hand to get a piece of the prize. I made an exception and increased the field size though.

Been a while.

So, it's been a while. Medical School is fun, lots of work, but fun. Chicago is getting better, but the riding still sucks. I plan to do some research this summer to... FUND MY TRIP TO FRANCE IN JULY.

Only one thing going on in France in July that is worth sitting in an economy airline seat for hours and hours and hours... I'll let you all ponder what that could be. I will say, I already have at least one plan for getting my scrawny self on Versus. I'm going to try real hard to get on TV without being "That Guy". But if push comes to shove and I have to run across the Champs Elysee naked with yellow streamers in my hair and a picture of Lance tattooed on my ass.. I will do it.

Meanwhile, I'm sloooowly dragging myself back into shape. In two weeks I'll be in Bloomington. To all the people who I used to pummel at the early season races and rides: here is your chance. Pretty much everyone of you Cat 1/2 guys that I used to half wheel to death could drop me in my current form.

So, bring it. It's payback time...for you.

Word.

Attending medical school in Chicago sucks for bike riding. It ain't so good for my social life either.

That's all I have to say about that.

Word.

10 Speedin'

Whoa. I�m back.

In the past ten days or so, I�ve effectively doubled the amount of racing I�ve had all year. It�s pretty wild being able to say that at the end of July. Not racing collegiate and breaking a collarbone in June will do that to you. It�s interesting watching some guys start to fizzle just as I�m starting to get back into shape.

Stupor Week:
Speaking of getting back into shape: doing it at Superweek is rough. I usually show up to the collegiate scene in good but not great shape. At the collegiate scene I�d typically be near the top end of the field, and ride my way to fitness while putting others in the hurtbox. Showing up at Superweek without good fitness was a different story�it was an exercise in perseverance for sure. For �warmup� (and my first race back) I did the Bloomington crit (the Indiana State Championship, no less). I was able to ride my bike to the course as warm-up, and have a pint (or several) at the finish line pub post-race. Cool. The race was surprisingly hard, and the pace never let up for more than a � lap. Nuvo had a bajillion guys, and took the win. I was actually thinking about pulling the plug with 1 lap to go�didn�t want to get argy bargy in a bunch sprint�but I finished it out anyway. I was one bombed corner from the top ten, so I jumped in line and sprinted to 8th. For a local crit it�s nothing to brag about, but considering it was my first race back, I was OK with things. There are some pretty hilarious pictures of me from that race looking like I was suffering pretty badly. Based on the photos, you�d think I just rode Alpe D�Huez twelve times or some such. I won�t link to the specific ones as I can�t stand the shame and embarrassment ;). However, here is one from the start where I only look moderately wanktastic:

I love Isaac�s tongue. Hahaha.

Then I went up to race anonymously at Superweek. I spent very little time at the front. I quickly found that I didn�t quite have the fitness to be racing at the very very front, and the 20th-40th positions were dicey. Breaking my collarbone has turned me into a huge wusse. It�s pretty hilarious being at the back of these races. People are so chill. �Take the wheel, it�s all yours bro� If I heard that in the first 10% of the field, I�d probably be in bed� dreaming. Anyways, I raced Whitnall Park (fun, tough), Cedarburg (sketchy at beginning, tough), Racine (wicked tough), Kenosha (fun, rainy), and Downer Ave (mega-fun).

The only race where I really didn�t have the juice was Racine. Just felt like shite the whole race and got gapped off one too many times. I�d typically race until there were just a few laps left and then pull the plug�I�m not going to win a bunch kick at Superweek when I�m in good shape and I�m certainly not going to win one when I�m in poor shape. On top of that, the spot I�d be able to ride myself into (15th-30th wheel) is the most sketchtacular place to be. With not enough fitness to muscle my way further up I chose to save my collarbone for something else.

Downer Ave was crazy! I don�t usually dig the Garrison brothers� work, but Downer was a different story. Freaking Blue Angel jets buzzing us mid-race? Wow, that was sweet. My whole chest reverberated with the noise. I couldn�t even hear the crowd anymore. Cool! I�m a pretty jaded crit rat, as I�ve been to a decent number of races, but I�ve never gotten the willies like I did at Downer Ave. Super Prime was a bust, but I wasn�t going to win that anyways.

So, all said and done, Superweek was a good way for me to get some racing in. The races had less attendance, but the fields had better riders. The races were generally better run, but the prizes were less and the entry fees were more (extra charge for writing a check? WTF?). Another few years and a healthy economy and perhaps the Garrisons will be able to get their shite together 100%.

Chicago Crit:
Not much to say about this other than the fact that Chris Horner probably was bored and scared out of his mind the whole race. It was easy, and slow. That meant that there were about 170 guys (of ~180 starters) who were fresh for the sprint. Yikes. I was glad to chill out, and avoid the last lap mayhem. Poor Adam Bergman looked like he ate it pretty hard on the last lap. Hope he�s OK. My teammate also had a date with the pavement, but turned out to be OK.

Great venue, but boring race.

A Rant:
Lastly:
I must say that this year my perspective on racing has changed a lot. The focus is no longer on being a P-R-O, it�s on having fun while racing my bike. Since, I�ve started to see a lot of things that I never noticed before about the typical ego-maniacal face-smashing Cat 1 bike-bum. The worst part about this perspective change is that I realized that I used to resemble some of what I�m about to describe. For all you face-smashers out there:

News Flash: If you are racing as an amateur in the US, you just aren�t that goddamn good. You are likely an order of magnitude shittier than a so-so Pro Tour rider. On top of that, our sport has almost no following in the U.S. In other words, unless you are Lance Armstrong, no one cares.

Due to the fact that no one cares, the sport is propped up by a variety of wealthy people with interest in the sport. When the economy turns sour, those people just can�t support every D-Bag Cat 1 bike-bum.

Seriously. You don�t �deserve� to have your entry fee, gas, hotel, clothes, and bike paid for just because you win 3 races a year that no one pays attention to. If you are lucky enough to be on a team that supports you at all, be appreciative. Lose the ego. I hear amateurs complaining about how they can�t make any money racing their bike because their winnings go back to paying their next entry fee. *Ring Ring* Clue Phone: You are an amateur. There are �Professionals� in this sport that don�t even get paid. Show some damn appreciation. You just aren�t that good.

There are less and less people able to prop up this sport every day. I bet if they heard the sense of entitlement that I hear, they�d leave the sport in a heartbeat.

Bike-Bums Everywhere: Thank your sponsors. Ditch the entitlement. Accept what is given to you with grace and appreciation. That is all.

Triathlons, an about face:

I'm sitting here, finally back in the good 'ol state of IN (I'll get to story time later) and I couldn't help but chuckle.

I had some reading to do upon my return, and cruised to Dr. K's blog, and was reading about his Triathletic views. I too find triathletes to be a funny bunch. There is only one that I can think of that isn't a total wackjob. Anyhow, to the point. I was perusing SlowTwitch (a dirty dirty sin no doubt) and I was laughing at this photo's caption:

What the eff? You think a Tour de France pro would be caught dead doing a 4.25 hour Time Trial? Alone? You have some learning to do about bike racers. Besides, Greg Christian could probably do that with one leg, and he's just a lowly amateur Cat 1.

Then I had an about face as I flipped through the images:

Let's face it, any man who trades his child for beer has got to be one BAMF. I bet that dude crushes dreams like no other.

Seriously, anyone who can neglect their child for 30 hours a week of training, and then trade him for beer has got to be one HC kind of guy. Hopefully he won enough to pay for his son's psychiatric treatment till the age of 30.

That photo has permanently changed my view of triathletes. They aren't self absorbed wankers, they are Dream Crushing BAMF's.

The Search for TSK Continues...

Ah yes... So what is going on with John Meyers?

He never updates his blog, hasn't been seen at the bike races, and is whispered to have gone insane--apparently he only talks in third person now. Perhaps he has gone the way of Tommy "Blow" Boonen, or worse... Marco "Elefantino" Pantani. He's probably laying dead at the Muscatine Motel 6 after snorting one-too-many-lines off a wrinkly hookers bosom. Poor John "Pinnochio" Meyers, that big shnoz of his was inevitably his undoing... so sad. Tragic really.

...

Alas, if only my recent life could be storied with escapades of bosoms and blow. Let's face the truth. No one has a bike racing blog where they get excited about posting about how slow they've been riding, how little they've been racing, and how many bones they've broken recently. That's fscking depressing.

To sum things up where I left off: I raced Joe Martin. Got a 6th and a 10th in the 1/2's road races (which were more like Cat 3 races because any real firepower raced with P/1's). Then, a few days after feeling and riding like trash at the Memorial Day Races, I broke my collarbone on a group training "race". A week later, I went ahead with the surgery, a la Mr. Armstrong. The cool pictures:

Exhibit A: Broken Stuff

Exhibit B: Titanium Stuff

I've been relatively lucky to not have broken any bones prior to this, and frankly, I think the experience was a good one for someone who has interest in becoming an orthopedic surgeon. However, life is all about timing. I broke my collarbone two days before my final day at work--I had put in my two weeks so I could...race my bike all summer long.

Too bad, so sad.

The good news is that I've been able to ride (Indoors in 5 days, outdoors in 10 after surgery), and despite what my doctor told me to do, I even raced this weekend...at a time trial. Don't look for results, I went slow. That's all that needs to be said.

Anyhow, in about 3 weeks I should be able to take part in a mass start race, and life will be grand.

That's all for now.

Mmmm bike racing.

Tour of St. Louis:
I'll tell ya, I really like these little races that make you feel like "the real deal". Tour of St. Louis had a Crit, Time trial, and Circuit race. The TT (and corresponding omnium prizes) really makes the weekend a bit more fun and helps to add another element to the racing. The weekend went something like this:

Crit:
This was an oddly tactical race. We were never really going that hard, but groups started to go up the road, have a decent gap, and stay out there. Most races it seems that everyone has to have half a lung spasming on their top tube before the break finally goes. Not here; Jeff went up the road with 5 others in a strange, not-that-fast move. Soon after, I bridged to a not-that-fast chase group and sat on. I kept getting yelled at for not working, but hey: I have faith in Jeff being able to win out of the move up the road. Dragging up 6 more dudes doesn't help our situation.

Due to the general slowness of the field, Jeff's move lapped the field. My chase group got tired of me sitting on, and went slower and slower until the field caught us. Groupo compacto. Now it is time to make sure Jeff can win.

Sidenote: It's also really freaking hot. At one point I turned around and saw only 20 dudes left. We started with twice that.

Anyhow, we make it to the last lap, and Mercy puts a couple dudes on the front to try and bring their up-a-lap man to the finish. It's Mercy, Mercy, Mercy, Me, Jeff, and everyone else. With 1/4 lap to go, I jump the Mercy train with Jeff in tow. Just enough room for Jeff in the gutter--the crosswind is strong. I drill it, take the corner hard, hear Jeff scream "Go outside" and as I'm packing up, Jeff flies around me with 150m to go for the Vee. Nice. I look back and the pack is splintered. I get back on the gas, and ended up in the top non-lapping spot in the field as well. A good start to the omnium.

TT:
A TT is usually just a TT. Go hard. Suffer. Feel ill. Hate life. The usual. This TT wasn't too different except for the ENORMOUS cross tailwind on the way out, and corresponding headwind on the way in. I spent some legit time in the 55 x 11, smashing it, just flying. Course was perfectly flat, smooth, awesome. Nice turnaround too. We had a cul-de-sac, not a knocked over cone.

I grabbed the vee there, and Jeff got 3rd. Good shape for the omnium. Oh, and I got $110 for winning the TT. That's probably the biggest pay-out for a Time Trial in the history of American bike racing.

Circuit Race:
Jeff once again proved that being able to read races is just as important as having the legs to win them. Jeff was in the hotseat, 1st in the omnium. I was in second. The plan was that I would not work any moves without Jeff. Each move I got in ended up dying--the unfortunate psychology of bike racing. It didn't matter though, Jeff bridged to two, I played shut 'er down, and he ended up with the vee, again. I got in a last lap move and took the "field sprint" for fourth. Not bad.

So, all said and done, ABD went 1-2 in the omnium, and won every event.

Sweet.

I'll be back next year.

Vernon Hills GP:
I also did a little race up in Chicago-land. It went something like this:

Follow a move, watch one committed fellow take a half decent pull. 2nd in line takes two pedal strokes, and then wildly flicks his elbow. Third in line, the same. Then everyone looks at the ABD rider (me, or my teammates) to drag the break around. To all the Chicagoans: We don't need to drag you around to get in moves. If you want to be in a break, don't expect a) someone else to do the work for you and b) it to not hurt. That�s how breakaways work: they hurt.

Anyhow, the plan for the day was for Ryan to win anyways, and since every time I so much as let out a toot, everyone wanted a whiff of it... Ryan ended up the road with Brian Dziewa. I followed the chase groups as they formed, but it seemed everyone expected me to chase down my own guy. Not going to happen.

After covering Scott Pearson's 3rd attack I decided that I wouldn't cover the next one. Ebert was on him like white on rice, and thus the remainder of the money spots were up the road.

Ryan smoked Dziewa and took the Vee. Ebert nabbed fourth, and I won the field sprint after watching some dudes get argy-bargy and try and kill Seth Meyer. Seth wisely took the straight line through the turn and watched Mr. argy-bargy eat shit. Seth has broken enough ribs this year, he need not break more.

Now off to Joe Martin. My fitness isn't where I'd like it to be, but that's OK. Joe Martin will serve as a springboard for the rest of the year: about to quit my job and play bike racer. One last hurrah before med school. I'm excited.

See y�all at dem bike races.

First person to...

First person to figure out and show me how to fix that

Well, that could have gone better.

Hillsboro Roubaix '09:

First two laps were uneventful with very few moments of real excitement. Closest thing to excitement was when a break of 7 or 8 was up the road, and Texas Roadhouse put 5-6 guys on the front to bring it back.

Beginning of lap 3, I decided to take off for a short lived move with Chad Hartley and Will Nowak. When it came back I flatted. I waited, and waited, and waited. About 4-5 minutes passed before I got my wheel change, and I said screw it. The pack was gone, way gone.

As it turns out, (right as I flatted) Puffer meandered away from the field, and several bridged to form the winning move. That was all she wrote. Jeff Schroetlin made the break and pulled out a 4th. Jensen won.

At one point I thought my epoxy-repaired wheel was on the verge of imploding, but I realized that was not the case--it was just the road making a somewhat rhythmic thump-thump-thump-thump. When I flatted though, I pretty much ended any life left in that fixed up rim. Oh well. The front is still going strong.

That about covers it. Don't think I'm going to race in Indy today. Radar looks like a shit storm will hit right at showtime. Looks like I should have stayed in St. Louis. Damnit.

Love it.

However, this advance in technology triggered a firestorm of controversy during the 1929 Tour after Zippicelli gained over one hour on his rivals during the 366km stage from Perpignan to Marseille. The final straw was Zippicelli's shattering of the hour record during the weeks following the Tour, where he used his super wheels to break the record in only 52 minutes, stopping along the way for a glass of wine.

Awesome. ;)

Hillsboro is near, and why I'm about to order Tufo tape.

Wow, the season really is about to start. Usually by this time of year I've done at least 6 races. This year Hillsboro will be race #1, numero uno. Should be interesting. My fitness is decent enough; we'll see how I fair in the snappy conditions of a typical bike race.

Speaking of Hillsboro, I just decided to race carbon wheels there. Brave. These wheels have been risen from the grave though:

I cracked both of these up last year riding circles around Wisconsin's capital building. A little epoxy though, and I think they are ready to roll. With a little (lot of) help from the lady-friend, I was able to get all the awful glue off too. Which brings me to my next point:

Tubular glue fucking sucks.

Messy, obnoxious, ugly waste of time. This is why I've finally decided to take the leap and order Tufo tape. Here's how I finally convinced myself:

Everyone talks about how you lose precious watts to hysteresis with tape. I agree, you probably do. Spongy tape probably sucks up a watt or two relative to a nice firm glue job.

However, every year I lose at least a watt or two inhaling nasty fumes in my living room dealing with tubular glue. Not healthy.

Further, it's damn near impossible to get a tubular mounted straight with glue. The tire messily gets on, and is instantly in love with wherever it sits. It doesn't want to be centered. It wants to sit crooked and lopsided. This means your tire isn't round nor straight. So every time your tire rotates, you have to power your entire bike vertical the 3mm that your tire is out of round. Multiply that by about a billion (the number of times your wheel revolves in a race) and you've practically added a whole additional hill to your race.

6 watts gained in hysteresis, a half dozen lost in out-of-roundness.

Tufo tape also holds darn near as well. At 125 PSI, the Conti Glue rolled on average at 66lbs of force. The Tufo tape rolled at 63lbs. Based on the ridiculous amount of effort it takes me to remove a tire with a traditional glue job, I'll "risk it" and give up the difference in bond strength.

Oh, and Tufo tape is easy. even retarded triathletes can use it.

Sold.

Quotables.

"Put pics of your bike on your blog when you get some free time, all the cool sponsored kids are doing it."

-Sir Cerbachalot

Ok, done deal:

Bike Racing is Awesome.

It's been a while. Between work, riding, and the shenanigans of life, I've been pretty busy.

BVDG was in town last weekend; that was pretty sweet. I can't get enough of face-smashing with a P-R-O. Bennett looks the part these days--something about him screams P-R-O. Maybe it's his spent-a-month-in-Arizona-tan in March. Maybe it's because he's so darn strong. Not sure. Either way, we rode hard for a few hours, and I was le tired. Bennett got the worst of it though, because he was le blind. The light from my blindingly pasty white legs burned right through his P-R-O shades. His retinas will never be the same.

In other news: daylight savings has brought newfound zest to my life--it signals the start of spring, warmth, and most importantly, Wednesday Night Worlds. I showed up for the admittedly chilly face-smashing kickoff this week and I remembered two of my favorite things about bike racing:

I love to attack, get a bit of a gap, and sit down. When I see someone attempting to get across to me, I stand up again and slam it for a bit, and then sit down again. Just as the person starts to get a whiff of my draft, I stand up and slam it again. If I do it right, they slowly float back to the pack with their tail between their legs. Domination is amusing.

Another thing I love is: Someone else attacks to bridge to a move. I hop on the gravy train as they pound the pedals. As they are gasping for breath, waving the elbow looking for the reprieve of my sweet 6'4" draft (expecting camaraderie and love all-around) I stand up and slam my way across to the break without them. Ah yes, the first time this was done to me, I learned a great lesson. Now I too can be a big-mean-bully-on-wheels.

Bike racing is SO awesome.

Other news: I owe several people emails. I'm lazy. So if I owe you an email, it's probably because I'm too darn sloth-like to type it out, but simultaneously too damn awkward to call you out of the blue. If you are one of those people, I apologize. Medical School interviews are going well. My new team bike is Rad. Working a real job sucks. That about covers it. Peace.

Harassed.

I'm only posting here because I get harassed if I don't.

Peer pressure sucks.

Anyways, thought I'd show you guys this:

Swankity. More here. A good idea, probably requires a bit more thought and engineering.

Go Mick!

Oh and...

My buddy Waylon started a little Chicago-Based Cycling forum for discussing "the scene".

Hop on over here if you are so inclined.

Top Ten Terms You Don't Expect To Hear During a Medical School Interview...

Top Ten Terms You Don't Expect To Hear During a Medical School Interview...

10. Robocop
9. Kankle
8. 1337
7. Dingleberry
6. BAMF
5. Bromance
4. Feminazi
3. Cunnilingus
2. Tramp Stamp
1. Bike Porn

Some of you know, some of you don't. I'm applying to medical school, and it's a lengthy process. Lot's of essays, interviews and... waiting, are involved. I recently went up to Rush University Medical College for an interview. They have a top 10 orthopedic surgery program, and it is generally a sweet-ass school.

So I'm interviewing with this doctor, and it seems like it's going well. Nothing too out of the ordinary. All of a sudden, he slips in "Saving weight on a bike for a 250 lb guy" and "I'd never heard of the term bike-porn before".

Holy shit. The guy read my blog.

I've never been so flabbergasted in my life. Of all the expected topics, I'd never thought about my weblog coming up in a medical school interview.

Long story short, the man had a good sense of humor, and didn't rag on me too much about this silly little page on the interweb.

Goes to show, watch what you put on the internet.

Save it.

I usually keep the irritable, cranky side of John Meyers off the internets. Today, I'm particularly cranky, and went to one of my favorite bike porn sites and found this. For those too lazy to click, I'll summarize.

"Hello, I'm a complete fatass. I ride a size 49 and weigh 250 lbs. I'm looking for ways to save several hundred grams from my $5000 bicycle. I'm too lazy to read or search the internet to find this information, and would rather have someone else tell me how to best waste my money on carbon fiber bicycle parts."

I'd suggest: A diet.

Ok, I'm done now. Thanks for reading.

An update:

It seems I owe y'all an update. Life is a bit different from when I last posted, and updating my cycling buddies on my activities has been pretty low on the priority list. However, if you are reading this it means you are a die-hard TSK fan--I lead the rest of the dogs off my scent-trail when I let johnmeyers.info die. Only the hardcore stalkers and roadie-whores remain at john-meyers.com.

Right.

Anyways, I've gotten a real job pretending to be an engineer for Cook Medical, a medical device company. I work weekdays, 40 hours a week--you know, like a real person. It's a pretty cool gig though, and I get to play with lots of fancy expensive tools all day long with an occasional foray into the innards of a cow or pig for the purpose of testing one of the prototypes I've (attempted to) make. It's a little odd being an engineer with a non-engineering degree but thus far it's working out OK.

So I'm a "real person" now. A contributor to society. Less of a living-out-of-a-car lowlife bike racer. It's a pity. The check in the bank is over-rated kids. Don't do it.

As far as my cycling goes: I made one attempt to start training about a month ago. I was riding everyday for about a week before I cracked. Cold weather, miserable conditions, and a distaste for my TT bike got me down. For some reason I refuse to strip down my TT bike and put road bars on it again--that being sort of against the principle of why I bought the TT bike in the first place. So, I pretty much double the suffering of winter training by having to do it bent over and with my elbows 1cm apart.

It's such a dire situation that I even did the unthinkable...and for those that know me, this truly is unthinkable: I bought a pair of running shoes. I'm hoping running will allow me to keep some semblance of fitness until it a) warms up a bit and b) Ebert gets me a road bike so that time spent on two wheels isn't so miserable.

I know every year I lament about how slow I am, but this year I really am. Hopefully once I have a legit road setup to use I'll be able to get to my old ways of axe-murdering and face smashing, but at any rate I won't be walking into the first few races with the confident swagger I used to.

Anyhow, I hope you all had a Merry Christmas. Props to Wayne Simon for his spread on CBR, what a legend. Props to R.K. Money on smoking some bitches at the Ohio 'cross scene. Props to all the guys I raced with who went Pro--a ton of you out there.

That's it for now.
TSK

Brilliant Engineering, Beer, and Bike Riding.

The self-centered cycling community of Bloomington describes the Hilly-One-Hundred as "like... the biggest social ride ever".

Shhh. Don't tell them about the MS150.

Anyhow, the ride itself was really fun. Tons of people, some phenomenal roads I hadn't even ridden myself, rest stops with fried chicken, cookies, apple juice and live bands with saxophones. Sweet.

No beer though. I had to fix that:

And all these Indiana kiddies talk trash about how Illinois doesn't know how to party. If that showed up at an Illinois group ride, it'd have been gone in 10 miles. I just drank the last flat, skunked beer last night. Nancies.

We smoked them at football this weekend too. Myself and Le Skeeter were the only ones in the bar yelling at the top of our lungs every time Illinois scored. Amusing. No fist fights occurred. Probably because of Skeeters menacing stature.

Oh yea, and that's a single speed: 48x17. Thank God Skeeter was there to pull me up the hills on his mountain bike.

Amusing things you can do with an iPhone:

Track ID#1P7C (Road Biking) | Nashville, IN 47448, USA

That's one-way of my little ride today.

So, if you take into account that it acts as a GPS, MP3 Player, satellite radio receiver (not actually, but works as such), crappy camera, internet/email device and a phone all-in-one, I think the iPhone is a good deal.

Hilly Hundred on 48x17

Hilly Hundred on 48x17.

Anyone willing to bet that I won't do it?

I'm pretty low on cash!

#1 reason to NOT be a triathlete:

Fear of looking like this guy:

What I've been working on...

What I've been working on...
http://wildcardcycling.org/

Recently doing a little webdesign on the side for a Champaign-Urbana club. Let me know if you a) have suggestions for the site b) see any issues with it.

If you like what you see and would be interested in having me do your site too; shoot me an email.

R.K. Money -- A Celebrity Sighting

Being the currently unemployed loser bike racer that I am, I have large quantities of time to do things such as: procrastinate, look for employment, procrastinate, look at bike-porn, delay response to important emails, and since it is nearly October: look at, but not ride my bike.

Anyhow, since it's something like 10AM this fine Thursday and I've fullfilled my duties of bedmaking, dishwashing, vacuuming, teeth-brushing, toe-nail clipping, and maybe showering... I figured I would keep to my rigorous schedule of bike-porn viewing and coffee drinking.

While viewing the contents of the deviously named folder, "Interbike 2008" I came upon what I believe to be, a true celebrity sighting.

This, my friends, is evidence that The R.K. Money is alive and kicking in Las Vegas.

Herein lies the evidence:

1. Note the faux-euro-mullet. Often imitated, rarely duplicated.
2. V.I.P. Pass. Only given to R.K. Money and Mario Cippolini.
3. Zipp Tee. Perhaps as seen here.
4. Clean shaven. Or waxed. Touchably smooth for the ladies.
5. New Balance? How could it be anyone other than The R.K. Money?

And it is official.

I need a job.

A Loss in productivity...

The experts say that the internet is a huge drain on the productivity of corporate America. Well, imagine if you replaced the cubicle computer monitor with a pair of these:

Click for increased size.

(Hand shown for size comparison.)

No one would get any work done!

Testing, 1,2,3...

GPS tracking powered by InstaMapper.com

Oh fabian....

Remember when...

...that one dude gave the whole world the shocker?

Remember when...

...Mike had those white gloves?

...Craig rode for BBC?

...Skeeter was Skeeter?

...there was a "tractor pull" at a bike race?

... I actually raced mountain bikes?!?

...Richard Cavendish lived in IL?

...Chip got pipped?

...Adam actually rode his bike?

...Robbie Ventura wasn't a triathlete?

...Tom Moloney drank vodka?

...Josh & Steve rode for Mesa?

...Josh rode for Subway?

...Jamie wore daisy dukes?

...we nerded out in the lab?

...Jeff was a "new kid"?

More photo's and the like.

Lesee here. I raced the IL state road race this weekend and despite some interweb hoo-ha about it being poorly run, I thought it was an excellent venue, and fun to boot. I guess they worked out the kinks in time for the P/1/2 boys, because I didn't have any problems with the race. It was run on SST (Superweek Standard Time) but other than that, I had no beef.

There was even a fancy yellow vehicle as our pace car:

In my race there was some breakaway-age and some prime-age. I took part in both. I'm not normally a prime hunter, but what the hell, I like to sell front d�railleurs on eBay just as much as the next guy. Turns out I won 7 of those suckers--primes, that is. Not just front d�railleurs, but coffee too. I'm a really nice guy and gave my teammate the coffee. I hope Steve Spencer likes coffee, because I really need a new cell phone, and I'm pretty sure that if I sell enough SRAM front d�railleurs and 170mm cranksets on eBay, I'll be able to afford one. That was kind of fun. Have you ever seen anyone so happy to win a bag of coffee? Further, have you ever seen anyone sprint so fast for a crankset 10mm too short?

One two, skip a few...

Then I cramped and semi-sprinted for the finish. I got beat by a Jelly Belly and a Boba-tea. For those not familiar with boba tea: it's delicious.

Oh, some old man was off the front too. Apparently he won. You can't tell from the picture though, he smoked us so good he didn't feel the need to raise his arms.

I got the pity-podium spot. It's ok, it's easier for the podium girls to give me kisses from that lower step.

That's all I have to say about that.

It's OK, my TT bike is cooler than yours.

Click for bigger picture.

Frustration, sadness, and bike racing.

Today was the National U23 Road Race. I was ready to go. Tanned, rested and ready. That's the phrase anyways.

Turns out I made it 15 miles into the road race before I flatted. Shimano gave me a timely wheel change, but it was just not fast enough. Despite being the 12th best TT'r in the field, I could not catch up. I just couldn't do it.

I rode for another 5 miles before quitting. No heroic 50 mile chases. I was totally, 100%, completely shattered. I've never cried after a bike race before, but I did today.

You can put so much energy into one day (or one week) of racing, and lose it all instantly. In a flash. Gone with the blink of an eye.

I've never been so frustrated on a bike. I wanted to get off my bike and chuck it across the road and I nearly did get off and chuck it; but then I'd only have to fetch it and ride an inevitably broken bike back to the car.

The weirdest thing about the whole thing is that I don't have a good outlet for my frustration. I am so angry and frustrated with my bike, but the only thing I can think of to make me feel better is...to go ride my bike.

Tomorrow my plane leaves for Indiana, and all I'll have to show for this stupid (and expensive) trip is a lame 12th place in the TT and a pair of DNF's. I should have ridden some mountain passes for fun, bombed some awesome downhills, and never, ever, bothered to race U23 Nationals.

What's the phrase again?

Oh yea.

"That's bike racing"

Day two...

Crit today.

Sketchy course with some sweeping turns and one sweeping 180.

Field attacked itself a good amount, and I was in several moves with one looking very good with Garmin, Fiordifrutta, Waste Management and Rock Racing represented. Field was splitting behind us, but eventually it all came back.

Bunch sprint ensued. I was sitting pretty about 15 wheels back, behind 5-6 Garmin guys leading it out. Took someone's skewer in my back wheel, and broke 5 spokes going into the final lap.

That's about it. More later when I'm less irritated.

Update: A couple of people have asked if I was ok from my "crash". I actually didn't go down--it was a simple and unfortunate case of someone getting their front skewer tangled up in my rear wheel. I coasted to a stop at the start/finish, hopped over the barriers and my only injury seemed to be from one of my broken spokes jumping out and scratching my calve. Could have been worse.

U23 Nationals, Day One.

Well,

Today was the first day of nationals. The TT. As a few of you may know, I've been targeting this event for some time--my goal event of the year. It's been a long time coming, and frankly it's been a bit of a roller coaster ride--mentally anyways--to get here. I finished SuperWeek a little fried, did a time trial and felt like poo, and then pre-rode the TT course and convinced myself I was going to be slower than molasses in January. Despite all that, I rolled up to the TT course in my clown suit today and gave it a go anyways.

In the back of my mind, I thought about the numerous people rooting for me. A dozen or more people told me how fast they thought I'd go, or lent me equipment, or told me to buck up when I was feeling slow. In no particular order, I'd like to thank as many of you as possible:

Andy Skeen
Mark Swartzendruber
Brett Stewart
Wayne Simon
Steve Spencer
Ryan Knapp
ABD/GearGrinder Team
Greg Christian
Mike Ebert
Lindsay Koren
Craig Erbach
Mom & Dad

I've probably forgotten a few of you, sorry about that. Thanks to all.

Anyways: the TT. I'm fairly certain 'druber is the only one that can make a recap about a TT interesting, so I'll keep it simple.

The course was an interesting one--lots of climbing. The first 1/3 of the race was uphill. We climbed and climbed, and on two occasions I even slipped into my little ring (a 55 x 21 isn't that low of a gear) It was an out and back course, but not in the traditional sense; the course did not return to the start. Rather, we rode ~13 miles to the turnaround, and another ~8 to the finish. That means that we ascended a whole lot more than we descended. A bit of a climbers course.

So I get lined up, qualify for my Tall Skinny Kid morphological exception (80cm extension length) and get on the line. I'm in my 55 x 21, a good gear to start in, or so I thought.

With 15s or so till my start, I back pedal to get my right foot at 3 o'clock. My chain falls off. Somehow I avoided expelling a single cuss word, had to dismount my bike, and get my chain back on.

Lesson learned: Cross Chaining + backpedaling = dropped chain.

So I started my TT with a ~10 second disadvantage.

Luckily, I went reasonably fast, and I placed reasonably high up there:

1 Peter Stetina (Garmin/Chipotle) 44.28
2 Bobby Sweeting (TOSHIBA-Santo) 1.26
3 Taylor Shelden (Team Rio Grande) 1.49
4 Caleb Fairly (Garmin/Chipotle) 2.15
5 Travis Burandt (CRCA/Sakonnet) 2.18
6 Tyler Dibble (California Giant Berry Farms) 2.41
7 Nick Frey (TIME Pro Cycling) 2.44
8 Benjamin King (Kelly Benefit Strategies) 2.46
9 Chris Butler (Hincapie-Barkley Devo) 2.48
10 Kirk Carlsen (VMG/FELT) 2.58
11 Daniel Summerhill (VMG/FELT) 3.06
12 John Meyers (ABD/GearGrinder) 3.07
13 Phillip Gaimon (Fiordifrutta) 3.28
14 Andrew Talansky (TOSHIBA-Santo)
15 Tom Peterson (Garmin-Chipotle) 3.44

Looks to me like a top 10 would have been do-able if I had a touch more luck.

That's all for me right now; a crit is on the plate for tomorrow. I can't wait, I never get to race crits! ;)

Superweek, The World's Fastest 19 Year Old, Tour of Elk Grove, Happy Birthday Jamie Kimberley, and Alex Voitik is my Hero.

Well, Superweek is over and the best result I was able to snag was a 5th place. The goal was to podium. Dangit. In general, I feel like I've been racing a lot less aggressively than in the past--the urgency and spark hasn't really been there. It's really easy to get down on yourself after 5 straight days of racing without many results to show for it--especially when the goals are set at podium or better. It is what it is though, and I feel I've learned a lot about racing crits in recent days. It's so much more about rider to rider hip-to-bar proximity and positioning than I thought it was in the past. At the very least, some good learning and training.

Most of the races went something like this: Race hard for a while, then miss the move. Sometimes I'd have a teammate in the move. Sometimes not. Sometimes I'd try to bridge and get within 5 seconds of the break only to blow sky high (Bensenville). Other times I'd blast myself doing nearly lap-long leadouts for teammates sprinting for points (Blue Island). Other times I'd cramp and generally suck (Shorewood). Other times I'd smoke myself in good-looking breaks that didn't stick in the end (Tour of Holy Hill). Other times I'd get lucky and win a <$50 uncontested prime (Cedarburg).

Sometimes I'd even get to race with The World's Fastest 19 Year Old. What an honor. It's like racing next to Eddy Merckx himself. I hear they call Eddy Merckx the Cannibal. I'm not sure if The World's Fastest 19 Year Old practices cannibalism, but he sure must eat a whole lot. I can only imagine how fast he'll be when he loses all that baby fat!

The best part about The Worlds Fastest 19 Year Old is his modesty. He is always happy to share his wealth of cycling knowledge--he's quick to give pointers on how to ride in the pack, how to ride in the breakaways, how to corner. Heck, he even gave me a little hands-on lesson at Cedarburg. There I was, riding my bike like a "retarde" (I'm not sure what this means, but The Worlds Fastest 19 Year Old yelled this word at me, and seeing how he got something like 9th in some race in Belgium, I'm guessing it's Flemish) when He Himself decided to give a little hands-on, or perhaps more accurately, elbows-on lesson to the "retarde". Being the inept bike-rider that I am, I damn nearly crashed from the might of his elbows-on lesson. Throwing elbows at someone who doesn't know how to ride a bike is probably not the smartest thing in the world, but The Worlds Fastest 19 Year Old was willing to take the risk to share his unanimously praised knowledge of all things bike racing. The Worlds Fastest 19 Year Old must not have the best of vision though, the next day he walked past me a dozen or so times, but had no interest in continuing his lesson. He must not have seen me--someone so humble, modest, and knowledgeable surely would have liked to follow up his lesson with a few final pointers.

It's really a pity though, I've been reading in the cycling tabloids that the The Worlds Fastest 19 Year Old has had some really bad luck. It seems that he got in a winning break at SuperWeek, lapped the field, and being the only sprinter in the break could have cinched up the big vee--alas, I read that he fell down and broke his bicycle. Tis a pity.

I also read that he fell down two more times and broke two more bicycles. Even a pretty Orbea. The Worlds Fastest 19 Year Old is really having some bad luck--after all, he Knows Everything that is bike racing, and couldn't possibly crash on his own. Some idiot probably crashed him out. The bad luck doesn't end there, tabloid gossip proclaims his team dumped him for being too modest. I think the tabloid's have it all wrong--they couldn't afford a rider of his stature on the team.

...

Anyways. A few shout outs:

--Jeff Schroetlin won today's stage of Tour of Elk Grove. He's really fast. We're going to try and set him up for the overall vee tomorrow.

--Jamie Kimberley turned 31 and I missed it. Dangit. Happy Belated Birthday Jamie.

--Alex Voitik is a freaking machine. He snagged the Cat 3 Omnium at SuperWeek after being taken out early on the very last day of racing. He successfully defended his top spot on the podium while bleeding profusely, and then left for the hospital. He needed 60 stitches to close the hole. That's a big hole to finish a race with. What an Animal.

5 Days Of SuperWeek Down...

Ok, I actually lied when I said I was closing down this here blog. I have a few things I have learned over the recent days to share:

--Superweek races are way better than 9 out of 10 regional races. Fast people show up. The races are hard, and hard men do well.

--Chad Hartley from Jittery Joes is a damn good bike racer, and unlike some of the other pro's who have showed up, he doesn't treat us "lowly" amateurs as if he were the-holy-god-of-bike-racing. Johnny Sundt of Kelly Benefits should take note of this and perhaps flip off a few less spectators at the races he attends. Then again, maybe there is a reason someone once tried to smash his face in with a 2 x 4.

--5th place is not good enough.

--Cadel Evans looks like someone who has acromegaly or some sort of adult onset pituitary adenoma:

Notable similarities: "Pronounced brow protrusion. Pronounced lower jaw protrusion."

Notable dissimilarities: "Thick, deep voice and slowing of speech."

--Either way, the guy is fscking weird. He clutches that lion like a 4 year clutches his security blanket.

--If I could be a single man on the planet, it'd probably be Chris Horner.

Quitting.

I'm quitting this whole blog thing. My blog has deteriorated into lameness. Plus, I can't possibly compete with Jeff Schroetlin.

The two-fer and feeling the pinch.

Due to the recent lack-of-posting, I'm going to attempt a two-fer. Yes, two posts in one day.

So I'm doing Tour of Ohio, and so far the courses have been absolutely awesome. Day one "prologue" crit course was hard, technical and excellent. The Queen stage road race was amazing. Our out and back road race yesterday was also super cool. Each day I finish and say to myself: "that was really fun". This is something that has been lacking in racing recently, and I'm really enjoying myself.

Anywho, since a man in blue boxers really wants to go for a recovery ride right meow, I'll bullet out a quick recap:

"Prologue" Crit: The race was hard from the gun, and I had a good start spot. I attacked lots, snagged some sprint points, and finished up in 8th; 3rd in a sprint behind a break of 5. It's a little frustrating, as I was off the front in moves most of the race, but missed the winning one. The Knappster came in right behind me, and Mr. Big Watts was one ahead--thus getting him the Red Collegiate Jersey. I was close to nabbing the sprint jersey, but got worked over pretty good by Hayden Godfrey with two turns to go on the final point sprint.

Stage 2: Hocking Hills Road Race, the Queen stage of Tour of Ohio. This was a phenomenally awesome course--I had a ton of fun just racing on it. Once again, I was super active all day, but missed the move. Damnit. I feel strong; and am able to "smash faces" (or so is the phrase of the week), but I just keep missing the important moment. Not sure what my deal is. With about 4-5 miles to go I started to feel the cramps. Then they hit really hard. I guess that is the result of a 70 mile road race with no feeds. I rolled in with the front group, almost completely locked up.

Stage 3: Gambier-Coshocton-Gambier Road Race. Wow, crazy. Started hard and fast, break went, and I was attacking to bridge when my chain got wrapped the wrong way around my derraileur, and nearly sent me flying off my bike. Unable to get things back in place, I had to stop and get help from neutral. Once all fixed, I was dragged back up to the field. Ouch. Chilled out in the field a bit, and watched the break with Isaac Neff come back to the field on the 1st KOM. Shortly thereafter, I fired off an attack and got in a move of ~8 guys. We did not work too well together, but still were out there for a long long time. I took the mid race sprint point and cash, which was pretty cool, and that put me into the green jersey. Sweet. A huge crash just before the minute long climb to the finish nearly killed me, but despite riding a nose wheelie for 15 feet, I was able to ride through blown riders for twenty-something place--I was just trying to avoid losing time on GC. The Knappster avoided the crash and killed it for 2nd. That stud.

The most hilarious and ridiculous thing to happen all week was while fighting for a spot on the back of a leadout train yesterday. Some TargetTraining rider felt that the best way to defend his spot was to pinch and claw at those taking his wheel. He literally grabbed my bicep with his finger nails and dug in. What the hell? Words were exchanged, and being the manly man that he was he said he would "Fucking dig his nails in harder next time". If I see him today, I'll let him know that if he touches me ever again, I'll knock him off his bike. I should take pictures of the cat scratch I got on my arm. It's hilarious. Never seen anything quite like that before in a race.

Ok, that's enough for now. Off to (sic) defend a green jersey. Don't think I ever thought I'd say that.

And...I'm back.

Well, it's been a while--mostly because I'm lazy, but also because I don't really have a whole lot of cool news to speak of. The last month in bullets:

-I have sweet friends/family. New car (Thanks Dad!), iPod Shuffle (Thanks Craig!), Sweet-ass-big-mans-gear 55T Chainring (Thanks 'Druber!), an awesome set of Race X Lite Tubulars (Thanks Ebert!), and last but not least, I got to return from Collegiate Nats with 40 oz. of Olde English waiting (Thanks Dr. Kimberley!)

-I raced my bike once or twice. Been feeling mega strong, but can't seem to get in the move that I want be in each race. I did enjoy being able to be a team player at Tour of Winghaven where I gave a wheel to a teammate in contention for the vee. That's about all I have as far as bike racing. Lot's of so-so results.

-I've been slowly moving out of Champaign. Soon I will be in Bloomington IN, the apparent center of the cycling universe.

Ok, that's enough for this post.

Sometimes it takes more pride to sit on...

There is a decent amount of pride taken in driving a break to its eventual victorious finish in front of a pack. I've been there, I've driven it. I've also been the wheelsucking ill-respected deebag sitting at the back of the break. Generally speaking though, I take pride in being the hard-man, the headbanger, the nutcase-off-the-front.

But sometimes, there are situations where driving a break is just stupid. Let's look at two incidences from this weekend, at Wheels on Willy:

Early in the race, I'm alone in a large group of 8 or so guys. Three of which are Bianchi GP. No matter how much a certain brash 19 year old cusses at me and flips the bird, I'm not going to drive the break. Sorry; I�m not feeling the 3 on 1 love.

Similarly, in a break of 5 independents (including Mr. Big Watts National Kilo Champ, and Mr. Jittery-Joe's-win-field-sprints-at-SuperWeek) with two of the largest teams at the race (Bianchi GP and ISCorp) not in the break, you won�t be seeing Le TSK head-banging it along�it�s just not smart.

I'll admit, I've never been so embarrassed finishing a race. I knew I'd feel that way at the end too. There�s shame in sitting on a break. It's not like I couldn't have pulled; Mr. Big Watts said it himself "John you were probably the strongest guy in the break, and you were sitting on." When you have a team that you take pride in, and teammates that you don't want to let down you race to win. Period. Sometimes it takes more pride to sit on. I sucked it up and sat on because it was the smart thing to do.

Have faith, if you ever see me sitting on a break, it's probably because it's not a real brilliant tactical move to be driving it.

Alternatively, if you see me head-banging off the front, I'd appreciate a cheer: It's hard work out there.

Monsters of the Midway:

I had a painful race at Monsters of the Midway this weekend. I didn't feel very good on the line, so I figured I'd give it some gas from the gun to blow out the cobwebs a bit.

I ended up out there solo for a couple laps, and shortly thereafter, a group meandered up to me with two of my teammates. Not bad.

That move wasn't going fast enough, so I attacked that group too. Little did I know, I was in for another 30 minutes of solo misery:

I thought for sure someone would eventually come and join me, but no such luck. It ended up OK though:

Youch, that hurt. It was interesting listening to the crowd as the race went on. The break started with somber stares. People are thinking "Who's this wanker attacking from the gun?" Then as I was out there for a while, I converted one or two into believers: "Don't give up!!!" ... Then I was out there for a long while, and I hear the most glorious cheer: "38 seconds and rising" ... Soon enough, every 50 yards someone was screaming my name. Cool!

I gotta say though, there are less painful ways to win races!

Collegiate Cycling: I bid you adieu.

It is with great sadness that I must bid the collegiate racing scene adieu. Lots of friendships and fond memories were formed, and I will dearly miss the tight knit, laid back atmosphere. I really believe that there is no better way to get into racing--the collegiate scene is a phenomenally welcoming place for those new to the sport and the collegiate racers are the coolest bunch racing bikes. Fortunately, I still get to race against a good number of them on a regular basis.

Before I get on to the Nats recap, I'd like to make my collegiate "Top Picks" for the next year(s). Every year the conference has a few surprises as new talents come to the fold and really kick some tail. Well, I'm going to take away the surprise. Of a huge wealth of talent in the conference, I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Sophomore Will Nowak and Freshman Ren-Jay Shei are two boys to watch. They will win some races, and one of them will probably win the conference overall. You watch.

Ok, Nationals. Myself and Brett Stewart had the luxury of showing up to Fort Collins a full week ahead of nationals. An ex-local of the U of I campus, Richard Cavendish (no relation to Marky Mark) happened to live within a couple miles of our hotel--nice! Richard did an amazing job of making me feel like a local. I knew every turn and every climb of the road course by Saturday, and it was entirely due to Richard. He even whipped up a tasty meal for Brett and me. If only bike racing in foreign land was always this comfortable! Richard also showed us some of the local routes, and I got to haul my fat-ass up to about 8000 feet of elevation. That's right; flatlander TSK got to climb a real 30+ minute climb. It was very fun, and the 50+MPH descent wasn't too shabby either.

The road race itself was an interesting one. It was held on a BEAUTIFUL course with some tough climbs at the beginning and again at the end. I watched Devon Haskell destroy the competition in her D2 race, and sipped on a Red Bull as I shivered, hiding from the wind in the back of an IU van. Temps were dropping, the wind was howling, and the course had been shortened due to the threat of snow... wow, this could be miserable.

Luckily, it wasn't. It was probably 70 degrees for the last 2/3 of the race, and sunny to boot. Too bad I carried that rain jacket the whole time--made me look like such a dweeb in all of the pictures.

So the race started pretty furiously, and within 5 minutes we were already climbing. Not just rollers either; we're talking about 5-6 minutes of 39-23, 7-8MPH, 450+ watt misery. By the time 10 minutes were up, the field had been whittled down to 40 riders. Youch; that hurt. Myself, Steve Scholzen, Chris Uberti, and Derek Laan were among the few Midwest guys who got over the top with the lead group. We got over the top, and Steve Scholzen looked over and said "Wow, that hurt". Yes Steve. It did.

Attacks were fired, but no one got away on the following climbs. It was not until the flat loop section that the winning move sneaked away. It was a strange moment in the race--the break had been brought back to 50m. The field slowed down. The break slowed down. The two entities crawled along into the headwind for a minute or two, both thinking the catch was made. It wasn't. Slowly, the gap went back up, and soon the break was out of sight. The race was up the road. Apparently I can only read races when they are written in bold print.

The sprint came, and I screwed it up badly enough to get 24th. Such is life.

The crit was a simple matter of positioning. I got in a couple decent moves that went nowhere--not a surprise considering the wide turns. In the end I went around the last turn in tenth, and that�s where I finished. My boy Will Nowak fell pretty hard during the race, and had to be sent out on a stretcher. Word is that he is doing fine with nothing broken�always good. Other than his crash, and the resulting neutral lap (SCARY) it was a pretty uneventful crit.

So that is the last collegiate recap ever. Kind of sad. The last time I ever raced in an Illinois kit:

"That's bike racing"

"That's bike racing"

It's pretty astounding to me how often this phrase is used--it is the eternal shoulder-shrug of defeat, the "shit happens" of bike racing. Sometimes it's used by those who are too proud to come up with a lame excuse. Other times, it is used because an excuse just can't be found. I first heard the phrase from the infamous and thoroughly good looking Dr. Jamie Kimberley (still single, ladies), and I was convinced that he had coined the phrase. This was when I was a Fredly Category 4. I had much to learn.

Unfortunately, it seems I did not quite learn enough from the wise, good looking Dr. Kimberley. About a week ago this time, I was in Madison racing my bike in a Fred-like manner. The reflectors were gone, my number was pinned right-side-up, and heck, I hardly had any razor burn; but alas, it made no difference. An eighty-something mile road race with a few rollers was about to start, and somewhere between the parking lot and the start line of the race, I must have lost a few years of racing experience and a Category 1 racing license.

The race started out with the usual shenanigans: Pack chatter, wise-ass remarks, etc. Everyone was joking about how I would attack from the gun. So I obliged, except as a joke. Eventually some real racing started, and leading the conference in points, I knew who to watch. It was a short list of people really, and frankly, I was pretty confident that I could handle covering the moves of a few guys all day long.

Eventually, I see this great group form up ahead. Four guys, and the big teams represented. This will stick, or at the very least, stay away for a long time. I'm OK with this, (normally I don't race for anything but first, but this is a rant waiting to be written) and have no real interest in bridging--those guys will suck up the points, and I'll have to worry less about losing my conference title, call-up at nationals, eventual fame, glory, and riches.

I started to look around to see where my two closest competitors were. Super Scholzen was around; he had a boy in the break. D-Rock Laan was in the field. Where was Bennet? Hm... I look up to the break, now getting quite far away, and realize that #2 in the conference, the sprinter himself, was sticking his nose into the wind 5 miles into an 80 mile road race. Had he not been wearing bright red shoes, I probably wouldn't have known for another 15 minutes. Needless to say, I was a little surprised.

You can ask anyone in the field what I said. They will tell you my exact words were: "Goly Gee, that's Bennet. That's going to stick. Gosh, I best get pulling."

So I did. I rallied up as many "troops" (randoms who had an interest in winning, and a not-very-organized Michigan team) as I could (not enough) and tried to pull the break back. With IU, Madison, and Marian up the road, 75% of the firepower of the field was gone. Us poor solo saps (shout out to Kyle Jacobsen, thanks for the water, by the way) got them close, but not close enough. I knew Super Scholzen was chomping at the bit to counter attack #1--me, who had been pulling and #2--Bennet, who had been in the break. Things started to get desperate, and I started to get a bit irritated. I yelled lots, and wasn�t real interested in watching the Marian boys come and attempt to eff up our paceline; so at one point I hip slung one out of the way. He didn�t return. Apparently the field got a kick out of that. Anyways, with my "troops" withering, I realized I couldn't pull it back alone. I pulled the ripcord and left it up to fate. Even a Fred knows when he is tired.

Fate was not on my side. Bennett won. I got 4th in the field sprint and that was good enough for 8th. Bennet was now 25 points behind me going into a crit that had his name all over it. Shit.

Well, some called it an �epic battle� on Sunday, but I think they are being a little nice. The fact of the matter is: Bennet is a better crit rider than me. He�s an excellent sprinter. I am not. The course was hard and fast, but nothing was going to get away. A sprinters dream. If the race was 100 miles long and had a 20 minute climb, it might have been different. If the race was a 40K time trial, it might have been different. It wasn�t though, and that�s how it goes.

I did my best. I snagged one 10 point prime, and was fairly happy with that. I was in the running for another a bit off the front when I flatted and trashed a carbon wheel. Then I flatted again. Then I flatted again (again). The course was littered with craters. Craters so deep you could lose a small child in them. Lots of people pinch flatted. I flatted a total of 3 times. Thank god for Jess, who learned she could change a flat in the amount of time it took me to do one lap.

Anyways, going into the final sprint, I probably had about 20 points on Bennet. I hesitated in the last turn and paid for it. Never again will I try and watch what someone else does in a sprint. I ended up losing the title by the end of that 100 meter stretch. Damn.

I�d love to say that it�s no big deal, that I don�t care, and that no one really gets anything for having that danged collegiate conference overall title. Unfortunately, I do care, and I was really gunning for that call-up at nationals. It�s not easy getting recognized in this sport, and each year my parents come out to nationals and I�m just another name in the crowd. This year, I�m a senior, and I�m skipping graduation ceremonies to race my bike. Instead of someone calling my name and handing me an empty leather portfolio with an IOU for a diploma, I was hoping to have someone call my name as I roll up to the start line. That won�t happen, and I�m disappointed, as much for myself, as for my parents.

In that sense, I guess the phrase is: �That�s life�

In the end though, I realize: who am I to complain? I�m graduating from college with a strong degree and some great experiences. I�m soon to be spending some time in the wonderful cycling mecca that is Bloomington Indiana with a gorgeous lady friend, and to top it off, I�m going to Colorado for a whole week with nothing to do but ride my bike.

Life is only worth complaining about if you have it rough, and I certainly don�t.

I'm off to take some finals, ride my bike, and smile.

Proper Heavy Crosswind Victory Salute Demonstration.

If you recall, I recently wrote a tutorial on how to victory salute on an uphill finish after a long road race. For a refresher, go here. Note the importance placed on not falling down.

Below is an exemplary heavy-crosswind victory salute. Note the rider's strong desire to not fall down:

This has nothing to do with Benett's recent oopsies. One man's pain shouldn't be another's pleasure.

This weekend:
Bike racing is an odd sport. Sometimes you can be in the best shape in the world and lose. Other times, the stars align, and a well timed attack (with the legs to back it up) will net you the Vee.

Other times, no one shows up to race.

This was the case this weekend. Not many people showed up, and thus I was able to capitalize. I attacked on lap one of the crit, snagged all the primes, and never looked back. Felt like crap in the road race, but was in the break of 3. Lost the sprint, but due to a yellow line violation, was bumped up to 2nd. Crappy weather + last-minute-addition-to-the-schedule-race = poor turnout. It's OK, a vee is still a vee.

Don't have much time...

Don't have enough time to write a big 'ol race report from this weekend. But, some people deserve some thanks.

Big thanks to:

Bennet van der Genuten for letting me borrow his rig.
Jess Cole for being all around fantastic.
Tony Vo for taking the reins when I was busy fixing my car.
Brett Stewart for going out of his way to get me my "spare" bike.
And last but not least, the lovely lady friend Lindsay, for sparing me from having to deal with the most miserable set of circumstances ever.

Mega quick recap: I fell down in the crit. Broke my bike. My car broke down, got it fixed. Raced like crap on Sunday, cramped hard for no reason at all, got 6th. Managed to get everyone on the team home on time, and managed to snag my TT rig so I have something to ride. Could have been worse.

Stolen Hilarities.

Classic.

Best of luck to those racing at Redlands. Do 'em right.

Yarr.

Yarr matey, I'm a pirate.

Hillsboro Recap:

Ah yes, Hillsboro�the first �real� race of the year. This race is what motivates us in January and is one of the classic races of the Midwest. Epic roads, a smattering of cobbles, a couple of short climbs, and (hopefully) a little wind to boot all make for a great race.

Before I go on, I�d like to mention the fact that the lady friend got 2nd in her race. A late hillclimb attack netted her a big gap, and her compatriot just barely came around her at the end. I have the feeling she�ll be winning some races soon.

Anyways, us ABD/Gear Grinder boys met up in St. Louis region for a few days of training camp prior to the race; we did some motorpacing, poked fun at each other, and generally had a good time.

We showed up for Hillsboro ready to rock. The plan A for the race was to hope for wind, and do some damage as a team early. Unfortunately, the wind wasn�t quite as brisk as we had hoped/expected. Plan B? Race hard and smart. Be present in the inevitable early break, and be a force in the later breaks. Keep the numbers in our favor.

The race rolled out fairly lacsidasical, and it took a couple miles before attacks came. There was a brief fury of moves, and when they all came back, Jordan Roessingh of ISCorp fired off an attack that no one wanted to chase. Soon, Bill Stolte of Trek/VW took chase with our very own Ryan White. This was to be the three man break of the day. The three of them had an 80 mile time trial ahead of them. Youch. Sounds like something I would do.

That left us ABD/Gear Grinder boys in the position of playing defense. We sat on everything, conserved energy, and waited. Many times things would start to heat up in the field, but never was there quite enough impetus to blow things apart�likely due to the fact that any time someone attacked, we were right on the tail end enjoying the free ride.

Anyways, little of notice occurred in the first 2/3 of the race as the gap to Ryan�s group got as big as 6 minutes. I covered lots and lots of moves, watched Steve Tilford remove half of his clothing in the middle of the pack, and also saw the biggest horse I�ve probably ever seen in my entire life. Unfortunately, we lost Jeff Shroetlin, a valuable teammate, to a crash and a slow wheel change. He did a 40 mile time trial and still rode through blown riders to grab 28th.

The last 30 or so miles saw the pace start to ramp up. Solo flyer Mr. Druber put his nose to the wind and dragged the race out in the gutter at the end of the third lap, and coming into town the pace got a bit hotter. ABD/Gear Grinder was at the front the whole time. At the start of the final lap, a group of 7-8 riders finally broke the elastic. Josh was in it alone. Not good. I bridged up with another rider. Better. We now had 3 riders in the top 11-12 spots with Ryan still further off the front.

This larger break started to bust at the seams due to attacks from the likes of Brian Jenson (Successful Living) and the Trek VW guys (Tilford, Mills). At one point I looked back and saw the field no more than 20 seconds back, and decided I�d do my best to push the pace, keep the break together in front of the pack, and hope that my teammate Josh Carter could outkick the guys who were left in the break. Bad call. I took a pull, flicked off, and got slammed with an attack near the bottom of the hill. There was no getting on the train at that point.

I went into TT mode, and slowly caught dropped riders from the break. We duked it out, and I got 2nd of our shattered group of four riders for 9th. Josh�s group had caught the early breakaway of Jordan, Bill and Ryan in the closing miles, but was tag teamed by the three Trek VW riders to finish 5th. Ryan White held on for 7th after 80 miles in the break. Rob White got away from the bunch at the very end for 11th.

While we were definitely looking for the win, 5th, 7th, 9th, and 11th isn�t too bad. Overall, a solid race. Had I played my cards a bit smarter, ABD/GG would have perhaps had a stronger position going into the finale. Lesson learned. Overall though, I think we showed we are a force to be reckoned with, and the cards should be falling in our favor soon. Only more top results to come!

Back to collegiate racing for me next weekend. I love the Marian crit course so much that I might even race it twice on Saturday!

'nuff said

Baumann is wicked fast. Congrats my man.

Metric-Shit-Tonnes of Rain.

So, I spoke a little too soon about this Bloomington place: It rains too much here. I would guesstimate that there have been multiple metric-shit-tonnes of water dumped on this poor town in recent days. It was raining for the past 48 hours nonstop. Literally.

Since everyone and their mother is on a "Rest Week" (What the hell is that? Do you all menstruate at the same time too?), it seems that people are not so interested in doing so called "Axe murderer" training rides. Thus, despite a preponderance of Cat 2 or better riders in the area, I'm left alone to ride in foreign lands.

To recap: Monday was easy. Tuesday was 5 min. repeats up a local hill climb in the rain. Yesterday was getting lost in Bloomington, getting sleeted on in 35 degree weather, getting misdirected by a nameless teammate, and then discovering my PowerTap was temporarily non-functional.

Today is looking better: sunny, warm, pleasant. A solo hammerfest might ensue.

Someone Pinch Me.

Bloomington Indiana. What a place. The riding here is so incredibly awesome. I did 3.5 hours yesterday, 5 hours today, and I seriously couldn't have had more fun on a bicycle. I was literally grinning during my ride, I was having so much fun. Both rides were more or less solo. I pretty much just randonneured my way around, and couldn't even find a bad road (not that I tried that hard).

The roads here have names. Not numbers. Bolting house, Bean Blossom, Paragon. They have turns. They don't go in a straight line for more than a mile. They aren't flat. It's incredible.

I found this one gravel road that wasn't more than 20 feet wide with a crazy descent and a hell of a climb. Most people would say, "Gravel? 12% grade? Screw that!" No way. I loved it. Awesome. I felt like I was tearing around narrow one-lane roads in Europe. All I needed was a fauxhawk and an accent.

The crazy thing is that people bother to leave this place for spring break. What the hell? Granted, I wasn't wearing shorts, but there is plenty of time for tan lines and carcinoma in August.

Even better? Recovery drink pre-mixed when I'm done. Pasta in the pot. Hot shower, and a nap.

Someone pinch me.

A Proper Dee Brown Victory Salute:

I learned this one from the Venerable Dr. K:

Step 1: Win Race

Step 2: Get 'em rising.

Step 3: Pop that jersey good.

Step 4: Raise 'em.

Step 5: Try not to fall down.

If you throw enough turds against a wall...

...eventually one will stick:

The Recap:
Saturday's Mizzou Road Race was chilly. To get warm, I decided I'd start throwing down early. After a couple unsuccessful attempts, a good group formed: Myself, IU, Marian, UW-Milwaukee, and UW-Madison. Enough teams were present for it to roll, and so it did. We dropped the Marian guy in short order, and then the four of us hammered away for some time. With about 1.5 laps (each lap being ~11 miles) to go, I applied some pressure on a hill. IU and Milwaukee went out the back end.

That left two of us: UW-Madison and myself. It's Hammer Time. I was happy with this scenario--if a chase group caught the two dropped guys and had no idea how far up the road we were, they might get discouraged and give up.

Anyways, with about 2 miles to go, we're climbing a long grinder: my compatriot flicks an elbow. I don't come around. He flicks again 30s later. I don't come around. He starts to slow down. As he loses momentum, I attack. Hard. I got 200m almost instantly. Go. Go. Go.

Got to the line with plenty of time to savor the moment. Good times. 50 miles in the break. 15 miles just the two of us. 2 miles alone. Best way to win, in my opinion.

Sunday:
Sunday's course was a 1 mile crit with a good sized climb, a scary last bend, and about 50 other turns. Fast, hard, the whole way. The field rapidly thinned out. About 11 guys were in the lead group by the end.

I'll tell you, Kyle Jacobsen of Milwaukee sure knows how to put moves in at the perfect times. Right when the field finally had enough of the attacking and started to slow down, Kyle explodes up the hill. He held it out there for something like 8-10 laps. Try as I might, I couldn't get up to him. My one attempt I got a big gap, and got within 10 seconds of him, but then looked back and saw I was only 5 seconds in front of the field. Hm, they like to chase me nowadays. Damn. I sat up. Perhaps a bad call, but it certainly didn't do me any good to drag Kyle back.

Coming into the sprint finish for 2nd, Derek Laan of Purdue did a good job of not kamikaze-ing the scary-fast downhill last turn. I was second wheel, came around Derek, and thought I had the bunch sprint won. Unfortunately, Mr. Big Watts came around and snagged 2nd. I got 3rd. Good times.

Spring break is near, and I plan to spend more than 4 hours a week on my bike. Imagine that.

OH! By the way: My two teammates for ABD/Gear Grinder went 1-2 on Sunday. First USCF Vee for the team, as far as I know. Good work Mr. White and Mr. White.

This is where they caught me:

This image sums up my disappointment for the weekend nicely.

IU: Why can't you guys ride like the old days, and not put 9 dudes on the front chasing me down? ;)

Those were the good old days.

Bliss, blunders, blowouts... and bike racing.

This race recap will likely be a long one. I�d suggest grabbing a snack.

Bliss:
Saturday marked the return of the annual (for as long as I can remember) Depauw race weekend. I was excited. The road race has been a blast in the past, and this weekend was looking to be no different. Our official of the day made note of the fact that the previous race had been boring, and he had nearly fallen asleep in the chase vehicle. He said that since he had shortened the race for us, we should ride extra fast, and that our race should be more �interesting�. The field must have felt that to let him down would be wrong so we started fast and more or less kept it that way. Attacks were made in the first lap, but none stuck. Midway through the second lap, a big group formed, and the field was nearly at its breaking point. Of the group, three rolled away: Erik Bean, Erik Loberg, and Myself. We hammered and hammered. Loberg forgot to eat, and suffered at the doorstep of Mr. and Mrs. Bonk. Bean and I trudged on. As we got to the final lap, I came under the impression that we had something like a minute plus on the field. This was wrong. All of a sudden, Bean says �We have about 30 seconds on them I think�. GO GO GO GO GO. Bean and I put it into overdrive. With about 1 mile to go, I have no choice but to go at it alone. With the field hot on my tail, I punch it as hard as I could. Leg cramp be damned. I�m going to win this race with only one functioning leg if I have to.

A moment of bliss comes. I think I�m going to make it! I was wrong. Cross eyed, I see a blurred double image of Derek Laan screaming past me 10 feet in front of the line and raise his arms in victory. Piss. Another podium. Never the top step.

As I later heard it, some people in the field went over the yellow line. Some of them fell down. I heard some people got disqualified, some got relegated. Then I heard the whole field got disqualified. I thought to myself: �This must be wrong.�

The Blunder:
In general, race officials get an undeserving bad rap. They have to make the difficult calls that no one else wants to make, and then they have to stand behind them when there is considerable grey area therein. I understand and respect that. Other times, they are just wrong.

Our particular official initially decided that the entire field be disqualified�no points awarded to anyone due to blatant yellow line violations. Wow. I personally spent 2/3 of the race killing myself for that 2nd place, and because of the field�s behavior behind me I get disqualified, and get no points toward either collegiate nationals, or the MWCCC individual overall title. In and of itself, that�s a tough call to make. Playing hardball. I get it. I don�t like it, but I get it.

The Blowout:
The next day I decide to have a friendly chat with our official. He alerts me to the fact that I was wrong. Everyone was not disqualified. Instead, any and all collegiate points were thrown out, but USCF upgrade points counted.

This is wrong. I reluctantly accept the fact that perhaps there were so many people violating the yellow line rule that our particular official could not scribble numbers down fast enough. Despite the fact that he had the teams of the specific riders that did cross the yellow line, perhaps enough followed suit that the whole field really deserved the disqualifying. It pisses me off that my effort was for naught, but as our particular official would say: �c'est la vie.�

What I don�t understand is: how the hell does it possibly make sense that people who can�t follow the yellow line rule should be allowed to get USCF upgrade points??? No Category Three should become a Two if that person doesn�t understand the yellow line rule. No Category Two rider should become a One if that person doesn�t understand the yellow line rule. That is logical. If no MWCCC collegiate points are awarded due to yellow line violations, why should USCF upgrade points be awarded??? I continue to beleaguer the point. The two responses I got were that "Since I was passed, I was part of the field sprint, and thus part of the field. I was therefore subject to the rulings of the field." Wow. He then told me that I should consult the teams with riders in question, and ask them to "voluntarily DQ themselves." I asked him: "I might be wrong, but isn't it your job to DQ riders?"

The madness does not end here. The official tells me that �He understands my situation�, and that �his� rider (Derek Laan) also got DQ�d. He mentioned that he was once a collegiate racer, and that he was from Purdue (Derek's school).

Does that strike anyone as wrong? I understand that an official might secretly want a specific person or team to prevail, but why the hell are you making that a public statement? Aren�t race officials supposed to be unbiased, just, and fair?

Turns out that Derek Laan (of Purdue) is a Two. He gets 1/3 of his USCF Category One upgrade points with that Vee. (Just to make it clear, I have absolutely nothing against Derek Laan. He is a good guy, who DESERVEDLY WON both races this weekend. He should have BOTH the collegiate points and the USCF upgrade points that he won. The only reason that I don�t like him is that he has piloted my old Bianchi frame to two more victories than I was ever able to rack up.)

Well, I ask the official if he had ever raced. He defiantly told me �for 15 years�. I told him: �Good, you understand then that your call is total bullshit�, and rolled away.

I'm not trying to point out some ridiculous conspiracy theory about how our official is in cahoots with Purdue. What I am asking for is an official that does his job, and is fair. If a blunder is made, correct it. That's all. People make mistakes. It's OK to fix them.

I'm (mostly) done story telling now.

The Bike Racing:
Sundays race was awesome. Warm. Windy. Attack laden. The second lap, I attempt to follow a vicious attack from the likes of Kyle Jacobsen. I eventually catch up, and we roll. A small group comes up. We continue at a frenetic pace. One by one, people get popped until it was Derek Laan, Steve Scholzen, and myself. I cramped. Hard. At the end of the day, I was able to grab third. Another podium. Piss. Derek won. Deservedly. He got his points. So did I.

That�s the end of a weekend. Two down, many more to come.

Yours,
Perennial Podium TSK

Tall skinny boy = tall light bike.

The other day I mentioned my sweet bike, and realized no pictures had yet been posted.

Can't wait to roll around on those sweet tubies tomorrow. Hopefully the roads are nice.

Get a Grip should take note.

I was absolutely amazed when the lady friend walked out of Get A Grip Cycles in Chicago with a sweet Six13 equipped with Dura Ace and some fancy schmancy wheels. All she was told was to "Give 'er hell" on her multi-day test ride. No credit card, no license, no soul-signing waiver. It was just here ya go!

Well, apparently Get a Grip isn't the only shop who does that. Thank god for modern genomics, otherwise that sweet R3 would have ended up in the hands of a truly undeserving character.